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aplaceinthedark · 11 months ago

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chapter twelve: PATH that I FOLLOW

Summary: Down in the Shenandoah Valley, there lay a court consisting of the Grim, the Drowned, the Witch and the Watcher.

CW: supernatural themes, mentions of vehicular accident, mentions of motorcycle accident, mentions of religious sacrifice, ptsd, bodily injury, body horror, graphic violence, angst, blood, major character death

Every chapter will have a different cw section. This is Bad Omens rpf, so obviously I don't know all the little nuances of the members or their family members.

A/N: Some things are color-coded. If any of you are colorblind lemme know.

YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM.

YOU ARE WEAK.

YOU ARE EMPTY.

I tried to scream as Michael’s eyes pleaded. For me? For God? For mercy? I could never tell. How did Jolly’s song go?

We asked Him if He would take us back, He would surely tell us no.

“Mikey, please, hold on,” I pleaded. It felt like I had been saying those words for hours as I tried to scrape my way forward, but either my fingers couldn’t find purchase, or with every inch I gained, another inch of pavement was created.

My head dipped, forehead pressed against the searing hot street. Tears streamed down my face. Was this my own personal Hell? Some kind of divine retribution from a god I stopped believing in when this scene actually happened? Could I not be happy for just once?

I tried summoning some strength using that momentary burst of anger, pushing myself up and shoving myself further. But when I looked up, I could see that I barely moved again. Michael’s eyes seemed to laugh at me, rather than beg for me.

I let out a sob. “Please…”

YOU CAN'T SAVE HIM.

YOU ARE WEAK.

YOU ARE EMPTY.

“Oh, shut up.”

My head shot up at the sound of the familiar voice. “Nick?” I asked, almost a whimper.

“Something like that. It’s kind of complicated, but if it makes it easier, then we’ll just say that’s what I am,” he said, sitting next to me. His clothes were intact, hair thrown up into a messy bun. He looked just like he did when he explained this whole mess to me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The leader of the cult cast a malediction on you, attempting to Hollow you out. I’m guessing he was trying to put the Black Stag in someone since his first attempt didn’t work out,” he said.

“Am I… Am I dying?”

“No, no you aren’t dying. But if you give in to despair, It wins, and we’ll lose you.” He looked up at Michael. “Do you really live with this guilt all the time?”

“N-Nick—“

Nick waved his hand, and the horrific scene around us froze. No city sounds. That’s when I realized I couldn’t feel the pain in my side, and felt energized. I pushed myself up to where I could sit.

“Can I wake up now?” I asked.

“No, you’re not dreaming… not really. I’m working on that, but it’s gonna… it’s gonna take a lot. The Black Stag has to take a Vessel, so It’s using the cult leader instead.”

“What do you mean—“

“It wasn’t your fault, y’know?” he said. Nick looked from Michael to behind me, and then to me, his green eyes piercing me. “You feel guilty for not being there for your brother, or for your parents, but there was nothing you could do. I know how that feels, not being there for your best friend. Believe me, it nearly killed me."

“But unlike me back then, you have friends now that can help you, if you let them.”

“Your friend tried to kill me,” I stated flatly.

Nick’s mouth quirked to the side. “Did he now? We’ll have to kick his ass for that later.” He sighed. “Not long now.”

I tilted my head. “Not long for what?”

Nick stood up. “Promise me you’ll forgive yourself? Stress is a killer.”

“What do you mean? Where are you—?”

He held out his hand, and pulled me up when I took it. His hand moved up my arm and curled around the back of my neck, pulling me for a breath-taking kiss. He parted, resting his forehead against mine. “I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I want you to know that I love you.”

Before I could ask him what was going on, I felt him evaporate from my grasp. Still dazed from his kiss, I slowly opened my eyes, and found that I was no longer on that street near Virginia Beach. I was back in the cold hollow, lying in the dirt.

I started pushing myself up, pain settling back into my bones as I remembered that yeah, I definitely have several broken bones. That’s when I heard something fall to the ground in front of me.

“Nick?”

Noah’s voice was like a bucket of ice water being thrown into my face. I managed to get up, stumbling my way over to where he and Nick were—

Why was Nick on the ground?

“Nick?” I asked, falling to my knees next to him. “Nick?!” I shakily pressed fingers to his neck, placed a hand on his chest. Nothing.

“Nick!”

Nick was dead.

I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t real. Nick couldn’t be gone; he just pulled me out of a nightmare.

“No no no no no no no—“ I stumbled over my words. This couldn’t be happening. This was all another nightmare. Another malewhatever Nick had called it.

Then Noah was beside me, shoulder to shoulder, and he was gripping Nick’s shoulders and shaking him, shouting his name and crying. Folio and Jolly stood only a few steps away, the Drowned supporting the Grim from collapsing.

And I was just sitting there, numbly staring down at another lifeless body. “…you have a little piece of me in you, and I love you.”

I had fallen unconscious shortly after Michael died, and I wasn’t there when my parents died. Processing their deaths had been… delayed, for a lack of a better word. And when it was time to truly grieve, to put them in the ground and then move on with life somehow, I did nothing but swallow it down and run off.

Nick? There was no unconsciousness to hide away in. No run-down house in the middle of the woods on a sparsely inhabited mountain to run away to. Here was death, staring me right in the face as it spit on me, and I was going to stand there and take it whether I wanted to or not.

No, this was reality.

That’s when I started screaming. Screaming with every atom in my body as I poured every emotion on the bad end of the spectrum into it. I screamed into the void beyond as if Nick could hear me from there:

“I can't lose you too!”

I barely felt the hand on my back; barely felt the tears that streamed down my face. I couldn’t feel the cold that permeated the hollow, nor the dirt and blood that coated my skin.

“Please, I’ll do anything; give anything, just bring him back. Please!” I pleaded with anything that could hear me, not caring if it was the Woods or the Dark or whatever who answered. “GIVE HIM BACK!”

All I could feel was the invisible string that bound us. That string that we strengthened last night when we came together. That string that first bound us when he healed my wounds. That little red string around my wrist, still there despite the hell it went through, paled in comparison to that golden thread.

I pressed my lips to Nick’s, like I felt compelled to. Like this was some stupid fairy tale and true love's kiss could bring him back. I couldn’t care less that Noah was also there, his forehead pressed to the back of my shoulder, or if I was being watched and judged by Folio and Jolly.

His lips were still warm. I love you, too, I said to the ether, wishing I could’ve told him to his face.

All of a sudden, my stomach lurched, like I was going to throw up. I tried pulling away, but it was like I was magnetized to Nick. A warmth spread from me, up my body, and into my mouth. Like I was a conduit for something greater.

"I had to use some of my own energy…"

“You have a little piece of me in you...”

When I was finally able to pull away, I looked down at his face, his cheeks coated with my tears, and Noah’s as well from the sounds coming from beside. I watched as a warm golden light lit up the veins in Nick’s face, traveling up until they lit his iris’.

As the golden light quickly faded from his eyes, I felt a soft thud below my hand. And then another.

It was like someone took shock pedals to his chest. He took a gasping, deep breath, his back arching violently. With a shout, Noah backed away, but still stayed close to Nick’s side.

Nick settled back down, his chest rising and falling. His green eyes searched until they found mine, wide with disbelief.

And with a groan, he gasped, “Thanks for… holding on… to that…”

My mouth dropped open.

Suddenly, a large something fell on top of us, and it wasn't until I heard the hysterical laughter - or sobbing, I couldn't tell - that I realized it was Noah wrapping his arms around us. Multiple sounds joined him, and I realized I was in the middle of a supernatural dog-pile. Quite literally, when I felt fur shift to warm skin.

“Geroff… can't breathe!” Nick shouted.

The others pulled back, if only by a little bit, but I didn’t lift my head from Nick’s shoulder, even when Nick slowly sat up. It wasn’t until he lifted me off him did I let it settle in that Nick was here with me; he was alive.

I hadn’t let myself believe it until he smiled at me and pushed my damp hair away from my face. Couldn’t believe that I had actually saved someone until he opened his mouth and said two words: “Thanks, Tay.”

And I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long while, something akin to true happiness. And it caused me to burst into tears again. Nick tucked me into his side, trying to soothe me.

Folio was the first to break the silence. “We gotta get out of here,” he said, nudging the body of a headless corpse with his bare foot.

Nick grimaced. “Gimme a second, I need to recuperate.”

Once again, I had forgotten about my broken bones. “Yeah, some of us are only human,” I joked. Nick squeezed my waist, which earned him a small yelp of pain.

As Nick sat on the ground amongst the roots of a great oak tree, leaning back against it for support, I looked over at Noah, who was looking at me instead of Nick. When our eyes met, which I had just realized were almost identical to mine, he nodded.

THANK YOU.

I held his stare for a moment before I mentally shrugged. You owe me.

The only response I got was the sound of low laughter rumbling in my head.

The aftermath of the night was shockingly unremarkable. Jolly, Folio, and Noah did most of the heavy lifting, moving the bodies to a wide part of the river, where the water would carry them off to various silt-covered crevasses. There was nothing left off the cult leader, whoever he was, thanks to Nick. Eventually his body had rotted away to wet dust, so he was left on the forest floor.

Folio and Noah helped me and Nick back to my house, where Folio helped us indoors - Noah’s permission had been revoked, but luckily Nick didn’t know that he had been allowed in in the first place. I’m pretty sure I slept the entire day away.

When I woke up, it was to an empty room save for Jerry, curled up into a black and white cinnamon roll on one of my pillows. I had panicked, anxiety constricting my rib cage to a point of pain. Folio came in and assured me that Nick was outside, sucking a few trees dry of their essence. In the meantime, I was forced onto bed rest with only some pain killers and water to help.

As I stared up at the ceiling of my room, Lydia having come in and curled up next to me, I couldn’t help but notice something felt off about me. Not just the broken bones and the bruises, nor the fact that Nick must’ve changed me into clean clothes. It felt like something was missing from me. Like in the nightmare, the Black Stag had been slightly successful and had hollowed out a tiny bit of me.

It wasn’t until later, when I had woken up from another long rest did I realize what it was. I had woken up with no pain, my head resting on Nick’s thigh as he drew something on a tablet. He gave me a small smile when he saw I was awake. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah… Are you the one to thank for that?” I groggily asked, rubbing my eyes to free them of sleep. I hesitantly stretched, but was only met with the faint echo of pain. Like the last remnants of a bruise that you press to feel if something was still there.

“It’s the least I could do for what you did,” he said, putting down the tablet.

“Yeah, about that… Did you…” I trailed off, trying to put into words what I was thinking, “When I was put under that spell, did you try to communicate with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were in my nightmare… well after a while you were. You weren't in the bad part,” I hastily said. “But you were there, and you helped me break out of the trance I was in.”

“The malediction?”

“Yeah, that’s what you called it.”

“I can’t communicate through dreams, so I don’t think that was me. Maybe it was your subconscious?” He suggested. He lazily played with a lock of my hair, twisting it loosely around his finger.

“But… It didn’t feel like it! It felt like you were really there,” I said.

We were silent for a few moments, unable to describe what the feeling between us was. Why did it feel so awkward all of a sudden?

He rubbed the red string attached to my wrist between his thumbs. “Was this how you found me?” he asked.

“Yeah, I casted my first spell,” I said, unable to keep the pride out of my voice. I sounded like a small kid showing their parent their first preschool project.

His thumbs stilled. “Oh… That’s what it was,” he said, more to himself.

“Nick, for the love of all that is unholy, we’ve gone through too much for you to go back to being cryptic ‘n’ shit—“

“The ‘Nick’ in your nightmare,” he interrupted me, “was the bit of energy you kept.”

“I kept what now?”

“When I healed your concussion, I had to use my inner power to do it. It’s like… using a little bit of your soul instead of using the Woods. I gave you a piece of myself, and you held onto it until you used it to bring me back.”

“…So that’s how I was able to do your magick? How I talked to you?” I asked. He nodded. I sat up. “Is that why I can’t feel you anymore?”

I already knew the answer before he slowly nodded after a while. The emptiness I felt was the absence of Nick.

“Does that change how you feel about me?” he asked.

I stared up into hopeful blue-gray eyes, and I knew my answer. “You tell me,” I said, caressing his face.

His answer was on his lips.

As for the other members of the Court, Folio and Jolly concerned themselves more with clearing out the woods of any more cultists, which thankfully there were none. They would occasionally visit, whether it was at night or when it rained.

Noah wasn’t as frequent a visitor, though it wasn’t due to jealousy. Nick found out what Noah had done to me when he was gone, and they got into it badly. It took over a month for them to get over it. A bad month, since that was the month of getting Granny’s funeral and assets wrapped up.

After the wake, when Nick was conversing with his family, I had slipped away. During the burial, when the pastor was talking, I felt a pair of familiar eyes peering from the treeline a ways off. The familiar feeling reminded me of my first night here, when I was scared and unprepared for what was out there.

“Come to pay your respects?” I asked the silent spot.

CAN’T REALLY GO OUT THERE AND DO IT PROPERLY, NOW CAN I?

“No, I guess not,” I said, peering over my shoulder. Luckily no one was looking over this way.

IS HE DOING BETTER?

“Yeah, he’s getting there,” I said, slipping my hands into the pockets of my black jeans. Autumn had come to Appalachia, and my black blazer had barely kept off the slight chill. It was weird to think that a month ago, I was practically boiling alive.

Noah and I had forgiven each other before Nick had. I had kept up the offerings, but had changed from apple to carrots for a week straight.

“How's the clean-up going? No more cultists?” I asked.

HAVEN’T SEEN ANY. WE’VE SCARED MOST OF THEM OFF, IF THERE ARE ANY MORE OUT THERE.

“I haven’t heard missing people reports of the ones you guys killed,” I said. Granny’s death and the restaurant guy’s death were the only ones that were being talked about, asking with the mystery of where the killers might be.

POLICE ARE PROBABLY COVERING IT UP.

I nodded, peering over my shoulder again. Nick was looking at me. When he saw that I was looking, he gave me a small smile before turning back to his family.

“What are you gonna do now?” I asked Noah.

There was a rustling sound amongst the trees, and for some reason I imagined him shrugging his shoulders.

SAME THINGS WE NORMALLY DO, I GUESS. HUNT THE PATHS, TERRORIZE LOST HIKERS—

“That’s so not funny, Davis,” I said.

SERIOUSLY, I DON’T USE THAT NAME ANYMORE. IT DIED WHEN I DIED.

“Then stop calling me little rabbit,” I said. I could feel him rolling his eyes, so I sighed, “I gotta call you something besides Noah when I’m pissed at you.”

SEBASTIAN.

“But that’s too long—“

“Who’re you talking to?”

I looked behind me. Nick raised an eyebrow at the treeline.

“No one, really,” I said. I could hear some branches in the woods snapping, and I wondered if I made Noah grumpy. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nick said.

I looped my arm through his as we walked back through the cemetery. With one last parting glance, I shot back to the treeline, Don’t be a stranger for so long.

BE SEEING YOU REAL SOON, LITTLE RABBIT.

One night, about a week after the funeral, I was woken up by a knock at the front door. I panicked for a few seconds, grabbing my phone out of habit, when it buzzed in my hand.

Nick 😺🍌: I’m sorry if I woke you. Let me in please?

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t… I couldn’t sleep in that house by myself,” he sighed as I wrapped my arms around him. I could see his eyes were rimmed with red.

“I know, Nick. I know,” I said reassuringly.

“Can I… stay here? Until the house gets sorted out?” he asked.

“Stay as long as you like,” I said, sighing into his neck. “The cats are already here, anyways.”

He chuckled, the puffs of his breath tickling my scalp. “Thank you.”

We slid into my bed, and he rested his head on my collarbone. “When we were kids, she used to tell us these stories to help us go to sleep,” he said.

“Why don’t you tell me one, if it’ll make you feel better?” I asked.

“Well, if you insist,” he said. And he started telling me this story…

Tysm for reading! Final part coming soon!

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

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There was a Girl...

Pairing | Jace Wayland x reader

Summary | When Clary becomes a shadowhunter, she notices how cold and ruthless Jace is. Every one seems to relate to his pain, not resonating at quite the same level. They’re all mourning nevertheless.

Warnings | Mentions of death, brief smut (handjob), angst, heartbreak, unrequited feelings (for Clary)

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Opening your eyes, you awoke to Jace's chest, his blonde hair falling over his face. You preferred how it looked when it was a little bit scruffy instead of slicked back, and you reached for one of the hanging strands. They were like seams of gold, reflecting from the light that hid within him.

Most people had the wrong perspective on the young man, they only saw a well skilled shadow hunter. But they ignored the smart and witty, yet simultaneously charming person that he was underneath all of his runes. His parabatai Alec was familiar with the set of abilities that his brother figure had, and all that he would accomplish. People thought, because of Jace’s distorted, and confusing past, that he was just another warrior to serve whatever institute that he was sent to.

But in fact, he was not. His duty would always be, to put his family and friends first. He liked to put you on the top of the list, but you always felt the need to scrap that idea, claiming that you could not be his priority from start to finish. It was as though you knew what you future held for you, and how indeed, he could not manage to protect every person that he cared about. The prospect was a great responsibility, far too much for one shadow hunter, even if they be among the best of their kind.

To put such a weight on your own shoulders was defiantly cruel, it would always end in failure, no matter what was done to prevent said downfall. There was never a possibility of saving everyone, that was insanity. The monsters had to kill, in order for you all to remain outside of Idris, and continue on with your heaven sent duty.

“Jace?” You could tell he was awake from how he smiled at the sound of your voice. “Come on.” It was an attempt to encourage him, but you were quick to realise that it wasn’t working. He didn’t like mornings all that much, for good reason too, after all you were shadowhunters.

“Jace.” Your voice became louder and clearer, up to the point where it no longer sounded like your own. He looked away from the screen, to see the new girl watching him. She had an expectant glaze to her green eyes, which were much different from the shield that was covering his own. His pools were surrounded by a shadow of grief, pulling down the entirety of his face to the point where it looked as though he no longer wanted to live.

And that wasn’t entirely incorrect, he struggled at life, often never finding a moment of happiness, and if he did, then he would paint a smile upon his face and wear it to satisfy everyone else around. He had tried to cope with the loss that burdened his heart so gravely, yet nothing made it feel okay. You’d want him to move on, whether it be to lose his vengeful esteem concerning your passing, or find someone else to confide in late at night, to stay up with talking as his head rested upon the pillow, that he needed to wash, so it didn’t smell like you.

Or even, if not to share a bed with this new person, your overall plan as you sat with the angels above would be to find some kind of peace. But that appeared to be the last thing that he wanted as he digitally scoured the city of New York for monsters to uncover, and kill. If he couldn’t protect you, the love of his life, then he would settle for doing so with humans, after all, that had been the way that you had gone. The job had been your passion, yet simultaneously your downfall, and he’d be fine if one of these days he failed to tackle a beast, and it got to him first.

“Clary.” He greeted her, wanting to remove a dangerous monster from the streets by decapitating it. In memory, he would use your favourite blade, spilling blood upon its glowing stake to keep your legacy continuing, although, it did not do much but serve to release Jace’s frustrations. It was a day in which he wanted to speak to nobody, have nobody following him, nor asking him mundane questions about what it meant to be a shadowhunter. Hell, he didn’t even know! To him, the lifestyle was nothing more than accommodated anguish, though, he had been told not to promote it using those words, otherwise, there wouldn’t exactly be many people lining up to join the adverse fight.

And one of the people that he had in mind concerning excitement over a dire and ‘exciting’ lifestyle was Clary. She was naive, and whilst she didn’t know everything, today wasn’t particularly the day in which he wished to explain it to her. It, being predominantly anything. Whilst he had managed to be nice to her during the first few days, it was out of courtesy, considering Alec had an instant distaste towards the wide eyed redhead; he wasn’t sure why, but he supposed that Clary could see a detail of himself that was hidden from the others.

However, even through Jace’s welcoming exterior, was in pain. The feeling tormented him, denying him a break from the patronising pressure, leaving him to hold blame to nobody but himself. The hurt was cemented into his eyes, reflecting as he watched all other tragedies with a stone cold expressions, them hardly affecting him, because he had and was experiencing the worst routine of torture that was possible to him. He had watched you die, and nothing could take those horrific memories from him, no matter how much he wanted them gone.

That was the last time that he saw you. When you passed in his arms, a large wound in your abdomen pouring out with blood, drowning his desperate hands as he tried his utmost to put pressure on the life threatening injury. He wanted to save you but he didn’t know how, his training had always claimed that killing the monsters was more important than saving the life of a shadowhunter from an unknown bloodline. There had been nothing to prepare him for that day in the field, he was a fighter, and taught to be so, not a healer; he wasn’t a medic, he was just a warrior. “What do you want?” Blatantly fell from his round lips as he cast an eye towards the newbie, unimpressed by her timing, or her presence at all.

Clearly, she hadn’t received the memo to leave him be, especially today out of all the rest. Alec, having the personalised intel as to why Jace was emitting a solitary rut understood why he wished to be alone, and respected the space, granting him as much time to himself as he wanted. And whilst Alec was your friend also, he could feel the deep longing that was stabbing his parabatai in the chest, and it killed him too. Your death had been so unexpected, and now without you, there was a void within the institute. And the archer felt as though Clary was trying to fill it, and he saw that as nothing more than disrespect, though she was probably ignorant to the history that wandered the halls.

Her face revelled back at his tone, but nevertheless she continued on with her prying. “I was wondering if I could join you on the hunt, I’m getting better, Izzy even said so.” Jace refrained from rolling his eyes, and contained the feeling that was trying to burst out of his chest. It was anger, directed at everyone that was still alive, including himself. There was no fairness in it, to say that he was sad was an understatement, he was eternally devastated, the death of you had broken him, crumbled him into a figure that he no longer recognised.

“No, you can’t Clary.” He dismissed her, walking away, and going to grab his seraph so that he could hunt this sucker down, and bring upon the same kind of pain to its family as its kind had down to him. God, did you look badass as you swung it, and the thought alone had tears resonating in his unmatched eyes, thinking of how it was the last relic that remained of you.

Walking casually into the armoury, Jace had his hands prized in the depths of his pockets, as his expert and quick fleeting eyes focalised on you, and the weapon within your hold. Your body leant in harmony with the blade, the sound of it woosh-img in the air satisfying to all that could hear; that being only you and the Wayland boy.

“Can i not train in peace?” You groaned, lowering the blade whence you realised that you were being watched. The eyes trailed up your side where your shirt had ridden up, raking over the rune that you had drew upon your skin only this morning. A light laugh fell from Jace’s lips as he stalked forward, taking your seraph out of your hand, and going to lob it upon the ground, but the stern look in your eyes stopped him. Instead, against his nature, he placed it down as though it were made of glass, and rose to stand before you once more.

“Not when you look that good.” The blonde retorted with a sly smirk, sliding his hands up the sides of your hips, finding absolute solace in the feel of your skin. He could be against you forever, and he would not complain, so long as it did last for such a time. “Makes me want to do things to you y/n y/l/n. Terrible things. What would the heads think?” He asked, in reference to those that were in charge of the institute.

Stifling down remarked laughter at his sensually intended words, you raised your forefinger to the space above his brows, and poked him with enough pressure, so that he would pay attention to the notion. “That you’re not thinking with your own.” You went to cross your arms, but instead, Jace grabbed them, moving down to cast his hand over your own.

“Oh, I’m not.” The shadowhunter confirmed, placing your hand upon the crotch of his sweats, applying enough force behind his grip so that you could feel him twitching. “I am indeed having thoughts from elsewhere, would you like to see my sweet?” Licking your lips, you nodded, watching as he peeled the layer away, wrapping your hand around his base, and giving him a few jerks, feeling his pulse race through his cock.

“Tell me more about what you’re thinking my love.” You bit your bottom lip, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, only to reverberate a groan from the blonde male. He panted as your pace quickened, and he was almost certain that he was going to spray his jizz all over the floor if you did not uphold your sexual administrations. His head leant back, as pleasured sounds broke through the clenching of his teeth.

And then, it all stopped as a voice, dressed in absolute disgust, written over with unmotivated shock, interrupted your little exchange. “Really guys, this is a gym, not your damned bedroom. The two of you really are disgusting!” It was Alec, and he cringed at the fact that he had seen his best friend’s cock being stroked in your grasp. Yeah, he wasn’t going to be training today, or at least, not in the asserted place for it.

“Clary.” Izzy called her name, wearing a short lived smile. Whence she studied the expression of the redhead, she was quick to pay attention to the disappointment upon her face. There was confusion laddered in her skin, masking it with creased that made her look worried all at the same time. “What happened?” The Lightwood woman asked concerned, bracing a hand upon said girl’s shoulder.

“Jace snapped at me.” The newcomer informed her, frowning at the prospect, and then after all that, he had stormed off, as though she didn’t even matter. She felt well and truly rejected, like a newspaper that had been tossed in the street, and ending up in a horrible puddle. “I thought he might have liked me, but his attitude says otherwise.”

Izzy twitched her nose; she knew what day it was. There was no way to break it to Clary easy that Jace had no amorous emotions towards her, and so instead of being blunt with the new resident at the institute, she decided to tell the woman a story. “There was a girl...” she began, knowing that after all was explained, that Clary would understand.

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tootiredmotel · 3 years ago

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Electricity

Inspired by @ledzeppelinmixtape 's emoji prompt: ⛈

Read on ao3 or below / 2.3k words

It's 11pm and storming biblically when Dean and Cas's apartment goes dark.

"Great," Dean mutters under his breath. "Fan-freaking-tastic."

From somewhere else in the apartment, his roommate asks "did the power go out?"

"What do you think, sunshine?" Dean replies sarcastically.

He has a half-written essay in front of him, but he knows his old-ass computer won't last long unplugged, so he saves the document before shutting it off. He leans back in his chair, stretching for the first time in an hour and running a hand down his face. He actually needed a break from the screen, he realizes, feeling his eyes relax as he rubs them.

The steady rain and strong winds outside make an overwhelming white noise track, interrupted only by thunder that goes from faint and distant to deafening in volume. If Dean wasn't stressed out of his mind and completely exhausted right now, he might actually find this kind of nice.

"It's raining cats and mice out there," he hears Cas say, his voice now in the room.

Dean smiles, still rubbing his eyes with the backs of both his hands. "Cats and dogs, Cas."

"Right. Cats and dogs."

It’s really no use correcting him; the entire animal kingdom could be falling from the sky right now and there wouldn't be much of a difference. The winds are definitely knocking things over, and the streets will certainly be flooded come morning. Dean wonders for how long the university will cancel classes after this (if at all, the heartless bloodsuckers).

A particularly loud clap of thunder startles Dean. He drops his hands from his face and opens his eyes, expecting to see pitch black nothingness, but the room is faintly lit by the flashlight Cas is holding as he rummages through their kitchen drawers. He approaches a minute later and sets a candle down on the small table.

"Smart."

"Thank you, Dean," Cas says, sitting down opposite him. Dean smiles again, this time shaking his head.

If anyone ever asked him to mention one thing he likes about Cas, just one, he'd probably say how genuine Cas is, how he takes everything to heart and speaks from it as well. Dean said just one word, smart, a simple comment on the fact that it occurred to Cas to light a candle instead of wasting the battery of their one flashlight, and Cas genuinely thanked him for the compliment. He's just ridiculously cute in his earnestness.

Cas is trying to light the candle now, but their lighter is tricky. Despite living together in that apartment for a year and a half now Cas has never really gotten the hang of it.

"Here, let me."

Dean means to take the lighter from Cas and do it himself, he really does. That is 100% his intention as he reaches across the table. Except he sees an opportunity, and Dean Michael Winchester is nothing if not smooth.

He wraps his hand around Cas's, gently guiding his fingers until they’re placed just right, and the lighter clicks on with ease. Cas meets his eyes, smiling, and Dean can feel the slightest brush of Cas’s thumb against his hand. It’s a small gesture, but clearly deliberate, and it sends Dean’s heart into overdrive. Cas leans away, puts the lighter aside, and starts leafing through a book he brought. Dean’s heart is still racing as he watches him.

Scratch that first thing. If anyone ever asked him what’s one thing he likes about Cas? His hands. God. Neat nails, slightly calloused palms, and overall larger hands than you’d expect. Cas is an environmental science major and he wants to get a Ph.D. in botany, so of course, there’s a small garden on their fire escape. He tends to those plants every day with more gentleness and care than Dean has ever seen, and Dean loves to watch him, even though he has no idea what Cas is doing with them half the time. He just knows that not a single one of their plants have died under Cas’s care. He names them too.

His attentiveness. That’s another thing Dean might say if anyone ever asked. Cas left to visit his sister Anna last winter break. He left Dean in charge of the plants, three of which died inside the week. (For Dean’s birthday a couple of months later, Cas got him a book. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean keeps it on his nightstand.) Dean went out and bought new ones, but he knew Cas would notice the difference, and he did. He wasn’t mad at Dean though, and he appreciated the effort, and as Dean apologized profusely over and over again, Cas looked at him in the eyes oh-so-softly and told him he was forgiven.

How could Dean possibly forget? If anyone ever asked, he’d say that Cas’s eyes are one of his favorite things about him. One of his favorite things, period. Dean is absolutely mesmerized whenever Cas looks him in the eye, and the guy loves making eye contact, which means that Dean lives in a perpetual smitten daze. He has never seen that shade of blue anywhere else on this earth. Or maybe he just hasn’t been looking, content to get his fill of that blue by staring into Cas’s eyes as much as he gets to on a daily basis.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

Dean blinks himself back to reality. “Hm?”

“You seem… spaced.”

Dean is staring. He’s been staring this whole time. Shit. Crap.

“Yeah, um. Just tired.”

Mr. Smooth, everybody.

“Maybe you should go get some rest. I doubt the power will be back anytime soon.”

Castiel Milton, always looking out for you. It makes Dean melt.

“Yeah, maybe.” I wanna stay here with you, though, he thinks. Instead, because he’s pathetic, he asks “what’re you reading?”

Cas shows him the cover. How Not to Kill Your Houseplant. Dean breaks out in laughter.

“So you’re going into my room and stealing my shit now?”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your Vonneguts.” Cas puts the book aside, an easy smile on his face. “Just wanted something light to pass the time.”

“You done with your homework?”

A soft yawn escapes Cas. “For now.”

“Dude, why not just go to sleep? You look exhausted.”

“Look who’s talking.”

Dean tries to deadpan him. He fails, because around Cas, it’s near impossible for him to not smile.

“Besides, I might be done but you weren’t.”

“And you wanted to keep me company.”

Cas shrugs as if to say I guess, but he does it with a knowing smile. The smile doesn’t falter as he meets Dean’s eyes, and he doesn’t look away when silence settles between them, the only sound being the stormy white noise.

Dean is sure he could drown in that blue and die happy.

Before that train of thought gets away from him again, Dean tears his gaze away and stretches. “We should really go to bed though, I’m not getting any more done tonight,” he says as he stands.

“Of course,” Cas says, but he grabs the book again.

“You not going?”

“I want to finish this chapter.”

The seriousness in his tone makes Dean smile. Again.

“Well, g’night, Cas.”

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean thinks he detects a bit of shakiness in Cas’s voice but decides that he’s probably just tired.

He gets to his room and changes into something comfortable, the first t-shirt and sweatpants he finds as he rummages in the dark. He goes to set his phone on his nightstand and crawl into bed, but in place of the book he keeps there and puts his phone on top of– the book Cas has at the moment– he finds something else.

It’s paper. It’s folded into the form of a book, like one of those youtube craft tutorials with bad music, and it's no bigger than his own palm. The cover is handwritten, and Dean immediately recognizes it as Cas's. He smiles, expecting a prank or joke of some sort, Cas knows how stressed Dean can get with the start of the semester. However, his smile falters as he reads the cover:

How to tell your best friend you’re in love with him.

With a shaky hand, Dean opens the small book. The first page is the only one with any more writing on it, and it reads:

You leave him a note and hope it’s enough.

Dean is storming out of his bedroom (no pun intended) before he knows it. He barely even feels his feet moving, too focused on the pounding in his ears and the dryness in his mouth. He doesn’t go into the living room, not yet; his feet stop at the end of the short hallway and he braces himself against the wall. The room is spinning and he can barely breathe.

“Cas?” He chokes out.

Cas puts the book back down on the table in front of him and interlocks his fingers in front of him. He doesn’t look at Dean– Cas, who makes too much eye contact – and takes a deep breath before saying “yes?”

He’s nervous.

Dean takes a step forward, still keeping one hand on the wall just in case, and holds up the note. “What is this?” he asks, because his brain is just not there with him yet.

Cas stands, still not facing Dean. “Dean, do you know what day it is?”

He’s asking this now???

“September firs–”

Oh. Oh shit.

“Cas isn’t today the–”

“The night we met. Two years ago.”

Dean feels his brain catching up now as the memory starts coming back to him. Cas helps, starting to recount that night.

“Two years ago tonight, I was leaving my night course at the university, and it was raining. Not as bad as this,” –Cas looks out the window and lightning strikes, as if on cue– “but pretty badly, and I was an inexperienced freshman without an umbrella.”

Dean remembers. He was walking Charlie to her dorm when it started drizzling, and it was pouring by the time he made it back to his car. Dean had a night shift at the gas station and was about to head there.

“Two years ago tonight,” Cas continues, “you invited me into your car to shelter me from the rain.”

Dean saw this guy running in the direction of the men’s dorms, which were on the other side of campus. He felt bad, and he had a car, so he opened the passenger door and let him in.

Turned out to be the most gorgeous guy he’d ever laid eyes on. He was a bit awkward, but he had no filter, which made him weirdly funny. He asked about the music playing in the car and listened intently to Dean's rambling. He laughed at his jokes too.

At the end of the five-minute drive, he said his name was Castiel, and Dean asked for his number and saved it as Cas with a thunderstorm emoji. Because even if he didn’t know it yet, Dean was already whipped.

“Two years ago,” Cas says, finally looking up at Dean. His eyes are wide and vulnerable and he looks terrified and Dean can barely stand it. “Two years ago tonight, I started to fall in love with you.”

Dean can’t breathe. His ears are hot and he can’t stop fidgeting with the note in his hand and he can’t breathe.

But his feet start moving again, out of their own volition. They move toward Cas.

“If you don’t feel–” Cas starts, but Dean swallows his words.

Again, Dean’s brain isn’t all there yet, and he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he’s already in it. He’s grabbing Cas’s face, digging his fingertips into the back of his hair, and the note is forgotten on the table, and thunder rumbles not that far away. He’s darting out his tongue, begging to explore Cas’s mouth as he’s wanted to do since forever, and Cas lets him. He tastes like toothpaste and coffee and honey and Dean never wants to taste anyone else ever again.

Cas is wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist and pressing his entire body against him. It’s making Dean weak in the knees but it’s okay because Cas is almost holding him upright at this point. There’s another clap of thunder, much closer this time, and the lightning probably illuminated the apartment, but it wasn’t enough to make them part. They’re moving and grasping and exploring frantically, and Dean is afraid Cas is going to disappear, or that he’s going to wake up and this will all have been another dream. But no, it’s real, and they’re playing catchup on two years worth of desire and longing and love.

They eventually pull away, breathless and giddy. The only sounds are the rain and the wind. Dean opens his eyes first, needing to see Cas and make sure this is completely, definitely, unequivocally real. Cas is smiling and taking deep breaths, and a weight seems to be lifted off his shoulders. He opens his eyes a second later, and even in the darkness, even with just the faint candlelight, the blue in them seems to shine. And even though there's no power, it feels as if there's electricity crackling in the air around them. It might be the storm.

No. It's the moment. This moment with Cas is what feels electric.

“Come to bed?” Dean asks, feeling brave and going out on a limb. The only way Cas responds is by interlocking his hand into Dean’s and kissing him again.

And after tonight, for the rest of his life, if anyone ever asks him “what’s one thing you love about Cas?” Dean won’t be able to narrow down an answer.

He’ll just say: “Everything.”

#gen.fics #spncreatorsdaily #creativecaviar #userjennmish #userdorksinlove #userstarry #tuserari #plantdadcas #offbeattraxx #slipper007 #thisisapaige #lyntracks #deancas #destiel #college au #fic #spn #gen creates

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nctsworld · 4 years ago

Text

the yuletide boyfriend

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ your one wish this year is to not be single during the holidays. yangyang, as your best friend, takes it upon himself to be your temporary boyfriend. soon enough, both parties begin to wish this new arrangement could last beyond the holidays. // part of the x-mas in ncity collection WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ implied ‌anxiety attack (during the first part of dec 24th – skip if need to), smut, mutual m*sturbation, couch s*x, angst, miscommunication, swearing RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature TAGLIST ⇾ @infnteen

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ this is my longest fic to date and also... might be my worst b/c i feel like the angst plot points don’t really make sense... but i hope y’all still enjoy!!!

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

NOVEMBER 30th

“So, anything special on your wishlist this year?”

Your best friend, Yangyang, asks you as you two sit next to each other on one of the many plush lounge couches in the Psychology building. It’s the usual lunch spot where you meet with him during your break between lectures.

The Psych building held much sentimental value for both of you because you met in Psych 101 during first year. Fast-forward three years later, neither of you expected to be the close friends that you are today.

Chewing your sandwich, you ponder on his question for a bit. Through the transparent glass walls leading to outside, you see the trickle of students heading towards the building since class is about to start for the noon round of lectures. A couple, you assume by the tight hand-holding and nose kissing, giggles as they enter the building, glued to one another by the hip.

“Not really.” You drop your head downward to your lunch container, smiling to yourself. “I’m honestly just happy to have Mark in my life, especially at this point in the year.”

Yangyang nods in accordance and smiles too, understanding the story behind your sentiment.

The boyfriends you’ve had since first year have always broken up with you before the holidays, right before the end of November. Since you only became close during second year, Yangyang’s been around for two out of three of your cursed holiday break-ups.

To have Mark, your latest boyfriend, be with you and it being already December tomorrow, it was truly a blessing for you and a silver lining that maybe this was the year to break the curse. Yangyang was grateful too, wanting you to have the utmost happiness.

You take another bite of your sandwich and tilt your chin toward the ramen eater.

“You?”

Yangyang slurps a few more noodles before he answers.

“I mean, the new Playstation would be nice,” he hums, mouth full.

Pointing the tip of your sandwich, you joke, “I’ll get it for you, but only if we share custody over it.”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head during a mid-slurp. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Both of you laugh in unison, living in the calm before the oncoming storm.

DECEMBER 5th

The E-Sports club for the university is hosting a party tonight and because Yangyang’s on one of the professional teams, he asked a few weeks ago if you and Mark wanted to attend. Of course you accepted; Mark also had some friends in the club.

However, when you text Yangyang in the afternoon, stating a change of mind, he knows something’s off.

Half an hour before the party starts, Yangyang decides to visit you. Thankfully you both lived on campus, but even if you lived across town, he’d still bus out to see how you were doing. He does it all the time to visit his family, anyway.

In the living room, the two sudden knocks at your door startle you. Peering through the peephole, you see the usual sight of your best friend, his lips curled upward and thumbs tucked in his pockets as he rocks on the balls of his feet.

It feels like an eternity for him when you unlock your door. The hinges squeal as you open it hesitatingly, your face barely appearing through the agape crack.

Immediately, his smile dissolves. Your face is drained and blood-shot eyes avoiding his own confront him.

Yangyang has only seen you cry twice in the three years he’s known you:

Once, when you were freaking the fuck out over potentially failing a course (but, on the upside, you ended up passing the final to save your grade).

The second time was at his house for a family dinner, when his mom accidentally added too much hot chili sauce to her homemade beef noodle soup (let’s just say you weren’t the only one crying that night).

Those were tears of dread and physical discomfort.

But this… this was crying he’s never seen from you before. His chest collapses inward, fearful of the reason behind your tears.

His voice shakes as he asks, “What happened? Are you okay?”

Neither of you are major huggers and only exchange them on the rare occasion.

However, this situation screams the necessity of it, so Yangyang lunges towards you, the collision swinging the door out of the way. His arms embrace you like a large, warm blanket. Comforting and safe.

Despite the affection, emptiness has taken over your body. Tonight, you’re a dead, empty shell of who you normally are.

You feel weak to the bone, but you muster up enough energy to scarcely raise your arms over his back to return the hug. Your eyes are dry from all the crying you’ve done all day, but apparently you have more tears left in you to spare.

Your eyelids snap shut and your jaw clenches.

“Mark broke up with me.”

Your words are muffled into his shoulder, but Yangyang hears it crystal clear.

You break down, sobbing out of control over the statement.

As aforementioned, Yangyang’s been around for your last two, now three, break-ups. Sure, he’s aware of how grumpy and distant you can get, but you never cried in front of him. You made an effort to never have him see you at your lowest point.

And yet, here you are, drowning him in your misery. Guilt washes over you for drenching his bomber jacket, but Yangyang couldn’t give two shits. His arms squeeze tighter while he rubs your back tenderly.

After several minutes pass and your waterworks abate, you peel away from him. You sniffle and rub your nose with the back of your hand.

“Sorry about cancelling last minute.”

“Hey, no need to apologize,” he whispers soothingly.

“I’m just… so fucking frustrated.”

With fatigued eyes, you drag yourself back inside your apartment. Yangyang discreetly closes the door behind him and hurriedly uses his feet to push off his shoes. As he does so, your mouth begins to run off while you slowly pace around aimlessly.

“Fucking done with boyfriends, especially when they think it’s so fucking awesome to keep breaking up with me right before the holidays.”

He kicks off his last stubborn shoe and catches you raking your hands through your hair, pulling it back firmly. Your lips are trembling, along with your entire frame.

“Like I get that I’m horrible and needy and emotional—”

His mouth opens, wanting to cut in to disagree with you with all his heart, but he clamps it back shut and swallows, allowing you to blow your steam off.

“—but can’t they wait until the fucking new year? I don’t know, or maybe just don’t date me in the first place! I don’t know, I don’t fucking know anymore. I’m just cursed, Yangyang...”

You flop down onto the couch and sink into the ocean of shiny pleather, shutting your eyes and trying to stop crying for the nth time. The deep sting behind your eyelids pain you, but it pains Yangyang more to watch the events unfolding ahead of him.

Unsure of what to say, Yangyang walks around the room. His gaze falls on your laptop screen and he frowns at the mostly bare Word document that stares back at him:

“WISHLIST: -KEEP ONE (1) FUCKING BOYFRIEND DURING THE CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!! GOD FUCKING SDKMFLDS”

There are a few more lines below it with more profanities and keyboard smashing. He quickly darts away, a pang of guilt striking for invading your privacy.

Then, he turns to you on the couch again. You’re now covering your eyes with your forearm, pressing your lips together. His chest twists and his throat is arid as a desert.

You’re in shambles and he’s dying to pick up the shattered pieces of you, wants to glue you back together. On a regular basis, Yangyang’s a talking machine and can talk your ear off for hours, but right now, he doesn’t know what to say to you in your current state. He second-guesses himself, wonders if he’s even that great of a friend if he can’t comfort you in your worst times.

Blowing out a long sigh and removing your arm, you speak aloud, “You should get going to the party.”

Like awakening from a deep slumber, you rise up sluggishly and sit up on the couch, slouched over. The other figure in the room steps closer to you.

“Sorry about your jacket, by the way,” you say. Your body is still, but your glazed eyes move to the dark spot on the middle of his shoulder. He glances at it and shrugs.

“It’s better like this anyway,” he says with a gentle smile, and the tight knot in his heart softens at the flicker of your own smile, albeit a small one. Unfortunately, it fades in a few seconds. “I don’t want to leave you like this, though.”

You stare at the used, crumpled balls of tissues scattered on the living room table. Some also ended up on the floor. Break-ups are shit and 98% inevitable, but you know you’ll eventually get over it. You always do.

“I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He raises an eyebrow, as if asking, “Are you sure?” The lack of a worded reply causes you to notice the question written on his face.

“Go,” you plead with a feeble laugh. “Have fun for me.”

Both of you head towards your front door again. Crossing your arms, you lean your head against the door frame and attempt a smile for your best friend.

“Thanks again for checking up on me.”

Yangyang nods with a half-smile, half-pout, “Of course.”

You give him a departing wave prior to sealing your door.

Usually, Yangyang would bus from your place to the student union building, where the party is being held. Instead, he zippers up his jacket and stuffs his fists into his pockets, opting to bear the early winter chill to walk his thoughts off. His blazing self-doubt burns at first, but he overcomes it by focusing on ideas to fix your accursed dating rut instead.

Halfway through the walk, a light bulb moment occurs. A plan begins to brew on the surface of his mind and he thinks on it for the rest of the week.

DECEMBER 11th

It’s been almost a week since you last saw Yangyang.

Finals started already, so classes were done for the semester and thus, your lunch meet-ups halted too. On top of that, since you were simultaneously moping and studying, you hadn’t really texted him much, nor had he, besides the occasional check-up text on how studying was going and random memes. Yangyang knew you preferred time alone to heal and he respected that.

He also thought six days was enough time to get yourself back on your feet.

Yangyang’s at your front door once again, but this time with two bowls of his mom’s beef noodle soup in tow.

“Long time, no see,” you greet. Your tone is chipper, but your eyes look heavy, which could be partially from studying, Yangyang thinks. His smile deepens, content that you seem a lot better than the last time he visited.

“Delivery for two,” he raises the bag in his hand.

“And if I told you I already ate dinner?” you playfully retort.

The boyish man shrugs defeatedly, “Then I’ll tell my mom you hate her cooking—”

“You didn’t say it was your mom’s, Yangyang. Oh, my God,” you gasp, half-mockingly. You rush to grab the bags out of his hand and stroll towards your tiny kitchen. “Start off with that next time.”

As you remove the containers from the bag and onto the granite countertop, Yangyang shuts the door and takes his shoes off.

“So, I’m gonna be upfront and say that I may have come here with a proposal.”

“Changed your mind about the shared custody of the Playstation?”

“I’m still considering that one.” Finally in his socks, he slings his backpack off his shoulder and plops it onto the couch along with his jacket. He stands next to you by the counter. “But it’s on the same page as that. Remember that day we were talking about wishlists?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hum as you rip off the lid of one of the bowls. Blatant wisps fly upward and you inhale the savoury aroma, followed by a heavenly sigh.

“Last time I was here… I might’ve seen what you wrote on your laptop.”

Your expression immediately changes into full-on cringe. You bring a palm over to your face.

“Oh, God. Let’s not talk about that. That was just weepy, lonely me talking.”

Yangyang pops off the lid for his bowl and steps into your kitchen, rummaging through your drawers for chopsticks. “So you’re telling me you don’t want a boyfriend for Christmas?”

Your hand flies off your face. Eyes widening, you spew, “Do you have a boyfriend in your pocket, ready for me to have?”

In your open hand, he places a pair of chopsticks into it. “Well, actually, I was thinking—”

Sternly, you point the chopsticks at him. “Don’t you dare set me up with your friends.”

He counters and points his at you, “Even better than that.”

With your interest piqued, you slide yourself onto the counter stool and mix the noodles around, anticipating to hear Yangyang’s fantastic plan. Your friend sits on the other stool, facing you. He pauses for a second, taking a deep breath.

“Why don’t I be your boyfriend for the holidays?”

You freeze, and the noodles’ drips above your bowl are deafening to both individuals. Laughing awkwardly, you break your frozen state to drop your chopsticks and turn your head to look at him.

Sputtering, you say, “What?”

Unnerved, his mouth pinches to one side, thinking maybe he shouldn’t have even said anything in the first place. This was stupid, so stupid, but it’s out in the open and Yangyang already dug his grave—he may as well lay in it.

“Well, for one, it’s something on your wishlist that I can easily get,” he pauses mid-sentence, glancing upward in thought. “Well, really, fill? Is that a better way to put it?”

He continues, eyes back on you, “And two, I’m not setting you up with a stranger or someone you wouldn’t be comfortable with. I assume you know me well enough that you’re comfortable around me?”

Yangyang lifts an upturned palm and raises an eyebrow, waiting for a response to his assumption. Petulantly, you shake your head playfully and stick out your tongue at him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, his gaze drops down to the floor for his last point. His voice lowers.

“And, I don’t know, we’d just hang out like we usually do during that time, except we’d do more couple-y things.”

Realizing the implication of his words, he widens his eyes. “I mean, we'll do whatever you’re comfortable with, obviously. We don’t have to do any of the physical stuff—”

You burst into a giggle at his rambling and hold a hand out, cutting him off. “Okay, Yang. I get it.”

Yangyang watches your next moves carefully. You’re peering off to one side and picking at the tips of your fingers. After a minute that feels like forever, you nod slowly.

“I guess you have a point. We are sorta like a couple already.”

Your best friend sighs in relief, grinning that you’re not outright rejecting the idea.

“So,” you meet his eyes and bunch a shoulder up towards your ear. “We’ll just be a couple until what, New Year’s?”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs indifferently. “Whatever you want. It’s your Christmas wish.”

You chuckle and shake your head in disbelief that you two are actually making an agreement for Yangyang to be your temporary, holiday boyfriend.

Honestly, it’s a little crazy... but maybe it’s the perfect thing to get your mind off of Mark and the handful of holiday exes hanging above your head.

“Okay, since my last final is on the 21st, let’s start ‘dating’ then and we’ll play everything by ear, see how it goes.”

Yangyang bobs his head eagerly. “Sounds good, soon-to-be girlfriend.”

He sticks a hand out for you to shake. You take it firmly, sealing the deal and flashing him a grin.

“Soon-to-be boyfriend.”

Although the night goes on like usual between the two of you, you couldn’t deny how ecstatic you are to finally have a boyfriend during the holidays, even if it was technically your best friend as a stand-in.

DECEMBER 21st

Tonight’s your first date with Yangyang.

That sounds weird to say, you admit to yourself, but it’s the truth.

After you stroll out of your last final of the semester, Yangyang’s waiting for you inside near the main exit of the building with several layers on, including his hoodie over his head and a knitted scarf underneath. His attention leaves his phone and he stuffs it into pocket as he notices you heading over.

“Hey, girlfriend,” he welcomes you, beaming.

You snicker at the unfamiliar label. You wonder if you’re going to get used to this, even if it’s only for two weeks.

“Hey, boyfriend,” you grin harder as the word falls from your lips, trying your best not to outright burst into laughter. “Where we heading off to?”

Although you said both of you could play the dating by ear, Yangyang’s been keen on scheduling plans for the upcoming days. You told him he didn’t have to, however, he insisted by saying that he wouldn’t only be a horrible boyfriend, but a horrible friend if he couldn’t make the next weeks fun for you.

Yangyang was anything but a horrible friend, and the fact that he was willing to be your holiday boyfriend to make you happy proved it further. Nevertheless, you gladly let him take the reins.

“I was thinking the movies tonight? See the latest Marvel film?”

Concurring to the idea, you scurry towards the bus stop and are movie-theatre bound to the nearest one off-campus. Arriving at the theatre, Yangyang and you buy your tickets and a popcorn to share, then head into the respective auditorium where the movie is playing. Since the movie’s been running for a couple of weeks, the auditorium is fairly empty, giving you two the chance to snag perfect middle seats with nobody else is in the row.

Up to this point, aside from the name-dropping of boyfriend and girlfriend, this feels less like a date and more like any other hang-out with him. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing awkward.

But that changes during a third of the movie.

You’re both so immersed by the screen that neither party notices the other’s hand when both of you reach for the popcorn in Yangyang’s lap at the same time.

A jolt runs through as your hands brush together. The duo’s eyes tear away from the screen and flit to the action happening in real-time. The touch lingers for several moments.

“Sorry,” you quickly mumble, drawing your hand back slightly, but still hovering over the popcorn.

“Uhm,” Yangyang licks his lips and visibly gulps under the screen’s bright glare.

He whispers, his voice almost cracking, “As your boyfriend, can I hold your hand?”

Okay, this is just your best friend, acting as your temporary boyfriend, asking to hold your hand. No big deal, no big deal at all.

Yet, the thunderous knocking in your ears, louder than the explosions blasting through the theatre’s speakers, suggests otherwise.

You don’t even register it, but you’re already nodding in response. Your breathing slows to the rate of Yangyang’s hand inching over. At the anticipated contact, you gasp softly. His smooth fingers clasp over yours. Since the arm rest in the middle of you is positioned upward, there’s no obtrusion and you relax, letting your hands mingle in between the empty space.

Without looking at one another, both of you smile bashfully to yourselves as you try to continue to focus on the screen.

After a while, because you aren’t exactly holding hands, you spread your fingers, hastily doing so because you don’t want him to think you’re breaking the interaction, and twist your palm to properly interlock hands with him. You give Yangyang’s hand a warm, gentle squeeze. He does the same and even strokes his thumb against your skin.

Talk about playing everything by ear. Who knew you’d be hand in hand on the first date?

You attempt to not think much on it, but Yangyang’s hand in yours feels... so right, like your hand was made for this, for his to hold. Like you should’ve done this way sooner.

And if Yangyang’s thoughts could be heard, he’s thinking the same.

Despite the mutual fear of sweaty palms, neither of you desire to let go, so much that you not only hold hands during the rest of the movie, but throughout the bus ride back to campus and all the way until he escorts you to your front door.

With a certain charge in the atmosphere, you exchange sweet good-byes. That night, after the culmination of stress from finals and your worries of your holiday exes, you finally have a peaceful sleep, looking forward to your date with Yangyang tomorrow.

DECEMBER 22nd

“Babe, how do I look?”

“Very pretty, honey.” A bundled up Yangyang winks at you from behind his phone.

The second date is an evening at a Christmas light festival at a botanical garden on the outskirts of town. The lights illuminate so strongly; there was a glowing dome-like hue over the location that seemed to reach the dark sky as you got off the bus.

When stepping foot into the garden, all the encompassing lights mesmerize you. Lights on the various greenery, lights as decorative art pieces, lights lining the pathways. Different shades of colours and shapes engulf the massive area.

Yangyang’s currently in the middle of taking your photo near an arch tangled with dark blue, gold, and white bulbs. All night long, you’ve been mockingly using endearing terms, but, despite the frigid air, your cheeks heat up over something else he just said.

“You think I’m pretty?” you genuinely ask, breaking your pose.

He lowers his phone a bit, his jaw dangling.

“Uh, I mean,” he giggles awkwardly, nodding softly. “Yeah.”

Yangyang never told you, but he initially sat near you in Psych 101 because he thought you were the most stunning girl in the class. And sure, he was a little disappointed at the time to find out you had a boyfriend, but that didn’t mean you two couldn’t still be friends. Other than the first few weeks he had a crush on you, he’s never thought of you as more than a friend.

But those feelings are resurfacing, hitting him in the chest like a bag of bricks, due to moments like this one—you’re batting your eyelids, gaze straying elsewhere, and adorably chewing on your lower lip.

“And you’re not just saying that as my holiday boyfriend?”

Pouting to one side, he shakes his head cutely. “Mm-mm.”

On the flipside, the beginning with Yangyang for you was strictly platonic. You were dating Haechan at the time you met him. When Haechan broke up with you later that fall, you kept a distance from dating for a while, heartbroken from the high school love gone sour. During that period, you never told him, but you did run through the possibility of dating Yangyang since you got along so well... until you met Jaemin earlier the next semester, who stole your heart. Ever since then, you’ve never seen Yangyang under that light again.

Despite that, you can’t deny how attractive he is, and now that you’re single and technically dating him, you embrace the fact with open arms.

Beaming as bright as the lights, you tug him by the end of his puffer jacket’s sleeve to bring him closer to you.

“C’mon, handsome, let’s take some pictures together.” Prickles rise under Yangyang’s cheeks from the off-hand compliment.

Holding your phone up in the air at about an arm’s length away, the side of your heads touch to prepare for a few selfies. When you finish capturing them, Yangyang’s hovering over your shoulder as you scroll through to glance through the photos.

“We look good together,” you comment. “Don’t you think?”

In sync, your heads turn to meet each other. Your eyes waver from the blatant clouds of your breaths and over to his lips. The clouds become rapid bursts as you begin to lean forward. So does Yangyang.

“Do you guys want a picture together?” someone suddenly asks. The abrupt voice drags you both apart instantly, crushing the moment into pieces.

“Sure,” you peep, fumbling to hand your phone over to the stranger.

Posing, Yangyang’s hand rests around the middle of your back, which is the norm when you take pictures with him, but he pulls you in snugly. You smile even wider, relishing in the new-level of intimacy and allow yourself to be truly content among his presence.

“You guys are such a cute couple,” the stranger gushes while they return your phone prior to walking away.

“I guess we are, huh, babe?” you jut your tongue out in jest at him. This time, you indulge in the endearing term without a sliver of mockery.

Yangyang copies you, jutting his tongue out further than yours, and seizes your hand to continue the tour around the gleaming garden.

The almost-kiss isn’t mentioned for the rest of the night, nor is it acted upon, but both individuals dwell on the near occurrence before sleep that evening, staring longingly at their bedroom ceiling.

DECEMBER 23rd

For the third date, you find yourselves at the campus’ dedicated ice rink arena to partake in ice skating.

You’ve skated a few times in the past, but you’re by no means a pro. On the other hand, this is apparently Yangyang’s first time, and he’s already skating circles around you.

“Show off,” you grumble as he does another lap past you. Your gloved hands are splayed out in front of you, careful not to fall flat on your face.

Turning on his blades, he rebounds over to you.

“Sorry,” he pants. His raised cheeks glow an adorable shade of pink. “This is really fun when you get the hang of it.”

Yangyang intertwines his fingers with yours before you can say anything. “C’mon, take my hand.”

At first, it was sweet to skate alongside your holiday boyfriend, notwithstanding the few times you almost trip. As the minutes pass, you think you’re getting the hang of it, but suddenly, Yangyang unleashes your hand and glides ahead of you, abandoning you to slide at a swift pace that is definitely out of your comfort zone.

“Yangyang, what the fuck?!” you screech, completely disregarding the handful of surrounding parents with their kids, the former sending daggers your direction. Your ankles struggle to make a T-shape to stop, but the struggling only somehow makes you move faster.

As he spins to face you, now skating backwards with ease, he says, “See, you got the hang of it-oomph—”

Air’s struck from his lungs when you crash into his body. Thankfully, Yangyang skids his blades harshly against the ice and is able to steady and support you within his arms.

“You little fucker,” you gripe, lightly punching him in the arm.

He chuckles blithely, “Sorry, but it was kinda funny, you gotta admit.”

You breathe a large huff, which makes you note how your hair is falling over your face after the catastrophe. You’re about to lift your hand to rearrange the strands, but Yangyang beats you to it and is in the midst of tucking them behind your ear.

The knocking in your ears reappears with a vengeance and the physical source of the knocking is thrashing violently against your chest.

Your scorching breaths fuse in the refrigerated rink as Yangyang eliminates the inches of space between, his plush mouth ultimately converging with yours.

You have to constantly remind yourself to breathe under Yangyang’s intensity, and remind yourself that you’re in a public space and shouldn’t be making out like this.

But everyone’s skating around the couple, daring to not disrupt the affectionate display.

God, you don’t know when was the last time you’ve been kissed like this. Have you ever even experienced a kiss that was a fraction of this? Yangyang daintily cups your cheeks like you’re glass, but his lips press ruggedly into yours, inflaming your entirety and melting any existence of your figurative fragility.

You ignore the echo in the back of your mind that reminds you he’s your temporary boyfriend.

The Talk will inevitably occur, but your future self could deal with it. Presently, you’re too caught up, drowning in Yangyang’s embrace.

DECEMBER 24th

On Christmas Eve, Yangyang decides to bring you to an outdoor Christmas market.

Understandably, since it’s the day before Christmas, the place is absolutely packed. For the first fifteen minutes or so, it’s joyous being immersed in the Christmas spirit with the assorted little shops and their respective products. You’re holding Yangyang’s hand tightly, pointing and half-shouting over the bustle about the items that catch your eye.

Unfortunately, someone accidentally bumps against your arms and your hand is gone from his.

Swivelling your head, searching through the crowd, it occurs to you that you officially lost Yangyang.

Your feet come to a halt as your hand attempts to dig into your jacket pocket to pluck your phone out, but the moving crowd forces you to constantly follow the stream.

You yell for him, but words can’t materialize. Your windpipe tightens. Your breath is becoming shallower and shallower. Blood pulses in your ears alarmingly, blocking out the clamour from around you. Your mind’s running everywhere without control.

Where is your boyfriend?

No, scratch that, he’s not your actual boyfriend—where is your best friend?

Did he leave you? He would never.

Right?

But what happens when all of this is over? Will you still have your best friend?

You’ve avoided The Talk long enough, but you didn’t expect to catch feelings for him. Not like this.

Maybe you’re just destined to be alone.

Is this how it feels to actually lose him?

Tears fight your vision. You hear a faint call of your name, but you can’t urge yourself to turn around, sinking only further into the sea of anonymity. You’re just a face in a crowd, all alone, with no one who cares—

Yangyang grasps you by the arm and maneuvers you aside to a less busy area behind one of the vendor stands.

“Oh, God, thought I lost you there—”

You cut him off, hugging him with all your might and stuff your face in his chest cushioned by the downy layers of his winter jacket. Yangyang immediately drapes his arms securely around you, reading your uneasiness.

“Hey, I got you. I got you,” he soothes, running a hand through your hair. “God, not my best idea. Sorry for bringing you here.”

You shake your head, wordlessly informing him that it’s okay. You’re just glad to be with him again.

“Wanna go home?”

You nod solemnly, and Yangyang zips you out of there in minutes with his arm tucked by your side, ensuring he doesn’t lose you in the crowd again.

Fortunately, the jitters mostly disappear when you arrive at your place in the late afternoon. You’re in the middle of rummaging through your keys to unlock your door.

“Sorry I didn’t have anything else planned for today,” he mumbles, leaning with folded arms against the wall.

“Did you...” You insert the correct key and turn the lock, clicking the door open. Your gaze lifts to match his. “Did you wanna maybe have dinner with me tonight? I was thinking of ordering pizza in.”

The grin that reaches his eyes is a sufficient answer for you.

“Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.” He hangs his arm around your shoulder and plants a kiss atop your head.

After chomping down pizza and playing a few rounds of Super Smash Bros. on Yangyang’s Switch, you peer over to him on your living room couch while he’s figuring out which character he should play next.

The little mental voice in the back of your mind prods you, reminding that you should really, really have The Talk soon. The Talk that you swept under the rug at the start by saying you’d play everything by ear.

Four dates later, and the thought of this ending scares the living daylights out of you. This not only including the interim relationship, but the dire possibility of the friendship itself too. Is it possible to go back to how you were, flipping it off like a light switch?

But the internal voice is smothered as you’re drawn to his pouting lips in thought. His pouting, oh-so kissable lips. Following the ice skating kiss yesterday, you only shared a good-bye kiss when he dropped you off. Since then, you’ve been itching to have his lips on yours again.

Yangyang eventually detects your lack of focus and finds you gawking at his mouth. Your gaze dashes to his eyes, blinking innocently, but then his eyes flicker to your mouth.

The tension in the room snaps. You two carefully throw the Switch controllers off to one side and attach yourselves together. Unlike the crashing of your bodies at the ice rink, this one is purposeful. Deliberated, as his forehead presses into yours and his tender caress carries your cheek. Your body plummets backwards until Yangyang pins you completely into the couch.

Initially, the lip-locking is gentle and mild. Your fingers lay in the vicinity of his angular visage and sturdy upper frame, in contrast to his hand curling around your waist in a light squeeze.

Soon, hands traverse to other regions—his back, your thigh, his stomach, your ass. Each touch seeking, craving, whining. Tongues slinking and dancing with appetite. Your bodies buzz for more.

Open-mouthed kisses transition from the damp lips to each other’s necks. The touches dig deeper, thriving with hunger. Your back bows, body curving into his. Grinding ensues and his robust desire is blatant against your own pulsing passion.

“You don’t happen to have any condoms on you, do you?” you groan upwards to the ceiling.

He retracts from your neck to swing his head side to side, grumbling a “Sorry, we can stop...” yet you interrupt his apology by cupping his covered length. The guttural groan he exhales into your lips makes you shiver with pleasure.

“Doesn’t mean we still can’t have fun with our hands...” you say slyly.

“Fuck yeah,” he rasps, smirking, before diving in again to taste your mouth.

Clothes are stripped with the assistance of each other, leaving you with only your bra on while Yangyang opts to be completely bare. He tops your body in the same position once more.

On the couch arm rest, your head is perched with his hand clutching the space next to it for leverage. Both figures are too scatter-brained to delve into the exquisite nudity of one another, hands flying desperately to your respective arousals.

Your pretty fingers wrap around his possession almost exactly when he dips two digits into your warmth. In unison, two sharp, quiet gasps pierce the room.

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he hisses observantly. You’re so overwhelmed by the bliss that you can’t assemble any sort of response.

Your mouth’s parted to one side, chest soaring with each plunge. Through his clouded vision, he ambles over your curves and lines and yearns to see your breasts, but he respects your choice of keeping it on and opts to ambush the expanse with kisses. Your chest is launched further into his mouth and Yangyang assumes you’re enjoying this.

Fearing friction burn, you drop him from your grip momentarily, swiping a few licks over your palm. When your hand pumps him again, now drenched with saliva, grunts reverberate against your skin.

“Yangyang?” you whimper, causing his face to pull away from the temple of your body.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m-I’m close.” And he can attest to it; the contractions around him are increasing, harshly squeezing his fingers.

“Same,” he pants.

Your best friend flicks his wrist with ignition, securing your waves of elation. You attempt to do the same, but it’s difficult when he’s also sloppily thrusting himself into your fist, so you simply clench your grasp harder. His features pinch and choppy moans dribble as he yields to his climax, gushing himself over your stomach.

Still sucking in lungfuls of air, Yangyang kisses you tenderly before removing himself to clean up the mess he made.

Following the clean-up, while putting on your clothes, Yangyang expresses how he should get going since it’s getting late.

“Did you wanna stay the night?” you pipe up.

His mind races, debating on whether to leave or not, anxious to blur the lines of your relationship even further.

Sure, he’s your temporary boyfriend, thus staying over at your place shouldn’t mean anything. But this agreement is ending next week, and he’s questioning if you two can stay just friends after this, knowing that he’s going to want more. Yangyang has had a taste of the what if, and it’s now irrevocable.

He wants you all for himself. Selfishly, but deeply.

For the sake of keeping this a great thing for you, he shoves his thoughts aside. This is all about you and for your benefit, anyhow.

“Uh, sure, I can take the couch like I always—”

“Yangyang, you just put your fingers inside of me,” you snicker, snagging him by the hand to your bedroom. “C’mon.”

The rest of the night is relatively chaste with some kisses and touches here and there. Eventually, you fall asleep facing each other with your fingers interlocked, excited for the big day tomorrow.

DECEMBER 25th

Normally on Christmas, Yangyang and you spend it with your respective families, but coincidentally, both of your families, your parents being retired and all, ended up vacationing this year, leaving the two of you to spend it with each other.

After getting up around noon, Yangyang heads to his place to grab his gift. He takes longer than you expected because, as it turns out, he also went home to grab baking goods he bought beforehand since he wants to make butter cookies with you today.

The cookies end up fine, but the mess is another story. Besides the chaos on the counter, your faces and aprons are splotched with flour (you swear he started it, but he disagrees and stands his ground that you’re the perpetrator). With a damp cloth, Yangyang aids you to clean, but not forgetting to wipe your face and giving you pecks over your cheeks and nose.

The baking and aftermath occupies most of the afternoon, so dinner comes in the form of fancy, romantic instant ramen for two. Afterwards, you two sit in your living room and start to exchange gifts.

Yangyang hands his over to you first. From the size of the gift and the crumpled, oddly-shaped wrapping, you already can guess it’s a stuffed plushie of a cute animal to add to your never ending collection. You hug it tightly with a large smile.

“It’s so cute, thank you!” you squeal, but you change your expression in an instant to a serious pout. “But you can’t steal this one like you did with my Ice Bear plushie.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal Ice Bear, I just forgot to give him back.” You roll your eyes sarcastically and he laughs. “I’ll bring him over tomorrow, if it makes you feel better.”

Then, when it’s your turn, you head into your bedroom and come out with a large, white shopping bag. His eyebrows raise, unsure of what could warrant a gift this size.

“For being my holiday boyfriend,” you grin, placing the bag in front of his feet.

Despite the hugest smile on your face, his heart sinks at the label for a second, but he blinks and wills himself to look inside the bag.

His eyes shoot open, so much that you’re scared you might have to stuff them back into his sockets.

Yangyang slips the box out of the bag with precision and stares at it speechlessly.

It’s the new Playstation.

He shifts his eyes toward you. You’re swaying on the couch, pleased by his reaction.

“Your parents paid for most of it, so I can’t take all the credit.” Sticking a finger in the air, you add, “You just gotta promise to share custody with me though—”

A hand behind your head yanks you into a deep kiss. He’s not the only one left speechless on the couch. He places the top of his head against yours.

“You’re crazy, but I love—” He quickly catches himself from saying something he might regret. “—I love it so much, thank you. Now I feel bad for getting you only the stuffed animal...”

You shake your head softly, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone.

“Thank you for everything.” Your eyes twinkle. “I couldn’t have asked to spend the holidays with anyone else.”

Carefully, like a newborn baby, he safely situates the boxed Playstation to one side and nabs your lips with his again. The scene feels like repeat of last night as your bodies wrestle passionately on the couch.

“Not to be presumptuous,” he mutters between the kisses upon your neck. Your eyelids flutter at the sensation. “But I also grabbed condoms from my place when I stopped by.”

His words sends the two of you leaping towards your bedroom. Under the dim lighting, you fall into the bed as Yangyang pares your layers off, one by one. With each peel, his lips roam the revealing bare skin. You swear he has kissed you from your literal head to toe when you’re fully nude in front of him.

Your companion drags his shirt over his head, throws it off to your floor, and immediately targets in onto your nub with his mouth, finally satiating his craving from last night.

Fingers thread into his hair and over his flexed back. His tongue swirls and his teeth lightly tug on your perkiness, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. And he still isn’t even inside you yet.

After leaving love upon your other bosom, Yangyang fumbles with the condom, forgetting which way it should go on. Giggling, you perch yourself onto your elbows and assist him. Rolling it over his possession, you recline yourself back and spread your legs for him.

Pensively, he sticks his tongue out as he adjusts himself between your sex, easing himself into you, and upon the full impact, you meet his gaze head-on. His stare makes you feel vulnerable and exposed beyond the physical plane.

But, unlike the others you have been with, you trust him with everything, like you always have, and be free with him. Losing your inhibitions and submitting to your whims, you entangle and become one with Yangyang.

Behind his hazy vision, Yangyang’s simply thinking how beautiful you are, how he can’t imagine anyone else under his touch but you, how he is willing to give up anything to make you smile.

Well, in this case, he’s willing to give up anything to make you pleased.

However, it doesn’t seem like he needs to do much because you’re howling his name and clinging onto his skin and the sheets in a frenzy, like you’re about to die of exhaustion.

You perish a few times under him before he finally reaches his little death himself, convulsing into the sheath.

When air’s replenished into your bodies, you rest on his chest under your blanket. Glancing up at him, you move some of his tousled hair off his sleek forehead.

“Merry Christmas, Yangyang,” you whisper, snuggling him with a satisfied smile.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he whispers back, giving you one last peck before you both drift into a deep slumber together.

DECEMBER 26th

Last night took so much out of the both of you, you don’t get out of bed until about the middle of the afternoon. Yangyang doesn’t have anything planned for today since it’s Boxing Day, since the crowds might be crazy wherever you go, so it’s officially a chill, rest day for you both.

When you step out of the shower in fresh clothes, from behind the couch, you watch Yangyang gaming on his Switch.

The little voice in your head looms, prompting that now is the time to have The Talk, and speaks up on your behalf.

“Do we have to end things next week?” you croak.

You see Yangyang’s shoulders stiffen, then he pauses the game and turns around to face you. His gaze follows you as you step closer to the couch, opting to stand.

“Uhm.” His Adam’s apple bobs and he shrugs. “It’s up to you, it’s your—”

“Yangyang, that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking what you think, how do you feel?”

His lips press together and he’s staring at the floor. You can tell the gears are moving, but you can’t read his expression clearly.

“I’m down for whatever you want to do,” he says slowly, eyes still averting yours.

That’s a I’m-your-best-friend answer, you deduce. Not a I-want-to-be-your-actual-boyfriend answer.

He adds, stuttering, “I mean, I wouldn’t mind doing this a little longer if that’s what you want—”

Your face scrunches in annoyance. “Did you just sign up to be my short-term boyfriend so you can fill my empty heart?”

His eyebrows crease with confusion. “I mean, I never want to see you unhappy.”

“So it’s pity dating then?” you lash, raising your voice.

“No, I—” Yangyang bites down on his tongue, almost letting the one word slip out again. He blows out a lengthy sigh and runs a hand through his hair. “I care about you, so much. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

You’re defining his words as an affirmation of friendship and as an underlying rejection of your love.

You need to know for certain.

“Do you love me, Yangyang?” you blurt. “As more than a friend?”

This is it, Yangyang thinks. This is your chance to let her know how you feel.

But the distress written on your face makes him wonder if he should even go through with it, and it’s intensifying with every passing moment that he’s not speaking.

If only he knew your distress was deepening because you took his hesitance as absolute rejection.

Your heart is breaking because of him, and he technically wasn’t even yours to begin with.

You smack your lips together and gulp a few times, trying to make the huge knot in your throat disappear.

“You know what, maybe let’s just forget this arrangement and leave it all behind and forget about the sex and—”

“You wanna stop this?” he utters quietly.

The word “this” hangs heavy in the air. This, carrying the weight of not only being the temporary agreement, but also your friendship.

“Yeah,” you whisper, tears beginning to blur your eyes. “I think I do.”

DECEMBER 28th

Two days have passed since you last saw Yangyang.

That day before he left, Yangyang, feeling guilty for how events unfolded, wanted to give back the Playstation, but you insisted for him to keep it. In spite of everything, it was a Christmas gift to him from you and his parents.

But both of you weren’t sure if the shared custody promise was going to be held up.

In hopes that things would eventually get better and heal itself, Yangyang thought it’d be best to leave you alone for a while, like how he usually did.

And maybe he was right to do so, but this time is different.

Because he’s on the other end of the stick now; he’s the one who broke your heart.

Under regular circumstances, whenever you needed space, he was always ready to be there by your side.

But Yangyang’s uncertain if you’re going to let him comfort you this time.

And you’re uncertain if you even want him to.

DECEMBER 30th

Today, Yangyang finally makes the move to get in touch with you, texting you to call him, but you don’t, so he leaves a voicemail later in the evening.

“There’s a New Year’s party I’m going to tomorrow,” he starts off, then spews the specific details.

There’s a pause and you hear shuffling in the background. You assume he’s pacing around.

“I know you ended our agreement, but I wouldn’t mind fulfilling my end since New Year’s is the last day tomorrow. I’d be really glad if you came to the party with me, whether it be as my friend or my girlfriend.”

Another pause.

On the other end, Yangyang rubs his palm over his face, considering whether or not he should say it. If you picked up the phone call, he was going to do it anyway, but this just felt improper. He wants to say it when he knows you’re listening in real-time, so he ends off the message with:

“I miss you. So much.”

DECEMBER 31st

It’s 8:40PM. Before Yangyang buses out to the party, he’s back at your front door for one more shot. His fist taps at your door, cognizant that you wouldn’t be elsewhere since your other friends are out of town for the holidays. Despite that, you don’t come to the door. Nevertheless, he speaks to you through the wooden barrier.

“Hey, I know you want to be left alone, but I just wanted to see if you changed your mind about the party.”

Still no answer. He lets out a sigh and prays the following will incite a reaction from you.

��About the question that you asked me that night...”

He closes his eyes and allows his mouth to carry him.

“I do. I do love you. As both my best friend and more. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night by not saying anything, but I love you so much and I think we should give us a shot.”

Still no answer. Yangyang continues.

“Look, I know it’s scary and crazy to date your best friend. I’m scared too, but you know what? I’m okay with being scared. I’ve watched you gone through those assholes over the last few years and maybe you’re scared I’ll end up like one of them, but unlike them, I don’t think you’re horrible or needy or emotional—you’re beautiful, intelligent, and strong for putting up with all those fuckers.”

He leans his forehead gently against the door.

“And even if we ever do break up, and this is a big if because I’ll always try my hardest with you to make it work, I’ll still be your friend. I promise. You won’t lose me ‘cause I need you in my life. I gotta keep my end up for the custody of the Playstation, right?”

A smile breaks over his face from his joke, but still. Radio silence.

“Can you at least say something?” he begs.

After a few minutes, realizing he needs to probably give you more time to be left alone, he departs and heads to the party.

Originally, you actually were planning on attending the party to see Yangyang to make-up with him.

Unfortunately, out of all the days you had to take a late afternoon nap, it had to be today.

And you overslept. Big time.

At 10:55PM, you scramble awake, realizing you’re absolutely late to the event. Since the party’s downtown, you know calling an Uber or Lyft there would be fast, but tonight’s the worst night for any share riding service and there aren’t any available drivers. Thus, you have to manage with busing there.

It’s 11:40PM when you finally reach downtown, but the bus can’t take you all the way to the core centre where the party is; hordes of people are out on the streets and traffic is dreadful. God, you’re going to be cutting it close to midnight, but you make a run for it.

You’re grateful the party is on the second floor of a small building because you slide in right through the entrance at 11:58PM. You rush to call Yangyang’s phone, hoping he’ll pick up as you try to find him in the scattered groups of people.

You begin to holler for him in hopes he can hear you, but the countdown is happening, drowning out your voice. Thirty seconds left until the clock strikes for the new year.

When his number finally goes to voicemail, you redial his number. Suddenly, a hand grasps you by the wrist.

Yangyang looks at you, dumbfounded.

“When did you get here?”

The harmonious chanting around you floods your surroundings.

“Ten, nine, eight...”

Getting closer to him, you practically scream into Yangyang’s face, trusting he’ll hear what you’re about to say.

“I know Christmas is over, but I want to change my wish.”

“Seven, six, five...”

“I know you might not feel the same and I know things might not work out.”

“Four, three, two...”

”But I wish to date you past New Year’s until whenever, however long we last.”

“One...”

“I love you, Yangyang—”

The one you love snatches you by the waist and your cheek, stealing your lips at the last millisecond before midnight.

“Happy New Year!”

A wave of noisemakers, clappers, and hollering erupt around the room. After it dies down a bit, Yangyang shocks you with a scolding.

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came over?!”

Confusion rushes over you. You realize he probably came by when you were sleeping.

“You came over?!”

“Yeah, I confessed my love for you.”

“Wait,” you blink blankly, unsure if you heard him correctly. “Your love?”

“Yeah,” he nods, giving you his cheesy, adorable smile. “I love you.”

“As more than a friend?” you clarify.

“Babe,” Yangyang’s thumb caresses your cheek. “I don’t think I could ever go back to wanting less with you.”

Your lips tremble with relief as your gaze melts in his.

“And, anyway, who else am I going to share the Playstation with?”

“Well, I mean, you do have Hendery, Xiaojun, Winwin...” you start to count his infinite list of friends on your fingers.

“Yeah, but I need you so I can constantly beat your cute little butt at games.”

“You do not constantly beat my cute little butt at games, I’ll have you know that I beat you at—”

Yangyang shuts you up with another kiss, the one of many for the rest of the night.

JANUARY 2nd

It’s your second morning at Yangyang’s place. You’ve only done it a few times now, but you realize that waking up in his arms is one of the greatest feelings in the world, second only to his kisses.

In his bed, spooning you from behind, he grumbles into the nape of your neck, “Morning, girlfriend.”

Half-awake, you mumble back, “Morning, boyfriend,” and sink deeper into the curve of his body.

Content, you finally broke your string of cursed holiday break-ups for good.

And all it took was to be with the one who was in front of you all this time.

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cherri-cherri · 4 years ago

Text

× Little Flower ×

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Pairings - Ryoumen Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis - No one was allowed to touch you as you were his. Those who dared would suffer a fate worse than death...

Warnings - Possible Grammar Errors, Slight Gore, Swear Words

A/N - This fic here is pretty short but I wanted to write this after having a weird dream with flowers and Sukuna. I honestly have mixed feelings about this one but I hope you all enjoy! - 🍒

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"Speak, girl. Do you know why you stand here on trial here today?" A voice called out to you from above but you simply kept your head hanging down to stare at the stacks of dry wood pressed under your feet. Your body ached due to the countless bruises and cuts littering your skin and the tightness of the ropes cutting into your bound wrists weren't helping at all in the slightest.

"Y/N L/N, do you understand why you stand before us?" The voice repeated again, this time a rough hand grabbing ahold of your hair and gripping it tightly, forcing you to stare up at the man before you.

"Cat has your tongue? Well then, let me remind you that you were caught giving aid to the king of curses. No doubt spreading your legs for him like that harlot you are" his words only mirrored the disgusted look in his cold grey eyes, glaring down at you as his grip on your hair only tightened. Sad to think that you would be used to this knowing your uncle was not a kind or gentle man and yet his words only stung.

"...I did no such thing....He was hurt and I was trying to help, I was–" Letting out a yelp as your cheek burned from the slap your uncle gave you, you felt tears prickling your eyes as he leaned in closer.

"Liar!! Someone saw you with him, saw you hold him! It is obvious that your vile ways allowed him to take over your mind and possess you!" Yelling at the top of his lungs, you heard others around you cheering the man on as some even chimed in. So many hateful words, so many people who you believed to friends and family only for all of them to look at you with such disdain and anger. Tears began to form until your uncle released you and stepped away, "There is only one way to save your soul now before he swallows it whole. The flames will send you to the afterlife and maybe then, you will be saved."

Your heart dropped after hearing that. You were going to die, all because of giving a monster sanctuary, all because you tried to be kind. Men carrying large clay pots came to the stake you were bound to and then began splashing you with oil. Coughing as the liquid was poured ontop of your head, you heard the chanting of the people all around you, screaming and yelling for your death over and over again as your uncle came walking back towards you while holding up a lit torch.

This was the end. Your miserable life ending at such a horrible note, it made you let out a small saddened chuckle as you slowly closed your eyes and waited for the fire to engulf your completely until nothing but ash reminded.

You waited..

And waited..

The ropes wrapped around your wrists were soon sliced off and at the same time, you hear a few thuds collapsing onto gravel not too far away from you. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself staring at your uncle. Your now headless uncle. The blood erupting from his neck like a geyser as the body slumped down to its knees, occasionally twitching as the blood sprayed across your face and ragged dress. The color drained from your face completely as you stared down at the blood on your clothes, horrified until a large tattooed around wrapped itself around your waist. Freezing completely, you looked back forward to see the villagers beginning to flee until those who even took a step back were diced into cubed pieces.

"Any human who moves another muscle will die." A rough voice called out behind you, sending your heart to panic. Turning your head slightly to the side, you saw him.

Ryoumen Sukuna.

His eyes darted down towards you, crimson hues staring into your watery E/C eyes and he simply gave you a toothy grin. "Come on now, Y/N, you shouldn't give such a frightened look to your knight in shining armor. I just saved your life."

"Y-you killed them.. " you muttered, causing Sukuna to roll his eyes as he lifted you in the air before placing you down onto his shoulder to carry you. "And? I don't see what's wrong here. You're alive, they're dead. Now that we've been over that, I think you owe me a reward—"

"I knew it..." a woman said from the crowd, her knuckles turning white from how hard she was gripping her fists. She stared at the two of you with fear in her eyes, more so you than Sukuna. "Y-you were sleeping with him..you dirty whore...letting a monster in this village. Letting a curse spread in this village!" As she screamed out, blood soon enough trickled down her lips as she felt a pain in her chest before a growing numbness. Looking down, the woman saw nothing but a gaping hole in the middle of her chest, blood dribbling down the emptiness to the stomach until she slowly collapsed on her back. Others around her screamed out, some moving from the places they were standing before being sliced in half or trisected into parts. You gasped out, covering your mouth as you felt bile rising up.

"S-she did nothing wrong!" You yelled to Sukuna as he only stared at the remaining people in the crowd with a smirk. "Wrong...As far as I see, everyone here has committed a great sin."

Crimson stained the once grey pathway as people are killed by the curse one after another. A few brave (or foolish) souls attempted to even rush at Sukuna only to make it as far as five steps forward before their insides became their outsides. A woman tried to beg for her life by offering herself as Sukuna's personal slave, even going as far as to give away to lives of her children but once again it proved nothing as she too was killed.

It didn't take long for Sukuna to kill off the rest of the villagers, regardless of their age or even if they were innocent or not. They were all killed and slaughtered brutally without mercy, their blood mixing together as the smell of their corpses began to reek. You stared down at the headless corpse of your uncle, eyes dulled as you thought perhaps it would've been better if the fire had claimed you. Then no one wouldve been killed. No, no that wasn't true.

It would've been better if you never met him. If you simply continued on your way and left him bleeding out for the shamans to find. If you had never opened your heart to the curse..then no one would've died. Then no one would've been killed. Feeling a hand brush your hair gently with his nails and combing a strain behind your ear, you were snapped out of your thoughts. Sukuna pulled you closer towards him with one arm and wrapped each of his arms around your small frame before pressing his lips onto your forehead.

"They didn't have to die..." your voice was practically a whisper at this point, hoarse and dry from the screaming and begging for him to stop. Sukuna merely chuckled as he released you, "Do you feel guilty?"

"What sort of question is that supposed to be? Of course I do...." Saying that you didn't would only be half of the truth. Sure you were angry with how they were so quick to hurt you and kill you but then again, if you knew this was what Sukuna was capable, you would've accepted the punishment. You should've listened, should've stayed away from him that night yet apart of you knew that this perhaps wouldn't have changed much.

"I don't see why when because of you, your people get to live on..."

Those words got your attention as they left you confused. Before you could even question him however, you heard a small weak voice speaking out towards it. "You've doomed us all, girl..."

You could've swore that it was your uncle speaking to you and yet you knew that was impossible seeing as his vocal cords were severed alongside his head. But when your eyes slowly looked over to the severed head, you saw a large flower growing where the blood pooled over. It might have been beautiful if it wasnt for the fact that your uncle's face was on the flower, darkened eyes staring at you. Gasping out, you covered you mouth and took a step back, pressing your back into the warm chest of Sukuna as he pointed over towards the other bodies littered around the execution ground.

A variety of flowers had sprouted forth from the blood soaked ground, each with the faces of the dead villagers as they yelled and screamed out in agony at you. So many cried out your name, children who were unfortunately brought here wailed as their mothers simply screamed out multiple swears at you. Speechless, you froze at the sight as more flowers simply began to grow up around the two of you and were only spreading. Small vines began to creep towards you, only to be sliced away when it got too far, not to you but to Sukuna.

"Regret, anger, hatred, sadness. So much negative energy, so much rage here. I wanted to repay my little flower and what else to gift her with than a garden of her own." He hunching over and reaching for one the screaming flowers, he plucked it forth from the ground as the face on it contorted in pain before it began to beg for mercy. "Flowers for my flower. Though none of this compare to you." Sukuna chuckled, placing the plant onto the back of your ear before combing a strand of your hair.

You felt disgusted as the flower's voice grew more and more faint, it practically whispering in your ear for himself to be spared such a fate. You could do nothing but silently say how sorry you were yet your hushed apologies were drowned out by the voices of your new cursed garden.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #jjk angst #jjk sukuna

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redrobin-detective · 4 years ago

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because I could not stop for death

because I could not stop for death / he kindly stopped for me / the carriage held but just ourselves / and immortality ~ Emily Dickinson

Danny Fenton was dying, properly this time.

Somehow, in the back of his head and in his worst nightmares, he knew it would end this way: bleeding on the floor of his parents’ lab where it had all began. He was so hot he felt like his skin was on fire, blood and ectoplasm were dripping all over him and his lungs and heart were working overtime to try in vain to keep him alive a moment longer. He’d imagined at the time that there would be more screaming but death, in the end, was turning out to be a quiet little affair. A lonely table set for one.

“Danny, Danny come on, you-you gotta slow down your breathing, just relax, for me, please,” Sam moaned, more than making up for his lack of noise. She was shaking and touching him all over, his chest, his face, his hair. Normally she jumped right into action but she had to know, deep down, that there was nothing she could do. All that was left was to watch her panic and cry, it wasn’t his favorite image.

“Vlad!” He heard Tucker scream cry into the phone, “please it’s Tucker, Danny’s dying I think. The Fentons had some new invention, something about his core, please we don’t know what to do!”

Ugh Vlad, he was probably going to be so happy Danny was on his way out. He wasn’t looking much forward to his last images being his archenemy gloating. Tucker hung up and reached down to grasp Danny’s hand so hard it hurt. “Don’t worry dude, Vlad’s coming. He knows so much about you half ghosts that you’ll be fixed up on no time.” Right, Danny was already dead. If calling Vlad, feeling like he did something, helped Tucker move on then he’d deal with it.

Danny tilted his head to the side where Sam’s fingernails were carding through his hair. It was getting harder to see with the blood pouring out of his eyes but he looked at her, and tried to memorize her face. He’d never been able to tell her how much he loved her, that any day spent with her was a blessing. Tucker too, his best bro and a part of his soul. His best friends in the whole wide world, through thick and thin. God, he was going to miss them.

“Glurk,” he said, trying to convey those feeling but the fluids in his mouth and airway made it impossible. “Blerh.”

“Shh shh shh,” Sam soothed, “it’s okay, don’t try to talk.”

“Daniel!” He heard Vlad’s voice shriek as he materialized in front of the portal. Sam and Tucker were violently pushed out the way. Danny wanted to be angry at his loved ones being taken away in his final moments but anger was for the living, he barely had the energy to breathe. This death was too long and too short all at once. He made eye contact with Vlad who all at once lost the frantic edge to his tone and and instead knelt on the floor. “Oh my dear boy. What did they do to you?”

“What is going on?” Sam demanded, shoving her way back in. Danny was glad, he could see again like this. “Why aren’t you doing something!”

“There’s nothing to be done,” Vlad said in a flat, monotone, he picked up one of Danny’s hands and patted it gently. “His core is dying, it’s like a ghost’s heart. It contains their very essence, it is from which everything they are comes from. If Jack and Maddie somehow disrupted it then there’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”

“But he’s human too,” Tucker defended, grabbing Danny’s other hand. His human warm skin burned but the contact felt so good, he twitched his fingers closer to his friend’s. “He-he doesn’t need a core, he’s already got a heart. So, so he doesn’t have powers, we can do normal again.”

“You-” Vlad hissed before taking a calming breath. “The accident that made Daniel like this irreparably altered him. His core was as much a part of keeping him alive as his other organs, without it, his body is shutting down.” Vlad turned down to look Danny in the eye and saw true, genuine grief in those hateful red eyes.

“I cannot imagine the agony you are going through, I’m so sorry. I’d say it will be over soon but,” a hitch that sounded almost like a sob if it was coming from anyone other than Vlad. “But you’ve hovered on the edge of death for years, son, and you’ve always been such a fighter. You have minutes at most but those minutes are an eternity when you’re suffering.”

Sam and Tucker’s sobbing blended together in the background, Vlad was saying something with a miserable, stunned expression. The swirling of the portal in the background seemed louder than anything, louder than his heart beat pounding and pounding as it ran it’s last race.

“Daniel, Danny,” he focused his eyes back on Vlad who had a stubborn, unhappy set to his brow. “Do you want me to make the pain stop? An ectoblast to your chest will end your life instantly.”

“Don’t you dare touch him,” Sam shrieked, coming back into view and looking like she was trying to fight Vlad off. “You do anything to him and I’ll kill you!” Tucker just sat and stared at him, like he too was trying memorize Danny’s face.

“It’s a mercy, Samantha or do you want his last moments on earth to be drowning on the blood in his lungs.”

“Sam, he has a point. I don’t- I don’t think we can fix this.”

“No! No we always fix things, I’ll do it myself if I have to!”

Danny’s vision was starting to go, more black than anything else. He closed his eyes and readied himself for the inevitable.

“Time Out,” Danny opened his eyes and found he was no longer in pain. He was standing up and apart from where he’d previously been lying. Sam had her hands in Vlad’s face and the older hybrid was snarling something at her. Tucker was midmotion trying to stand up, presumably to get Sam but the three of them were frozen in the moment. Danny turned and found Clockwork floating, looking very out of place in his parents lab. “Good evening, Danny.”

“You that short on cash that you work part time as a grim reaper?” Danny quipped out of habit. He looked down at his body and grimaced a bit, that wasn’t a pretty sight. No doubt traumatizing for Tucker and Sam. God how were they going to explain this to his parents? “Gonna ferry me across the River Styx? I don’t have two pennies but I think I have a bloodied $10 on me.”

“You’re core is dying and you have 17 seconds left in this world before all your organs give out and finish the process you began when you turned on your parent’s ghost portal,” Clockwork explained as he changed into child form.

“O-okay,” Danny said shakily, trying to be brave even when he was so, so scared. He was going out whether he wanted it or not but he refused to leave crying. “Nice of you to come say goodbye then but, uh but unless you have something to say then you should let me go back. No one knows better than me that you can’t outrun death. Thanks but I’m uh I’m ready.”

Clockwork stared at him for a bit, not sure how long, time was weird like this but he changed forms a few times. “You’re quite the remarkable young man, Danny Fenton.”

“Uh thanks,” Danny added, once more looking at his body which had, according to Clockwork, a 17 second expiration date. “What’s going to happen? Am I going to become a ghost? Does heaven or hell exist for someone like me?”

“I don’t get to decide what happens, I merely see options,” Clockwork stated easily, taking his time. “If you die naturally you’ll become ghost, a mere shadow of who you are now and one who would fade fairly quickly. You don’t have strong enough anger or regrets to tie you in the real world for long.” Not great but okay he supposed, hell for his friends and family though. “You could let Plasmius deliver his mercy kill, destroying what’s left of your ghost core and ensuring you do not come back.” Better, probably won’t help the Fruitloop’s instability but he can’t save everyone.

“That one comes with it’s own caveat but I’ll get to that in a moment,” Clockwork explained. “There is a third option where you get up off the floor and walk away.” Danny blinked then looked back at his body which certainly wasn’t walking anywhere but into a plush casket. Clockwork opened his hands and the Ghost King’s Crown materialized in his hands. “If you accept your claim to the King’s Cown, it will revitalize your core and your life would be saved.”

Danny blinked.

“By sealing Pariah Dark, you won by proxy and established a legitimate claim to the throne. The Zone has been without a king for millennia, most have forgotten the old rules. Those who remembered were not too keen on a half-ghost child assuming leadership and kept you in the dark. If Plasmius ends your life then your claim transfers over to him, which he is aware of. It had been his plan all along to trick you into defeating Pariah so he could steal the Crown from you at a later date, a much easier opponent.”

Danny’s mind was overloaded with information, he didn’t know what to focus on first. He stared at his 17 seconds from death face and tried to process it all. Crown? Claim? Vlad?

“Of course,” Clockwork tutted, “he didn’t plan on your dying and in such a gruesome fashion. If he kills you and takes your claim, he would spend his remaining years ruling the Ghost Zone in a just, controlled fashion for your memory. He destroys all the stable portals and keeps the ghost and human worlds separate.” Clockwork became and old man and titled his head, “it’s not a bad timeline, all things considered.”

“And if I take it?” Danny asked quietly.

“You’re compassionate, brave and motivated, you have all the makings of a revolutionary king,” Clockwork smiled. “The Zone would experience and unprecedented era of peace, there would be positive interactions between human and ghosts for the first time since life and death split into two. Your name would spoken with reverence for the rest of time.”

“But I don’t want to be king,” Danny frowned.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Clockwork stated. “Which is why I am giving you the choice. If you pass peacefully there will be no one to claim the Crown and life will continue on, ghost attacks and all. If Plasmius kills you, he becomes an effective but unmemorable king. If you take the Crown, you can get the chance to tell Sam and Tucker how much you love them.”

Danny rubbed at his face, he didn’t want to die but he’d be sealing away his entire future with a move like this. He didn’t even know if the Crown would let him go with death, maybe he’d die and be stuck as the Ghost King until his core finally gave out lord in who knows how long. Eternity was an awful long time to carry such a responsibility. He couldn’t bring himself to ask, too afraid of the answer.

“Is there ever a timeline I became an astronaut?” He asked instead. Clockwork hummed, seemingly unsurprised by Danny’s non-sequitur.

“Yes, in one of the few universes where you never walked into the portal. You never go into space what with human politics putting a halt on the programs but you work for NASA. You leave Amity Park at 17 and don’t come back save for your parents’ dual funeral.” He paused and Danny felt read down to his very bones, “from the moment you became half ghost you were always heading for this moment. The circumstances varied but it always came down to you and the Crown. Time is straining to continue, to see how this drama plays out. Will you accept it and all the joy and grief that comes with it?”

Danny looked over at Vlad, still mid-sneer but there was a scared desperation in his face. He and Vlad sniped at each other all the time but Danny didn’t really hate him and he didn’t think Vlad did either. Leaving him alone, plus making him be king was a heavy burden to put on his enemy.

Sam and Tuck probably wouldn’t recover from this, he’d put them through so much already but he just knew that they’d never be the same. Could he do that to them? Take the easy way out and leave them to suffer? Mom and Dad didn’t deserve to come home to a dead son, the truth would come out and they’d never forgive themselves. Jazz certainly wouldn’t, she was 2 states over at University but he could already hear her angry, grief-stricken screams.

Death, death was quiet. It was quiet and merciful and sad, but it was also easy. And Danny Fenton had never once taken the easy route. He reached out and took and the crown before shakily placing it on his head. He gasped, throwing his head back as his core swelled, taking up residence once more right next to his heart. Clockwork smiled, looking like the cat who ate the canary.

“The Crown of Fire, pardon me the Crown changes with each core, the Crown of Ice is now yours as is the Zone. Your reign begins now but so too does the rest of your life. People are waiting for you. Time in.” Danny slammed back into awareness on the floor of his parents’ lab, the floor he’d almost died on twice.

He sat up as cold radiated off his body, causing frost to crawl down his arms and along the floor. Sam, Tucker and Vlad, who’d been frozen up until now, jumped back to life. There was a new, familiar weight on his head that he didn’t dare acknowledge.

He squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent goodbye to a quiet, normal life. It wouldn’t be all bad, he could be happy like this but the Crown still felt like a iron manacle around his neck. But he got used to the ghost powers, he could get used to this too. Maybe one day he won’t look at the stars and say ‘what if?’

“Danny!” Sam shouted, throwing herself into his arms soon followed by Tucker. Their warm weight, their relieved sobs, their shaky breaths in his air, now this was something worth living for. He squeezed them tightly.

“But how dude, you were at death’s door!” Tucker asked, still not letting go.

“You accepted the Crown,” Vlad said evenly, “I wasn’t aware you even knew about your claim. Who told you?”

“You don’t know everything, Vlad,” Danny sighed, sitting himself upright. Ugh his shirt was covered in blood and ectoplasm. He needed to trash these clothes before his parents freaked. And find a way to hide the floating ice crown on his head.

“Even an old man can be surprised every now and again,” Vlad said wearily. He stood up to his full height before startling Danny by dipping down to one knee. “Then allow me to be the first to welcome my new king and wish him well.”

“I thought you wanted this,” Danny questioned.

“I do, I did,” Vlad said, unusually off balance. “To be quite honest, I’m not sure how to feel about it but, right now, I’m just immeasurably happy you’re alive, little badger. Now I best be off, enjoy your kingdom, my liege, I’ll be sure to come bother you some time soon.” Vlad disappeared in a swirl of pink leaving just him, Sam and Tucker still clinging to him.

Danny may have a kingdom, a job he didn’t want and his whole life decided in a spur of the moment choice, but he also had something very important. He squeezed his friends tightly.

“I love you guys, thank you for being my friends even though I have the worst ideas for activities. Dying? On a Sunday night? How lame is that?” Sam laughed, a bit hysterical but it was real and it made Danny feel weightless.

“Don’t do that again, buddy,” Tucker breathed into his shoulder. “So you gonna explain what just happened and why you’re apparently the Ghost King or something?”

“Yeah, yeah I will but let’s get changed first. Mom and Dad will be home soon and I think I’m going to need to have a conversation with them about my new job.”

#danny phantom #i was watching forever phantom and said 'i should kill danny' and then i fucking didn't #im obsessed with ghost king danny as end game #Im not sure this is the route I would want to go but I want him to end up woth tje crown #its bitter sweet bc its a *lifelong (possibly afterlife) commitment that he didnt get a choice in #he will be happy and he will be a good king but it wasnt his choice and he'll always regret it a little #i love clockwork but he's a bit shady and will always work in favor of the timeline #anyway happy fucking sunday bitches #have some homemade angst #also i typed this directly in tumblr and almost hit the power screen on my computer instead of backspace #god was trying to stop me from publishing but i overcame #Only did one quick edit Im too tired to care anymore #lmk if you want it on ao3

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jishyucks · 3 years ago

Text

The L Word ‣ hjs

‣ genre: angst with a fluffy ending, arranged marriage, sort of modern royalty (rich kid!au), female reader

‣ wc: 2.1k

‣ summary: “Tell me, Han. Has she ever explicitly told you that she loved you?”; in which Jisung's afraid that Y/N's going to leave him in rising of rumors but learns he shouldn't judge a situation from the words of others

‣ warnings?: The Hwang 'sibs' are mean in this (just a bit), lowkey rushed, jisung runs off because of overthinking

Looking at the ballroom’s appearance, Jisung feels as though he shouldn’t even be there in the first place. Like some puzzle piece placed in the wrong box. The people attending the party lived lavish lifestyles, knowing the difference between the different forks placed at the tables. Etiquette was more important to them than the basics a middle-class person would even care about.

Though Jisung had good ideas of such subjects, it wasn't forced onto him like those around him. The only reason why he was able to attend the party was because of a marriage arrangement your father and his father had made as some kind of sick ‘contract’ regarding business. Though he wasn’t complaining, feelings for you developed through the years of knowing you since childhood, he couldn’t help but feel self-conscious about a handful of things.

For one, you guys were engaged through the arrangement. It’s been three years since the announcement, and even if Jisung believed you were fine with it, even if you ensured to Jisung that you were happy with the engagement, intrusive thoughts started keeping him up at night.

He knew you. You hated speaking out your feelings, whether it led to consequences or not. What if you actually weren’t fine with it? What if you were somehow threatened by your father and the contract to actually speak out about the engagement? He didn’t want you to feel forced to marry him.

Then there was his family’s reputation. His family was deemed drastically poorer than yours by the other associated families and businesses. He was afraid of tainting your family’s reputation or seeming like one of those leeches found at the bottom of murky ponds. Though it was an arranged marriage, Jisung had genuine feelings for you. It was his father that was in it for the money and Jisung was nothing like his father.

“Hey, scrounger!” Jisung turned to find Hyunjin and his sister Yeji approaching him from the opposite corner of the room. They both were dressed in clothes that were probably a lot more expensive than his own, his clothes being hand-me-downs from his father.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Yeji smirked, “You don’t even have business here.” She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, eyeing down the boy.

Jisung didn’t cower under their gaze, instead of straightening his back, “I’m here because I was invited. My father was invited as well.” Don’t show fear, he told himself, That’s what they want.

“Ahh~,” Hyunjin chuckled, “Good way to disguise 'because of Y/N.' Tell me, Han. Has Y/N ever explicitly told you that she loved you?”

Yeji butted in, laughing, “I think love is too strong of a word… how ‘bout like? Has she ever told you that she liked you? Cause rumor has it she’s planning on breaking your engagement.”

Jisung gulped, “S-she has… and gossip is bullshit.” He lied. When the arrangement was created, there was some kind of unspoken assumption that you both liked each other. As a result of this, no confessions were made from you both. Sure it was stupid, but in Jisung’s eyes, actions spoke louder than words, and just by how he treated you and you treated him, you both cared very much for each other. Of course, other people never paid attention to actions and relied on direct statements.

“We don’t gossip, Han,” Hyunjin scoffs, “Who would pass up the opportunity to marry Bang Chan when he’s the son of the top businessman in all of Korea?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung’s heart skipped a beat, eyed widening slightly at the mention of Bang Chan’s name.

“His father apparently wanted to create a deal with her father that was a lot better than his deal with yours,” Hyunjin explained, “Isn’t your engagement part of that poorer deal?”

Jisung chose not to reply, biting his tongue. Instead, he shoots Hyunjin a narrowed glare, not up for defending himself or arguing. With the lack of response from their target, the siblings simply rolled their eyes and walked away, taking a seat at their designated table.

When the attention was diverted away from him, Jisung couldn’t help but let his shoulders fall. He feels his heart beating quicker than at rest, thoughts running through his mind like crazy. You wouldn’t leave him just like that right? You wouldn’t.

Then his mind wanders back to Hyunjin and Yeji’s question. Yes, he did think that actions were undoubtedly stronger than words, but now that a spotlight was shone on the hidden yet obvious fact that you both hadn’t said anything about each others’ feelings, he couldn’t help but believe that you could possibly be leaving him. But then again, he has never said anything to you and his feelings existed.

He felt the sudden urge to look for you, who had been busy accompanying your father with the guests. Maybe he will actually confess how he truly felt, just in case you were actually thinking about breaking the engagement. Maybe he could save it somehow, just in case your father was willing to make the deal with Mr. Bang.

Chewing the bottom of his lip, he scanned the room, looking for the lavender dress you were wearing. But with the clumps of people, his line of sight was constantly stopped abruptly.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled politely, making his way through the crowd, “Excuse me.” He ignored the looks some people gave him, still slithering his way between the socializing people. Though his hair was parted in a way that exposed part of his forehead, he felt the need to hide under his bangs, keeping his head low as he did.

The familiar sound of your father’s laugh drove Jisung to stop and look around his area. If he was close, you’d be close. Scanning his surroundings completely, he finally spots your father, with you standing close beside him. He feels a smile rise on his lips as he begins to make his way towards you both, heartbeat racing just as his thoughts were.

Opening his mouth to call out for you, he quickly stops himself when he realizes that you and your father were holding a conversation with Bang Chan and his own father. His feet abruptly stop, allowing him to overhear the exchange of banter.

“Well, it was a pleasure having this conversation with you,” Mr. Bang chuckled, “I will see you on Monday for the papers?” He held a hand out for a handshake, a smile filled with pride appearing on his lips.

Your father nodded, “Likewise. I’m looking forward to it.” He completes the handshake, which then queues for Chan to lean in for a hug.

Shit, Jisung gulps, feeling his heart drop to his stomach, What the hell just happened?

You take a step forward and hug Chan back for a brief second before pulling back, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your time here, Chan.”

Chan’s dimples appeared as he smiled genuinely, “Thank you, Y/N.”

Jisung was frozen on the spot, unsure whether or not he should say anything. The notes that he had mentally jotted down in his head were suddenly ripped into pieces and he was practically speechless.

Obliviously, you turn to follow your father, who was already ready to move on to another conversation. Mid-turn, the boy dressed in a striped, navy suit had caught your attention, giving him a double-take, “Oh! Jisung!” The corners of your mouth rise higher, eyes lighting up at the sight of the familiar boy. A wave of comfort washed over you. It was refreshing to see him after interacting with so many strangers and acquaintances.

When you go to approach him, Jisung panics and begins to back into the people behind him. It was then you noticed the look of distraught on his face, causing you to speed up. At this, he turns and runs, causing commotion around him as dodges those who got in his way.

“Jisung!” You called out, turning the heads of those people around you. The music had drowned your voice out from those further away from you, “Jisung!?” You begin making your way through the crowd of people, going as fast as you could in heels so that you wouldn’t lose Jisung. A million assumptions were running through your head, worry lining each and every one of them.

Swinging the door open, Jisung finds himself stumbling out into the empty corridor of the hotel. With the choice of left and right, Jisung stops and impulsively runs in one direction, not minding where he would end up if kept running.

So you were going to break the engagement… without warning? How were you going to break the news to him? How was he supposed to react once you told him about it all? Happy? Sad? Excited?

You finally reached the door of the ballroom, slipping out rather roughly into the corridor. Your head whips left and right, seeing Jisung’s trailing feet to the right of the hallway, turning the corner. You let out a heavy breath before kicking off your heels, booking it in that direction.

Your mind wanders to why Jisung was running. What did he hear? Was he okay? Could it be what other people were saying again? But Jisung was never usually one to let words get to him.

Jisung lets himself rest once he gets to a secluded room. Judging by its content, he realized that he managed to slip into the coatroom, but he didn’t care. He needed time alone to think. He just needed to process this entire situation.

“Jisung?” He hears you call out. Jisung sinks down at the corner of the room, resting his head against the wall. He stays quiet, resting his forehead against his knees.

The door to the coat room opens, revealing your disheveled figure, “Jisung…” You pause and try to catch your breath, “There… there you are.”

Jisung doesn’t lift his head, afraid that if he did face you, he would burst into tears. He could sense you approaching him, though, settling down beside him. He could feel your dress up against him. Soon he feels your hand take his, holding it tightly.

“What’s wrong?”

When Jisung doesn’t answer, you don’t say anything to push out an explanation. You let the question simmer, resting your head against his shoulder.

At this point, Jisung’s mind was projecting none of his thoughts but static. He didn’t know where to start and what to bring up. How was he supposed to confront you about the engagement?

“I’m happy for you two,” Jisung blurted out quietly, avoiding eye contact, “I really am.” Your ears perked up, confused at what Jisung was going on about.

“I think people will like you both together more than us,” Jisung continued, “Just know that I lo–“

You interrupt him, turning to completely face him, “Jisung, what are you talking about?” You turned your body towards him, completely facing the cowered boy. Though your body language was practically begging for eye contact, Jisung still avoided it, playing with his rings to keep him from losing control over his emotions.

Building up his confidence, Jisung let himself look at you before whispering, “Y/N?” He sniffled quietly.

“Yeah, Sung?”

Jisung gulped and asked, “Do you like me?”

You’re taken aback by the question, not expecting it out of all the questions Jisung could have asked. Is this why he was crying?

“Of course I do, Jisung, what makes you thin–“

“I mean genuinely like me. Do you have feelings for me?” Words were spewing out of his mouth before he could even process what he was saying. He could feel his emotions taking control of himself, which often is never a good thing.

“Jisung, I love you, okay? Why do you think otherwise?” The beat of your heart sped up with worry. Your eyebrows knitted together in concern as Jisung’s lips quivered slightly.

“The Hwang's told me you were planning on breaking our engagement because Bang Chan’s father offered a better deal than my father,” he explained quietly. He felt as though that if he spoke any louder, he would break out into tears, “I told them I didn’t believe them… t-then they asked me if you’ve ever told me if you did have feelings for me. I just didn’t know what to think when… when I saw your father accept Mr. Bang’s deal. I was afraid you were actually going to leave me.”

You gently slapped his shoulder in shock, “Han Jisung, are you serious?” Jisung responded wordlessly, though a puzzled look replaced his previous emotion.

“My father approached me beforehand about it. He wanted to break our engagement because of the deal, telling me that it was no longer necessary,” you say, “But I told him I wanted to marry you because I love you, Sung. And if he did threaten to forcibly break our engagement, I would’ve fought for us.”

Jisung wanted to laugh at himself at how much he had overreacted. Overthinking was a bitch and this situation was real-life proof, “Y/N?”

“Yeah, Sung?”

“I would fight for us too.”

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fanmoose12 · 3 years ago

Text

Levihan Week 2021

Day two: Confessions

Summary: Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time.

"Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time."

It was an advice that Erwin once gave him, during one of the rare instances when the late Commander allowed himself to shrug off his heavy duty and act like a normal human.

Back then, Levi didn't understand the meaning of his words, didn't realize how this philosophical remark could be related to his question about “that red-haired lady that visited our barracks with Dawk today”.

But time went on, and the words refused to leave Levi's mind. Watching his fellow scouts, his friends and subordinates, he couldn't help but remember Erwin's wisdom.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

The more Levi thought about it, the more he started to believe that it was a universal truth. Blurt out the wrong thing to the wrong person or in the wrong time, and you create a misunderstanding, tension or even a conflict.

Blurt out the right thing to the right person but in the wrong time, and you can very well destroy the relationship that was so treasured.

Levi saw examples of this everywhere - drunken soldiers slurring the admission of their love to their equally drunken comrades, heavily injured soldiers whispering the words of love on the verge of death, forever breaking the heart of the subject of their affections, angry and tired soldiers screaming out those dangerous three little words in the moments of frustration and resentment.

Love made people stupid, it made people reckless. It was dangerous and unwelcome in their line of work. He couldn't allow his heart to grow attached to someone else, couldn't let his eyes wander in the search of them during battles, couldn't let someone else's voice and laugh distract him from his duties.

Levi scoffed at the soldiers who waxed poetic about love, he rolled his eyes at the displays of affection, he pitied the fools who dedicated their hearts not to the indestructible idea of humanity and its future, but to a single, mortal person.

And then, out of nowhere, in the midst of battles, losses and rare moments of peace, he himself became that very same fool. During battles, his eyes searched for the shrieking idiot, his heartbeat slowing down only after he saw them alive and well. During late evenings and sleepless nights, he sat in the stuffy, dusty laboratory, listening to unending ramblings about titans, the outside world and the hopes of bright future.

He was more focused with them by his side. He slept better when they were curled up around him. Even his food was more delicious when they shared it with him, shamelessly stealing bits of his dinner.

It wasn't love, Levi had tried to assure himself. Love was dangerous and stupid, love was making people weak. But this— this bond, this comradery, this friendship, it wasn't making him weak. It was making him stronger, it was making him fight even harder, to ensure that this hell would end with both of them still alive. This bond, it was making him feel so... happy.

Love made people do stupid things when their other half was injured or in danger. But Levi's person, they were strong. Almost as skilled as was he, and twice as smart.

On the battlefield, they were quick and graceful, invisible, they did not make him worried. Whatever danger they were facing, they always managed to defeat it.

But then, then Kenny came back into his life and then they went after him straight into that fucking cave, and Levi's heart had stopped, it almost crushed when he heard their scream and saw them fall.

And blood, there was so much blood on their shirt, in front of his eyes. And that's when Levi realized - he became attached, he fell in love.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

It was the first time he remembered these words in a very long time. He thought he would never need this advice. But that night, when they returned from that cave, when Levi stayed by their side, watching them hiss and wince as doctors bandaged their injured shoulder, he almost blurted it all out. Scared out of his mind, he wanted to grab their face and scream at them how he almost lost his shit during the fight, how even the thought of losing them was making him absolutely terrified. He wanted to press their forehead against his and whisper, so quietly than only two of them would hear, how much he loved them.

But they had a battle waiting for them first thing in the morning. Both of them were exhausted, both of them had too much on their minds. It wasn't the right time and it wasn’t the right place.

So he simply gripped their healthy hand and said, "You looked like a fucking amateur back there, four-eyes. Try to focus next time, alright?"

The answering laughter was quiet, but cheerful. It mended Levi's heart.

Then there was Shiganshina, and Levi's previous fears started to look like an overreaction. He thought he was afraid before, he thought he was close to losing them before, but last time, he could at least see them twitch and groan out in pain, he was somewhat comforted by the knowledge that there were people looking over them.

But now, now, there was no one. There was an explosion, a big, thundering explosion, and after it, there was nothing, nothing at all.

And Levi— Levi couldn't go there and check if someone was still alive. He couldn't even stop and make sense of what he was feeling. Everything was moving too quickly, and he could only follow that swift flow, trying his best not to get drown in it.

And, as he continued moving, never faltering, his eyes were wet - with sweat, with blood, with tears - Levi couldn't spare a second to wipe all of it. He could only continue marching forward.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

It wasn't the right place, certainly not the right time, but his desperate, relieved "Hange!" could probably count as a confession. It certainly disclosed the feelings that otherwise he would never let out.

But the current kept moving forward, and both of them were struggling to keep their head afloat. There was no time for words of love, no time for being stupid and reckless.

After the utter disaster that was Shiganshina, they returned home, and the place was right, but the time wasn't, as both of them were still dealing with the losses they've endured. Dumping even more revelations onto them seemed unwise, cruel even, so Levi stayed silent, remained at their side, loyal and faithful.

When they finally arrived at the sea, it seemed like the place was right, and the time was right. And as Hange dragged him from one end of the beach to the other, shoving seashell after seashell into his face, Levi even prepared a romantic, touching speech, the kind of soft confession that his love deserved. Something along the lines, "you're more precious than the sea in front of me".

But that peaceful day was over before he could master the courage to let the truth out in the open.

And after that, after that, the time and the place were never quite right. He could not confess in the midst of thousands official meetings, strategy planning and war councils. He couldn't confess when they had to meet with the Marley volunteers, he couldn't confess when they went to explore Marley itself.

He couldn't confess before they went to retrieve Eren's stupid ass. Although, he wanted to, desperately so. But when he grabbed their shoulder before they boarded the airship, he could only tell them, "Don't die. I'd hate to be in charge of this circus."

He didn't know if his true meaning was clear enough, if his voice was tight enough to translate his curt words into their intended point.

Don't leave me alone. I don't know if I can do this without you.

It only went downhill from that. He had no time to speak with them after they came home, he had no time before he went to the forest with Zeke, the place and the time just weren't right.

When Zeke had escaped, when the explosion had almost killed him, Levi thought that he had lost his chance. He had hesitated for too long, and the moment was lost forever. But the explosion didn't kill him, Hange saved him.

And this time, the place was right, it was perfect, a quiet, dark forest where nothing and no one could get to them.

Maybe, the two of us just should live here together. Right, Levi?

He wanted to say yes, wanted to scream "let's leave this fucking hell behind and grow old together". He wanted bury his face in their neck and whisper "I love you, more than anything".

But he didn't.

The place was right, but the time wasn't.

The place, the time, they were never right.

After they got out of the forest, things were spending up and up, leaving Levi behind and unable to catch up. He was always at the back, watching but not doing anything, too weak to even talk. And they were at the front, leading everyone towards their noble goal.

As he watched them move forward, leaving him to fight the Yeagerists, discussing plans with their allies, as he watched them slip through his fingers like a morning fog, those words were at the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out.

But Hange never stopped, they had no time to hear him out.

And then, Hange finally stopped. Then they decided to become the one that was going to be left behind. And in the process, they left behind Levi.

He thought about it so much, for so long, he was carrying these feelings for almost a decade. But he never figured out just what words to use to explain the matters of his heart.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

He was so focused on these words that he forgot about the most important thing. Confession had to be done right as well. But he had no time to ponder and search his mind for the fitting words. He had no time, Hange had no time, and in that last moment, when his heart was breaking and his mind kept chanting "please, don't leave me, not you, please, not you", the only thing he could get out was, "Dedicate your heart."

The confession was clumsy, too roundabout, but his feelings probably were clear enough. He hoped so, at least.

Before they went, before they left him alone, Levi wanted them to know, wanted them to remember just how loved they were.

As he sat in that plane, his mind going crazy with grief, he remembered the words spoken to him in the middle of the night, by a man who refused to feel the pain of loss, who shut himself away from affection and love.

Confessions are to be made in the right place, in the right time

Perhaps, Erwin was wrong in that regard, Levi realized. Perhaps, there was no such thing as right place and right time. There could only be right person.

And Levi had just lost his.

#something-something about #hesitate and you'll miss your timing #also! almost no dialogues in this one i'm kinda proud of myself #lhw2021 #levihanweek2021 #levihan

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eddiemunsonssoulmate · 3 years ago

Text

Late night devil, put your hands on me

Pairings: Dabi x Hero!Reader

Words: 7.7k

Summary: It was supposed to be a relaxing Saturday night while your roommate was out on a date. Finally some peace and quiet from all the work of the last few weeks. Just you, your bathtub and a good book. Too bad someone had a whole other idea.

Rating: M for Mature & F for Filth

Warnings: Mentions of dubcon, rough sex, choking and a lot of other things. It’s Dabi, you know what’s coming.

Also on: AO3

A/N: How much would I let a man ruin me, level: Dabi. This was supposed to be short and filthy and now it’s long and filthy. Enjoy!

Ain't no one else who can burn me like that

“Have fun and good luck with your date,” you yelled from the hallway when your roommate was almost out of the door.

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” was the only reply you got before the door closed.

Your roommate had been nervous all day long, so it was no surprise to you that words were a little short right now. You just hoped it would go all right, it had been quite some time since the last date.

Which also meant you finally had some peace and quiet on your own this Saturday evening. During the week you two barely saw each other because of work so you would normally spend the weekend together which can be quite exhausting at times.

But today it was only you, a good book and a bathtub. The hero business was always buzzing, there was always a criminal to catch at some corner and the last couple of weeks had been tiring your body out so much that your agency had given you off for this weekend.

Being a sidekick was hard enough in such a renowned agency and you had the tendency to work too much, rarely looking after yourself. They barely had to kick you out yesterday evening and ban you from the agency for the weekend.

You were happy they did, really. Your body needed the rest.

As you were walking through your room, trying to gather the things you needed for a relaxing bath you kept thinking back to the last few cases this month alone. Two attacks from the League, kidnapped children and people getting set on fire for seemingly no reason with no pattern. You didn’t get the League sadly but could at least solve the other two cases.

The one with the children strained your body and your mind the most. It had been hard seeing all those kids in danger, almost getting drowned in acid as an empty threat from the villain. Your team had been able to get everyone out alive, thankfully. But all those crying and terrified children that would have a hard time getting back to their lives...it had been different.

You closed your eyes and shook your head. You shouldn’t think about such things when you are trying to relax and actually forget about work for once.

With a fresh towel and your book under your arm you walked over to the bathroom where you had the water running. It had been quite some time since you actually had the time to take a bath. Normally it was just showers and mostly not even long ones.

You took your clothes off and dipped into the water, letting out a sigh as the hot water moistened your skin.

You leaned back into the tub and closed your eyes for a moment, simply enjoying the warmth around you on this rather cool fall evening.

When you felt comfortable enough to reached over to grab the book you were currently reading, almost halfway done but still so much to go.

It was a fantasy story about love, revenge and a lot of faeries. It was a nice read and you actually really loved the story, you just didn’t have enough time to read it on a regular basis so your plan was to read as much as you could this weekend. You should be able to finish it because as soon as you were caught up in the story again, you knew you couldn’t just leave it be anymore.

As you were reading your book you really did get caught up in it again, the story drawing you in and-

Bang.

Your head shot up from the lines in front of you, eyes looking towards the closed door of the bathroom room. A frown was forming on your face, there clearly had been a loud noise just now.

Was your roommate back already? Did the date go to shit? Was it another bird that flew against your window? It had just happened three days ago so what were the chances?

“Back already?” you hollered with a slight teasing tone on your lips. You would be happy if your roommate had been able to take his date back to your place already but you highly doubted it. It had been barely twenty minutes, you had only been in the bath for roughly ten.

There was no answer. Maybe it was really a bird or something fell from the table. Maybe it had been one of the neighbors in the hallway in front of your apartment but it sounded a little closer.

You shrugged and turned your head back to the book in your hand, trying to find the line where you were when you heard steps. You quietly put your book down and listened in closely.

You swallowed and took a deep breath. There wasn’t enough time to jump out of the tub and get dressed so you readied your quirk while your naked body was still in the water, the bath foam the only thing hiding you.

The handle of the door was pushed down and you were about to set your quirk off when the door opened wide and you were met with blue flames, briefly wrapping around your hands and burning them so you couldn’t use your quirk.

Blue flames.

You hissed in pain and put your hands under the water quickly, trying to cool them down. It wasn’t a bad burn but it still hurt.

“Calm your quirk, doll. It’s just me and we know how far you get every time you used it,” the black haired man said almost annoyed while standing there, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid smirk of his.

Dabi.

“What the fuck are you doing here? In my apartment? Don’t you have people to burn somewhere?” you snapped back at him and he put a hand on his heart, acting like he was affected by your words.

“Oh my, doll. Your words hurt me. I just wanted to visit my favourite hero on her day off,” he told you with a wolfish grin on his lips as he took a step forward. His blue eyes were looking you up and down and only then you realized once more that you were actually naked.

Your relationship with Dabi was...complicated, to say the least. It had started a few months ago when you were chasing him once more, deep into the forest and him setting trees on fire as you two passed through.

Your quirk had been almost useless against him but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t try to catch him. When he had suddenly vanished only to show up behind you, it had been the turning point.

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

Strong arms wrapped around your middle, pulling your back close to his chest. He put his hand around your throat and you could feel the heat radiating from them, seeing small blue flames dancing along his skin.

“Such a sweet girl, following me wherever I go,” he whispered against your ear and you knew that he could snap your neck within a second when you moved now.

“Let me go,” you growled as a weak warning but he just laughed against the skin of your neck when he started to nuzzle it, squeezing with his hand a little.

“What a weak protest. You actually like this, don’t you?” His voice was venom that was dripping into your body and you clenched your jaw.

“The others will be here soon,” you replied, ignoring his comment.

You had met him a couple of times before, never catching him and you couldn’t deny his handsome features, especially those icy blue eyes of his but that wasn’t something you would admit to anyone. He was a villain, you were a hero. He killed people, you saved people. Simple as that.

Your eyes widened when the hand that was wrapped around your middle moved upwards and squeezed your right boob.

“What the-” you started but he squeezed your neck once more, preventing you from getting enough air.

“Shut up and let me enjoy this moment alone with you,” he growled before he spun you around, pressing you against the next tree. His hand was still wrapped around your throat, one of his knees now pressed between your legs.

A chuckle left his throat when he looked at you as you were gritting your teeth, trying to think of a way to get out of this.

“Don’t act so strong, little hero. I’m not going to hurt you that bad, you’re too precious for that,” he growled as his lips were so close to yours that you could feel them brushing against you ever so lightly when he spoke.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, the pull that made your body relax.

Something he noticed, of course.

“Good girl.” He licked his lips, looking at you like you were his prey that he had been hunting down. You for sure felt like that right now.

“y/n!” Suddenly someone yelled your name and Dabi let out an almost feral growl of annoyance while looking around, trying to find the person but from the sound of their voice, they must have been still quite far away.

You tried to answer but felt the fingers around your throat closing tightly once more.“Too bad, I was hoping to have more time with you. Well, maybe next time,” he whispered against your lips before sealing the kiss.

The villain was kissing you and there was nothing you could do about this, except gasp in surprise which he only took as an invite to invade your mouth with his tongue, tasting him and the faint metallic taste of his tongue piercing inside of you.

And as if you didn’t have a mind of your own, you kissed him back only to feel him grin against your lips only a second later. He had what he wanted and you knew it.

What a fool you were.

“Such an obedient doll,” he said with a chuckle when he pulled apart, leaving you breathless and feeling filthy at the same time. “I’ll be back for you.”

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

And back he came. Multiple times. He was pestering you over and over again and you didn’t stop him.

You gave yourself willingly to him and didn’t even know why. He was a dangerous man that had no problem killing you if he wanted to. Had no problem with killing everyone you loved just to get what he wanted and yet, you couldn’t stop it.

Whenever you saw him he was ready to stuff you full with his massive cock, splitting you apart and you were always begging for more.

Maybe it was the feeling of doing something forbidden that was always pulling you back to him. Maybe it was the fault of his eyes that sometimes had a hint of sadness and you just wanted to find out more. The burn scars of his body didn’t come out of nowhere after all but you would never dare to ask. It was all physical after all.

“Cat got your tongue?” he barked at you and got you out of your trance, realizing he stood right in front of the bathtub now, towering over you. “It’s not nice to ignore your guests, you know.”

You bit your lip from keeping the reply inside, still trying to ignore the pain on your hands.

“It’s not like I invited you. How did you get in anyway?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant while his crotch was so close to your face. You kept your eyes on his but that wasn’t making it any better. His eyes were one of the biggest selling points after all.

“Balcony, it wasn’t that hard to just melt the lock,” he said with a shrug as he crouched down in front of you, face now on the same level. For a moment you wondered how he even got up here, you didn’t live that close to the ground but he probably had his ways. For some reasons the League of Villains were always able to show up in the most unexpected places and they had been seen using portals before even though you doubted he would use portals for such occasions.

“I hate you,” you replied, just thinking of the damage he had done to your door only to get in. You had no idea how to explain a melted lock to your roommate and there was not enough time to switch it out before they would notice.

“I know, that’s why this is so great.” While he said ‘this’ he gestured between the two of you.

You hated him.

You should just gather new strength with your quirk and at least distract him so you could grab clothes and leave.

You should kick him out, inform your colleagues so they can catch him. You should do something and yet you didn’t do a single thing when he let his hand run over your arm with a featherlight touch that was so unlike him.

You didn’t do a thing when his hand dripped below the water, tracing around your breast, your nipple, along your stomach until the center of your legs.

What a fool you were. A naive fool that couldn’t keep her physical needs in check. It wouldn’t be that hard to go out and find a decent man to just get your needs satisfied with.

And yet here you were, with one of the most dangerous, most wanted villains of your generation and you would let him do anything to you.

Kind of pathetic if you would really think about it but thinking was out of the window when his fingers find your clit under the water and you lean your head back with a moan.

Whenever he touched you it felt so electric, you had no explanation for any of this. You were nothing but a toy to him and you didn’t even complain.

“That’s my girl,” he chuckled when he watched how your body started to squirm, you arching your back so your boobs were outside the water. “And I’m barely touching you.”

You knew, for fucks sake. He was only rubbing small circles against your clit and yet you already felt like you were on fire.

One of his fingers dipped inside of you and you let out another moan, opening your eyes again to look down, watching how he was pumping one finger in and out of you, then adding another one.

“You’re so wet,” he chuckled and you turned your head towards him. His other arm was resting on the side of the bathtub, his head on his arm, looking almost innocent if it wasn’t for that wolfish grin on his lips that made you afraid he would just eat you up any second.

He was pumping three fingers in and out of you now and you were barely able to hold it together, your legs were moving on their own, splashing water around more than necessary until he pulled his hand away suddenly and your whole body stopped.

“What?” you said in confusion and heard his laugh, shaking his head and simply putting his hand in front of you, spreading his fingers apart and you could clearly see your wetness coating his fingers. He dipped his hand under water once more to clean them.

“What what?” he replied as if he didn’t know what you were talking about. Fucking bastard.

“I-” you stopped yourself, biting your lip. Your body was burning hot and you just wanted release but that’s just what he wanted to hear.

“You what, doll?” He grinned at you and watched you taking deep breaths, trying to calm your body down but with him so close that turned out to be quite the challenge.

“I want to cum,” you mumbled, barely audible even to yourself. God, you felt so ashamed even thinking about this.

“Excuse me? I must have water in my ears, what did you just say?”

Gods, you hated him. You hated that smug smile, that teasing tone, that pleased look in his eyes that he had when he got close to getting what he wanted.

“I want to cum,” you said again, this time louder and clenching your jaw in anger. You didn’t just hate him, you also hated yourself for this.

“Why didn’t you just say so, princess?” he chuckled and stood up, opening his buckle. You looked at him confused and he caught on, shrugging with his shoulders. “Well, you have to earn it first.”

Of course he wouldn’t just let you off the hook that easily.

His pants and underwear dropped to the ground and he let out a relieved sigh when his cock sprang free, not straining against the fabric anymore.

“Open up,” he told you and you sat up straight in the tub, feeling a cool breeze especially around your breast, only causing your nipples to grow more. Something he clearly approved of because his cock started to twitch at the new sight that you were giving him.

Dabi took his cock in his hand, pumped it a few times before ligning it up with your open mouth.

“Tongue,” he demanded and you pushed your tongue out, letting him put his dick it. He let it rest there for a moment before pushing inside of you slowly and you closed your lips around him.

“Hm, that’s good,” he said with a low moan falling from his lips and you got to work. After all this time you had figured out what he liked, figured out how to be careful of his piercing in your throat so you didn’t hurt yourself or him.

You shifted a little in the tub, trying to take him deeper and reaching forward to fondle his balls.

He let out a choked gasp and leaned forward, hands resting against the tiled wall of your bathroom while he tried to hold himself steady. For some reason it made you proud that you could do this to him because he always did way worse to you.

Wet sounds were filling the bathroom, sounds of the water splashing a little as you were moving around and sounds of your lips and tongue swirling around his cock, making him moan from time to time.

But suddenly he grabbed the back of your head without a warning and pushed his dick deep inside of you.

“C’mon, be a good doll and choke on it.” His words were ringing in your ears when he was hitting the back of your throat, tears gathering in your eyes and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t be dumb, you have a nose for a reason,” he reminded you and you tried to breath through your nose before he pulled back out almost completely, only to push forward with more force and there was nothing you could do against it. You simply took his dick as far in as you could, opening your jaw to its maximum and yet, it still felt like it wasn’t enough.

He did this a few times and after one more big push and his tip once again tickling the back of your throat you felt his hot semen spilling down your throat and you were struggling not to choke.

When he pulled out you were coughing, trying to catch a breath, some of his cum still on your lips.

You heard how he started to hum when he picked his pants back up and you looked at him with widened eyes.

His eyes landed on you once again as he was about to close his belt. “I really like this sight of you, you know. Wet, messy, my cum still on your lips.” He chuckled, more to himself than to you.

The black haired man noticed the look on your face and he tilted his head a little to the side. “Hm? You want to say something?”

Obviously but you couldn’t. Your throat was still burning from the ruthless attacks only seconds before and you were trying to catch a breath to even form a sentence.

“I thought-” you started but had to stop, swallowing hard. He was once again just standing in front of the tub, looking down at you with that cold look of his. “I thought you’d...give me release.”

“Are you saying you don’t want me to go, princess? Because it really sounded like you wanted to get rid of me when I arrived.” He tried to hide his grin but you saw the edges of his mouth twitching, the staples moving ever so slightly, giving him away. Not that he would mind. He knew exactly that you were at his mercy and he knew that you knew.

“Gods, I ha-” Once again you stopped midway when you saw how his eyes darkened and you swallowed the rest of the sentence. “Can you please not go?”

“That doesn’t sound really convincing, maybe try again?” He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze fixed on you and it almost felt like he was trying to drill a hole in you with his look.

You took a deep breath. “Can you please stay and...fuck me?”

“Are you begging for my cock, doll?” Dabi asked and started to smirk again.

You hated this, him, you.

“Yes, please fuck me with your cock. I need it,” you said without thinking. You were tired of thinking, tired of fighting this. It had been a lost fight from the beginning, you knew this and even worse, he knew this too.

“My, why didn’t you say this sooner?” he replied with a chuckle and looked almost a little too gleefully for a second. “Up.”

“Up?” you repeated his words back at him and looked at him confused.

“Out of the tub, doll. You’ll get all wrinkly otherwise and as much as I’d love to leave bruises on you, I’m not interested in having them on myself. Meet me in the living room.” With that he left the bathroom so casually as if he would live here. As if he wasn’t a dangerous villain.

You got out of the bathtub, legs a little weak. You used your towel to dry yourself and thought about putting on clothes for a moment. That would be the perfect time to get back on track, to gather your things and get out. He was distracted and you would have your chance to get away from him.

Only problem, you didn’t want to. The pull was too strong. It was something feral that was boiling in your stomach, something raw that you couldn’t stop.

Your clothes were ignored and forgotten as you made your way over to the living room. Only dimmed lights were on and you saw how the balcony door was opened a bit, letting cool air inside.

It made you shiver so you wrapped the arms around yourself.

“Cold?” he asked and you spotted him in one of the dark corners. “I actually appreciate the look.”

Dabi walked towards you and pinched both of your nipples at the same time, already hard from the cold and now even harder. Arousal was building up between your legs again.

It felt quite humiliating to stand in front of him like this, naked in dimmed light. If your neighbors would look carefully they might even spot what was going on through the big windows of your living room.

Normally you only had quick fucks with clothes on, simply pushed down to the knees and ankles, him forcing himself inside of you, trying to get as much out of the little time you had together.

But this? This was different. You didn’t just have fifteen minutes, you probably had at least two hours or however long it would take for your roommate to return. A lot of things could happen during this time.

You felt the heat radiating from his body, standing so close to you but he was fully dressed and not naked.

“Tell me again, doll. What is it you want from me?” You weren’t sure if he just loved his own voice so much or if he only wanted to hear you say filthy things. Maybe a bit of both.

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to clear your brain. Thinking wouldn’t help now. You just had to give in to your urges. Forget who he was, who you were.

“I want you to fuck me,” you replied after opening your eyes and he took a step forward, causing you to take a step backwards out of instinct. One more time, two more times, wall behind you.

The cool wall was not really comfortable against your back but the heat in front of you was close to burning your skin. You wondered if he had activated his quirk without the flames to cause this heat or if it was just your body reacting to him.

“Are you sure you can handle it, doll? It won’t be like the other times. We’ve got time. I’m going to split you apart and make you mine, there’s nothing to stop me this time,” he growled, his voice so deep and dripping with lust.

He put his hands next to your head, trapping you with his whole body. It sounded almost like he was asking for your consent, not something he would normally do. He liked to take the things he wanted.

“What if I say no?” you blurted out, surprised at the words leaving you but the curiosity was too strong. Curiosity also killed the cat.

He grabbed your chin with his right hand and forced you to look him deep in the eyes.

“Can you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and his blue eyes looked at you so intensely that it felt like he was looking directly into your soul. As if he could see that you would not refuse, could not refuse.

“Please use me.” You didn’t directly reply to his question but your words were enough of an answer.

Without wasting another moment he pressed his lips against yours. You felt relief and your body relaxed, even more so when you opened your mouth and let him in. He always kissed like he was a dying man and maybe he was. You didn’t know, wouldn’t know if you asked him. It was not your place to know.

His hands started to wander over your naked body, groping your breasts, then down to your ass, fingertips running through the slit of your ass before grabbing your cheeks and hoisting you up, pressing you more against the wall, all of it without breaking the kiss.

“You really are special, you know?” he said when he pulled away from the kiss and you tilted your head, asking what he meant without using words.

Dabi started to kiss along your neck, licking and sucking the soft skin there. “You’re so defiant, so rebellious whenever we fight and yet here you are, acting like my willing slut.”

He was right about this but you couldn’t explain it to him because you didn’t have an answer to yourself. You knew it was wrong and yet, you still wanted him, all of him.

Thankfully he didn’t expect a reply to his words, not that you were able to answer the moment he bit down hard on the flesh of your neck, bruising and almost breaking the skin there.

The villain in front of you was marking you. Marking you as his and people would probably see the mark at some point, asking you questions and you had to make up a stupid excuse. You couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

Your legs were wrapped around his middle and you could feel his cock once again straining against the fabric of his pants, pressing against your center, begging to be freed.

Dabi growled against the wounded skin on your neck, a feral sound that left his throat and you felt how his hands got hotter while holding your ass. You tried to ignore the pain that was slowly growing stronger and suddenly, it stopped.

He lifted his head from your neck to look at you and you leaned forward into another kiss, wrapping your arms around him.

The black haired man started to move with you in his arms, carrying you across the living room before dropping you without a warning, turning you around and pressing you against the window next to the broken balcony door.

You only had a moment to prevent being pressed completely against the glass, hands in front of you.

“That’s not how we play, doll”, he said, followed by a disapproving ‘tsk’ and he took your wrists, pulled them towards him and put them on your back so you were completely pressed against the cold glass in front of you.

Thankfully it was rather dark in your room but you were sure if some people from the apartment block over there or even just from the street, they would be able to spot you.

You felt humiliated once again, pressed against the window with your cheek , nipples on display for everyone.

“Imagine all those people being able to see you now,” he said with a dark chuckle behind you, hands grabbing your ass before pressing his chest against your back, towering over you and also getting a good look on the street below you.

You were pretty high up here but not high enough to not get noticed.

He slipped a hand to the front and ran his fingers through your folds. “Looks like that turns you on.”

You were almost embarrassed with how wet the thought made you. You didn’t want it to happen and yet, when he was saying those things to you, you couldn’t stop being aroused by that.

Dabi lifted his wet finger to your face and used his free hand to grab your hair to pull you back a little. Even though your hands were not held in place anymore now, you let them rest at your back, they were still trapped with his body anyway.

He lifted your face and held his wet finger in front of you. “Lick.”

Without another thought you opened your mouth to let your tongue swirl around his long finger, licking your own juice off of him.

You felt filthy and used but loved every second of it.

He let go of your hair and you put your face back against the glass, letting the cold glass cool you down for a moment before he grabbed your hips and pulled you back roughly. This time you had to use your hands to brace yourself against the window or you would have fallen over.

You felt the tip of his cock dancing around your entrance and you hadn’t even noticed that he had taken off his pants once again. God, you were really dazed with lust and need if you couldn’t even notice this. So much for not letting your guard down around a villain.

Without a warning he pushed deep inside of you, making you scream in surprise and you had to bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop yourself. The balcony door was broken and open after all, they would not only be able to see but also to hear you.

“You feel so good, doll. My cock buried deep inside of you. Is that what you wanted?” You felt his piercing rub against your most sensitive spot inside of you and you moaned, nodding slightly.

“Yes, it feels so good,” you replied, trying to keep your voice down, afraid you might give someone outside a clue about what was going on in here.

Dabi started to pull out and push back in, first with a slow rhythm, actually giving you time to get used to his thickness, time you normally never had. During your usual encounters he would leave you split open and with a burning. Not that he cared. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling but it made you remember him for days afterwards.

This time was different. He let you adjust, giving you time and you wondered what plans he had in that sick mind of his.

Your hands started to get sweaty against the glass, slipping down millimeters from time to time whenever he pulled out of you and pushed back in.

It didn’t take long for his rhythm to get faster and all you could do was moan and take him. With every thrust he hit the right places, his hands gripping your waist tightly, fingernails digging into your skin.

Soon enough you could only hear the slapping noises of skin meeting skin, his balls hitting against your from behind.

Suddenly a loud slap rang into your ears and the pain came only a moment later. It wasn’t the normal pain of getting spanked, it burned.

You gasped in surprise and saw blue flames from the corner of your eyes when you turned your head around.

“Don’t hold back with me, princess. I want to hear those moans.” It wasn’t a request or a reminder, it was a threat, the blue flames speaking for themselves.

You hated yourself for actually liking it.

When he pushed deep inside of you with the next thrust you let out the moan he wanted to hear, trying to forget that you were right in front of a window, that the door was open, trying to forget everything but him and how he made you feel.

“That’s it. Stop thinking. I’m the only important thing that exists for you, my little doll.”

You repeated his words in your mind over and over again, letting him fuck you hard from behind, letting him take control over you. It felt good to let go for once.

Your mind was taken back to reality when you felt how he started to massage your butthole from behind.

Once again you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your gaze meeting his and he started to grin. His thrusts had become a little slower while he kept rubbing soft circles around the sensitive skin of your back entrance.

“What are you-” you didn’t get to finish the sentence when he started to slowly press a wet finger inside. You weren’t sure if it was your own wetness or just spit.

“I told you to stop thinking. Are you deaf or just a brat?” He sounded way more aggressive but even this tone sent more arousal down your core and you felt yourself getting even wetter. Something he must have felt too with his cock buried so deep inside of you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled and he nodded, pushing the finger inside deeper. It burned but not as much as your cheek that he had slapped moments before. It was a different kind of burn.

“I can actually feel my cock from here,” he said with a chuckle and wiggled his finger inside your back entrance, causing you to moan loudly. It was a completely new sensation for you. You had done it yourself before but this...this was different.

You closed your eyes and your legs started to get weak when he picked up the pace again, one finger buried deep inside your ass. The whole feeling had shifted, the penetration felt completely different now and you were barely able to handle it. He was really fucking you stupid at this point.

When he added a second finger you moaned loudly, not sure if it felt good or if it was just discomfort, you weren’t sure of anything anymore at this point.

His hips snapped at you roughly and you could feel wetness running down the insides of your thigh.

“You sound so sweet when you take all of me.” He sounded so amused, knowing he had you at his mercy, there was nothing you could do at this point. “But I want more. You better not resist or it will hurt.”

Without having the chance to even process what he said he pulled out of you, leaving you to feel horrible empty. You started to whine, almost desperate noises leaving your mouth and when you tried to look back you felt it.

His wet tip at your ass as he started to push it in. You wanted to protest, wanted to say something but you tried to focus on relaxing so it wouldn’t hurt.

It hurt anyway, his thickness was too much for you.

You were a sobbing mess by the time he had all of himself buried inside of you, his piercing rubbing against you on a whole other level now.

Tears were in your eyes but to your surprise, he didn’t move. Let you adjust once more.

“Good girl,” he replied and stroked your back. It was actually comforting, something you had never felt with him before.

When you sobbed once again he slapped your ass hard, only making you whine louder.

“Don’t be like that now. I’ve told you I’d split you apart. You gave yourself willingly to me,” he said with a slight edge in his voice. He was right, of course, you just didn’t expect it to be like that.

He was rough and yet gentle. He made you sob and moan at the same time. You wanted this, you had agreed to this and after a long moment of silence and adjusting, it actually started to feel good.

Dabi must have felt how your tights rings started to relax around himself because he patted your cheek he had slapped before almost gently.

“See, not too bad. Better brace yourself.” He pulled out of you slowly only to slam it back inside and your body surged forward, pressing back against the window, your hands stopping the collison.

“Well, actually,” he started again and grabbed your wrists again, pulling them to himself once more and pinning them on your back like before.

Once again your face was pressed against the window, your back was arching so far back it almost hurt but the feeling of satisfaction that was soon added to your rollercoaster of emotion was overshadowing everything.

The way he was buried deep in your ass and kept fucking you hard from behind felt so good, made you feel alive, made you forget the world around you.

“You’re such a willing slut if you want to be. Not a single thought in that mind of yours right now, pressed against the window with no care in the world if anyone sees you now or not,” he said and watched you in your state. You almost felt high from the feeling, his grip on your wrists was strong, his words were dripping sex to you in this moment.

“Do you want to be seen by people, doll?” he asked and you swallowed, trying to form a thought to answer his question.

“I don’t care, just fuck me. Fuck me hard.” Your reply was music to his ears and he was happy to give you what you wanted.

His hips started to snap against your behind, his dick going outside and back inside almost forcefully. You moaned loudly now, not holding back anything anymore. It felt too good, everything had become such a haze.

You had never felt this way with anyone before and you knew that was his way to make you his, to claim you, to make you come back for more.

You knew you would.

He reached forward with a hand and pinched your clit for a moment before letting it wander towards your breast, stroking them for a moment until his hand closed around your throat.

You swallowed hard and he growled behind you.

“Stop being scared, it’s annoying.” To emphasize his words he gave you another, single hard thrust that made you squeal, a sound he could feel against his hand that was comfortably wrapped around your throat.

“You’ve been so good, don’t ruin it now,” he mumbled and you barely heard it between your moans and the sound of wet skin.

Your body was sweating already and you could barely breathe, even less with his hand wrapped around you.

Dabi suddenly pulled you back, making you choke briefly with his hand. The angle of his cock changed and without even realizing it, your tight rings clamped down around him and you came, wetness coming out of you and running down your thighs.

“Anal orgasm, hm? Never seen that before,” he chuckled and sounded almost proud but you weren’t sure if he was proud of you or himself.

You felt his cock twitch when you were clamping around him and he already sounded out of breath with every word that left his mouth.

“I’m close, doll.” At least one warning this evening but the tone in his voice told you he wanted something. You knew exactly what it was.

“Please, come in my ass. Claim it, it’s yours,” you moaned out between sobs and quick breaths, breaths you weren’t able to take anymore when his hand tightened around your neck, pressing yourself back roughly against him.

You felt dizzy when you felt his cum seeping inside of you. It was still so much even after you had swallowed quite a bit before.

Your insides became hot when he painted you with his cum and you whined, trying to catch a breath but he didn’t let you.

Only when the world started to spin and became slightly black at the corners of your eyes did he let go of your throat and you immediately took a deep breath.

“Don’t pass out on me now, princess.”

Your chest was heaving and you tried to get as much air in your lungs as you could. He pushed you forward slightly and pulled out of you.

Your own wetness was running down the insides of your thighs while his cum came out of your other entrance.

He chuckled slightly and slapped your ass, something that made you realize how weak your legs actually were. You were about to meet the floor but he caught you without any effort.

“Got you better than expected,” he told you with a grin that you didn’t see but heard.

Dabi lifted you up and carried you over to the couch, putting you down on your stomach. When he wanted to turn around he stopped you.

“Stay. I want my cum to stay in your ass, just as a reminder,” he said with a cheeky wink and you felt exhaustion washing over your body.

For a moment he vanished from your sight and returned fully clothed to your sight. He crouched down in front of you and pushed some hair out of your tired face.

“Cat got your tongue again?” he asked, trying to provoke you into saying something stupid as you always did.

“Shut up,” you mumbled weakly and he laughed at your weak attempt. A dark laugh but different than before.

You wanted to say so much more, so slap him for making you almost pass out, yelling at him for being so rough but you just couldn’t. Your body and your mind were tired and you didn’t have the energy to fight it. That would have to wait until your next meeting.

“Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out. I’ll even use the front door this time.”

You just hummed in approval, hoping he wouldn’t seal anything on the way out. Tiredness was coming over you and you barely felt how he threw a blanket over your naked body before you fell asleep.

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

“I’m back,” you heard the familiar voice of your roommate while you slowly woke up from your slumber.

You smiled slightly when waking up, a yawn leaving your mouth when he started to turn around on the couch.

It took you way too long to realize where you were and why you were there.

Still naked on the couch, covered only with a blanket with Dabi’s cum in your ass. Balcony door still melted, imprints of sweat against the window next to it, and the bathtub was still filled.

Your roommate walked into the living room and turned the light on maximum from it’s dimmed state.

“Date was okay but I don’t think she is the girl for me,” the young man you shared your flat with replied and he was looking at your widened eyes.

He squinted his eyes at you and took in the surroundings. He wasn’t stupid. He would know. The state you were in would give it away if not anything else.

The small grin tugging at the edges of his lips told you that he knew.

“Looks like someone had fun on their own while I was gone. Please clean that up tomorrow, I don’t want to sit on any bodily fluids,” he replied and waved with his hand, a blush forming on your cheeks.

“Of course,” you replied, still tired. All you wanted was for him to go to his room so you could either fall back asleep on the couch or make it to your bedroom. When you shifted on the couch, it was clear that you would go nowhere. Everything hurt and your legs were still weak.

Suddenly his two colored hair peaked back out around the corner, followed by his face and he grinned at you again.

“Actually, I’m quite jealous. I wish my date would have gone that way,” he told you with that bright grin of his and you threw a pillow after him.

“Go to bed or I’ll give you a scar that matches your other one!”

You only heard the young man laugh as he made his way down the hallway and you waited until you heard the telltale sound of his bedroom door close.

Once again you shook his head, mind filled with Dabi as you fell back into a deep slumber.

It was only the next morning that you noticed all the hickeys on your neck and the imprint of his hand on your ass that he burned in on there. It wouldn’t be permanent but it would for sure be there for a few days.

'Cause I'm a sucker, I'll do 'bout anything

#Dabi x Reader #Dabi x y/n #Dabi x You #Dabi #touya x you #touya todoroki #my hero academia #dabi imagine #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #dabi fanfic #smut

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Text

Barrage

For @whumptober2021 day 3: taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

CW: War whump, WWI, dehumanization, vampire whumpee, degrading language, negative/panic stimming due to sensory overload, casual ableism (it’s not intended as such, but effectively is), period-appropriate xenophobia, implied future loss of limb, brief religious talk at end

1918, the Western Front of World War One

If he’s screaming, he can’t hear himself over the sounds of the artillery.

Shells fly through the air with the only warning a high whistle before they burst apart in blasts that shake the trenches like an infant with a rattle, knocking free dirt from the sides of the trenches.

It drifts down to land on his shoulders, settling over the hands he has over his head. His palms press against his ears and it does nothing, absolutely nothing. There are tears in his eyes, fear bleeding pink into mud that simply turns darker, seeing no difference between vampiric saltwater and blood.

Not that there is much of a difference, really.

His mouth is wide open against the ground, throat taut, lungs tight with the expulsion of air but the vibration of sound in his throat is so overwhelmed by the rumbling of the earth and the barrage slamming into the ground around him that he can’t feel if he’s making any sounds or not.

If he had a beating heart it would be pounding, but it lays still in his chest, locked in the final heartbeat he’d had more than a decade before.

That he is already dead never quite undoes the visceral horror of sounds too loud for a human mind to understand, destruction too total and complete. The part of him that is still human shrieks at him to run, but there isn’t anywhere to go.

The barrage is everywhere, it’s in everything. The trees blast apart above their heads, branches and fragments of bark and leaves rain down into the trench.

The other men hunker down, trying not to look directly up, each of them with eyes closed or staring off into space, flinching now and then, hands trembling so hard their rifles rattle. There’s no point in moving - the shells will find them if they so much as pop up over the bags. All they can do is wait, and wait, and hear the sounds without knowing which come from their own side and which from the enemy.

In a moment like this, the human body knows only terror, and there is nowhere to run to escape it.

Finally, the sounds start to die off. A final whistle, a single explosion, and then everything falls silent.

Not that the vampire boy can tell, not at first.

His ears keep ringing, painful noise that is inside him and not without. He slowly pulls his hands off from his ears and pushes up to his knees, shuddering, rocking back and forth in an attempt to soothe his nerves. He can feel, now, the vibration in his throat. He can’t hear himself but he must be humming, low and tuneless, trying to drown out the panic.

Once the shells have finished, the gunfire begins.

“Here they come! Steady aim, boys, the Krauts are on us!”

The sound of the soldier’s voice seems tinny and small, so distant, trapped behind the ringing in Tristan’s ears. He screams himself, into the mud beneath him. Someone races past, stopping briefly to pat his head. If they speak, he can’t hear them over the shrieking noise inside his mind.

Short reports break through the air like thrown knives, the soldiers in the trenches alongside him popping briefly up from behind their protective shield of sandbags to fire on the German infantry who come out of the shell-smoke like a swell of horrible phantoms.

They fall, they cry out, they hit the ground.

Sometimes the Americans let out a cry themselves, someone is fired upon and falls. Someone else yells in fierce victory. Someone shouts a curse.

He hears a man shout, “I won’t die today!” and hopes it’s true.

Tristan loses time, shivering compulsively and curling into himself, humming and rocking until the ringing finally starts to die down. Longer, still, as long as the rifles continue to fire. He hears a wild, high-pitched cry, and glances up to see a German with a bayonet through him drop to his knees and then fall into the trench, landing less than three feet away.

The man’s probably dead before he hits, but Tristan still screams and pushes back, scrambling until his back hits the wall. His knees are damp from the mud he’s curled up in and he doesn’t care, he’s never cared. All that matters is finding some small hint of peace.

It seems like an eternity before even the gunfire starts to go quiet.

There’s a voice that calls, but he can’t care enough to let the sounds filter into understandable words. He smacks his hands into the mud, again and again, pushing himself forward and back, finally leaning down to knock his head into the ground, over and over. Each contact with solidity is a soothing rush, slowly working its way down his spine and through his muscles, reminding him that the noise is gone, the noise is over.

The voice calls again.

There’s no more guns firing, no more shells. The world settles into an awful heavy silence that is nearly worse than the sounds. They’re in the middle of a forest more vast than any Tristan has ever seen before, and there are no birds, because there are no more trees for the birds to live in.

Only the doughboys and the enemy, everyone the walking dead. They’re as dead as Tristan is, their bodies just haven’t figured it out yet. And they won’t get back up when they fall.

The vampire keeps knocking his head into the ground. It helps to stop his thoughts from spinning and swirling in a mad spiral inside.

It doesn’t help enough.

He’s brought back to himself by a kick, a fellow soldier’s boot knocking hard into his hip and sending him onto his side. He grunts and looks up, squinting. The German soldier’s corpse is gone - they’ve moved it while he was locked within himself, within his terror. The sky above them has a sickly glow beneath heavy clouds brought on by smoke from the fires and explosion.

The soft sound of distant wounded calling for help filters into his understanding.

The soldier that kicked him, Kirk, gives him a grin. The man’s face is streaked with mud, dark with it, and only his teeth and his eyes show white. “Hey, medic. Didn’t you hear the officers?”

Tristan looks up at him, and slowly shakes his head. His ears ring, a little, but all their ears ring. They’re all shouting just to be heard.

“Huh. Well, trench got blown apart off to the east. It’s your time to do what you do best, fangs. Go sniff out the ones we can save.” Kirk grins. “Like a fucking dog.”

The vampire closes his eyes, shuddering, looking away, shaking his head more in denial than in real refusal. It feels like the shells are still breaking apart inside him, shuddering rumbles inside his nerves now, not up in the sky. His whole body shakes. “I, I, I c-c-can’t, can’t, I-... I c-can’t go, go up there, c-can’t-”

“Doesn’t matter what you wanna do or not, bloodfuck. You think any of us would be here if anyone important gave a damn about our feelings? Gotta earn your bloodbags, don’t you? Get up there with the dogs where you fucking belong. ”

The other soldiers laugh as Kirk kicks him again. Their laughter isn’t even mean, exactly, but carries an edge of hysteria. It’s a release of tension after the barrage for them, after the gunfire, after the loss or three or four of their own, listening to how Kirk talks to him. It makes them all feel better, reminds them they’re still alive by reminding them that the vampire isn’t.

And, for whatever it is worth, it seems they’ve held the line.

To Tristan’s mind, a bit of land doesn’t seem worth what they are being asked to suffer.

He uncurls himself slowly, his bones aching in protest of his movements, his body begging him not to show himself above the bags, to be potentially seen by a German sniper just waiting for the American soldiers to pop up thinking it’s all over and make excellent little targets.

The vampire reaches out with a trembling hand to pick up his helmet where it’s been discarded beside him, stuffing his hair up underneath as he pulls it on. He tries to buckle it, but he keeps dropping the straps. His fingers won’t close, they’ll only shake.

Kirk finally huffs a sigh and leans forward, grabbing him by one arm and yanking him over, taking the straps in hand and doing the buckle himself, jerking it too tight until the vampire whimpers at the pinch. “You’re fucking useless, bloodsucker. Go on. Serve your fucking country, like the rest of us. We’ll see you later. Hey. We made it, huh? This time we keep breathing. Well, we keep breathing, anyways. You keep… uh, whatever it is you do.”

The vampire nods, slowly, eyes searching Kirk’s for some hint of something other than his hatred.

For the first time since they were shipped out, Kirk’s expression does soften.

Just a little bit.

“Come on, bloodfuck.” He says the insulting name almost like an endearment. “Don’t look like that. You’ll be all right,” He says, voice low, giving the vampire’s chin a playful little shake. “It’s just the artillery, just a little scrap. They brought out their big guns, and look at us, we still got our limbs, ain’t we? You still got those chompers. Hell, none of us wet ourselves this time, so we’re doing a sight better than last time.”

The other soldiers chuckle, a little. Someone mumbles, “That was once.”

“Oh, hush it, Fallows, nobody looks down on you for it, everybody’s a bit crackers the first time they get shelled.”

“Yeah, Fallows, we’ve all been there.”

“Listen, after my first time it took me three weeks to go to the latrine without a buddy just in case, you’re all right.”

The soldier who must be Fallows shifts, but he half-smiles, a little, comforted by the camaraderie around him. Tristan’s heart hurts, wishing he could be part of it, not kept apart by the curse in his blood.

A different soldier - Tristan thinks the man’s name is Davies - pulls out a canteen of what is probably supposed to be water and almost certainly isn’t. The American army doesn’t imbibe, officially, but Tristan’s never seen an officer who didn’t look the other way after a battle if his men needed liquid courage to make it to the next one.

“I, I, I’m scared,” The vampire whispers. A tear trickles down the cleared path along the dirt in his face, following the trails of those he’s cried before. Kirk looks at him and rubs his thumb over the vampire’s high cheekbone, smearing dirt back over. Like trying to fill in a dried riverbank. “I’m, um, sc-scared of the sounds, Kirk.”

“So’re the rest of us. Fritz never does it halfway, does he? I get you. We’re still here, for now.” Kirk pats the side of the vampire’s face, almost gently, and then pushes him backwards with a sudden resurgence of his usual careless violence. “Now go find the crump-hole Fritz made of the others and pull out the wounded.”

He has to do this. It’s his job, and it’s the only reason he hasn’t been staked out like the ones who refused to go willingly. The vampire swallows, nodding slowly, and turns away. He has to jog down the narrow line of the trench, past rows of soldiers who watch him with dulled eyes that stare far, far past him. Twice he pops his head up, just for a second, to get a better look at where he should go.

Ahead of him, the No Man’s Land stretches. It’s a hellscape, cratered and with any hint of greenery long gone. A morass of mud and the still-standing stump of the occasional tree. There are dead men out there, he can smell them. Some new dead, mostly old, the ones that aren’t worth pulling back behind the lines, not yet. Some wounded men who call for water, for help, but who mostly call for their mothers.

Tristan would call for his, too, if he thought it would help.

There’s dead Germans out there, he can see their uniforms on the prone, still bodies. Some of their wounded cry mama, mutti, mutterchen. A few cry papa, vaterchen. Tristan has seen enough dead - some by his own hand, though he never wanted to kill anyone, William didn’t tell him how not to and he had to find that out on his own - to know that nearly everyone, at the end, thinks finally of who they love most.

Someone cries, in a broken voice, “Cady, help me,” and Tristan closes his eyes against the pleading in the sound.

Seems like more Germans than Americans, this time, and he might see some French, too. It’s hard to tell, with the smoke is still rolling over the land.

He hopes they don’t try to gas each other again. It doesn’t affect the vampires, but he’s seen too many men die choking on their own lungs already, he’s ready to never see such a thing ever again.

He sighs, gets back down into the trench, and keeps moving.

The ranks thin out, and he finds himself utterly alone for the last few hundred yards.

There’s a brief burst of gunfire that has him shaking again, flinching and stumbling into a depression underneath the top, where a soldier might sleep at night. The vampire stays there, curled up tight staring in fear, until the gunfire subsides.

Once it fades, he hears the barking.

Ambulance dogs.

“Medics! We have wounded!” A man’s voice cries, rough-edged. “We need help!” Ahead of him, the trench collapses in on itself, blown apart by shells. A soldier’s rifle lays in the mud, bayonet glinting faintly. Next to it, a photograph, a young man and woman standing next to each other, dotted with dirt. The woman has a slight smile on her face, and the young man’s arms are around her waist. They look happy.

The vampire’s throat closes as he looks at it. She’s very pretty, he thinks. She’ll be very sad when she hears that her soldier isn’t coming home. He wishes he had any photographs of his parents.

If he must be damned to never see them again, even in Eternity, it seems doubly unfair that he can’t even find an image of them to remember them by. He’s sure there were photos taken at the island where they were processed, but those photos weren’t for them. They were kept by the men and women who barked orders at the young Tristan and his parents as they went through the line.

“We have living wounded!” The man calls again, much closer, and the vampire jolts back into motion. He picks up the photograph and tucks it into one of the pouches at his waist, next to a small vial of plain alcohol he uses to wash out wounds.

He can see the dogs up top as they dig, paws burying themselves with incredible speed in loosened mud as their handlers move next to them, encouraging them. Every dog wears a big white square patch with a cross on each side, marking them as ambulance dogs. The vampire has a patch on his left arm like that, marked with a cross for medic - and a V to make sure he is always known for what he is by anyone who sees him.

As if the fangs don’t give him away. As if the way his eyes look in the darkness isn’t a clue all its own.

There’s a high-pitched bark and a shout of triumph, and the vampire looks up and sees a man so covered in dirt he seems less human than golem being helped to his feet. He’s miraculously uninjured except for having been half-buried in mud.

“Let’s go, soldier,” The dog’s handler says, and then moves quickly away. The soldier follows him, shuffling more than walking, staring around in amazement that he’s still alive.

The Germans could fire again at any moment, of course, and the vampire finds himself frozen, staring up into the yellow-tinged dark sky. There’s a low rumble, a whistle and boom, and he flinches before he realizes the sound is so distant that it must mean shelling much further down the line than he is.

That doesn’t mean what they’re doing is safe.

He’s still staring up at the sky, waiting for the barrage to begin again, when something closes tight around his wrist and he jolts to the side with a cry of shock and fear.

It’s a hand.

A hand, reaching out from the mud. Dirt is ground into every knuckle, under the torn fingernails, into the callouses worn into the pads of his fingers. The hand grasps wildly, blindly, trying to find anything to hold onto.

There’s a living man buried under the mud.

The vampire has to work his throat to find his voice, and when he does he cries out, “We, we, we have living wounded! Living wounded! B-buried, buried, help! I need help!”

There’s a flurry of movement as the vampire lurches forward, gripping onto the hand and digging with his other, trying to give the man who must be in there some reassurance that he is felt, seen, found.

Trying to give him some air before whatever he’s got runs out.

One of the other medics hops down and lands roughly on their feet next to him. It’s another vampire, one that Tristan has never seen before. They’re older-seeming, with straggly long dark-blond hair barely held back in a plait down their back. The vampires aren’t usually allowed to speak to one another for fear that they’d plan some sort of mutiny, and so the other medic is silent other than a soft grunt, digging into the dirt with their bare hands with inhuman rapidity, uncaring for the possibility of injuries because they simply cannot hurt their muscles any longer.

Tristan feels the hand he’s holding squeeze and he gives two squeezes in return. We’ve got you, just hold on, hold your breath, just a little longer.

Eventually the frantic work of the other medic reveals dirtied blond hair, helmet-less, marked with mud and blood in equal measure from a cut they can see as the man’s forehead is revealed. Then his eyes open wide and very blue, he gasps in air.

“Pl-please,” He manages, his voice a rasp. “Please, help me-”

Tristan exhales an unnecessary breath in relief, and smiles. “Hold, hold, hold on, hold on, we’ve got you, soldier.”

The man sees his fangs but he’s too full of the rush of adrenaline at the prospect that he has been saved from suffocation to be scared of them. Instead he starts to cry, weeping and holding onto Tristan with a bone-crushing grip.

The other medic hisses as they dig in and find a dead soldier on top of the living one. This one has the telltale slightly-open eyes of someone long gone, body still warm. There’s an awful caved-in look to one side of his head that Tristan refuses to allow himself to see. “Must have protected him that way,” The vampire notes, coldly informative, uncaring. “Dead took the brunt of the blows. One lucky man, one unlucky one. Flip of a coin, living or dying.” They sound like they don’t care at all.

Tristan wonders how long they’ve been a medic. If they maybe felt more at the beginning.

The smell of blood moves through the air like a bubbling stew, making Tristan’s mouth water. He holds back as best he can, pulling to help dislodge the survivor from the dirt his compatriots have died in.

Some of them still haven’t yet - the vampires can scent the difference between dead and living, and there are more soldiers still breathing under the rubble. He can smell that some are so wounded they won’t last long. Others, though, they’ll get out in time.

Tristan doesn’t look at the slack expression of the dead soldier whose body kept this one alive as he is revealed. The survivor comes free - first his shoulders, then his arms come up to grip tightly around Tristan’s waist. His torso is revealed, his hips…

It’s only when they finally get him fully freed, laying on the ground, that Tristan realizes one of his legs is… wrong. Bent wrong, nearly blasted off. He swallows at the sight.

“We, we, we need a stretcher,” Tristan says, frowning. The soldier groans, as if only now beginning to feel the pain of the shattered bones from his thigh down to his foot. “He, he, he can’t walk. He’s gonna lose the, um, the the the leg.”

“God, no,” The soldier pleads to no one in particular. “Please, no, not my leg…”

“Hush. Better that than your eyes or your face, mouthbreather.” The other vampire launches themself at the side of the trench, clambering back up - only for there to be a sudden burst of new gunfire, and Tristan stares up in panic as the vampire’s body jolts as three bullets pass through them.

They stumble backwards, briefly, then bare their fangs in the direction the gunfire came from and hold up their hands with middle fingers raised high above their head. They give a loud, half-mad trill of laughter.

“Have at it, Huns, I’m already dead!”

Then they turn on their heels, moving at a rapid jog towards the medical tents nearby. There are bullet holes in the back of their uniform, new fresh ones alongside several that have already been patched up from earlier hits.

“Please, I have to-... have to go home,” The survivor of the bombardment says in a whisper, and Tristan turns back to him, nodding slowly. The man’s face is pinched with agony, but… but he’s familiar. “I can’t die here, fangs. I can’t.”

“Don’t, um, don’t don’t don’t worry… you’ll go home, you will.” He doesn’t know that, not really, but it’s what every soldier wants to hear, and the doughboy beside him lets out a breath of relief and smiles, a little, trusting him. Tristan hitches in a breath, and digs into his belt-bag, pulling the photograph out. It’s the same young man as the subject of the photo, his sweetheart next to him. Maybe she’ll see him again after all.

He holds it out. He sees the soldier blink, struggling to focus.

Tristan clears his throat. “I, I, I… um, I found this.”

The soldier grabs it with his free hand and gives a hysterical, relieved laugh, pulling it to his lips and giving it a kiss. “Marta,” he breathes. “Oh… thank you, fangs. Thanks for finding it.” he looks up at Tristan with a bright smile, teeth seeming terribly white in his dirt-coated face.

They are so rarely kind to him, the soldiers.

The vampire closes his eyes against a new rush of tears. He whispers, “Look, look, look at the, the, the photo for just a moment for me,” and lifts the soldier’s wrist to his mouth. The soldier knows the score - he doesn’t even go tense. He's probably been bitten a few times before.

When the vampire sinks his teeth in, it’s as gentle as possible. He takes little blood, only pushes venom into the wounds until the soldier’s body goes limp and relaxed, his eyes still locked on the photo of the woman he wishes badly to go home to.

“Tell, tell, tell me, um, about… about, about Marta,” The vampire says, glancing up. He can hear further shouting. The other vampire’s voice, which means help is on the way. “While we wait for the stretcher.”

The soldier’s eyes drift shut.

“She’s… she’s nineteen. Preacher’s daughter, her ma and two sisters died from the flu this year. She’s got four little brothers who made it, though. We were married just before I was sent to basic training, last fall… Hey.” The soldier looks right at him, meets his eyes. “What’s your name, fangs?”

No one ever asks him that.

He blinks once, twice, three times. “What?”

“Your name. What can I call you?”

“Uh, Tristan, um, Medical, um, Un-dead Medical Private Tristan Higgs.”

“Huh. I’m Dennis. Just… I don’t care for all the titles we get. Just say Dennis. Tired of bein’ called by what I am and not who.”

He nearly laughs. He knows the feeling. “Nice, um, nice to meet you, Den, Dennis.”

“You, too, Tristan. You’re Irish, right?”

Tristan nods, a little, his smile widening slightly. “Was. Been in New York since, ah, before the turning of the, um, the the century.”

“Were you a vampire when you came here?”

Tristan swallows, looking away. “No.”

“Oh.” Dennis falls silent, for a moment, then squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring on bad memories.”

“That’s, um, that’s all right.” Tristan settles onto the muddy ground, with the body of the soldier who didn’t make it visible in the dug-out part of the cave-in, and listens. The other soldier, he thinks, likely would have his own people waiting for him, who now must be told the terrible news - but this man, Dennis, he’ll go home to his Marta, one-legged but alive.

Dennis never lets go of his hand.

Whenever his face starts to show his pain again, Tristan lifts the man’s wrist back to his mouth, fills him with venom again, and asks him more questions about home.

Dennis thanks him for it, every time.

He says Tristan reminds him of his own brother, who’s still back home working the dairy farm he grew up on. “He’s always been better with the cows than people, anyway. He’d hate all this racket,” Dennis murmurs.

“I, I, I hate it, too.” Tristan smiles, just a little. “I’d say you, um, you get used to it, but…”

“You don’t,” Dennis says, heavily.

“Right. You… no, um, you don’t.”

Tristan hopes Dennis gets to go home to his pretty Marta, his brother and the cows, and never come back to this hell the rest of them are trapped in until its bitter end. He hopes, deeper than that and in a secret place within himself, that he will redeem some of the damnation of what he was turned into by doing as much good as he can while he’s here.

He can’t go home.

Home is people, not a place, and his are long, long gone.

But maybe if he suffers for the good of the living, he’ll be seen as redeemed enough by God and His angels to be allowed to see his mother and father again.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @pretty-face-breaker @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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quillquiver · 4 years ago

Text

and it’s good

DeanCas coda to 15x19: ‘Inherit the Hearth’

He hasn’t stopped praying.

From an empty world to one filled with people, Dean has gone to his knees every night—on the floor, the gravel, the dirt—and prayed. Head down. Face pressed to his knuckles. Dear Cas…

From each failed plan to their eventual, anti-climactic victory, Dean shares it all. And when it’s all over, when they wake up the morning after with no Jack, no Cas and no world to save, it’s bittersweet. Confusing. Like being released into the wild after living in a cage.

Where does he go from here? What does he do?

What does he want?

Sam doesn’t have a problem finding his own answers, but then again, he never has; he was the one with the life outside The Life: the college boy, the dreamer. Dean… Dean needs some time to adjust. Regroup. Grieve, maybe—whatever the hell that looks like. So, he serves himself a bottle of Jack, grabs a box of Pop Tarts, and makes his way to his recliner. First day of freedom? Dr. Sexy and sweet oblivion sound awesome.

“Hey, uh, what’re you—” Sam cuts himself off, skidding to a halt in the doorway of the Dean Cave. He’s got that pinched look on his face, the one that means: inevitable bitch face, concerned edition. Dean waves him off.

“Chilling out,” he mutters, taking a long pull from the bottle. “Figure I deserve a vacation.”

Sam narrows his eyes. “A vacation.”

“Yeah, genius. A vacation. You know, a little me time?” Dean takes another pull. “You got a problem with that?”

Sam shifts his weight. Frowns at the floor. It’s weird to see him like this; he’s so big, now, but that move is straight out of his teen years—when he’d been gangly and awkward and angry and unsure. He looks up, resolved, and Dean heaves an internal sigh. Whatever the fuck Sam is trying to do, he doesn’t want any part in it.

“What if you come with me?”

“Nope.”

“Dean—”

“Look, Sammy, we fought the big fight, we won, there ain’t nothing left to do,” Dean says reasonably, bitterly, turning back to the DVD menu. “So I don’t wanna go into town, or to the store, or wherever else you’re planning on gallivanting to today. I’m gonna watch my show, drown myself in booze and pass the fuck out, because that is what I’m owed. Capiche?”

“Eileen texted. I’m… I’m going to go get her.”

It’s weird, Dean thinks, how many times a heart can break. He clenches his jaw and swallows the lump in his throat, blinking rapidly. Allows himself a second—one second—of envy and jealousy before he slaps a smile on his face and nods. “Good,” he says. He means it. “You should.”

“So…” Sam trails off.

“So…” Dean echoes.

“…Come with.”

“Sam, I’m not gonna crash your romantic reunion okay? That’s weird.”

“Dean—”

“Sam.” And there’s more that comes out in that word than he ever intended. It hangs heavy in the air between them before dropping to the ground like a stone. Loud. Shattering on impact. Dean thinks his voice might have cracked and his vision is blurring because this pity? This is fucking worse. Shoving a Pop Tart in his mouth, Dean chews with his mouth open in the vain hope that his table manners will prove an adequate distraction, but that shit hasn’t worked for a long time.

It tastes like sawdust.

“Just go,” he says. “You have to go, man.”

It’s as much a plea for his brother as it is for himself, and for one long, terrifying moment Dean thinks Sam’s going to refuse. That he’s gonna be dragged across the country to witness his brother find happiness in a way he will never be able to have.

…But Sam is kind, not cruel, and when those big eyes of his fill with tears, Dean has never been so happy to have given himself up. He watches as his little brother’s shoulders slump. As he readjusts his duffle.

“I’ll be home in two days,” Sam says. “If you’re dead, I’m gonna pissed.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean replies, forcing himself to tease. To be excited. He deserves this. “Go sing in the rain or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” Sam volleys back, a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He looks so happy, and Dean can’t stop himself from mirroring the expression. It hits him all at once, then—a sucker punch to the gut, the heart—that no matter what, he did right by his little brother. That he’s grown up to be smart, and kind and caring, and now he can be happy. And Dean—Dean’ll figure it out. But Sam’s taken care of and that’s… good. That’s a lot.

“Hey, Dean?”

“Mm.”

“I love you,” Sam says. He’s seven and thirty-seven and Dean feels something inside himself ease and break all at once.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I love you, too.”

Sam grins.

***

There’s no more frozen pizza.

It’s already a fucking travesty that the pizza place doesn’t deliver to their secret underground bunker, but Jack polished off the last two pies—and while it’s a little bit hilarious to think of the ‘New God’ (his kid) scarfing down shitty plain cheese in his pjs, it’s also awful, and painful. So Dean slips on his shoes, grabs his keys, and shoulders on the jacket with Cas’s handprint over his hole-y sleep shirt.

It’s not like he’s sober, but he’s done worse.

It feels like a shitty pizza day, so Dean makes a beeline for the Wal-Mart and its frozen section, stocking up on two of every topping from the cheapest brand they’ve got. He grabs popcorn, chips, twizzlers and margarita mix, because fuck it, and smiles at the cashier. It’s not an epic romantic reunion, but this is what normal people do, right? They take an entire day and wallow without the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Dean’s cradling his spoils, twizzler hanging out of his mouth, shuffling out of the garage when—

He freezes.

The kitchen. There’s someone banging around in the kitchen.

Not like aggressively banging—one quick sweep around the area confirms no signs of forced entry—but just like… moving shit. Washing the dishes from this morning, or getting ready to make something new. Dean’s heart is caught between hope and heartbreak and he forces himself towards the latter. It’s probably Charlie, or Bobby or Jody or Donna or, hell, even Jack or Claire. No one else can get in. And if it’s something dangerous… well, Dean doesn’t have a weapon on him, and his damn pizza’s thawing.

But it’s not Charlie or Bobby or Jody or Donna. It’s not Jack. It’s not Claire.

…It’s Cas; freshly showered, dressed in Dean’s fucking clothes, making himself a sandwich.

He’s beautiful. Dean’s shirt—AC/DC, the one with the mustard stain on the collar—is just a little small on him, and he’s humming, and Dean has to blink once twice three times to make sure he’s not a goddamn mirage but no he’s still there, still scooping grape jelly onto the good bread and then putting the dirty spoon on the counter like a friggin’ heathen and—

“Are you gonna wash that?”

It’s sure as fuck not what he’d meant to say, but it gets the job done. Cas drops the spoon—the spoon—and whirls around like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Dean,” he breathes, like Dean’s name is some kind of benediction. Like it’s important.

Dean clutches his groceries tighter to his chest. “A-Are you…?” he asks. Steps forward. Steps back. Stares because he can’t, he can’t— “Are you real?”

Cas is barefoot. He’s quiet when he steps across the linoleum. His hair is turning fluffy where it’s drying and his eyes are blue and bright and he’s a miracle. “I’m real,” he confirms quietly. His hand twitches by his side, and Dean thinks that’s fair. Thinks that he gets that Cas has reservations because of—because.

But they’re unfounded.

Dean drops his spoils because they’re an afterthought; nothing is more important than knowing, than reaching out to touch his fingertips to Cas’s shoulder. To his jaw. He can’t stop the tears from springing to his eyes like he can’t stop himself from laughing. Smiling. And suddenly he has Cas in his arms and he smells like Dean’s soap and Sam’s fancy shampoo, and they’re holding—clutching each other, and Dean turns his head because it has to be now he has to say it now: “Cas, I—”

“I know,” Cas interrupts. “You don’t have to—I know.”

“Yeah?” Dean asks, voice high with something like hysteria. The whole thing is so absurd, so insane, so fucked, that it’s all he can do to bury his face in Cas’s neck. To squeeze his eyes shut. To talk. “Well, you’re a friggin’ moron,” he says. “And you got no goddamn idea what you’re talking about, because—because you changed me, too, you dick.” Cas’s fingers dig into Dean’s waist and Dean’s heart pounds like it’s trying to escape and his throat is dry and he’s sweating and he’s gonna be sick, he’s gonna die— “A-And I love you.”

He wrenches himself away, then, glaring like he dares Cas to take the words away from him. “Okay?” he asks, rhetorically. Menacingly. It’s a declaration and a confession and a challenge. And Cas meets his stare unflinchingly. He reaches up to thumb at the wetness on the apple of Dean’s cheek. “Okay,” he says. He nods. Leans in. “Okay.” Their mouths brush. “Good.”

It’s not even a real kiss, so Dean can’t be blamed for how he chases; how he breathes good, in faint agreement like a lovesick fool, and moves until they’re kissing good and proper—slow and sweet and then deep and wet and it’s good, it’s so good, he’s so good.

Later, they’ll have to make every thawed pizza. They’ll drink the margarita mix and share the same popcorn bowl and pay no attention to Dr. Sexy playing in the background. They’ll talk about Chuck and Jack and Sam. They’ll stare. They’ll tease. They’ll flirt.

But for now, Cas twists his hands in Dean’s shirt and Dean buries his hands in dark hair. They pause for breath only to come together, again and again and again.

And it’s good.

#destiel coda #coda fic #15x19 #spn 15x19 #s15 #spn spoilers #second to last coda ever folks #it's fucking emotional #adventures in fanfic

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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years ago

Text

The Deal Part Three

Summary: august doesn't know how to lose.

Warnings: Adult Situations +18, Slight Smut, Mentioned Threesomes, M/M, M/F/M, poly relationship, Toys, Seduction, Dom Sub, BDSM, Praise Kink, Swearing.

August hummed running a finger back and forth on the rim of his glass as he watched the screen,you were on the bed rocking onto your new toy like crazy.

"She really does this everyday?" Clark asked from beside him with a frown, but august could see the kid was turned on, licking and biting his lip as you fucked yourself desperately with your new vibrator.

"Everyday, for a week now..." august hummed twisting his chair to and fro flicking his gaze from the subby on screen to the soon to be sub sat beside him.

"... am i? Am i not enough?" Clark asked tentatively blinking at agaust in a way that made the agent smile smugly.

"Its not that kid, shes gone without playing our game for soo long she forgot how addictive it is, how much she needs it" he explained.

"Needs? Have... i mean shes missed it?" Clark uttered feeling less confident in his ability to satisfy you by the second.

"Probably not, well not untill our little experiment"

"Why?" Clark asked still not understanding

"Being a sub is... more then just sex, subs need to submit its therapeutic for them... when in a scene they just let themselves go, all worry and stress disappear. All they need to do is live in the moment and obey" august began slowly as he stopped swaying his chair and faced clark head on pinning him with a look.

It was there, the curiosity. Good. Its what he hoped for, it was why he'd called clark there to 'catch up'

It was time to make his move, top the man of steel whilst having you making your own little porno in the background to help things along.

"So she cant truly relax without it?" Clark muttered still unaware of the agents motives.

"In a sense yes. She craves being dominated, its as natural to her as being a goody two shoes is for you" august purred placing his drink on the glass computer table fendingnoff a smirk as clark took the bait.

"Hey! Im not a goody two shoes-" the kryptonian grunted offended.

But august was prepared, he'd planned this meeting meticulously and his anwser rolled off his tongue with a laugh.

"Your thirty five years old and have absolutly no run ins with the law, no parking fines no speeding tickets hell you never even had a single detention in your entire shcool life! Or have you handed in an assignment or book report in late"

"But i killed a man- i took a life" clark tried to argue but was waed off with another laugh.

"Zod was no man, he was a fucking alien... no offence, you took a life to save billions... so its not really making you a badass"

"Lazer vision is pretty badass..." clark huffed slumping back in his seat now looking like a classic putig brat.

"Oh? Is my litttle clark sulking?" August cooed gravely voice making clark pause at the sultry tone... he must be hearing things.

"Im not sulking! And im not your anything!" Clark growled snapping at the agent.

"Behave yourself!" August growled leveling him with a look, and couldnt help smirk again as clark shut himself up and flushed.

Your desperate cries called out over the moniter as you rutting onto the toy the wet sounds adding to the scene.

Clark flushed finalky turning away from august making the agent preen. Oh he had him in the palm of his hand already~

"Good boy. You are arent you? A very good boy clark- the best" august purred leaning forward gazing at the younger man with a cheshire grin, that only grew wider as clark flushed brighter and shuddered.

"I.. err well yes" clark panted shiftingnin his seat tryingmto keep his eyes on the screen as you wailed and yelped trying to draw out a climax.

"Oh whats this? Your going all shy on me? Tell me is it because i called you a good boy~ do you like praise clark?" Augusut grinned leaning closer still to the now frozen younger male

"N-no its err... i should go-" clark started shuffljng backwards needing to get out of here, because it was true. He loved praise especially in the bedroom, he loved being told how good he was.

August purringnat him whilst he eyes were fixed on you rollingnaroundnin bed toying yourslef into a sexual frenzie was... making him think of thingsnhe probably shouldnt.

"No. Sit, stay... thats it, theres nothing to be embarrassed about, many powerful men enjoy being praised" August growled latching onto clarks arms holding them to the arms of the seat.

"Being taken care of, told what to do~" august purred standing befor the mighty man of steel leaning close to his face.

Clark gulped but didnt move back, he didnt pull away like he should have.

Instead he eyed augusts lips, clark had the overwhelming urge to.aste them.

It confused him, he'd never ever dabbled in same sex relationships, never experimented. Never shared a woman with another before that fatefull night.

But for some reason august was apealing, drawing clark in. August was apble to overpower him, not physically but he commanded obedience.

August held a dangerous cocksure demeanor that clark rarely saw.

"Is that what you want? Clark~ do you want to be controlled and praised just once? More then once?" August hummed dippjng closer and closer, clark couldnt help tipp his head up.

"Y/n is always such a brat. Just look at her, desperately trying to fuck herself into a coma, despite knowing we hadnt allowed her to touch her pussy" august pulled the pffice chair clark was sat in to closer to him, making the kryptonian drown in his scent, the cologne and sweet arousal that was alreading sworling arohnd him.

Clark swallowed dryly, unsure what was happeningnto him, the sounds of yu moaning a crying ot so sweetly, the praise and authority radiating off august in waves.

It was the same dominant aura and comanding deep voice that had made crks cock twitch in both threesomes they had indulged.

Clark had tried denying it at the time, convincing himslef he was cuaght up in the erotic forbidden act. It was just a thrill of the moment thing. It didnt bmean he wanted the older dominating alpha male and all his bravado.

August grinned shifting forward again filling clarks vision, for a human auguast was large, almost as large as he was.

"Sure she'll listen when she feels like it but... I can't help thinking she needs a role model..." clark hummed absentmidely nodding agreeing falling further into his own haze.

"Someone else to show her how she should behave... someone who will get rewarded for being soo good... maybe a good boy?" August purred finally taking the plunge and weaving jis way around the man. His words coiling around the younger male ensnareing him in his carefully constructed web of teasing words.

Clakr gasped as his chin was captured by the agent forcing him to look him in the eye.

"Would you like that clark? Do you want to be not just a good boy, but my good boy-our good boy?" The words hung in the air, winding the man of steel.

"W-what?" He stuttered tryingnto fathom what the older man meant. But couldnt deny the excitment in his gut.

Did he mean it? Would he really include clark in this kink? Make it official and let these forbidden threesomes continue?

"Oh dont play coy, i know what your thinking~ its natural to be curious, just think we could all be one~" august whispered movjng his thumb over clarks bottom lip.

"We could all play together and all get what we need." He purred smirking as clark gave all the right signs, eyes wide, pupils blown wide shifting in his seat as he cock rose, curtesy of both his praise and the loud wanton moans from you bringing yourslef to the edge of rapture yet again.

"You get the praise and love of a little brat, and a strict dom, y/n gets a role model, a dom and keeps her life partner" august listed shifting on his feet again reeling clark in with low coos full of promise.

The agent curled his hand, cupping clarks cheek coaxing him closer luring his face closer.

"A-And you?" Clark dared to utter, feeling both excited, anxious and overwhelmed, he wanted nothing but to jump at the chance, but was frightened at the same time.

He would admit he'd been a little jealous of all the praise you'd got from august in both encounters.

Closingnhis eyes imagining it was him! That the older influential man had been calljng him a good boy, had been teling him how impressed he was, how proud he was!

Clark was embarrassed and had quickly shook away the desperate thoughts. He wasnt gay, why would he have such thoughts?

He summarised he was just too needy and had gone without. You told him how brilliant and big he was, how sexy and strong and fantastic he is in the bedroom but... with august it was different.

The older male praised down at him! Cooing and fussing at him in a different way. Treated him like a sub and clark liked it. Probably too mucn.

"I get the little brat i've been missing and a very very good boy"

"So what do you say, do you want to let go? Be free and experience things you'd only dreamt of?" August preened keeping clarks attention fixed on him asmhe manipulated him, august had noticed clark had a praise kink.

A weakness. A need who was august to pass up useing the little kink to get the subby he wanted~

"I...I'm..." clark hesitated looking passed august to you on the screen who was digging around beside your bed looking for something.

"All you have to do is say the words clark, just say yes sir and you can have all the pleasure and praise you could ever hope for~ both you and y/n we could make this permanent"

"See look? Just watch, y/n needs her dom, needs to be tamed again we could do it clark... you can show her how to be good again~" august breathed over clarks cheek side steppjng him to reveal the screen.

And clark did look, groaning as he saw that you had rolled over and was straddling a different suction cup dildo stuck to a little hand mirror face up on the bed slapping your own ass as you bounced frantically.

"Just say those words and we can help her together" august hummed into his ear like the devil on his shoulder, tempting him

Clark gasped feeling augusts breath on his neck, his wisters ghosting the delicat skin.

Then in a bold move the older man pressed a soft feather light kiss to the kryptonian's neck.

And it worked

"I... y-yes, can we? Please sir" clark breathed out stuttering and jumbling his words unable to hold back his pleading.

"Good boy clark~ such a good seet boy you are~ i knew it, knew youd be brave enough, you've made me soo proud" august showered him with praise biting off a victorious grin.

Clark mewled closingnhis eyes for a second beaming a smile feeling this strange relaxation take over, suddenly he felt free, and small.

It was a feeling he craved, being the strongest all the time was a heavy burden to bare, now he could feel powerless for once.

August chuckled and pressed another kiss to clark this time on his cheek making the younger male's cheeks glow.

August couldnt get enough, the power trip of having the man of steel under his command was far to intoxicating.

"Now why dont you go get our little brat and we can tie her up and show her that good subby's get rewards" august prompted him stepping around clark completely letti g himstand up.

Clark nodded and shot off out onto the balcony and leapt into the sky eagwr to please his new dom and do as he was told.

August took his seat agin wrappjng his fingers around his glass of scotch and raised the glass to the screen that now had both his subs onscreen, as clark wrangled you into his arms wrapping the bedsheet arohnd you.

"Mission accomplished" he hummed smirking as clark wrapped you in your soiled bedsheet before you both disappeared off screen.

He stood and knocked back the last of his drink and padded across the pent house heading to the play room just as he heard both of hos little subs land and enter his home.

#henry cavill #clark kent x you #clark kent x August Walker #august walker #clark kent #august walker x you #august walker x y/n #clark kent x y/n #august walker x clark kent x y/n #oh for fic sake headcannon

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

Text

The Call

This was another request: So y/n is younger than Cill, she overs here's a call he's on with his management basically trying to convince him to leave her, so she goes upstairs to pack up because well she's not staying around when she's not wanted & Cillian finds her doing this and he's like no no no let me show me how much I want you around 😉

Warnings - talk of separation, smut

Turning the key in the lock you carefully opened the door as quietly as possible. Knowing Cillian, he was taking a nap in the lounge and you didn't want to disturb him. 12 hour days filming six days a week, he'd come home yesterday completely exhausted.

Instead of his light snoring, you were surprised to hear him talking on Skype to his agent in the study across the hallway. You smiled, before making your way to the door to let him know you were home, bottle of wine in hand when you froze.

"So, I'd get more scripts if I wasn't with y/n?" You heard Cillian ask his agent. You didn't move, you could barely breathe.

"Cillian, this is having a severe impact on your credibility! Producers aren't taking you seriously anymore, they're seeing you as a sugar daddy! Y/n is barely out of university, and you're pushing 50 here!" His agent was almost laughing.. you were sure you even heard Cillian chuckle at one point.

"Right... So it looks like we've got this all figured out then doesn't it?"

"Absolutely!! It's so simple Cill, everyone loves a single Dad!"

You'd heard enough. Tears burning your eyes, you tiptoed up the stairs, still with the wine in your hand, and made your way to your bedroom. Once you were sure you were out of earshot you allowed a sob to leave you as you leaned against the closed door, before grabbing an overnight bag from the closet. Taking a deep breath, and opening the wine to take a quick slug from it, you started to pack. All those times he'd told you he loved you... You completed him... Lies! He'd exchange you for Hollywood in a heartbeat!!! Well no... This wasn't going down that way - there's no way he's breaking YOUR heart when you can break HIS first....

Taking another swig from the bottle you took another deep breath and continued packing, not realising how loud your footsteps had become. The bedroom door suddenly swung open, and Cillian stood in the doorway, completely confused.

"Er... Y/n? Everything okay up here? I didn't hear you come home?"

"I didn't want to disturb your call.. you sounded busy." You voice was as deadpan as you could make it. You couldn't even look at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" You stopped, tears escaping your eyes too quickly to stop them.

"I heard you... I heard the call Cillian..."

"What call?" He approached you from behind and tried to put his arms around you but you pulled away. Turning to face him, you brought a hand up to slap the side of his face. "The fuck y/n?!?" You'd never slapped him before.. part of you felt an instant regret but the anger was burning inside you.

"Don't fucking play dumb with me, I heard you!! You'd get more scripts if you didn't have the 25year old homewrecker on your arm! You'd be more credibility as a single Dad!" Cillians eyes widened.. no... No no no..

"How much of that call did you hear, exactly?"

"Enough!!"

"Wrong!! You didn't hear fucking HALF of it!! You didn't hear me end the call, did you?" His voice raised now. "When I told him never to call me again. Never to even claim to represent me. That he was fired?? Did you hear that??" You stood frozen again, looking into his eyes. Your tears were drying up, but his looked close to spilling. "To have someone try and tell me how to live my life... Tell me who I can and can't spend my life with... he did the same thing with Natalie.. he wants me to be an eternal bachelor... that my career would take off if I wasn't seeing someone 20 years younger..." His voiced cracked at the thought of losing you.

"It worked with Natalie. Yes, she was the mother of my kids, but there was never a real connection with her.. I allowed it to happen without realising he was responsible for it... But you? I can't live without you y/n... The age difference has never bothered me.." he walked towards you again, pulling the bottle of wine out your hand and placing it on the chest of drawers in the corner. Picking the handles up on the overnight bag on your bed and throwing it to the floor. Needed it out of the way for what he was about to do.

"How do I know you won't change your mind one day? How do I know you mean it? You could trade me in for a younger model one day!"

"I'll show you how much I want you, and will always want you - close your eyes." His voice took a darker tone now, which always drove you wild. You closed you eyes as you felt his lips slowly start to kiss down your neck.. he turned you back round again so your back was pressing against his chest, as his fingers began to unbutton your blouse. "Keep them closed, baby..." He saw your eyelids flutter in the full length mirror in front of you both. He pulled your blouse off and let it fall to the floor, swiftly followed by your bra. Your jeans and panties soon came down your legs too, and he brought himself back up minus his T shirt.. his now bare chest hair tickling your back making you giggle.

His hands explored your upper whole body... Pressing your breasts, kneading them gently and loving hearing the moans of complete passion emitting from your beautiful lips... Before sinking a hand down to rest between your thighs, gently tapping them to allow him access. Happily granting it, he sunk a finger down to collect as much moisture as he could before circling your clit expertly, knowing exactly how to make you squirm underneath him. Holding you firmly round the waist with one hand, as the other mercilessly assaulted the small bundle of nerves between your legs, you squeezed your eyes closer together and allowed your head to fall back onto his shoulder. You couldn't move from the waist down, he had such a tight grip on you.

"Fuck... Cill... Keep going.. don't stop... Oh god..." He smiled, kissing into your bare neck as your moans became louder, he could feel your core burning now... You felt your orgasm screaming from inside as Cillian increased the pace.

"I've got you... Open those eyes baby.. watch yourself cum on my fingers, yeah?" You opened them to see yourself in the mirror, Cillians hand buried between your thighs and you couldn't help but feel the pure eroticism from it - fuck his hand looked good there.... Within seconds you could feel that orgasm approaching, no stopping it, it completely drowned you as your tried to buck your hips, held in place by Cillians strong arms. He swiftly inserted two fingers inside you, feeling your walls clench around them as you came hard over his hand. Twitching those fingers upwards slightly to find that sweet spot, making you cry out again.

"No more.... I wanna taste you now..." You span round to face him and kissed him, tongues clashing together as you fiddled with the buttons on his jeans - his erection clear as day through the fabric. They dropped to the floor and you followed, still in front of the mirror as you took him down your throat, teeth catching along the way gently. His hands coming to rest in your hair.

"Ah... Holy fuck y/n..." You groaned into his cock as your hands rolled his balls between your fingers, emitting more groans from above you. "Stop baby... Need to fuck you now y/n... Let me in yeah..." He lifted you up to stand again, before backing you onto the bed. Opening your legs he lined himself up and pushed inside, condoms long gone since you'd moved in together. If it happened, it happened.

Taking it slow, he moved his hips against yours, trying to find that sweet spot inside again. He heard you gasp, there it was. Your fingernails dug into his back, and his thrusts became almost maniacal - he was pounding you with reckless abandon now, making your screams echo off the walls. Thank fuck your neighbours weren't home... He wasn't holding back now - sitting up on his knees, he lifted your hips for deeper access, thumb rubbing your swollen clit to bring you your second orgasm. You clenched your cunt round his cock hard, squeezing him, watching his eyes squint and mouth gasp as you did..

"Need to cum y/n... Cum with me.... Let me feel it all over me...."

"I'm coming... I am... Baby I'm gonna..." You had no voice now as your second orgasm exploded through you, and Cillians followed with a loud groan as he collapsed on top of you, kisses raining back down your neck, gentler this time. Lifting his head to rest it over yours, he looked into your eyes softly.

"Don't ever feel like you're not enough for me y/n... Promise me?" You nodded in agreement.

"Don't trade me in for a younger model when I turn 40, and you've got a deal Mr Murphy." You tried to hold back a laugh but couldn't help it, both of you now chuckling.

"Don't get Botox or any of that crazy weird shit, and you've got a deal."

"Don't be coming near me with ANYTHING from Ann Summers, and you've got a deal." He pouted. Clearly busted looking at the costumes online.

Both of you fell silent. A comfortable silence that you both sank into, before rolling under the covers to nap together.

"You're stuck with me now, you know that? I'm agentless, I might never work again!" He laughed again, and so did you.

"That's okay, save a fortune on childcare." He smiled. That was true. After spending so much time away from his boys as young kids, he was looking forward to spending as much time as possible with a new baby, if they were lucky enough to have one together. Despite his age, he felt he had plenty of time left for another baby.

"I hope it happens, you'll be an amazing mother y/n. I can't wait." A loving hand over your, for now empty, stomach, you felt butterflies. Embracing him as he lay behind you, you both fell into a deep sleep, surrounded by dreams of your own little family.

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @cloudofdisney @margoo0 @being-worthy

#cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x you #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy #cillian x smut

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rcksmith · 4 years ago

Text

Spring breeze part.4 — Spencer Reid

Icon by @obiwansjedi

Part.1 Part.2 Part.3

Sumarry: After the breakup, Spencer and the Reader follow different paths and lives. But, after 8 years, Gideon's death brings an avalanche of emotions, putting the two face to face again in a reencounter that could break their hearts again — season 10 —

Couple: Spencer Reid /Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: mention of death, mention of violence, death of the father, depressive thoughts, murder, crying, swearing, a lot of anguish, mention of love, fluff (but it has a very fluff too, I'm not a monster)

Word count: 5k.

A/N: This is the most sad chapter that has, I promise that the next will be very cute.💖

I saw Gideon's death episode again to make it as faithful as possible for you guys. I used the original Criminal Minds chronology too, being 8 years from Gideon's last appearance until his death.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Let me know if you want to be added for a taglist for a specific fandom (Criminal Minds, The Umbrella Academy, Riverdale, Roman Godfrey, or all)

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

Hunting bandits. Save people. Improve the world a little bit every day. Those were the three things Spencer believed it was worth to be at BAU. It was worth fighting for, holding on, staying sleepless for days, being haunted by murderers by day and nightmares at night. For what it was worth looking at the abyss, even when it looks to you

Reid could deal with human perversion, with the thousand and one ways to practice heinous crimes, the sowing of evil and cruelty. He could cope with constantly being inside insane minds, learning his whys and mechanisms. He could take it. He put up with it day after day, case after case. He endured being tortured, stay being held at gunpoint, having a piece of his essence plucked with red-hot iron month after month. Spencer knew he could handle it.

But he couldn't handle death. Goodbye. It shattered his soul far more than difficult cases, pushed his own sanity to the limit. Perhaps burying his feelings as deeply as possible was just a method of delaying the wave that would drown him at one time or another. Inevitably.

Each farewell took a piece of Reid away. His father, his mother, Ellie, you, Gideon, JJ, were just a few of the people who left, living their lives elsewhere. But what about those who died? The victims, the children, Hayley, Maeve, Emily (even if only for a short time) and so many others. These took much more than a piece of him. Maybe costu his whole soul.

Spencer felt himself harden over the years, the cases, loss after loss, day after loss. He felt the purity of his own heart slip through his fingers like sand, the faith in humanity to be put to the test. Sometimes even faith in himself.

Was that the price to pay for that job? Being constantly vulnerable? See his life and the lives of the people his loved most at gunpoint?

It was worth?

Maeve's death shook him more than any other, sucking all the pink glow from his world, leaving him with only the cold feeling of hopelessness. A very deep void. It took a long time for memories of she not to hurt like red-hot iron, for his breathing not to be heavy. It took a long time to be happy again.

And when Spencer felt healed from the deepest wounds, the most visceral pains, he was hit again. Deeply. If Maeve's death was a wave that brought him down, Gideon's death was the tsunami that destroyed him.

“It's Gideon.” Hotch's voice confirmed the fear of everyone in that cottage.

Then Spencer felt shattered. Torn apart. Torn like a rag doll and placed on the fire. He wanted to scream, to scream so loudly that he would never regain his voice. He wanted to break something, destroy some, run away.

But run away from whom? From what? That pain or himself? If Spencer had been able to tear off his own skin at that time and be someone else, he would not have hesitated. Not having dropped to his knees in that cottage was a miracle, because Spencer no longer knew what was holding him upright.

Jason Gideon, in many ways, was all that Spencer had. He knew that they took different paths and traveled different roads, living different lives, but he believed that they always end up on the same, even one they was old. Spencer was sure that if he was dying on his knees, Gideon would be to rescue him. For all those 8 years, it was extremely comforting to think that Gideon was out there, living life, finding the hope he had in college, finding the brilliance the world had.

And Reid knew that Jason had you. And you had Gideon. That was the most soothing and comforting thought. No matter what, he knew that you would take care of Jason, just like he would take care of you. But now... now Spencer's world had dissolved in the air. Like a sandcastle knocked over by the wind.

And the pain was surreal.

When he realized, he had left the room, close to the... body. If he could, Spencer would have moved away from himself. How would he take it? One more death, another psychopath. How many other people he love will are died at the hands of the work he did every day?

The answer to all of these questions was frightening, and Spencer wasn't sure if wanted them.

The trip to the coroner was the worst Reid had ever done, talking about the body was the worst conversation he had ever had. And when Morgan put his hand on his shoulder and said that he couldn't close himself now, that they were going to get that son of a bitch, all Spencer wanted to say was that he couldn't take it anymore. That he couldn't breathe. The emptiness was too oppressive. So much visceral pain.

But that was not what Spencer said. He just clung to the only lifeguard in the middle of the rough and deserted sea: justice. Gideon deserve it.

Reid doesn't know how he managed to get back to the Gideon’s house, how he managed to hear Hotch and Rossi talking about what could have happened. But he was there, standing, by some miracle.

“Do you know who might want to have done this?” Hotch asked Stephen, who had arrived, his eyes red from the crying he struggled to hold.

“No. I know he had a list of things he wanted to do before he died... That's how we came back to speak, one of the things was to get back in touch.” His voice was so reminiscent of Gideon's that it was stabbed in the heart of Reid.

“Didn't he talk about being chased? Feeling anything strange?” Rossi commented.

Reid watched Stephen's expressions carefully, first because he reminded Gideon a lot, and second because he looked for any clues in his reactions.

Stephen took a second to think before saying: “No, but we both don't keep in touch daily, you know?” He swallowed a sob, probably with regret, but then his eyes lit up with some information: “'But Y/n surely know, they both spoke to each other every day, if my father was thinking differently, surely she know.”

The mention of your name hit Reid with a very different wave. Bringing a very different feeling than it should. At that moment, he felt himself holding the air.

For a second, a lapse of consciousness, Spencer had not connected any of this with your physical presence. The notion that you were Gideon's daughter was obvious but, for some reason, Spencer didn't think about the fact that you were going to be there. That you would share the same air with him again, the same place...

“We will have to call her, bring her here to see if something has been left, or taken. If there is anything important on the scene.” It was Hotch.

“I called her as soon as you guys called me.” Stephen said “She arrived from California the day before yesterday, my father and she were going to travel.” He tried to swallow the crying, his eyes trembling.

"And you weren't going?" Rossi added.

“I have a son and a wife.” He gave a smile broken by the sadness of the mourning “They would stop by before I go… Y/n was going to tell me the news, since our schedules hardly match much, she works as an astronomer in…”

“Caltech.” Spencer completed, without even realizing it, like a thought out loud.

“Yea.” Stephen agreed.

Spencer felt a chill go from head to toe, and another ton of feelings were thrown at his back. The reality that he was going to see you again hit him hard. Like an arrow. Suddenly, Reid wanted to get out of there. Run as far as possible.

He couldn't see you. He had no ability to deal with those feelings now. Not now, when his life was so overwhelmed with emotions for Gideon’s death that he still hadn't dealt Not when you aroused the feeling of... hope. Spencer can’t could hope, of any kind. Not for them to be taken from him with visceral force. Reid was already hurt enough for handling another fall.

“... But I don't think it's a good idea for my sister to be here, anyway.” Stephen continued to speak.

Rossi and Hotch frowned: “Why?”

“They were very connected. Seeing this scene is not going to do her any good...” he sobs this time “Y/n is not like me… she is sentimental, emotional. ”

“As long as you're trying to stay calm, she'll be the opposite.” Hotch completed.

“I just don't want my sister to suffer anymore and...”

But it was too late for Stephen to complete. It was too much for Spencer to escape. It was too late to be born again, in a different life.

A gray car moved forward on the stone road, at too high a speed not to have washed several road fines. That was so much typical of you who hurt Spencer's heart pieces more than he thought possible. More than he thought he could feel at the time. You were always so wild at the wheel. But Reid didn't have time to finish a thought, not even Rossi, Hotch, Morgan who was with them or even Stephen. Because car brutally stopped it, the door opened and…

And it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds after years. As if summer had finally come after decades of overwhelming winter. In a burst, everything you've ever represented for Spencer has come back for him once again. And he felt the same thing that he felt when he first saw you, 8 years ago. And he was catatonic.

You got out of the car in a very hurried and desperate way. And as much as there were tears in your eyes and redness in cheeks, Spencer has never seen anyone so beautiful. Your hair was longer, in a brighter shade, maybe you had dyed it. Your features were more lyrical and beautiful, and Reid thought that the passage of time had no effect on you. While he considered himself just less clumsy over the years, you proved to be blooming like Romania's most superb rose.

“DAD!” But that was when your desperate voice brought Reid's consciousness back to earth.

You weren't calling your brother, you weren't asking why, you weren't in mourning. You were in denial. Disbelieving. You called out to your father, with the certainty that he would show up. And the despair in your eyes hurt Reid more than being shot.

But before the agents could do anything, you were running towards the house and Stephen ran towards you, taking you in his arms, trying to keep you from getting inside.

“LET ME GO, STEPHEN!” You struggled, trying to get rid of your brother's arms, your hair messing with the wind, tears streaming down your eyes. “They are wrong! It's not our father! Let me fucking go! DAD!”

“Y/n” Stephen had a broken heart in his eyes, some tears streaming down his eyes “You need to calm down before you get in there !”

“LET ME GO!” Yours sobs broke the hearts of the four agents over there “DAD!” You was cryng out, almost like a prayer, in a desperate call.

"He's gone, Y/n.” Your brother kept his arms stronger in you, trying to contain you while you struggle in trying to break free and go inside the house, under the illusion that you would find your father there.

“NO!” Now your crying was continuous “I spoke to him yesterday! It's not him, Stephen!” Then your brother turned you to him, holding you tight, and you melted into a visseral pain “It can't be him!”

“I know...” he sobbed, looking at you with the same shared pain “I know...”

So you gave yourself up to a painful, loud and desperate crying, the kind that won't let you breathe. And, unlike Reid, you fallen down. Your knees found the stone and grass floor, your hands clasped on Stephen's shirt, who knelt on the floor with you, delivered the pain you both shared.

You knew what your father's risks were in working in such a dangerous profession. Expose yourself to constant and frightening danger. You always knew about the risks, you just tried to ignore them all your life, sinking your fears about your father not coming home at night. Then, when he let the BAU, that fear dissipated. You felt a colossal weight being lifted off your shoulders, like tons of lead, and you let go of a fear so great that you didn't even know you had it.

For 8 years you thought that the chances of him not coming home were over, that the chances of seeing him the next day had increased dramatically. For 8 years you two traveled together, stopping at every type of diner for milkshake, chocolate ice cream and mint - his favorites - For 8 years you had your best friend, the only thing you knew you had in the world. You always knew that if you were drowning in the ocean, it would be your father who would give his lungs for you to breathe.

You didn't see a life without Gideon.

For you, you were crying for hours in what one day was your father's backyard, totally devastated, but for the rest of the world it was a matter of minutes.

Your sobs were so loud and real that Hotch and Rossi caught themselves with watery eyes, perfectly understanding the pain you were going through, the devastation. The two had lost many people, many of them being essential pieces to be able to continue breathing. Many of them felt wounds that would never heal.

But it was Rossi who approached you, the pain at the top of his throat, his mind wandering the day Gideon said he was going to have a little girl. Unlike Stephen, Rossi never saw you in person, but the sparkle in Jason's eyes whenever he talked about you, or with you on the phone, was enough to know that you were one of the essential pieces to keep breathing.

“Hi, my name is Rossi.” He knelt in front of you and your face went towards him, your cheeks and nose as red as your eyes.

“M-my dad talked about you."” You were still sobbing, slowly letting go of Stephen's shirt.

"Good things, I hope.” The two of you laughed like a sigh, and soon the pain returned to your eyes in a visseral way. “I know this is not fair, and I know it is asking too much, but I need you to go inside and try to find something out of place. Something that whoever did this to your father may have taken or left. ”

You closed your eyes in pain, tears streaming as you sobbed. Your hands, trembling and cold, went to your face, perhaps trying to hide from reality, perhaps wiping away tears. Maybe both. When you looked back at Rossi again, you saw the pain in his eyes too.

"I don't know if I can do it.” You admitted, your voice shaking.

"I know.” Rossi took his hand to yours, squeezing comfortingly “But only you can help us now, help other daughters not lose their father to the same killer. Being inside in the house can bring information that is in your subconscious. I promise you will make it, we will all be here with you.”

His handshake got stronger, and it reminded you of your father. That should have been the same way he comforted the victims' relatives, the way he was supposed to act with people.

'Everyone is somebody's son.' That's what Gideon said. It hit you like an atomic bomb. And, for a moment, you thought it was possible to die of sadness.

You squeezed Rossi's hand tightly, as if you were looking for courage. When you opened eyes again, you gave a weak nod. Carefully, as if any sudden movement is capable of causing you more pain, you stood up, your legs wobbly, your heart bleeding, sadness clouding your vision. Rossi put his hand behind your back, in a way to make sure him were there, as an anchorage in reality that would not let you get lost in the valley of sadness and pain.

As you walked up to the house, you didn't see the other agents, you didn't see the trees, the cars. At that time, you didn't even know what color the sky was anymore. It was like a suspended moment, when the world is in slow motion, the hemisphere is terrified. The sadness was palpable in the breeze, in the way that the rays of the sun did not reach the ground. The whole land looked like mourning.

As soon as you stepped inside the house, the smell of home and Gideon hit your nose, and you felt your face tighten in an expression of pure pain. You didn't notice the agents coming in behind you, you didn't notice Penelope and JJ. You just saw the furniture, the decor, his stuff. As if Gideon had just left for the market and was going to come back.

Everything was in was there. Minus the most important thing: him.

You did not notice when Rossi left you, you did not notice who approached. Everything was in a haze of pain.

But that's when you saw the strong blood marks on the floor, stuck to the wood with possession. A cold shiver as sighed from death ricocheted through your entire body, bristling all over your skin. In a burst, like the bursting of a violin string, the mist dissipated, the state of tupor burst, and reality hit you with overwhelming force.

And then the plug fell.

Jason Gideon had died.

You fell again, barely noticing the sobs and loud crying starting to come out again, the most desperate and painful in you life. But this time the arms that took you were different, bringing with you sensations that you haven't felt in a long time. That a long time ago you forgot that you could feel.

They were long, thin, and contained a vigor hidden beneath the thin facade. The smell of his presence was… heaven. That feeling was your anchorage on the high seas, in the valley of despair, and you clung to him for fear of drowning, of not finding your way back home.

You didn't have to see it to know who it was.

You turned to the arms that took you, now Spencer kneels with you on the floor, and you cried in a way that you never cried before, with a visseral pain. Your hands went to the brown cardigan he wore, closing there as if the fabric was your only chance for salvation.

So you looked at the immensity of the his brown irises.

"He was the only thing I had, Spen.” You sobbed loudly with the crying, gently swaying his coat, your voice utterly torn.

Spencer felt his eyes sting, his throat lock and the remains of what was his heart ache in a hideous way.

“I know.” He felt a tear run down his left cheek, his hands on your arms.

At this time, the two of you supported each other. Gideon meant a lot to you two. An irreplaceable role in yours life. And Spencer knew that was what you were talking about when you said:

"He was the only thing we both had.” You closed your eyes, your hands still firmly on his coat, your heart pounding.

But this time Spencer's voice was just as broken when he said: “I know.”

Then he hugged you.He hugged you for everything. He hugged you because it was a pain that only you two could understand. He hugged you because you needed it, and because he needed too.

Jason Gideon had a special connection with you two, a connection that only the two of you had ever experienced. Each relationship with Gideon was different, special in different ways, but only the two of you had him as a protector, mentor, a much more paternal and confidant figure. He was the kind of person you could leave your life in his hands, the kind who would teach you the secret of the worlds, show you what goodness was and at the same time strength. And you two had that.

You stained Reid's coat with tears, and Reid stained you with the strong smell he had. He stepped far enough away to be able to see your face perfectly, at a considerable distance, and, against everything he had ever done before with anyone, he took your face in his hands, his eyes fixed on your in pain shared.

“We will catch how did it.” Reid assured you, as if he had tattooed this words on your skin. You closed your eyes in pain, but he brought you back “Hey, keep looking at me."

So you did it. Because you would always follow Spencer. To hell if he asked.

"Don't take your eyes off mine, okay?” His voice was so sweet, so gentle, and you couldn't have done anything but agree. “When was the last time you spoke to Gideon?”

“Yesterday.” You replied “We were going to travel to the beach today, I took a vacation from work.”

“Was he at home when you two talked?”

The team looked at each other, with several questions in those look.

You denied it, the hiccup now because of the shortness of breath you had because of the crying.

“He stopped at Roanoke for...” and that's when you seemed to remember something.

Your eyes widened softly, your lips trembled, and you let out a stammering sigh as you try to remember something very important.

“What do you remember?” Spencer stroked your cheeks with his thumbs, trying to calm the beating of your heart that went back to being frantic and making you focus on the question, not the sea of emotions you felt.

“He…” was when your eyes fluttered before meeting Reid's again. “He said he saw a woman on the news who was found dead. And ... and that he had to make sure of one thing ”

Rossi looked at Hotch, who gave an attentive and objective expression.

“Did he tell you why?” His eyes closed again and you sobbed. Reid moved closer, bringing your face back in his direction again “Look at me, Y/n.”

As soon as you did, he gave you a gentle smile, but contained all the pain in the world. He understood what you were felling.

“Why was he interested in the case?” He changed the question.

“I-it was something about...” you searched in your mind “Girl named Tara. I don’t know. He mentioned about a blue butterfly tattoo on her ankle as well, and that it was something to do with a… a case or something.”

“1978” Rossi interrupted and everyone looked at him “Gideon and I worked on a case in 1978, the suspect was never caught and Tara was a teenager who we thought had been kidnapped by him. The killer left dead birds in the hands of the victims ”

“But he didn't mention birds and...” That's when your eyes, fluttering, darted around the room and you stopped abruptly.

Spencer turned his attention to you again, seeing that you were staring somewhere. His hands slowly left your face and he asked:

“What?”

“The board.” You pointed to your father's board, which had a beautiful brown bird.

“Does say anything to you?” Rossi turned his attention to you.

You shook your head, your body too exhausted to go to the painting and examine it.

“He shot the board.” You looked at the agents “My father loved that painting, he never would have done that. Even though my father is stunned, he has the best aim I have ever seen.”

“The devil is in the details." Rossi went to the pinting and, after two seconds, turned to the team and said “I already know who did this.”

You let out a gigantic sigh of relief as the agents split up to continue the case, speaking so fast that you couldn't keep up.

“I helped?” You looked at Spencer, tears still shining in your eyes.

He smiled and nodded “Very.”

But when he got up, you took his hand, making Reid turn his attention back to you again, a questioning look on his face.

“You're going to get it, aren't you?” The sob invaded your voice "Promise me that you will catch him, Spen."

Reid took his hand in your, giving you a strong, comforting squeeze before saying:

"I will. I promise.”

And then he left, along with the other agents.

- - -

You thought you knew what pain was, the loss, the tightness in the heart. You thought that your many relationship breakdowns showed you what it was like to suffer. But you have never been so wrong. None of that compared to how you were now, to what you felt.

You would trade that feeling for anything in the world.

This was terrible. A cold, coercive, brutal and cruel feeling. As if you were at the bottom of a black ocean, unable to breathe, falling deeper and deeper, consumed by the overwhelming cold of the water.

It was impossible to say in words how you felt. But if it were you had to define it in one word you would say: pain. A pain that bends you, a pain that makes you want to scream, that pierces your lungs so that it is not possible to breathe, but that even so, you fight for air.

It was pain at its rawest, most brutal, sharp and atrocious like a dagger blade. You would go through Dante's hells for eternity instead of living one day with that pain.

Since Spencer and the agents went after the person in charge, you have sat on the steps of the front door, watching the nature, the shaking of the trees, but your attention was so far, far away. Perhaps unattainable.

Gideon always loved watching the seasons go by, and in that moment, you wondered if looking at the same thing he looked at every day would make you feel close to him. Feel with him. It had only been three days since you last saw him, when he picked you up at the airport, but you felt like you were past three lives. How would you go without it? How were you able to think of living without it?

You pulled your knees up against your chest, hugging your legs, the metallic, atrocious and icy taste of devastation stuck to yours in your mouth. The trees shook hard, forcing the birds to fly away, but you didn't feel cold. You were not feeling the cold breeze hit your body, nor were your muscles contracting in exhaustion from the hard wood of the steps you were sitting on.

The hunger, the cold, the heat or the craving could not reach you, as if the pain had paralyzed all your system. Probably your soul.

You didn't see when Stephen put father's blanket over your shoulders, nor did you hear his sobs for seeing you so devastated. But you smelled Gideon, and the warmth of the blanket was like having his arms around you again. Then the rest of the water in your body found its way to your eyes and crying was as automatic as breathing.

You were clinging to Spencer taking the son of a bitch who did it, trying to chase away any other thoughts that weren't about that. You didn't want to think about what would happen after he was caught. Which meant his capture for you. It would bring justice to Gideon, honoring his name, his life, but it wouldn't bring him back. What was taken from you would not be repaired, regardless of the end of that damned man.

When he was caught, you would have nothing else to focus on instead.

You don't know how long you stayed there. Hours? Days? The those peach and gold tones in the sky is from dusk or the dawn of a new day?

You had lost track of time, as if your watch had stopped since the time Gideon died.

The sound of cars on the road was the only thing that pulled you out of your fucking valley, and as soon as the black SUVs stopped, you stood up as if you had been waiting your whole life for that moment. The blanket fell from your shoulders, heart accelerated at an alarming rate, and for a second, everything was gone from your mind.

Rossi was the first to get out of the car, but yours eyes darted to Reid. You wanted to run, ask what had happened, listen to the answers. But you were paralyzed in place. Afraid of the truth, of reality.

What would become of you after that news?

Spencer came towards you without hesitation, and you couldn't take your eyes off him for a second. He didn't say anything, nor did he explain anything. It was not needed. The way he reached out his hand and placed your father's rings in your palm were enough answers.

Your whole body shook and you looked at Reid with more emotions than askers.

"He is dead." He told you, and it made you fall down again.

But this time you fell into his hugging, clinging to him in despair. There were many meanings in that embrace: gratitude, relief, fear, pain and grief. And Spencer hugged you back in the same way.

You two stayed that way for a while, even when the agents went to talk to Stephen, even when Garcia and JJ left the house, even when the cold wind hit you both.

“Thanks." You heard yourself say it, and Spencer shook his head, signaling that it wasn't necessary, and the two of you moved away.

So you went to Rossi, and hugged him too. In that second, Rossi could feel Gideon in that hug, and it took a second to not cry.

“Your father was a great man." He told you when the two of you walked away, and you agreed on a sad smile.

"He was." You looked down at the rings in your hand, staying a second there before turning to the agents and saying: “You guys are going to the funeral, aren't you? I ... my dad would like it w-very much.”

"Of course." Rossi guaranteed it.

As they walked away and went back to the car, heading for their own houses, your eyes met Spencer's and he whispered in the air to you:

“I will see you at the funeral."

You nodded, giving you a sad, grateful smile. And while everyone was leaving and you were looking at the rings in your hand again, you had a feeling that your story with Spencer had just started over.

A/n: I also lost a very important person to death, and for everyone who went through it too, I mean that no one is alone! My message box is open if you need anything! Love you❤️

Tagged @gublersuvula

@peculiarinsomniac

@measure-in-pain

@nobutalsoyes

🍒 @misshale21

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azaleavi · 4 years ago

Text

Woman like me - Part 3

Summary: Y/n and Bucky get a little closer while in Latvia

Word count: 2.8k

Warning(s): language(?)

Author’s note: Part 3 is finally here! I hope you’ll like reading as much as i liked writing it. The text in italics are y/n’s thoughts. Also I changed from “she” to “you” I hope you guys don’t mind.

Feedback is always appreciated and don't forget to reblog and like if you liked it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

(gif is mine)

The four of you were sitting in the private plane, going wherever Zemo was taking you. Bucky was sitting across from you, cleaning his vibranium arm. You were watching him intently, fascinated by the arm. Your had heard stories of the man of course, but he seems so much different just sitting there than what you were told about the ruthless assassin. Bucky noticed you watching, but he didn’t let you know. Instead he flexed his hand and because of that you slightly moved in your seat, feeling weird inside. You want to touch the metal and run your finger along it. You grabbed your own hand instead as if to physically stop yourself from moving. Bucky stopped and looked up at you.

“You okay?” he asked. You panicked for a second and tried to come up with something normal to say. You didn’t understand why you were feeling this way around the man but you needed to stop.“Yeah, it’s just…” you went silent for a second, eyes going down to his arm then continuing much quieter “it’s just cool” your eyes widened. You didn’t want to say that out loud. I’m supposed to be a super-soldier for god’s sake how can’t I just keep my mouth shut around him!

“Cool?” Bucky leaned forward, thinking he heard you wrong “You think my arm is cool?” he was trying to hold back a laugh. He must be thinking that you are an idiot. You cleared your throat and tried to change the subject.

“So where did you get it from? In the older pictures I think it was silver” seriously that’s the best thing you could come up with? You scolded yourself. Bucky was still trying to hide his smile.

“They gave me a new one in Wakanda” he answered. Your eyes lit up.

“Wakanda? Isn’t that where the Black Phanter is from?” you smiled, scooting forward in your chair with child-like wonder clear in your eyes. You loved the stories about that part of the world and the technology they used, and to get a chance to talk to someone who has seen it in real life was truly amazing.

“Yes, T’Challa.”

“Oh, you know him?” your smile became brighter at the mention of the king. Bucky decided he loved to see your smile so he told you about the king and the people. He liked to talk about his stay there because he never was so peaceful in his life like he was in Wakanda. You hung onto every word he said, giving him your full attention. Sam watched the two from where he is sitting with a smile on his face. He has never seen his partner this talkative but he was glad Bucky finally has some normalcy in his life. Even if it’s with another super-soldier.

“It must have been so nice to live there” you mused. Bucky was looking at you with a small smile on his lips. Talking about Wakanda always lift his mood and to have someone who is is excited to hear about it makes him so happy “So they gave you the arm as a gift?” you went back to the original topic of the conversation.

“More like to fight. You know the whole Thanos situation” he thought back to those times. It hasn’t been that long ago for him, but for the people who stayed behind it had been more than five years. You faltered a little at that.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked” you said looking down. you didn’t want to bring up bad memories.

“No, it’s okay. It already happened, we can do anything about it” he reassured you. You looked up into his eyes, just now noticing how beautiful they were. Funny enough, Bucky thought the same about yours. Averting your eyes, they landed on his chest. The jacket he had on looked way too good on him and you could see the outline of his dog tags under his shirt. You moved in the seat again. You have never even kissed a man but here you were wanting to jump his bones. You suddenly stood up.

“I- I need to use the bathroom” stuttering you walked away as the men watched. Sam looked at Bucky and raised his eyebrows knowingly.

“What?” Bucky asked, not understanding why he was looking at him like that.

“Nothing” Sam said, turning away so the other man didn’t see his smile.

Meanwhile you were in the bathroom, splashing your face with water. You need to get it together y/n. He is just a man. A very sexy man and I would do anything to have his di… you shook your head, leaning against the sink. Okay we are not going there while he is right outside! Why were you so obsessed with him? Yes he was handsome but it’s not like you haven’t seen handsome men before. He was the first to be this nice and make you feel like a normal person though. Maybe that was it. But it doesn’t matter because he would never look at you like that and you really didn’t have time for feelings. There were super-soldiers on the loose, who needed to be stopped. You shook your head again and dried your hands. This would be a long journey if you couldn’t keep your emotions in check around him.

The four of you were walking in the streets of Latvia when you noticed Bucky looking on the ground for a brief second. Following his line of sight you saw a little silver ball. You opened your mouth to ask him about it, but he spoke up first.

“I’m gonna go for a walk” he said as you stopped in front of a pretty old building. You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling like something was wrong. The other two men walked up the stairs while you stayed in the same place, looking at Bucky with worry in your eyes. He looked back at you and smiled a little.” It will be a few minutes, you can go up with them” he tried to reassure you. You nodded and walked after Zemo. Those little balls had to mean something, you just hoped it was nothing bad. You walked into the nice apartment that Zemo had, deciding to wait for Bucky on the couch.

You listened to Sam and Zemo argue about the serum when Sam brought up the man who has been occupying your mind for the last two days.

“What is taking Bucky so long?” he spoke up from where he was sitting at the bar and just like that the mentioned man walked through the door. You let out a quiet laugh which made Bucky look at you.

“The Dora Milaje is here and they are looking for Zemo” he walked over to you and sat down on your right so close that your thighs were touching. You stiffened and you were sure he felt it because he turned to you. You thought he would move away but instead he put an arm on the back of the couch behind you so he basically had his arm around your shoulders, all while looking straight into your eyes. You could feel your cheeks heat up, but couldn’t move your eyes away. He continued talking while keeping the eyecontact.” I bought us some time, but we need to be quick” Sam cleared his throat which broke the two of you out your haze. You turned around to him, only to see him smirking at you. You looked down, embarrassed that they both saw that. Tuning out their conversation you leaned back, forgetting that Bucky’s arm was still behind you so you accidentaly put your head on his arm. He didn’t seem to care so you tried to act like you didn’t either and closed your eyes. You were tired from all the fighting and flying.

A few minutes later you felt the arm under you move and you opened your eyes. What you did not expect to see is Bucky’s face a few inches from yours. His right hand was almost touching your cheek. Your eyes widened, but you were frozen in your spot. Why was he always so close to me? Your eyes moved down from his beautiful blues to his invinting lips. Oh god, he was so close. If I leaned forward a little I could kiss him. Before you could continue that thought he backed away from you.

“We need to go” he cleared his throat, his voice a little raspy. He stood up, pulling his arm from under you and started walking to the front door. You followed suit after him.

Meeting John Walker was not something that was on your bucket list. The dude was an asshole and the way he ordered around everyone was making you quickly irritated. You lied about being a super-soldier, to him you were just a friend of Sam’s. Him not knowing about your powers meant you couldn’t help the boys when everything went south. Bucky told you to stay back, but you needed to help in some way after all they had done for you. They saved you from Madripoor after all and even if the codes were still in your head they trusted you enough to keep you around.

You met up with Sam and Zemo back at the house, Zemo looked like he got a pretty bad headache. Most likely deserved. When you couldn’t find Bucky anywhere in the house you started to panic. Sam saw it and calmed you down, saying that he could be here any minute. After a few minutes Bucky walked through the door, taking his gloves off.

“Something is not right about Walker.” he said as he walked over to the bar while taking off his jacket. Why was that black shirt so tight?

“You don’t say?” Sam answered him, a smirk evident on his lips.

“I know crazy when I see one, ‘cause I am crazy” Bucky opened the cupboard and took out a whiskey bottle.

“Are you trying to get drunk in the middle of the day?” you asked, standing up from your seat, walking over to him and sitting on a bar stool.” Is that what crazy entails?” you joked. He lifted the glass to his lips while looking at you.

“We can’t get drunk darling. The serum prevents that.” he drowned the drink in one swift motion and poured himself another one. ”you want some?” he motioned towards the empty glasses.

“S- sure” you stuttered, brain going into overdrive from the pet name he just called you. You definitely wanted some, but it wasn’t the whiskey you were thinking about. His black shirt was not helping either. Bucky seemed to notice how your mind was somewhere else and he walked around the counter to stand next to you. He lifted his glass that had already been refilled by him, and tapped the edge of the glass to your lower lip. You stared at him, eyes wide, your mouth slightly open.

“So are you gonnna drink it?” he smirked, clearly seeing the effect he had on you. In your hazy mind you didn’t register that you should lift your hands and take the glass from him. Instead you put your lips around the edge of the glass and waited for him to tilt it while still looking into his eyes. He stared at you for a second, swallowed and then tilted the glass so the liquid reached your mouth. You took a sip. It did not taste good so you grabbed his hand that was still holding the glass and pushed it away.

“This definitely won’t be my favorite drink” you coughed a few times. Bucky let out a little laugh, putting his hand, that wasn’t being held by yours, on your thigh. Is he trying to kill me? You gulped, your grip thightening on his hand. He leaned closer to you, the smirk still evident on his lips. The lips that were once again very close to yours. You could feel his breath on your face. If he doesn’t kiss me right now I will lose my mind. You didn’t know what Zemo and Sam were doing but at this point you didn’t care. You just wanted his lips on yours. Something about this man made you very needy and as the day progressed it got harder to hide it. His sight slipped down to your lips and just as you thought he might do exactly what you wanted John Walker burst through the door. Bucky backed away immediately and you looked down clearing your throat, blush tainting your cheeks.

“All right, that’s it, let’s go” John said as he and Lemar walked to the middle of the room. “I am now ordering you to turn him over” he pointed at Sam while Bucky walked to the chair next to you and sat down.

“Okay slow your roll. Shield or no shield, the only thing you are running in here is your mouth.” you turned away from them and towards Bucky so John wouldn’t see you laughing. Bucky on the other hand had a clear view of your joy. “Now I had Karli and you overstepped” Sam continued “He has actually proven himself useful today” he pointed at Zemo who walked towards the two of you.” And we’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever is coming next”

John put down the shield and started running his mouth again and the next thing you knew there was a spear lodged inside the wall next to him. A woman in wakandan clothes was standing in the room and other two walked in through the front door. You raised your eyebrows impressed. That was cool. Bucky sighed next to you. The one who seemed to be the leader started speaking wakandan to Bucky. You didn’t understand a word of it but it must have been nothing good because he looked down like a child who was being scolded.

“Release him to us now.” she said in english. John couldn’t keep his ego in check once again and Sam tried to get him to back down but it was no use. As soon as John touched the woman he found himself on the ground. These women are amazing. They started fighting and you just looked around, unsure what to do. Sam walked closer to you and Bucky stood up, making you look at him.

“We should do something” Sam said to him as you walked over to them.

“Looking strong John” Bucky shouted at the man still getting his ass beaten. You snorted. Sam called his name in warning so Bucky intervened, grabbing the woman’s spear. “Ayo, let’s talk about this” Sam went to the other side of the room, also trying to stop what was happening. You were still standing in the same place, still not knowing if you should help or stay out of it. Your problem was solved when a spear flung at you and you had to step to the side and catch it with one hand. The wakandan woman studied you for a second then ran towards you, clearly wanting to fight. You flipped the spear around in your right hand so the sharp end was aimed at the ground. You didn’t want to harm her but that didn’t mean you would let her beat you. She threw a few punches at you, but you managed to block them. You tried hitting her with the spear, but she caught it, making your faces get close to each other. She pushed against you but she wasn’t stroungh enough to get you on the ground. You saw the realization in her eyes at your strenght. She tilted the metal so it hit you on the head and you stumbled backwards in pain. You heard something heavy hit the ground next to you but you didn’t have time to look as the woman came at you again, now with the knowledge that you were a super-soldier. She fought harder and faster than before, but still couldn’t hit you hard enough. You grabbed her weapon again, pulling it with all your strength. When she couldn’t hold it anymore you lifted your right leg and kicked her backwards. She fell over and you pointed the sharp metal at her neck, panting. You looked up just now noticing that everyone in the room was looking at the two of you. Sam was on the ground while John was pinned to a table by a spear and Bucky was holding his metal arm in his right hand, eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. You dropped the weapon, realizing your mistake. No one should know that you are a super-soldier, especially not John Walker and he was looking right at you with wide eyes.

Oh no.

Taglist: @geek-and-proud @ferxaniti

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #tfatws #bucky #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes x female reader #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader

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