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buckets-and-trees · 1 year ago

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"You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself."

👀👀👀

Well... as you know, this escalated quickly.

Title: Sacrificial Characters/Pairings: Minotaur!Bucky x Botanist!Female!Reader Word Count: 3.5k Summary: If it seems too good to be true, it always is. Always. Too bad you had to go to the remote jungles of South America to learn that lesson.

Content/Concept Warnings: DARK, lulled into a trap, human sacrifice, dubious consent/fuck or die, public sex/exhibitionism, size kink, monster fucking, face fucking/oral male receiving, vaginal fingering/fisting, breast worship, rough fucking, possessive/pet, praise kink, dirty talk, cum play, marking, cream pie, choking

Additional Notes: Thoty time with @rookthorne... she's only responsible for enabling me when my monster thirst reared its head. Wicked entry for @buckybarnesevents WEEK ONE of Hot Bucky Summer: "What Should I Wear?" and my third square of @buckybarnesbingo K1 "Fuck or Die."

When you told your friends, family, and former colleagues about the research grant and fellowship you had been awarded in the weeks leading up to your departure that it was too perfect, clearly somewhere deep in your bones you had known.

Eighty thousand dollars a year for three years, travel covered, visa approved, fully furnished accommodations provided, and a book deal for the discoveries and research studying flora in a largely undocumented and remote part of the jungle on another continent.

No scientist got a deal like that.

The only downside was the isolation of the location. They had electricity and running water, but you would only be able to go into town for internet every few weeks.

But the part of you that had grown up watching Indiana Jones, Jurassic Park, LOST, and the deep space missions of Star Trek who had far too many plants in your apartment and in your tiny office at the university had beat back that downside. It was only three years, and after living through the strange isolation of the pandemic, you knew you could manage this where you wouldn’t be isolated from people, just for short stints from your old life.

And though you had good pieces and good people in your life, you were desperate to get away from the suffocating societal expectations you felt like you weren’t living up to while so many others around you were – marriage, kids, white picket fences, career accomplishments, tenured professorships, promotions, raises, overnight influencers, travel vloggers.

This was something no one you knew had ever done.

Everyone raved about the adventure ahead of you.

Everyone had been impressed.

You had conquered in the accomplishments department with this for the year, no question. Your older sister with her third child on the way and your younger brother and his Premiere League football contract could wallow in your shadow.

This was a golden opportunity for a research botanist still in the early years of their career.

Kneeling on the ground in the middle of the jungle with your hands folded in your lap, head bowed, surrounded by a village of people who all should have known better than to follow ancient superstitions, with a dozen or more guns trained on you in nothing more than lingerie, you were living a nightmare.

All of it had been a baited trap.

No one would even question you falling off the grid before it was too late, and even if they did, these villagers could say one day you never came back from the jungle.

And it would be true.

One afternoon and evening, a good dinner, a sleep you’d yearned for thinking it was the jet lag, and then you’d awoken screaming as the first strip of wax had been ripped from your skin to discover you were naked with a half dozen people attending to all aspects of your grooming, preparing you to be their human sacrifice for the beast that lived in the jungle.

You were past the crying and pleading.

The no WIFI had been a lie, too.

Everyone in this small village looked and acted like they lived in the present day except for this one thing.

The belief that if they did not provide the beast his human sacrifice that they would not survive his terror.

“Then why don’t you just leave?” you had implored.

“This is our home, our loved ones are here, our ancestors are part of this place, and,” their leader and the head of the research foundation paused – almost faltered before continuing to explain, “the sacrifice of one stranger will guarantee us safety for many, many years.”

Everyone else had been instructed not to speak or listen to you from that point on in the preparations.

Nails trimmed, buffed, shined. Luxurious oil that smelled delicate and heavenly rubbed over every inch of your skin from the neck down. Hair partially braided to stay out of your face with the rest left natural. Color applied to your lips. They didn’t bother with eye makeup. No jewelry.

You had been wrapped up in a linen garment that was not quite a robe but not quite a coat to be transported to the ruins of an old stone dais in the thick of the jungle but deprived of it and then pushed onto the sacrificial area, left only in the sapphire silk of a bra and panties delicately lined with lace.

After hours being poked, prodded, and prepared by strangers in a strange land in a state of dread and disbelief, you thought you were numb.

You had endured too much to think you were hallucinating, but that you now all waited illuminated by literal torches with fire made this seem almost like a season of Survivor gone horribly wrong.

But then you heard the hushed wave of whispers at the rustle and rumble of something approaching through the thick vegetation of the jungle and adrenaline shot through your veins. It didn’t inspire fight or flight. You were frozen, fixated on the beast that would finally appear and seal your fate any moment now.

It made no attempt at arriving quietly, and when it finally appeared, there were collective gasps and cries from the people gathered to watch the sacrifice, though no sound fell from your lips.

The reaction was more than warranted, and a whisper of a thought flashed through your head that you were surprised no one had screamed. Maybe they were too terrified to scream, worried they would draw the beast’s attention. You wanted to scream, but your chest was gripped in fear.

The thick, furry legs of a bull, down to the cloven hooves, and a girthy tail with a tuft of dark hair at the end, swishing slightly as he walked. There was a loincloth tied at his waist that – rather than providing modesty – inspired anyone whose gaze lingered there to imagine the bulge nudging conspicuously beneath. Not that anyone’s gaze would linger there for long, for the rest of him was altogether imposing. Only the tallest of the villagers might hope to measure up to the base of his sternum – the sternum that anchored the torso of a man with shoulders more than twice the width of a human. Skin golden from the sun stretched over muscles that burst and rippled over his chest and shoulders, extending down his arms. You could see a litany of angry scars littered up and down his left arm.

Great bull’s horns rose and curled out of his head, possibly longer than your own arms. He had a mane of long, glossy but mostly unruly brown hair, with a couple of braids, that fell past his shoulders. Though the rest of his physique inspired fear, the true terror was perhaps the face of this man beast – it was terrifyingly handsome. Strong jaw, stubbled beard, a crease between his brows, and piercing blue eyes. His expression was drawn into an ominous grin.

He was in no rush as he walked into the ring of the villagers.

“Weapons down,” he growled.

There was almost no hesitation – their purpose had been to keep you in place anyway. Though the fear in the air was palpable, the tone of it seemed to be turning to some sort of reverent fear now for everyone else.

What inspired this unquestioned obedience from an entire people? People you’d seen with smart phones as abundantly among them as any other place on earth, though you’d been advised to shut yours down and leave it behind since it would be of next to no use to you in the jungle. They were right – but had left out the true reason and made it even more believable for you to seem only cut off to those back home, not lost and gone forever.

His enormous legs took the step easily up onto the dais, and his eyes were now fixed only on you. He stopped at the foot of the altar where you were presented for him.

“Well done,” this was meant for the people and their leader.

Then he reached out and the fingers of his large hands traced the strap over your left shoulder, then along your jaw, tilting your chin to look straight up at him. “And your choice is set?”

“My – my choice?” your voice cracked, but you felt it was a miracle you even found it.

Your confusion must have been evident, as his eyes flashed with anger and her rounded on the man who had facilitated all of this. “You did not tell her anything, did you?”

“I thought it best if –“

“It is not your job to think. The thoughtlessness of your people is why we’re here at all,” he snarled. Then he turned back to you.

“No time for stories now. I’m a minotaur called Bucky; a lost soldier cursed long ago to this state. Suffice it to say II must be satiated or the village will be subjected to bloodshed and desolation in the face of my wrath. They’ve chosen you, but you can choose your fate: fuck or die. I’ll take your throat, or I’ll cut it and drink your blood in front of everyone.”

Your chest heaved in trepidation. “How is that a choice?”

“Is it not clear to you?”

“Have others chosen death?”

He nodded. “Or they refused to choose.”

You opened your mouth then closed it again.

“Do you wish to die?”

You thought your tears were spent, but you could feel them welling in your eyes. “No.”

“Then claim your choice.”

You took a shaky breath.

“Say it!” he barked.

You flinched, but managed to spit out, “Fuck.”

“Perfect. Open up.”

“In front of everyone?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded. “They will remember and mark this sacrifice. It will be the reason they continue to breathe.”

You spread your knees a part so you were still kneeling and sitting back on your heels but his to take like this.

“That’s nice but not what I meant.” He tugged his loincloth and dropped it to the ground. You whimpered, afraid of the enormous size of his cock and ashamed at the lick of heat that flared in your core at the sight of him. He leaned down closer, put a hand at the back of your neck, and slapped the side of your face with his rigid length. “You are nothing but a toy for me to fuck, little lamb. Now open your mouth for me, or I will break your jaw opening it myself.”

This drew a handful of muted gasps from the onlookers. You saw a spark of something new in his eyes at this reaction.

He was pleased at their reaction.

You dropped your mouth open for him, nervous knowing you could not take all of him, embarrassed to be on such display in front of these strangers, but wanting to please him.

Wait, you thought, wanting to please him?

He shoved his cock into your wet mouth, shoving any other thoughts immediately out.

“Suck.”

You did.

“Just like that,” he said. The hand on your neck moved up to cradle and command the back of your head. He slowly began to fuck your mouth but with only a small motion, encouraging you to continue sucking just that first bit of cock as it was in your mouth. He still was in no rush. It felt like a power play – not wanting to show impatience or lack of restraint in the onset of this sacrificial claiming.

As he continued to speak now, his voice was low, intended for you. “Get ready for more.”

You looked up at him and tried to nod your head ever so slightly. He smirked, then he brought his other hand up under your jaw and to your throat, wanting to feel himself using you. He groaned and briefly closed his eyes. His tip hit the back of your mouth, and you spluttered. He pulled out slightly, giving you half a moment to recover, then forced the point again, holding himself there while you adjusted. He opened his eyes again, locking back onto yours, and a thrill of terror shot through you again. That was only the preliminary.

Now he would truly begin.

That look was all you got. Keeping the one hand at your throat, the provided the anchor to begin truly fucking your throat, not in a rush, but he picked up the pace. You placed your hands on his thighs to steady yourself. Your muscles initially gagged in protest, but he persisted, stroking your throat with his fingers as well, coaxing you to relax. Tears spilled down your cheeks. You concentrated on breathing through your nose and the steady gaze he kept trained on you. Soon you were taking more of him than you thought you could. He quickened his thrusts into your mouth. Your fingers stretched into the fur on his hips, mewling as he continued to use your mouth.

A few short grunts with the last thrusts were the only hint before he came, shooting his hot spend in your mouth with an unrestrained howl that shook the crowd to their core. There was no way for you to swallow everything, but, if anything, seeing his cum spilling down your chin made him grin.

Then he raised his head to address the villagers. “Remember that you gave this human to me. I will do with her as I please, and you will never see her again. Hope that you never see me again in your lifetime,” his voice carried, his power unquestioned in the clearing. “If you are lucky, the children you left home today will not see me in their lifetimes either. All of you go now. What happens next is not for your eyes.”

They followed his instructions without hesitation, all of them eager to be gone from this cursed place and their collective and ignored shame.

They left the torches – no desire for a souvenir.

And now you were alone with him, the light of the flames flickering over every inch of your exposed skin – which was almost all your skin, the lingerie only for show.

With the hand that was still anchored at the back of your head, he roughly angled you up sharply to look directly up at him, and tipping his own head forward he loomed in all his height above you, a truly searing heat in this look. “I meant what I said: you are mine, and I will never allow those vile villagers to see you again. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

He stooped down to claim your mouth in a kiss. His large thumb brushed the remaining spend from your chin and then moved down your throat to brush it over your collar bone, rubbing it in. He pushed his tongue between your lips, and you opened your mouth for him again. His tongue was too big for your mouth, too, but the more he subjected your body to the largeness of his being, the more you seemed to seep into him. He used his tongue to wrap around and tangle with yours, stroking it with his, now and then slipping it further down your throat, teasing, choking, mimicking the actions of his cock not long before.

When you were truly gasping, he chuckled darkly and pulled away, you leaned forward, lips chasing his, and then you shook your head, trying to restore some logic.

Failing.

Bucky easily tore away your bra with his brute strength. “Lay back for me, lamb.”

You shifted, legs aching from resting on them in that kneeling position for far too long. He noted the care you took in moving your limbs and rubbed the muscles up and down a few times. Then he pulled your hips to the end of the alter, flush against his cock, which was already semi-hard again. You hummed as he pushed against your still-clothed core.

His hands moved from your thighs up your sides, stoking the desire surging through your body, moving up your waist, thumbs brushing up against the underswell of your breasts, then flicking over the nipples, bringing them to little peaks before diving down to lave one of them with his tongue and suck, rolling, twisting, and pinching the other with his hand. Then he moved his mouth, and as he latched on to the other nipple, his hands worked the lace and silk panties off your hips and down your legs before tossing them away. He rutted up against you again, slow but persistent pressure against your core again, but now with no barrier he felt your arousal slicking up your entrance. When you began working your hips against him, seeking more friction, fisting your hands into his hair, he moved a hand between your legs, stroking over your labia and pushing one of his fingers right into your cunt, making you keen immediately from the force and fullness.

“Going to ruin you, lamb, but don’t want to hurt you.” He was brutal, but only because he was a monster by nature, not because he was heartless. “Gotta work your tiny pussy open so you can take me like you were meant to.”

As before, he was patient, making up for the impatience mounting inside you as he worked his fingers into you, circling, questing, stretching, twisting. When he pushed three fingers in he could tell it was a lot, but he knew he needed you to easily receive four if he was going to get to fuck you on his cock the way he wanted. All through it, he was relentless in overwhelming you in other ways, continuing to worship your breasts, but also murmuring praises against your skin, and threatening and promising filthy things that you couldn’t even respond to.

When you were thoroughly primed, aching for him, a mess with tears and begging for him, he finally realigned his hips between your legs, forcing your thighs wide to accommodate him. He bumped the head of his cock against your throbbing clit a couple of times, making your whimper repeatedly. You were lost as you lay splayed out above him, eyes tightly shut, hands reaching for him, desperately pleading his name over and over. He bent down to you again, relishing the feel of your breasts brushing against his chest for one more moment before sinking his cock into your cunt with a brutal thrust, pushing clear to the hilt, making you scream. It was wicked, and he knew it, but also knew how much he had worked up your body and your mind, and he was rewarded as you arched beneath him, and wrapped your arms around his neck, adjusted your hips, and then rocked against him, clearly seeking more.

Holding you at the precipice of pleasure for so long meant you crashed into your first orgasm very quickly as he pushed his cock in and out of your, “tight heat, little lamb, taking me so well,” he cooed. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, shuddering as he fucked your through it, groaning at the feel of your walls around him. “No one else will ever have this cunt now,” he vowed. “You’re mine.”

“Mine,” you echoed without thinking, not knowing it was exactly how he wanted his pet to feel about him. He pushed you over the edge into another orgasm and then spilled his hot seed inside you not long after. You were beyond spent, at that point, and less than a minute after he scooped you up, tucking your legs around his waist, you dropped out of consciousness, and went totally limp. He kissed the top of your head, then shifted you to sling you over his shoulder for the trek to his lair – your home. He’d secure you there, then go back to the get the wooden crate of the belongings you had shipped ahead of you and the bag you had traveled with – both were supposed to be deposited and waiting in a cave, the final part of his negotiations for acquiring his new human from that village and their foolish leader. Humans were delicate creatures with peculiar needs, after all, and he was determined to keep you content and fucked out until you were devoted to staying with him until the end of your days.

But the last hour had exceeded even his own expectations. He suspected he wouldn’t have to try very hard to keep his little lamb.

NEXT PART: Do You Remember

"haunting thoughts" on Sacrificial for the Dark Forest Fest

brief insight into what reader's life is like now

physical appearance of Minotaur!Bucky

easy and challenging parts of writing the fic

the writing of the story from concept to completion in one night

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #minotaur bucky #monster fucking #bucky barnes x you #dark!bucky barnes x reader #tw: dubcon #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bbb2023 #buckybarnesbingo2023 #hotbuckysummer2023 #terato #terato fic #minotaur smut #minotaur x reader #female reader

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her-satanic-wiles · 1 month ago

Text

Kinktober Day 10 - Aphrodisiac

Brother Imperator x Succubus!Reader

He’s newly appointed to the Ministry as head honcho, the man who makes all the decisions. You love a man in power thanks to the Dark One, especially when they try to resist your powers as much as the good Brother does.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Words: 7.7k.

Reading Time: 32 min.

Warnings: clothed man/naked woman, cunnilingus, degradation, face sitting, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of public sex, multiple orgasms, predator/prey, plus size!reader, PIV sex, praise kink, public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @cosmixxdust @copiasslut @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

🔞 MDNI 🔞

Inspired by Trust In Me from the Jungle Book. This was almost a self insert and I’m not even sorry about it. Big bitches rise!

The glint of his grucifix was what first caught your eye, a shimmering beacon in the dim candlelight, pulling you from the shadows like a moth to a flame. You lingered in the hallway, concealed by darkness, watching the faithful sheep wander through the sacred space. The whispers of prayers and hymns filled the air, but all you could hear was the sinful pulse beneath their dark piety.

Your nostrils flared, taking in the scent of them—sex. The intoxicating musk of sweat and arousal clung to the congregation like a second skin. The lingering essence of their pleasure radiated off them, mixing with the incense that swirled lazily through the air. They reeked of it, their bodies pulsing with the afterglow of indulgence. The lightness in their steps betrayed how recently they had succumbed to their primal urges, fucking each other senseless in secret corners. You could hear them down in the dark basements, bouncing, and licking, and sucking and fucking, and screaming.

They were a quick meal—easy prey. You could snatch one of these writhing souls from the flock, drain them in the shadows, and be done with it. Their release would fill you, but it would fade soon after, leaving you hollow and hungry once again.

But the glint of his grucifix… it kept you anchored, drawing your eyes like a predator watching its prey. The two rubies clasping his blazer, blood-red and shimmering, held your gaze. And then there was the cross itself, pure diamond, gleaming with such sacred light it almost made your skin crawl. Almost.

You inhaled again, deeper this time, letting your senses stretch toward him. Him—his scent was different. Stale. Not a drop of sex clung to him. He hadn’t fucked in months. Not even a stolen touch to himself in the dark. The absence of lust around him made the tension in his body palpable, like an overripe fruit begging to be split open. His chastity, however voluntary, was a brittle mask, hiding the pent-up desires that pulsed beneath the surface.

A wicked smile curved your lips. Perfect.

All that caged need, that desperate yearning, it would make him so easy to seduce. His innocence, brittle as glass, would shatter beneath your touch. And the feast he’d give you… oh, you could taste it already. One deep, throbbing release from him would be worth more than a hundred fleeting climaxes from the rest of these sheep. You could already imagine the richness of his pleasure flooding your senses, satisfying you for months.

Your core stirred, a dark, hungry ache that bloomed within you. The thought of him between your legs, spreading him out like a banquet for you to devour—it made you shudder with anticipation. You could already see it. His body trembling under your touch, his breath quickening as you led him to the edge, until he begged you to push him over. His moans, thick with desperation, would echo through the hallowed halls, smothered by the walls that pretended to guard against sin.

And when you were done, when he had spilled everything he had, you’d consume him, leave him nothing more than bones on silk, a hollow shell of the man he once was.

Your hunger twisted inside you, fierce and demanding. The thrill of corrupting someone so pure, of taking that untouched lust and turning it into your feast, was nearly overwhelming. The thought of how his soul would tremble at the touch of your fingers, how his body would shudder in betrayal as it succumbed to your dark allure, was enough to make you nearly lose control.

You stepped forward, letting your power unfurl in the air, thickening it with lust, with an aphrodisiacic pull. He wouldn’t stand a chance. His eyes would widen, lips parting in unconscious longing, as you reached him. The sacred cross dangling against his chest would flicker with a unholy light, but it wouldn’t protect him. Not from you.

Slowly, you’d let your lips curve into a sweet, almost innocent smile—an invitation cloaked in desire. His knees would buckle, his resolve cracking under the weight of your allure. He would fight it, of course. For a moment. They always do. But that glint of fear in his eyes would melt away into submission, and when it did, you would descend on him like a predator that had waited far too long.

And oh, the sound he’d make when he finally gave in…

Sweet agony.

Your fingers twitched in anticipation. Tonight, you would feast.

You followed him, footsteps soundless as a shadow, your form gliding through the dim corridors like a predator on the prowl. He moved ahead, oblivious to the danger that trailed him—a lamb on its way to slaughter. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows along the stone walls, but not a single one betrayed your presence. The world around you didn’t stir, didn’t bat an eyelid to the demonic sister who crept behind their beloved leader, with hunger gnawing at her stomach and arousal pulsing deep within her core.

Your eyes never left him. Each step he took, each slight shift in his posture, was a symphony to your sharpened senses. His breath, though steady, carried an edge of tension, his body taut under the weight of devotion and years of unrelenting denial. But it wouldn’t be long now. You could already taste the fear that clung to him, faint and delicate, like the first drops of blood in the water.

He entered a small chapel off the main hall, the heavy door creaking as it closed behind him. You paused just outside, leaning against the cold stone, savoring the moment. Your tongue flicked over your lips. This was it. No escape.

Pushing the door open with a barely audible click, you slipped inside, the air in the room thick with the stifling scent of incense and the oppressive weight of sanctity. He knelt at the altar, his back to you, oblivious to the darkness that had followed him in. His head was bowed in prayer, the low murmur of his voice sending a tremor of something delicious down your spine. The grucifix around his neck gleamed faintly in the candlelight, a last desperate symbol of his faith.

He had no idea what was coming.

A quick scan of his mind revealed the woman he would worship. The image was vivid—plump and round, with thick thighs that could crush him, a waist wide and inviting, hips that swayed like a promise. Breasts so full and heavy that they spilled through grasping fingers, too much for him to hold, too much for him to handle. But it was exactly what he wanted, what he fantasized about in those dark, lonely moments when his mind wandered and his hand wrapped around his cock.

Your body rippled like liquid beneath your skin, your form bending and twisting, giving way to his fantasy. The change was smooth, subtle at first, and then unmistakable. Your hips widened, stretching the fabric of your robe as your thighs thickened, curving into the soft, inviting shape that had danced in his most sinful dreams. The fabric magically stretching with you, your waist becoming fuller, your breasts heavy and plump, swelling beneath the layers of cloth until they were too much to be contained.

The soft sound of your footsteps was swallowed by the stillness of the room, but he must have sensed something—an unearthly presence lingering just behind him. His body stiffened, the rhythmic murmur of his prayer faltering for just a moment. You stopped, standing over him, your shadow looming tall and dark against the stone floor.

“Who’s there?” His voice was steady, though you could hear the faint tremor beneath it. Fear, like a sweet perfume.

You smiled, the curve of your lips hidden by the hood of your cloak. “Brother Imperator,” you purred, your voice a velvet caress, dripping with a subtle seduction that made the air around you hum. “Do you not recognize your own flock?”

He turned his head slowly, his brow furrowing in confusion. The dim light caught your face, the faintest glimmer of something… wrong. Something predatory. His breath hitched as his eyes met yours, the weight of your gaze enough to make him swallow thickly. “Sister…?” His voice faltered, uncertainty slipping in.

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, stepping closer, your body towering over his as he remained kneeling. “You look troubled, Brother,” you murmured, the edges of your words tinged with mockery, though laced with a sweetness that made his cheeks flush. “Perhaps your prayers have gone unanswered?”

His lips parted, and you saw the faint glisten of his tongue, almost tasting the nerves that danced across it. You crouched beside him, your face now level with his, the dark fabric of your habit barely concealing the otherworldly hunger in your eyes.

He tried to stand, to pull away, but your hand was already there, fingers curling gently around his wrist—too gentle, too soft for the grip that sent his heart racing. “Don’t be afraid,” you whispered, your lips close to his ear now, your breath warm against his skin. “You’ve been so good… so pious… but I see the longing in you, Brother.” You tightened your grip just slightly, your touch a mixture of promise and threat.

“D-did Lord Lucifer send you?” He asked, hope in his eyes of a reward for his hard work.

No, Lord Lucifer did not send you… but he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, yes!” you lied. “He delivered me unto you personally - to thank you for your service to Him.” You reached your hand up to stroke his face, the smooth jawline felt like velvet beneath the back of your hand. You allowed your thumb to catch on his enticing pink lips. “Would you let me bestow His gift upon you?”

You could take him by force, use his body as you wanted. You had the power. But the consent made your meal sweeter, far more succulent. The enthusiasm they’d throw your way made it taste that much more delectable.

His lips parted in a soft gasp as your thumb grazed across them, his breath trembling beneath the weight of your touch. The hope in his eyes was almost too sweet, too innocent, a deer in the jaws of a tigress. His gaze flickered with something between fear and excitement, the very idea that Lord Lucifer had personally rewarded him setting his mind alight. The heat radiating from him was palpable, his resolve slipping further with every second your fingers lingered on his skin.

“I…” His voice was weak, trembling with the weight of temptation. You could feel the hesitation, the vestiges of his piety clinging to him like a threadbare cloak. His lips brushed your thumb as he spoke again, softer this time, his words barely a whisper. “I would be… honoured.”

Your smile widened, a dark, sultry curve, as you let your hand slide from his lips to his neck, fingers tracing the line of his pulse—fast, frantic beneath the thin veneer of control he still tried to maintain. His blood sang with a hunger he was too afraid to name, but you could feel it, smell it in the air around him. It was intoxicating.

“That’s what I wanted to hear, Brother.” You purred, voice laced with sweet venom. You took a slow step closer, your body brushing against his in the dim light of the chapel. He inhaled sharply, his composure unraveling as you pressed against him, your presence a tangible force that enveloped him, pulling him deeper into your thrall.

His eyes flickered down, catching the faint curve of your body beneath the dark fabric of your robes. His breath stuttered again, a flush creeping across his face as his fingers twitched at his sides. He wanted to touch you, wanted to lose himself in you.

You leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. “I can feel it, you know… your need. You’ve worked so hard for Him. And now you deserve to be rewarded.” The lie rolled from your tongue so easily, dripping with sin as you let your other hand wander down his chest, feeling the shudder that rippled through him at your touch. His body tensed beneath your fingertips, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

“Yes…” His voice was faint now, nothing more than a breath, a surrender.

You turned his face to yours, gently, like one might guide a lamb to slaughter. His wide eyes, filled with nervous anticipation, met your own, and you could feel the last remnants of his resistance crumbling like dust. He was yours now—completely.

His lips parted again as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over his skin, the tension between you palpable, electric. His heart pounded beneath your palm, his pulse quickening with each passing second. The hunger in your core twisted, urging you to take him, to devour him whole.

But you waited.

“Do you want this?” you asked softly, your lips hovering just inches from his. The question was unnecessary—you could already feel his answer in the way his body trembled, in the heat radiating off him. But hearing it would make it all the sweeter.

He swallowed hard, his voice shaky, uncertain, but filled with an eagerness he could no longer hide. “Yes… please…”

And there it was—the moment of consent, the breaking of his will. The words tumbled from his lips like an offering, and you could practically taste the sweetness of it.

Your smile deepened, dark and victorious, as you finally closed the gap between you, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was both soft and demanding. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he hesitated, his body frozen in shock. But then his lips parted, and he surrendered completely, melting into your touch, into the wicked promise you offered him.

The kiss deepened, and you let your power flow through him, subtle at first, a slow, creeping warmth that spread through his veins. His hands, once trembling at his sides, finally rose, fingers brushing against your waist, hesitant but needy. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your lips as he pressed closer, his body betraying him in the most delicious way. His erection grew rapidly, the feel of your soft body beneath his fingertips and the addicting way you kissed made him give over to you so easily it was almost pathetic.

You pulled away just enough to speak, your voice a low, sultry whisper that made his heart race. “Good boy… let go. Let me show you what true devotion feels like.”

You felt his body respond in kind, a shudder running through him as your words curled around his mind like a serpent, squeezing out the last drops of resistance. His erection pressed against you, desperate and needy, as though his very soul had been waiting for this moment, for the permission to surrender completely.

Your lips brushed against his again, teasing, barely giving him what he craved. “You’ve been so good,” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin, sending a ripple of desire through his entire body. “So devout. Let me reward you properly.”

He moaned softly, a sound that reverberated through his chest, and you could feel the heat radiating from him now, his body a furnace of pent-up lust and unfulfilled desire. His hands, once hesitant, now gripped at your waist, pulling you closer, his hips twitching forward in desperate need for friction, for release. It was almost pathetic, the way he melted under your touch, so easy, so malleable.

You chuckled, low and wicked, your lips ghosting over his neck now, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The scent of his arousal filled the air, mixing with the incense, and your hunger surged. His body, so tightly wound, begged for release—release only you could give.

Your hand slid down between your bodies, pressing against the hardness straining beneath his jeans. He gasped, his body jerking against yours, his breath coming out in ragged pants as you teased him, fingers dancing over his length with a delicate touch. “Feel that?” you whispered against his ear, your voice dark and laced with cruelty. “That’s what you’ve been denying yourself. All this time, fighting your desires… for what? For Him?”

He whimpered, his body trembling under your touch. His eyes fluttered shut, his lips parted, but no words came out—just the sound of his breath, shallow and ragged, as you continued to torment him. His hands tightened on your waist, fingers digging into your flesh as if he were afraid to let go, afraid you would leave him hanging on the edge of this delicious torment.

You leaned in closer, pressing your body fully against his now, your mouth hovering just inches from his ear. “You’ve served Him so well,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of his neck, feeling the pulse beneath it quicken. “But now it’s time to serve yourself.”

His head fell back, a low moan escaping his lips as your fingers closed more firmly around his length, stroking him through the thick fabric of his jeans. You could feel him trembling, could hear the soft, pleading sounds that escaped his throat, and it sent a thrill through you. So needy. So easy.

You freed him, undoing the button and the zip and letting his thick length out of its cage. His cock was beautiful, long and girthy, with the precum glistening against the head, tantalising and teasing you.

“Look at you,” you purred, your fingers teasing him with slow, deliberate strokes, your lips grazing his throat. “Such a good little servant. So desperate to please.” His body jerked in response, his hips pressing up against your hand as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me, Brother… what would you do for me?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he tried to find his voice. “A-anything,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Anything you want… just… please…”

You smiled darkly, your eyes gleaming with satisfaction. His submission was perfect, total. He had fallen into your trap with such ease, so eager to give up everything, to be consumed by you.

Slowly, you pulled away, watching with dark delight as his eyes snapped open in shock, the sudden loss of your touch making him whimper in protest. His erection red and angry, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he stared at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“You want more, don’t you?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweet mockery. His nod was frantic, his body shaking with need, but you weren’t ready to give it to him yet. Not until he was completely yours.

“You have to ask for it,” you whispered, leaning in just enough for him to feel your breath on his lips. “Beg me.”

He hesitated, his pride warring with his desire for only a moment before he gave in completely, his eyes dropping to the floor as he whimpered, “Please… please, I need you. I need it so badly.”

Your smile widened, triumphant and wicked. Perfect.

You took a step back and stripped yourself of your veil and habit, with no underwear underneath, you were fully exposed to him and his hungry eyes.

His eyes widened as you stood before him, fully revealed, the dim light casting shadows over your body in a way that only accentuated your inhuman allure. His breath hitched, eyes hungrily drinking in the sight of you.

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a dark, seductive smile as you watched him. The devout Brother, the leader of the Ministry, Satan’s favourite son, was now nothing more than a quivering, desperate man, wholly in your thrall.

He swallowed hard, his gaze darting between your eyes and the rest of your body, his erection still painfully obvious even after the release you had granted him. It wasn’t enough. He was far from sated.

You stepped forward, your hand reaching out to gently brush the side of his face. He trembled beneath your touch, his skin warm, his pulse racing beneath your fingertips. “Don’t worry,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with danger. “I’m going to give you exactly what you deserve. All you have to do… is worship me.”

His breath caught, his lips parting, and you saw the flicker of hesitation in his eyes—the last vestiges of guilt, of fear, before they were swept away by the force of his need. He nodded, barely able to form the words as his voice cracked. “Yes… I’ll worship you.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at you. “Good. On your knees.”

He dropped without hesitation, the weight of his desire pulling him down like a stone into the abyss. His hands reached out instinctively, trembling as they hovered near your thighs, but he didn’t dare touch you—yet. Not until you gave the command. His eyes were wide, almost pleading, as he stared up at you.

You stepped closer, letting your fingers trail through his hair, tugging gently as you forced his head back to meet your gaze. The sight of him, kneeling at your feet, was intoxicating—delicious in its submission. “You know what to do,” you purred, your hand tightening slightly in his hair. “Make me feel how much you need this.”

His breath trembled as he leaned in, pressing tentative kisses along the inside of your thigh, his lips soft and reverent as though he were worshipping a holy relic. But this was no act of piety—this was pure, carnal desperation. His hands finally settled on your hips, his fingers digging in just enough to ground himself as he moved higher, his lips tracing a burning path up your body.

A shiver of pleasure ran through you as his lips neared your core, his breath warm and ragged against your skin. You let out a soft sigh of approval, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him closer, demanding more.

“Good boy,” you murmured, your voice low and dangerous. “Don’t stop.”

With a whimper of submission, he obeyed, his mouth moving between your legs with an eagerness that bordered on frantic. The heat of his breath, the desperation in every flick of his tongue—it was almost too much, and yet not enough. You could feel the power building between you, every drop of his devotion feeding into your hunger, making your desire grow more intense, more ravenous.

You rolled your hips against his face, the sharp sting of pleasure making your body hum with delight as you let yourself fall into the moment, letting him give you exactly what you wanted. His moans were muffled against your flesh, and the vibrations sent shocks of pleasure through your body as you gripped his hair tighter, forcing him to keep going, to give you everything.

You moaned. “Lie on the floor.”

He pulled off you quickly, obeying immediately. He watched from the ground as you lowered yourself over him, hovering above his face before sitting on it entirely.

As you lowered yourself onto his face, your thighs framing him, you felt the desperate pull of his hands gripping your hips, guiding you down onto him like a man starved. His mouth latched onto you with fervor, and the way his tongue moved, eager and reckless, sent a bolt of pleasure straight through you.

His groans were muffled against your skin, each one sending delicious vibrations deep into your core. You leaned back, your hands braced against your thighs as you rode his face, grinding against his mouth, feeling the sharp edge of his teeth grazing against you with each desperate flick of his tongue.

He was so eager, so hungry. You couldn’t help but let out a moan, a low, satisfied sound that echoed off the chapel walls. The thrill of it all—this filthy act in such a sacred place, however inviting it was, the power you had over him—made the pleasure all the more intense. He wasn’t just a man beneath you anymore; he was yours, completely, utterly devoted, worshiping you as though you were the goddess he had never known he needed.

“You’ve done so well,” you purred, grinding harder against his face, your voice dripping with dark affection. “But I’m not finished with you yet.”

His body jolted, a soft, muffled whimper escaping him, but he didn’t stop. If anything, his pace quickened, his tongue delving deeper, licking and sucking with wild, unrestrained devotion. You could feel the tension building in your core, that sweet, unbearable pressure mounting as you rolled your hips, your pace becoming erratic as you chased your release.

With a gasp, your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him tighter against you. His muffled groans of desperation only spurred you on, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

“Yes… just like that…” you moaned, your voice barely more than a breathless whisper. “Don’t stop. You’re mine now… all mine.”

And as the climax hit you, your body convulsing in a violent wave of ecstasy, you felt the power of it surge through you, your very essence pulling from his submission, his devotion, his soul. He was shaking beneath you, gasping for breath as you rode him through the peak of your pleasure, leaving nothing behind for him to hold on to.

Finally, with a satisfied sigh, you lifted yourself from his face, gazing down at him. His chest heaved, his eyes half-lidded, dazed and spent, his lips still glistening with your release.

You stood up slowly, your legs shaky with the lingering pleasure of your climax, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not by a long shot. The chapel floor was cold beneath your feet, but you didn’t feel it—your skin still buzzing with the heat of his devotion, with the power you had over him.

You gazed down at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he lay there, spent and trembling from his efforts. His lips were swollen, his face flushed, and his eyes half-lidded with lust. Yet, despite how exhausted he looked, his cock still stood painfully erect, a testament to just how much he wanted you—how much more he still had to give.

Your lips curled into a wicked smile as you placed one foot on either side of his hips, standing over him, your body fully exposed to his ravenous gaze. His eyes widened as he stared up at you, helpless and needy, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare.

“Look at you,” you purred, lowering yourself just enough to let him feel your heat hovering above his aching length. “So desperate for me. Do you even know how pathetic you look right now?”

He whimpered softly, his eyes pleading, and the sound sent a thrill through you. You reached down and gripped his cock, feeling it twitch under your touch as you guided him to your entrance, teasing him, letting the tip brush against your slick folds but not giving him the satisfaction of entering you just yet.

“I could leave you like this,” you mused, your voice a low, dangerous purr. “Make you beg for it until you’re nothing but a broken mess on the floor. Would you like that?”

His breath hitched, his body tensing beneath you as he struggled to find the words, but all that escaped him was a desperate, choked sound. You chuckled, relishing in his torment for just a moment longer before you finally lowered yourself onto him, taking him in inch by inch. His gasp was immediate, his body jerking as you sank down onto his length, enveloping him in your tight, wet heat.

You let out a low, satisfied moan as you settled fully onto him, the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you sending a wave of pleasure through your body. His hands flew to your hips, gripping you tightly as if to ground himself, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Fuck…” he gasped, his voice trembling as his hips instinctively bucked up into you, seeking more, needing more. But you were in control here, and you weren’t about to let him have anything unless you wanted it.

You placed your hands on his chest, pushing him back down against the cold stone floor as you began to move, slow and deliberate. His eyes rolled back as you rocked your hips, your pace agonizingly slow, making him feel every inch of you as you rode him.

“Is this what you wanted?” you asked, your voice dripping with mockery as you leaned forward, your breasts grazing his chest. “To be used like this? To be taken by something so much more powerful than you could ever hope to be?”

He nodded frantically, his fingers digging into your hips as his breath came out in ragged pants, but you didn’t give him time to answer. You increased your pace, rolling your hips in slow, torturous circles as you rode him, taking what you wanted, letting his cock fill you over and over again.

The sound of your skin slapping against his filled the chapel, the obscene rhythm echoing through the holy space as you fucked him on the very floor he had once knelt on in prayer. His moans grew louder, more desperate, as his body surrendered to you completely, his hips jerking up to meet your every movement.

You threw your head back, a deep moan escaping your lips as you felt the pleasure building inside you once more, the tight coil of desire winding tighter with every thrust. His cock was perfect, hitting just the right spot with every movement, and you rode him harder, faster, your nails digging into his chest as you chased your release.

“Look at you,” you growled, your voice rough with pleasure. “A pathetic, whimpering mess beneath me. Is this what you imagined when you swore yourself to Him?”

He whimpered in response, his body trembling beneath yours as his hands gripped your hips tighter, his breath coming out in sharp, ragged gasps. His cock twitched inside you, and you could feel him teetering on the edge, ready to fall apart for you completely.

But you weren’t done with him yet.

You slowed your movements just enough to drive him mad, keeping him on the brink, torturing him with the promise of release but not giving it to him. His moans turned to desperate pleas, his body thrashing beneath you as he begged for mercy.

“P-please,” he gasped, his voice raw with desperation. “Please… let me come…”

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Only when I say so.”

You felt the desperation in his body, the way he writhed beneath you, his hips bucking as if trying to coax his release from you. The sound of his pleas echoed in the chapel, mingling with the sharp slaps of skin against skin, and it only fueled your hunger. You couldn’t resist teasing him a moment longer.

With a wicked grin, you decided to grant him the pleasure of your movements. You tightened your grip on his chest, fingers digging into his skin as you rolled your hips with renewed vigor. Each thrust was relentless, a passionate declaration of your dominance as you claimed him entirely.

“Such a good boy,” you murmured, your breath hitching as you increased your pace, riding him harder. The intensity of his desire washed over you like an intoxicating wave, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his desperate thrusts. His moans transformed into deep, guttural sounds, filled with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

The chapel’s cold floor beneath you faded into oblivion as the heat between you grew. Every thrust sent shocks of pleasure coursing through your body, the electric connection sparking with each movement. You reveled in the feeling of his length filling you, the way your bodies collided, and how his needy cries echoed within the sacred space.

“Let go,” you commanded, your voice low and sultry, urging him to surrender completely to the ecstasy you were providing. “Give in to your desires.”

He obeyed, his body arching up towards you, chasing that elusive release you had kept just out of reach. The warmth of his skin beneath your hands, the desperate rhythm of his thrusts, and the sight of his pleasure-stricken face drove you wild. You pressed your hips down harder, taking your pleasure as he lost himself in yours.

“Please…” he whimpered, his voice cracking as he struggled against the intoxicating wave of need threatening to consume him. “I can’t hold on much longer… please let me come…”

You loved the way his voice trembled with desperation, how he begged and pleaded like a sinner before his goddess. And yet, you weren’t quite finished with him. The feeling of control surged through you, powerful and thrilling, and you couldn’t resist the urge to draw this out a bit longer.

With a wicked smile, you leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear once more. “Not yet,” you whispered, the words laced with dark promise as you tightened your core around him, milking him for every drop of pleasure you could extract.

His back arched, a raw moan escaping him as you felt him tense beneath you. He was so close—so very close. But you pulled back just enough to keep him on that precipice, your body quivering with the effort of holding back your own release as well.

“Ride it out for me,” you commanded, the authority in your voice making him whimper. “You can do it. Just a little longer. Show me how devoted you really are.”

With that, you increased your pace once more, driving him harder against the floor as your body took everything it wanted. Each thrust pushed him further toward the edge, and you could feel the tension in his body building, ready to snap at any moment. His desperate pleas only intensified your need, the power you held over him sending a thrill down your spine.

His hands clutched at your waist, pulling you closer as if trying to merge your bodies into one. You loved that he wanted you so desperately, that he was willing to submit to your will without question. It made you feel powerful, alive, and it was exactly what you craved.

Finally, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a fierce kiss, your tongues dancing together as you drove your hips down harder, faster. The pleasure surged through you both, a wave that threatened to drown you in ecstasy, and you could feel his release building within him. The taste of his desperation lingered on your tongue, fueling your own need as you lost yourself in the moment.

“Now,” you gasped against his lips, your voice barely more than a breath. “Come for me.”

With your command, his body shattered beneath you. He let out a primal groan, his back arching as he finally released himself, spilling deep inside you with a cry of pure bliss. The warmth of him flooding you sent shockwaves through your entire body, and you rode him through the waves of ecstasy, your own climax crashing over you as you surrendered to the pleasure.

Together, you rode the high, the chapel echoing with the sounds of your union, a sacred act of pure, unfiltered desire. His essence had poured into you, filling you up and satiating your hunger. You breathed heavily, basking in the deliciousness of your meal.

Before you could catch your breath, he shifted beneath you, a glint of newfound determination sparking in his eyes. With surprising strength, he pushed you onto your back, the cold chapel floor pressing against your skin as he loomed over you, the raw need radiating from him almost palpable.

“Wait—” you began, but he silenced you with a heated kiss, his hands gripping your wrists as he pinned them to the floor beside your head. The fervor in his movements sent a thrill through you, igniting a spark of excitement deep within.

He buried himself inside you once more, the sensation of him filling you again pushing you over the edge of pleasure. You gasped against his lips as he began to thrust, his movements driven by an insatiable hunger that mirrored your own. His rhythm was wild and desperate, a primal instinct taking over as he chased the high of a second orgasm, your bodies intertwining as if they were destined to fit together like this forever.

“More…” he gasped, his voice strained as he pressed deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity of his desire only fueled yours, igniting an inferno of lust that threatened to consume you both. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and the sight of him lost in the throes of ecstasy was intoxicating.

“Please… let me feel you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck, the urgency in his voice sending shivers down your spine. You reveled in the way he sought to claim you again, your body responding eagerly as you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to push even deeper.

The grucifix on his blazer swung wildly above you as his thrusts grew more frantic, more desperate as he chased that high, the aphrodisiac coursing through his veins giving him a stamina you hadn’t anticipated. Each thrust was a declaration of his need, his primal instincts taking control as he lost himself in the rhythm of your bodies moving together once more.

The pleasure mounted quickly, the tension in your core tightening as you felt the familiar heat beginning to build again. You moaned his name, the sound blending with the echoes of the chapel, and it only seemed to drive him further, his movements becoming more erratic, fueled by your sounds of pleasure.

“Just like that… don’t stop…” you urged, your voice breathy as you felt yourself spiraling toward that edge once more. He complied eagerly, losing himself in the moment as he pushed harder, faster, his hands gripping your thighs as he buried himself deeper inside you.

“Sathanas, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice hoarse and ragged. “I can’t get enough…”

You could feel the heat building inside you, an insatiable hunger igniting with each thrust as you surrendered to the rhythm of his body. The world around you faded, the only thing that mattered was the pleasure coursing through you, the connection that bound you both in this moment of bliss.

“Come for me,” you urged, your voice a sultry whisper, and it sent him over the edge. With a final, desperate thrust, he cried out, his release flooding you once more as you felt him pulsing inside you. The sensation tipped you over the edge, your own climax crashing through you as you reveled in the delicious aftershocks of both your pleasures intertwining.

You writhed beneath him, lost in the waves of ecstasy that surged through your bodies, feeling completely and utterly consumed by the moment. As his release filled you once more, a deep, primal hunger awakened within you—a hunger that went beyond mere physical satisfaction. You could feel the warm, intoxicating rush of his essence flooding through you, sending delicious waves of pleasure radiating outwards, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

With each pulse, you savored the taste of him, letting it wash over you, feeding on his orgasm again as if it were the sweetest nectar. The sensation was euphoric, a heady mix of power and pleasure that sent shivers down your spine. You could almost feel the tendrils of his release seeping into your very being, nourishing your essence and filling you with warmth and satisfaction.

As the last shudders of ecstasy faded, the warmth of his body collapsed against you, a heavy weight that anchored you to the cold chapel floor. His breathing was ragged, softening into a gentle rhythm as he drifted into unconsciousness, spent from the pleasure you had given him. You could feel the heat radiating off him, a testament to the fervor of your union, and for a brief moment, you relished the sweetness of your victory, the satiation of your hunger.

But before you could fully bask in the aftermath, a deep chill enveloped the chapel, cutting through the remnants of warmth like a cold knife. Shadows danced along the stone walls, twisting and writhing as if alive, casting eerie shapes that seemed to flicker and vanish before your eyes. A palpable tension filled the air, thickening it with an electric anticipation that made your skin prickle.

Then, with a grace that seemed otherworldly, He emerged from the darkness—Satan, the God of Darkness, cloaked in an aura of authority and danger. His presence was magnetic, drawing your gaze with an irresistible pull, as if He were the very embodiment of temptation itself. His form was draped in a flowing garment of black velvet that shimmered like the night sky, accentuating his lithe yet powerful frame.

His skin glistened, the deep crimson hue catching the flickering candlelight, creating an almost surreal contrast against the shadows that danced around him. Long, elegantly curved horns sprouted from His goat-like head, twisting upwards like the branches of a dark, twisted tree, glinting with an otherworldly sheen that hinted at both beauty and menace.

Satan’s eyes were a swirling abyss, deep pools of molten gold that seemed to pierce through the veil of your very soul. In them, you could see the weight of centuries, the seductive allure of a power that promised both ecstasy and destruction. They glinted with an unfathomable knowledge, as if He held the secrets of the universe in his gaze, and for a moment, you felt utterly naked before Him—exposed, yet exhilarated.

He moved closer, hooved feet clopping against the cold floor, each step deliberate and graceful, the air around Him charged with an intoxicating energy. You could feel the temperature drop even further, your breath visible in the air, mingling with the lingering scent of desire and smoke that clung to the chapel. The shadows shifted, stretching and elongating, as if bending to his will, swirling around Him in a dark dance that was both mesmerizing and foreboding.

Satan’s lips curled into a knowing smile, an expression that held a multitude of meanings—pleasure, intrigue, perhaps even a hint of disapproval. “My dear succubus,” He spoke, His voice smooth and rich, a seductive whisper that wrapped around you like silk. “It seems you have indulged in your own appetites.”

His gaze flicked down to the unconscious figure beneath you, and his smile widened, revealing sharp, gleaming teeth that glinted like daggers. “Such a delightful little feast you’ve had.” There was a playful lilt to His tone, yet it held an undertone of warning, a reminder of the power that coursed through his being.

You met his gaze, feeling both enthralled and wary, a thrilling mix of fear and fascination coursing through you. “He was… delectable,” you replied, your voice steady despite the tempest of emotions swirling within you. “A gift of desire, just as You promised.”

Satan chuckled, a low, dark sound that reverberated through the chapel like distant thunder. “And yet, you seem to have drained him to the brink of exhaustion. Is it not wise to leave your prey alive for the next indulgence?”

As He spoke, you felt a shiver run down your spine, the implications of His words sending a thrill of excitement through you. You had given in to your desires, but there was a deeper hunger within you now, one that craved the power he embodied.

“Would you like to be my next indulgence, my Dark Lord?” you asked, playfully teasing your God.

Satan’s smile deepened, His sharp teeth glinting in the dim candlelight, an embodiment of wickedness and allure. The shadows danced around Him, reflecting the darkness that thrummed in the chapel, echoing the intoxicating energy between you. He stepped closer, the air thickening with His presence, each movement imbued with an undeniable charisma that both captivated and terrified.

“Ah, My sweet succubus,” He purred, His voice a silky caress that wrapped around you like a lover’s embrace. “You play with fire, and yet I find your audacity utterly delectable.” His gaze roamed over you, an appraising look that lingered on your exposed skin, the remnants of your previous indulgence evident in the lingering heat that radiated from your body.

He paused, leaning closer, the heat of His breath brushing against your face. “But tell Me, what makes you think you could handle the full weight of My indulgence?” His eyes glinted with a mixture of mischief and challenge, the promise of darkness dancing within their depths. “Many have tried, but few can withstand the depths of My desires.”

The thrill of His words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, igniting a hunger that pulsed beneath your skin. You met His gaze boldly, feeling a rush of confidence surge within you. “I am not afraid of the depths, my Lord. It is the heights of ecstasy that draw me to You.”

Satan chuckled again, a sound rich with amusement, echoing through the chapel like a dark melody. “Such spirit,” He replied, His tone dipping into something more serious, a glimmer of intrigue lighting His eyes. “You intrigue Me, little succubus. Your hunger matches My own, and that is a rare find.”

Satan’s smile widened, a predatory gleam dancing in His eyes as He stepped closer again, the shadows swirling around Him like a living cloak. He extended His hand towards you. “Come home, child,” He said, waiting patiently for you.

With a final glance at the still-unconscious figure on the floor, you reached for His hand, feeling the warmth of His touch blend with the darkness that surrounded you. As your fingers intertwined, the chapel shifted, the air crackling with energy as you were drawn into the depths of His domain, where pleasure and power coalesced in a tantalizing embrace.

He had brought you back to Hell, where you belonged.

Prev./Next

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yourfavangstwriter · 5 months ago

Text

A Second Chance with the Soldier

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem! reader - MAJOR ANGST

Summary: Steve loves you. He has since the moment he saw you, but he what he wants more than anything is for you to see how worthy you truly are!

Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING mentions Child Sexual Abuse, Physical abuse, violence, fighting

Word count: 15k

“Hurry up…he’ll be here soon, and I want to get a good seat at the front”

“Urgh…do I really have to go with you”

“PLEASEEEEEE, I don’t want to be left alone with all those stinky boys. You’re the only other girl so I want to sit with you. At the front.”

“How about this…” I begin.

One thing about my best friend Elle is that she is persistent. She will wear you down until you give in, but I think that’s one of the things I love most about her. Being the only 2 females in our entire section in the army, we have no choice but to have each other’s backs. There’s nothing wrong with the guys, but there’s only so much testosterone a girl can withstand, and in the sea of brothers, she’s my sister. The best sister and friend I could have ever asked for. Not to mention the perfect soldier. We know we’ll always have each other’s backs, both on and off the battlefield. Which is why I would do anything for her. Including going to see Steve Rogers’ ‘inspiring speech for the soldiers’ this afternoon.

I’d much prefer to be doing anything else. Admittedly the thought of attending an inspiring talk for the army makes me want to scream. Just the thought of the army makes me want to scream. Don’t get me wrong, my 8 years as a soldier have been wonderful. They gave me a home, money, skills, and friends for a lifetime. But it’s not my calling anymore. I yearn for more. And I’ve already began my discharge process with my CO. Not that I’ve told Elle…or anyone else for that matter. So the thought of Steve Rogers talking at me for 2 hours about all the positive aspects of serving your country makes me feel violently ill. I was hoping Elle would find someone else to go with so I can stay back and start job and apartment hunting. The pros of living in the barracks was being able to squirrel away quite a bit of money. Not enough to never work again, but I have enough for a deposit on an apartment and to be able to live comfortably for a few months whilst looking for a job. The cons of living on the barracks are that you’re basically never alone. And given that I haven’t told anyone I’m leaving, I can’t quite whip out my laptop and start looking in front of them.

“If I agree to come and sit with you, you’ll let me leave halfway through”.

“AHHHH you’re the best” Elle screams, practically dragging me off my bed and into the hallway, with so much energy I can barely contain my laughter. It will only be an hour at most for me, so how bad can it be?

Steve’s POV

Public speaking has never been one of my strong suits. It makes me uncomfortable on a whole other level. All those eyes staring at me make me feel like the small skinny kid from Brooklyn all over again. Poor Bucky has been made to listen to my speech 3 times this morning to make sure I don’t stumble, and I still feel awful. Or I did, until I stepped onto to the small podium set up and looked down to the front row to see the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Her y/h/c hair was pulled up into a tight military standard bun, but that just meant her other features were accentuated. Her round cheeks and sharp nose were striking, but most beautiful of all were her eyes. The y/e/c orbs bore a tired expression yet were still enchanting. Averting my gaze was difficult, but upon doing so I noticed there was only one other woman in the room with her. And she was sat next to her…looking far more excited. In fact, every other face in the room bore excitement and happiness, except hers. So why is she sat in the first row?

After an hour I decided to take a break. The woman in the front row was distracting me too much. Every time I looked at her, I found it hard to look away, which distracted me and made me stumble a few times. When I got to the door to exit the room, I heard too many voices. I knew they would all swamp me at some point, but I didn’t think it would be this early on. Usually, they wait to the end. When I turned around to find somewhere else to go, I saw a flash of camo exit out of a slowly closing fire exit. ‘I wonder where she’s going’ I thought and decided to follow her.

Evidently, she had run from where I saw her, but all barracks are pretty much laid out the same and given the number of speeches I’ve given and barracks I’ve been in, I’m 99% certain I can find my way to the mess hall at least.

Evidently the mystery woman didn’t want to hang around because by the time I got out of the door she was gone. I was hoping to catch up to her and figure out if her early exit was because the speech was terrible or if there was something else bothering her. Bucky told me the speech was fine, but I have a feeling he would’ve said anything in the end which meant he wouldn’t have to listen to another word. But I needn’t have worried over finding her, as upon entering what I assumed was the mess hall, I noticed a figure huddled in the corner, back facing the door as she scrolled on a laptop.

I know I shouldn’t pry; my mother raised me better than that, but my learnt stealth from being a super soldier meant I could take a few steps closer to see what she was doing. I relaxed when I realised, she was apartment hunting. It wasn’t my speech that gave her that faraway look thanks goodness! The closer I got, the more I could smell her. An entrancing floral smell. Addicting. What I’d want my home to smell like after coming home from a difficult mission. Rolling over in bed and catching a whiff from her pillow. Her pillow? Wait what? What am I saying. I don’t even know this girl. Before I allowed my thoughts to spiral even more, I decided now was the time to strike up conversation.

“Barracks accommodation that bad huh?”

“JESUS CHRIST WHAT THE FU-…oh” she screamed turning around at the same time. But when she saw me, she stopped.

“No please, carry on. Cuss me out, I deserved that.” I replied sheepishly.

“N…no, of course you didn’t. You just scared me that’s all, sorry sir.” She murmured quietly as she stood and saluted.

“No need to salute soldier. Or call me sir, it’s just Steve” I know it’s been drilled into her over and over to always salute the higher ups, but I don’t think I will ever get used to the formality of it all.

“Sorry Sir…I mean Steve” she replied somewhat shyly.

“I came to ask why you looked like you’d rather be stationed in a war zone that be in that front row earlier. You escaped pretty fast too. It wasn’t that boring, was it?”

“Oh gosh no Sir! STEVE!” She corrected rather quickly and loudly. There was a tinge of red to her cheeks which made me smile.

“It was quite inspiring really. I think it would have been better for people considering enlisting though. Not those already signed up. Every one of us in that room knows what sacrifice for the country looks like. None more than you of course…I’m sorry” she quickly backtracked, looking sheepish when she realised the tangent she went on.

“No, no. This feedback is good. I encourage it. People are always too quick to blow steam up my ass. I appreciate the honesty.” She looked rather shocked by my reply. Either that or the language.

“Now I’m sorry. I shouldn’t use that type of language in front of a beautiful dame.” Now she really blushed. I smiled again. “Just want to quell the golden boy image Stark is so keen to persist.” She laughed at that, and boy was it the nicest laugh I’ve heard in a while.

“You don’t need to watch your language around me. Trust me. Army boys don’t know how to speak without accompanying every other word with a colourful French word.” She replied, shuffling over and offering me a seat at the bench.

“Ah I understand. Thank you. Now, is it too nosy to ask why you fled so quickly.”

“I suppose not. I’m apartment hunting.”

“Ah, say no more.”

“Yeah….” She murmured, glancing glumly back at the computer screen.

“Is the barracks really that bad?” I questioned, growing slightly concerned. Being Captain America has certain perks, and I can pull certain strings. If there’s one thing I’ll advocate for, it’s the comfort of our soldiers. Having been one myself, I know it’s not easy.

“Well, they aren’t the best. But that’s not why. I leave the army in 2 weeks and have yet to find somewhere.”

“Ah…any particular reason why?”

“I just don’t feel fulfilled anymore. The army used to give me pride. I felt like I was doing something good. A reason to feel proud of myself. But after 2 tours of Afghanistan and 1 of Iraq, I often feel like I left more of a mess than what greeted me. I guess I just need to find what motivates me again.”

“I meant, was there any particular reason why you couldn’t find an apartment. There are a few apartments in my building that are vacant.” I replied grinning, but it was clear she didn’t take it that way. She began to blush even harder.

“But I understand what you were saying” I hastened to add. “It’s like a calling. A yearning to help people. And if you don’t feel that calling anymore, then it’s hard to carry on in the job. Sometimes I go through periods of doubt about what I do to.” She visibly relaxed at my understanding, making me feel 100 times better.

“It’s not that I don’t feel the yearning anymore. I think I will always feel. What I was born to do. I’ve just become disenfranchised with job. I don’t seem to be helping people at the minute.” My heart warmed at her honesty. It feels quite rare to find others who feel the same way.

“Do you have any other jobs in mind at the moment?”

“No, why. Any spare avenger jobs going?” She quipped back with a grin, making me smile in return. God, she has a beautiful smile.

“Not quite avenger level, no. But S.H.I.E.L.D. are recruiting for agents again. They always give first dibs to ex-military, and a kind word from me can get you straight through to an interview.” The look of shock on her face was pleasing.

“Really? You could do that? An actual agent. I didn’t think I was qualified enough” she mumbled to herself, but super soldier hearing meant I heard every word.

“Why wouldn’t you be? Trust me, I work with them day in, day out. They’re no different from you. You have the right attitude, and whilst I haven’t seen your combat training, I’m sure it’s satisfactory if you survived three tours in some of the most active war zones.”

“How do you know where we served?”

“I like to know who my men, and women, are” I replied, somewhat sheepishly, having to admit that I got Stark to background search every soldier here. It’s true that ex-military make the best agents.

“Oh. Well, I’ll definitely think about it. I can’t lie, waitressing really doesn’t appeal to me, and that’s all that comes up.”

“Well, accommodation comes included so, here take my card and give me a call when you decide. I’ll send over the application form and when I see you’ve submitted it, I’ll start pulling strings.” I winked, handing over my card with my personal number on. Usually, I’d give out my business card, but something about this woman made me feel like giving her my personal would be better.

Y/N’s POV.

Holy shit. Captain America gave me his number.

“Walk me out?” He started as he got up from the bench. Still in shock, I pocketed the card and started to lead him to the main gate.

“Don’t you have to finish the talk?” I suddenly remembered.

“Nah…I’ll blow it off as some avenger emergency or something like that.”

“Fair enough, I’ll pretend I never saw you” I reply with a grin. He hesitated as though he wanted to say something else, but instead just smirked and headed out of the gate. Just before he ducked into the car, he called out.

“Hey y/n. Don’t lose my number.” I sucked in a breath. I thought he’d been quite flirtatious when he called me a ‘beautiful dame’, but I didn’t want to just assume. “We could really use some people like you with your kind of attitudes at S.H.I.E.L.D.” Oh.

“Sure…I’ll…I’ll think about it.” I stuttered out, drowning in embarrassment. How on earth could I think that the Captain America would be flirting with me. With that, he winked, closed the door and sped off.

“Why is Captain America scouting you for S.H.I.E.L.D?” Asked a very angry Elle.

“Elle…” I started but couldn’t say anymore.

“Forget it…” she mumbled dejectedly as she raced back inside. Great. This was going to be a very nice conversation. Not.

6 WEEKS LATER

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you all day!” Shouted the very handsome Captain.

When he visited the barracks, and when we met for coffee to discuss my application, he wore civilian clothing, but today he wore his suit, tied at the waste with a black under armour shirt on top that showed every single muscle. Not salivating at the mouth was going to be harder than a dog not drooling in a butcher. He was accompanied by a fierce looking Bucky Barnes, and cheeky looking Sam Wilson.

“Looking for me?” I replied, slightly shocked and also embarrassed under the gazes I was getting.

“Of course! And I brought reinforcements to help move your stuff” he smiled, pointing to Bucky and Sam.

“Oh gosh, that really isn’t necessary. Not that I don’t appreciate it, but no one else has help.”

“They have their families” Bucky replied.

Whilst looking incredibly miserable, a closer look at his eyes showed life. Love. Happiness. Coming from a place of healing. And also understanding. Of course, the former spy had noted the lack of familial assistance I had compared to everyone else. I was hoping Elle might help but she still hasn’t forgiven me for not telling her sooner.

“Where are your family y/n?” Sam Wilson questioned, smiling also at me, clearly picking up on my unease.

“Out of town” I replied way too quickly, and by the look on the three avengers’ faces, they knew I did too.

“Well, we’re here now, so show us where your car is, and Buck and I can grab some boxes whilst Steve shows you to your room. He pulled some strings to get you on the nicer side of the tower”

Sam winked. A glance at Steve told me they weren’t making it up.

“I told you don’t call me Buck”

“What you gonna do Maggie?”

“Maggie??” Steve asked looking incredibly confused, but also very done with their bickering. Something about the way he allowed it to ensue told me this was quite a frequent occurrence.

“Short for magnet. Like his arm” Sam replied, trying not to smile but failing miserably.

“Jesus wept”

“Shut it bird brain” both Steve and Bucky replied at the same time.

“Here, take my keys, it’s the white one over there” I replied, tossing Bucky the keys, hoping to break up whatever quarrel they were having now.

After some resistance on my part, Steve took the box and suitcase I was carrying whilst I went to the reception desk to sign in and pick up my keys. Because I was with Steve, his advanced authorisation meant we got to take the nice elevator with the view of New York. I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it.” Steve mumbled, very close to my neck. So close, in fact, I could feel his breath sweep over the tiny hairs there.

“Yes.” One word was all I could manage. From both shock and his closeness, and at the view.

Looking down to the ground, we both saw Bucky and Sam clearly squabbling over who got to carry the largest box. It looked like Bucky was winning, but he does have the metal arm.

“I know you Avengers value your private lives, but I’m sure a gay wedding between the falcon and the winter solider would have broken the internet”. Steve let out a mighty howl at that and doubled over, nearly dropping the box, and was laughing so hard that I couldn’t help but laugh with him. The butterflies in my stomach seemed to be laughing as well as they tripled in intensity when Steve straightened up and looked at me.

“Well, if there was a wedding, I wasn’t invited” he smirked. “Don’t worry, they’re like this all the time. But I know they have each other’s backs which matters more to me than anything else.” It was sweet how much he seemed to care.

“That’s nice to see” I commented, thinking longingly about Elle. He seemed to notice.

“Everything okay”

“Yes. Yes. It’s fine. I’m just tired that’s all. Been a long day”

“Well as soon as they figure out who can carry a box, we can leave you to unpack. It’s an early start tomorrow. 5am.” He smiled understandingly.

“Early!! Practically a lie in in comparison” I joked.

“Ah. A fellow early bird. Sometimes the three of us go running in the mornings. You’re more than welcome to join us”.

“If there’s one thing I didn’t do enough of it was running. I think I’ll give it a miss but thank you though.” The thought of plain ol’ me running with three superheroes was daunting to say the least.

The room Steve secured for me is incredible. Floor to ceiling windows that offered the best view of New York, with a huge bed in the middle, and a gigantic bathroom with a huge porcelain bathtub in the middle.

“Wow Steve. Please tell me every other trainee has a room like this.”

“Well...they all have beds and bathtubs and windows” he teases, after watching my awe-struck gaze.

“But not like these” I finish.

“By no means are they shabby. But it’s just a double instead of a king, and there’s no bathtub. But they do have windows. Obviously. They’re the floor below us” he adds.

“Us?” I squeak out.

“You’re sharing with us doll. In Steve’s defence, they had run out of rooms for the recruits. For all the brains Stark’s supposed to have, he can’t count enough rooms out.” Quipped Bucky carrying three boxes, followed by Sam who had the remaining suitcase and a potted plant.

“No shit” I burst out, then slapped my hand over my mouth when I realised what I said. That made them chuckle.

“Please don’t feel like you need to watch your language doll. You say military are bad. Wait until you spend 5 minutes with Stark” Steve comforted.

“Steve mentioned you were military.” Sam said, with a questioning tone. As Bucky deposited my car keys back into my hand I saw the questioning in his eyes again as well.

“Medical corps. Afghanistan and Iraq. 3 years” I offered.

“SHIT. I KNEW I RECOGNISED YOU. DO YOU RECOGNISE ME?” Sam burst out, jumping Bucky causing him to scowl again.

“Of course I do, I see your face on the news every other day.” I quipped.

“Why every other day?” Sam distractedly asked.

“Because I don’t watch it every day.” Steve and Bucky snickered at my response.

“Fairs. But anyway. Iraq. Me and a guy called Riley. We both had bullet wounds and you patched us up.” Sam probed.

“Of course!” I replied, immediately remembering this time. “Glad to know you made it out alive. I was sorry to hear about your friend though”

“Me too kid. You were with another chick that day. What was her name? Ellie, Elena??”

“Elle” I supply.

“Yes, Elle. She was cute. What happened to her. Please tell me she’s still alive” he smirked.

“Yes. Elle is still very much alive. And serving. We actually room shared back at the barracks.” I replied, even though the thought of Elle made my chest pang.

“Bring her round some time, yeah?” Sam asked. I didn’t know what to say in return. How do I tell them she’s not talking to me at the minute. I barely know the guys. I’m not going to offload onto them like that.

“Errrr” I started.

“Alright guys, that’s enough grilling. Let’s leave y/n to settle in and unpack.” Steve said, placing a large warm hand on my shoulder in comfort. When we met for coffee a few weeks ago it accidentally slipped that Elle wasn’t talking to me, so thankfully he knows the situation enough not to pry.

“That’s all you have??” Bucky asked quite shocked.

“Military life. No time or space for possessions.” I offer back. A quick, fixed answer I give every time I move, and people comment on my lack of possessions.

The real reason is that I left home when I was 16 with only the clothes on my back. Only Elle knows why. My heart hurts just thinking about her. Bucky smiled back at me, and a glance at the other two revealed similar expressions of understanding.

“We’re all military men, so we know better than most.” Sam answered with sincerity.

“Thanks guys.” I squeaked out, feeling overwhelmed at their niceness. “See you tomorrow morning, bright and early.”

5 Months later….

STEVE’S POV

“Stop. Pulling. Your. PUNCHES” y/n all but screamed at me.

Every word was punctuated with a hit, but they were sloppy. She’s distracted by something, and I can tell, which is why I am pulling my punches. If I hurt her, I wouldn’t forgive myself. Over the last 6 months y/n has excelled in the program, quickly rising the ranks to become one of the best trainees. I know for a fact that Fury is already eyeing her up for additional training in a few weeks when she graduates to support Avenger missions. With her accomplishments, I find my respect and admiration for her growing more and more. I know that Elle still hasn’t spoken to her, but she manages to push it to the back of her mind and continue kicking ass both physically and mentally in the aptitude tests. Even Tony pulled me aside and said I’d made a good spot with her. However, given that we basically live together, train together (I as her mentor, and she as my mentee), and spend a lot of free time together (not that I am complaining though), I think I know her well enough to figure out that the situation with Elle isn’t her only distraction.

A few weeks ago, y/n, Sam, Bucky and I were returning from a run in the morning when we passed a man. A man who made y/n stop in her tracks. Her bright smile vanished, eyes becoming glazed, and body drawing in on itself.

“Hey doll you good?” Asked Bucky, noticing y/n had dropped back, eyes following the man. I turned to look at her, and noticed the man was walking away from us, but still had his head turned to smile at y/n. Bucky’s comment snapped y/n out of her trance.

“Fine” was all she said.

“You sure. Hey, if he’s an awful ex or something we can go 10 rounds in your next hand-to-hand combat training exercise” Sam joked.

“I said it was fine. It’s fine. Now leave it.” She snapped, ducking into the nearest corridor and taking the stairs to our floor.

“What did I say?” Sam asked, genuinely confused over how he could have upset her.

“Punk” was all Bucky said as he looked at me. One thing about being friends with someone for so long is that you learn how to communicate without words.

“Oh… you’re doing the weird eye talking thing.” Sam commented.

I knew Bucky was wondering if I was going to go after her, but the way she stormed off alone told me that she needed a minute to herself alone. With that, Bucky, Sam and I made our way back up to the common room of the Avengers-only floor.

When I went to check up on y/n a few hours later, she was nowhere to be found. Clearly, she was still affected by the man in the lobby earlier. Deciding that I needed to get to the bottom of this, I pulled up the CCTV footage and used JARVIS for facial-recognition. Turns out the guy was someone called Luke Jackson, one of the finance guys up on the 4th floor, with no known connection to y/n, the trainee program, or the Avengers. And despite never seeing him around the tower again, y/n was still upset about the encounter weeks later. Yes, her punches got harder, and her attitude sharpened, but so did her eyes. Gone was the bright spark, replaced with a cold ice that only revealed anger and hurt, and today I decided I was going to get to the bottom of it.

“If I don’t pull my punches, you’ll be eating out of a tube indefinitely” I warn.

“Fuck you” she pants.

“THAT’S YOUR COMMANDING OFFICER” Brock Rumlow’s voice boomed from behind me.

I have never been bothered by the way y/n talks to me. In fact, I welcome it, because it means that we have a deeper relationship than just mentor/mentee. And I kind of deserved it, I was winding her up and I know it. But I know her well enough now to know that sometimes she pushes me, so I push back so she knows I’m there. She actually told me that herself. Which is why I oh so kindly Rumlow to do the same, he’s been on y/n’s back ever since she got here and I’m yet to find out why. Even Bucky picked up on it.

“She knows thank you Rumlow. Carry on with what you were doing” I warn sternly.

“Does she?” he sneers with that awful side smirk. God, I hate this man.

“Yes sir. My apologies Captain Rogers. Agent Rumlow. I think I’ll take my break now.” She mumbles, then practically sprints off of the training mats and is out of the room.

Before I can go after her, however, one of the other agent steps up seeing a window of opportunity. Usually, I enjoy sparring with the trainees but all I want to do right now is go after her. I’ve never seen her this distracted, and even though I see Brock go after her, I still worry because I know he will be of no help. After a quick text to Sam and Bucky to see if they will go find her, I try my best to put the issue out of mind and focus on the trainee in front of me.

Y/N’S POV

I know I’ve been distracted. In the beginning I could squash it. Missing Elle was all that bothered me, but when I was training, I managed to put it to the back of my mind enough so that I only had to unpack it at night when I was alone in my room and desperately wishing I could call her to update her about my days in training. Even I have to admit that I’ve done quite well and am proud of how quickly I’ve learnt the skills required. Bucky let me in on a little secret Steve made him swear not to tell me that THE Nick Fury was watching me to see if I would be suitable as a supporting agent for literal Avenger missions. That kept me in good spirits. That was until I saw him.

I know I swore that I wouldn’t run with literal avengers, but it is actually quite a lot of fun. Bucky and Sam race each other, and Steve always give me a cute little wave as he passes me. On the way back in from a very refreshing run, I passed him in the lobby. Wearing a suit and tie with a Stark employee ID badge on. My big brother Luke. I knew he spotted me from the way he smirked at me. It stopped me in my tracks. I thought I’d escaped him. I thought I’d never have to see him again. But somehow, he found me, and the next day when I stepped into the gym and saw Brock Rumlow waiting at the front as a trainer, I knew exactly how Luke had found me. Growing up, Brock and Luke were best buddies, much like Steve and Bucky. But the difference was that they were bullies. The meanest kind. Beating people up just for breathing too loud. Brock took one look at me, and he knew that I knew. He also knew I wouldn’t say a thing. Which is why I’ve been doing my best to keep my head down. After I stormed off that day in the lobby, I was incredibly grateful that neither Sam, Bucky nor Steve questioned me about it. But with the way Brock has been winding me up recently and leering over everything I do, I know it’s only a matter of time before someone catches on. And that time is looming dangerously close when I hear him leer at me from behind.

“Where do you think you’re going baby cakes” Urgh. That god awful nickname that he’s always called me creepily, even when I was just a kid.

“I’m due a break sir. I was headed to the mess quarters” I reply, picking up my pace. I know that if we get into a public space, he’ll leave me alone. He wouldn’t dare draw negative attention to himself.

“Tut-tut. It’s not the mess quarters, is it? You’re not in the military now sweetheart. You can’t escape him forever”

“Escape who?” booms the voice of Bucky Barnes. Never in my life have I been so grateful to see a 6ft something super soldier.

Over the past few months, Bucky has been somewhat of a brother-figure to me. The saying ‘it takes one to know one’ has never been more accurate when it comes to shared trauma. Every time I look into his eyes it’s like looking into a mirror reflection of my own…deep purple bags from lack of sleep, dull irises as the pain of the past swims across them, and pupils always darting around, waiting for the next attack. I know he sees exactly the same in me. But he never asks, and neither do I. Sometimes it’s like we function on a wavelength no one else reaches. I know when he has had a tough night, and he knows when I failed to slay my own demons.

I spun around to definitely check he was there. Brock wouldn’t dare try anything in front of the Winter Solider…even he’s not that stupid.

“See ya later baby cakes” Brock winked at me, then turned around headed back to the gym. Bucky began walking toward me.

“Baby cakes?” Bucky asked, quirking an eyebrow but coming up by the side of me as I continued walking.

“Long story” I muttered, hoping he’d drop it like he does all the other times something seems to bother me.

And at the moment, everything seems to bother me. God, they’re never going to want to keep me around after this, and the thought of it almost takes my breath away. I’ve worked so hard to get to where I am, to forget the past. And it seems to just keep catching up to me. Bucky seems to pick up on my melancholy.

“Hey. You know that if anything or anyone bothers you, you can always come to me. Or Steve. Or Sam. Heck, you could come to any of us, and we’d help you. We like ya y/n and we want you around.”

“Thanks Buck. I know you guys are there.” I reply, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “Why are you down here anyway?” I question, realising that he’s not scheduled for training today. He places an arm around my shoulder looking slightly sheepish as he waves his phone with his metal arm at me.

“Steve was worried about ya. Sent me and Sam looking for you, and by the looks of it, it was a good job too. I don’t like that Brock guy and I certainly don’t trust him. In fact, I’m yet to meet an agent who does.” He warns, but I can’t entirely focus on what he says as I’m too focused on the fact that Steve sent him and Sam to look for me… for me. To make sure I was okay. And they came.

“Trust me Bucky, I can handle myself.” I try to reassure him.

“Trust me, I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t worry about ya doll”.

There is so much sincerity in his eyes I find it hard not to tell him the whole thing. Realistically, I know I should tell them. They can get rid of Luke. They can protect me, and the child in me yearns for protection, but adult me knows they have much worse to deal with.

“Aww that’s cute old man” I joke, hoping to change the subject, but one look into his eyes tells me he knows what I’m doing.

I’m deflecting. Hiding something. It’s the same look he gave me when we first met, and then when I saw Luke in the lobby, and pretty much every time I’ve seen him since.

“Okay doll. I won’t push. If there’s one thing I know about you by now, it’s that if you don’t wanna talk about it, you’re not going to.”

“Thanks Buck.” Is all I can utter.

“But you can buy me lunch” he winks.

1 week later…

It’s been torture. All of the avengers got called out on an emergency mission that’s hydra-related. I’m not supposed to know that, but the avengers seem to trust me enough to tell me. 6 days ago they went, which means it’s been 6 days of Brock-related hell. He automatically took over as head-trainer and he has not let me forget it. And he definitely doesn’t pull his punches.

Thankfully at 4:37am this morning Steve sent a message to say they were all on their way back, and all completely unharmed following a highly successful mission. But that doesn’t mean they’re back yet. It’s just past 1 and still no sign, which means I’m here in the gym. Alone. With Rumlow. It’s lunchtime and all the other agents have gone, but he’s kept me back.

“I thought we’d step up your training a bit” he sneered. I heard the door open but didn’t need to look to know what he’d done. Ever since I got my dad arrested, both Luke and Brock have been looking for a way to get back at me. Now’s their chance with no one around to stop them.

STEVE’S POV

Just after lunchtime we got off the helicarrier. Covered in sweat, grime, and other people’s blood, all I wanted to do was take a shower, but the fact that y/n wasn’t there waiting like she said she would be at lunch concerned me. Her text read: “If you’re not back by lunch, I’ll go wait at the landing pad for you. Don’t leave me there hanging yeah ;)”. So, for her to not be here, when I know full-well that it’s the agents’ scheduled lunch time was extremely concerning, and Bucky and Sam seemed to pick up on my worry too.

“Come on, let’s head to the cafeteria, maybe she’s just waiting in line for food” Sam offered hopefully.

Both Sam and Bucky were also excited to see y/n, they have sort of adopted her as their younger sister and treat her as such, so I know they’re just as worried as I am.

There was still no sign of y/n in the cafeteria, but a quick glance around showed it full of other trainees. So why wasn’t she here?

“Looking for agent y/l/n?” one of them asked.

“Yes, do you know where she is?” Sam replied eagerly.

“Agent Rumlow kept her behind. Don’t want to imagine why though. Think he might have a bit of a crush on her, keeps calling her baby cakes and says he wants to ‘elevate her training’. Fucking creep.” The agent replies, but visibly pales when they realise what they said.

“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t mean…he just…”

“Don’t worry kid. Don’t tell anyone but I agree” I respond as Bucky roars out

“SON OF A BITCH” then thunders off down the corridor to the gym, causing Sam and I to quickly follow him.

“I told her he’s a creep. I told her I didn’t trust him. I knew something like this would happen” he grumbled to himself.

“What do you mean Buck?” Sam asks, voice dangerously low.

“Yeah Buck, what do you mean?” I all but growl, heart thundering at the thought of y/n being hurt at the hands of that weasel Rumlow.

“The other day when you asked us to find her, I caught him following her calling her Baby cakes. He’s been worrying me where she’s concerned for weeks but she promised me it was okay” he admitted dejectedly, but before we could respond, we heard the faint cries of y/n.

Y/N’s POV

“NO. STOP. PLEASE. LUKE NO I’M SORRY” I cry out, but he still punches me.

Brock thought it would be good for us to spar together. I know that really, it’s a cover up in the name of ‘payback’ but I thought my training would kick in. I thought I’d be able to stand up to him this time, but I guess not. Before I realise it, I’ve collapsed to the floor and curled up in the foetal position, arms over my head, being transported back to all those times when I was 13 that Luke hit me and kicked me over and over. I peek over my arm but quickly lower my head when I see his leg lifting ready to kick me. But the hit never came. Slowly I lifted my head, and my eyes connected with the beautiful, sweet, but angry blue eyes of Steve Rogers. Gently he reaches out a hand to stroke away some hair from my face that had come loose from my ponytail. I took the hand he extended to me and allowed him to pull me up into a standing position. I didn’t fight it when he tugged me closer so he could place one arm around my waist and tuck me into his chest. In fact, I welcomed it, placing my own hand on his chest and burrowing closer for protection. The flight instinct still hadn’t retreated, and I’m sure that if he wasn’t holding me, I’d have collapsed.

Before Steve could actually ask me if I was okay, and I know he was intending to as his lips were forming the words, we heard a sickening crunch and a pain-filled moan. Looking over to the sound, we saw Bucky stood over Luke who had evidently just been punched in the face, and Sam staring Rumlow down.

“How’d you like that you sick fuck?” Bucky seethed.

“Call it payback, bitch.” Luke hisses as he spits blood.

“The fuck did you just say” Sam hisses.

“You heard me. That’s for sending dad to prison”

“Watch your fucking mouth” Bucky warns again, gripping Luke by the shirt and pulling him forward.

“Buck” Steve warns, trying to deescalate the situation. He could probably tell how upset I was from my trembling that I just couldn’t control.

“What you gonna do metal man? Punch me again. She fucking deserved it” Luke smirked.

“Fuck yeah, she did. Had it comin’ for years” Brock added. And this time it was him that got his nose broken…by Sam.

“Please” I begged.

They needed to shut up. The guys couldn’t know. They weren’t supposed to know my dad went to prison and that I’m the reason he’s there. They absolutely can’t know that Luke is my brother and that I grew up with Brock. That is supposed to go to the grave.

At the sound of my voice, both Brock and Luke turned to me. They were both being held back my Sam and Bucky, but even with the added protection of 3 avengers, I still couldn’t get over the fear. It was evident that my attackers had picked up on that.

“Aw…doesn’t your boyfriend know?” Luke sneered.

“Do you want us to tell them?”

“Please. Don’t. I’ll leave…I’ll go and pretend this never happened. Please.” I begged and begged.

Steve’s arm gripped me even harder, and I felt his eyes burning into me. But I couldn’t look up and meet them because I knew I’d break. In fact, I couldn’t look at any of the guys. Shame and embarrassment at the scene I was causing filled me.

“Tell us what? What’s going on doll?” Steve probed.

“Look at you…daddy’s little plaything got Captain America wrapped around her finger”.

“ENOUGH” roared the voice of Nick Fury. Things were so intense none of us even registered the doors banging shut.

“Get these little shits out of my gym. Get them out of this goddamn tower and terminate their employment. Drop them at the bottom of the Hudson for all I care. Just get them anywhere but here.” He ordered as a swarm of agents flocked to Luke and Brock and began dragging them out. Just as Luke passed the director, Fury reached out and grabbed him.

“Don’t you ever open your mouth to her again. Both you and your precious daddy are fucked up, and I aint got no place for you here.” He sneered. My heart dropped at his comments though. He knew. Of course, he fucking knew. You can’t hide anything from these guys. Embarrassment hit me again. I tried to shrink away from Steve, but it was too late. One glance around the room revealed my worst fears. Bucky, Sam and Steve had caught on to what he said and were beginning to form their own conclusions. They were dying to ask me what he meant.

“Doll?” Bucky said, but his tone revealed it was more of a question. Shit. I’m going to have to tell them. They won’t let this go.

“I need 5” was all I said before I raced out of the room to gather my thoughts.

STEVE’S POV

What the fuck is going on? I know y/n was distracted but I didn’t realise it had something to do with Rumlow. And what did he mean with ‘daddy’s little plaything?’…I have an idea about what he could mean, but I really hope it isn’t…for the sake of my job and good image. One glance at Bucky and Sam told me they were thinking the same thing.

“Fury what the hell is going on?” Bucky asked, voice shaking with anger.

“It’s not for me to tell, but that brother of hers is a nasty piece of work. You need to find her and ask her yourself.” He replied.

“Her brother?”

“She has a brother?” both Sam and I asked at the same time. What in the world is going on?

When y/n left she said she needed 5 which was understandable, so we decided to take the time to head back to our rooms and freshen up, still dressed in tactical suits and covered in grime.

“This might be a bad time, but I don’t have any fresh towels. I forgot to do my laundry before we left.” Bucky muttered sheepishly.

“Would you like to borrow a towel?” I prompt as we head out of the elevator.

“Yes please” he smiles back, following me to my room.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later” Sam mumbles, carrying on past to his own room. The fact that he hasn’t quipped at Buck over not washing his towels reminds me of the severity of what just happened.

Upon opening my door, I was surprised to see y/n sat on the edge of my bed, tear tracks down her face.

“Baby?” I asked, prompting her to look up and hastily wipe the tears from her face. I was still stood in the door when she replied.

“I’m sorry for rushing out like that. I knew if I went back to my room I wouldn’t come back out. Also, I feel safer in here yanno. I’m sorry for invading your privacy” she mumbles. I step forward to comfort her, but she spots Bucky.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry” she practically cries out, rushing up off the bed trying to get past me. I place my hands on her shoulders and guide her back to the bed.

“Don’t be silly doll”

“Sorry sweetheart, I just came to borrow a towel” Bucky admits sheepishly. At his admission she wrinkles her nose, which causes me to chuckle slightly, along with Bucky.

“I know. A grown as adult borrowing his buddy’s towel.” He jabs at himself.

“Nah, you just stink” she jokes back, prompting him to wrap an arm around her and turn her to him, but that brings her face into the light causing us to notice the now very visible bruise and split lip she was sporting from her earlier attack. Both Buck and I gasp. She tries to turn away, but he doesn’t let her.

“Oh doll, I’m so sorry we couldn’t get there in time” Buck apologises.

“What do you mean? If it wasn’t for you two and Sam, then I’d probably be holed up in the med wing by now. And that’s if Brock decided to let me live. Thank you by the way. I’m so sorry to have dragged all of you into this but I am so grateful.”

“Please don’t thank us. I’ve told you before that we care for you and want to help you”

“Yeah sweet. Don’t thank us. Just please let us in.” I beg. “We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on”.

I can tell that she’s thinking of letting it out. In fact, I know she was when she decided to come to my room, but when she glanced up at Bucky I realised that it was only me she intended to tell. Apparently, Bucky guessed this too.

“Say less, I’ll grab the towel and be gone” he smiles and presses a soft kiss to her forehead before heading out.

“Sit down doll. I’m going to go and take a quick shower, but I’ll be straight back. You can tell me anything. It doesn’t have to be it all. Just let me in” Taking a few steps closer makes my stomach churn as I see more and more of the damage to her face.

Without realising I’ve reached a hand up to stroke the side of her face gently. I hear her breath hitch and then see her wince in pain. She notices that I’ve noticed.

“He landed a few kicks in my ribs before you got there” she admits shakily, and it’s the first time I notice the tears filling her eyes again. Placing both hands on each side of her face, I step closer.

“What did he do to you baby?” I murmur to myself, but y/n heard it. Before I can say anything else she leapt forward into my arms, planting her face into my chest and wrapping her arms around me as she sobs into me.

“Shush…it’s okay baby. I got you” I murmur wrapping my own arms around her and placing my chin on her head. I guide us to my bed to sit down but she climbs straight into my lap.

“I’m so…so…*hiccup*…sorry” she sobs.

“No…no sweetheart. You take your time”

“No…you wanted a shower and I’m stopping you” she mutters as she tries to stand up again. I pull her closer.

“You gotta stop apologising. My shower can wait. You, on the other hand, are more important and I will do anything to make you realise that.”

At my admission, she begins to visibly relax, until she looks down and notices she’s straddling my lap. A red hue emerges over her neck and cheeks, and whilst I am 100% A-OK with the proximity, I don’t want to make her feel any more uncomfortable, so I slowly lower my arms which prompts her to slide off into a seated position next to me. From here, we can see out of the floor to ceiling windows, so we spend about 10 minutes just sat staring out in comfortable silence.

“Luke Jackson is my brother. Older brother. Brock Rumlow is his best friend, and they have been the best of friends since they were literal kids. Since before I was born” She begins. At this, I turn my body slightly towards her to let her know that I’m listening, but her gaze is still fixed out of the window.

“The other day when I saw Brock for the first time, it was like everything came rushing back. I knew he’d recognised me. I hoped that he’d lost contact with Luke, and then I saw him in the lobby. I should have known better. I should have told someone. Maybe this never would have happened.” Y/n mimics my movements this time and turns to face me.

“When I was 13, my school found out that my dad wasn’t treating me right, so he got arrested. Was put away with a lonnngggg sentence. Not long enough in my opinion but it’s better than nothing, I guess. Brock and Luke were pissed. Dad and Luke always got along well in the ‘hate-y/n’ fan club, and Brock fitted in really fucking well. You see they all adored my mom, but unfortunately, she died from complications stemming from my birth. So, they all blamed me. And when dad got arrested, Luke was already 18 and I had no other surviving relatives, so he had to take care of me. Already he hated me because I killed his mom, then I got his dad arrested, and then to add fuel to the fire, he had to take care of me. This anger had to be channelled somehow, so he took it out on me. Started with pushing me around a little, throwing stuff at me and calling me names. Then it progressed to full on beating me up, allowing Brock to join in, starving me, humiliating me, getting rid of all of my belongings when I was at school, locking me out. You name it, he did it, all with the help of his bestie Brock. One day when I turned 16 I had enough, so I ran away. Ran past the army recruitment office, saw they provided a place to live, and never looked back.” That son of a bitch.

“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry” I breathe out.

I notice her eyes wandering to my hands, and it’s only then that I realise that I’ve been gripping the comforter too tight and have ripped it in several places. I release them and tentatively place one hand over hers. All of a sudden, tears begin cascading down her cheeks, so I tug her towards me and drag her back to the headboard, with my back laid against it and y/n curled into my side.

“I don’t usually cry this much. It’s just been so long since I’ve told anyone this. Elle is the only other person who knows.”

I didn’t know what to do with all her honesty, so the best I could do was make her feel comfortable and safe enough to cry it out. After about half an hour, her sobs quieten, but the tears are still falling.

“I know you want to ask. I heard what Fury said. And Luke.” She whispers.

Of course I want to ask, but I don’t want to seem too intrusive. She’s just admitted that I’m the only other person she’s told, and although it warms my heart that she trusts me so much, I don’t want to break that trust.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to doll.” Is all I say.

“Well, I didn’t want to tell you about Luke, but I kind of feel better now that you know. Less to hide” she sighs, wrapping an arm across my stomach and burrowing even further into me.

We’re not exactly strangers to this type of physical intimacy. Several times we have ended up in positions such as this, either from movie nights, game nights, one of Stark’s parties, or even just chilling in each other’s’ rooms. But the additional emotional intimacy elevates our closeness to another level, and it’s one I could get used to, and by the way y/n’s body language is practically screaming relaxation despite the conversation topic, I can tell she feels the same. She takes a deep breath, then pulls away from me and turns on her side to face me. I do the same.

“Please don’t think of me any differently for what I’m about to tell you. I was young…a literal child. I knew know better and I hate myself for it every day.”

My heart begins to pound. I have a gut feeling that what she is about to tell me will make my stomach churn, but I know I have to be strong for her.

“Is this to do with your father?” I question meekly. She nods.

“Baby, I would never judge you, you know that right?” She nods again.

“Okay, you can tell me.” I probe.

“When I was a child, from around the age of 7 to 13 my father…he…he” she looks up into my eyes. Gently I smile, to encourage her and let her know that it’s okay. This is a safe space.

“When I was a child, myfathersexuallyabusedme” y/n rushed out.

Y/N’S POV

The words came out as more of a jumble really, but one look at Steve’s face told me he heard and understood every word. His eyes darkened, anger swimming in throughout the pools of blue, but deep down I knew he would never hurt me, so I surprised myself by carrying on. Telling Steve of this was a lot easier than I suspected it would be, which is exactly what happened when I told Elle.

“The way my father phrased it, was that I had killed his personal ‘plaything’, so the least I could do was fill in for her whilst he looked for a replacement. I won’t go into specifics, but you can sort of guess…” I trail off.

“Jesus fucking Christ” he grumbled out, looking up at the ceiling.

His reaction caused tears to start forming again, and at my hesitation he looked back at me.

“No baby, not at you. At him. You can carry on, I’m sorry.” Jesus, could this man get any more perfect?

“At the time, I was so desperate to make him like me that I would have agreed to do anything. I didn’t really understand what he was asking of me, but I think that even if I did, I still would have agreed. I just wanted to be loved.” I admit. “I still do”. I trail off sadly.

“You are baby. You are so loved.” Steve mumbles as he pulls me back onto his chest, wrapping an arm around me. Never have I felt so safe and secure, and I feel the need to tell him.

“I’ve never felt so safe with someone before as I do with you.”

“That’s because I’m a superhero.” He brushes it off nonchalantly.

“No, it’s because you’re Steve Rogers.”

My heart does a little flip at the blush that rises on his cheeks. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a slight crush on the super soldier. He’s been my go-to…my rock for 6 months now. Never have I felt so comfortable with someone before, not even Elle. But I know he’d never look twice at some rookie agent like me, and he certainly won’t now he knows how broken I am. What perfect golden boy would want damaged goods. It’s almost as if he can hear those thoughts.

“None of that was your fault sweetheart. Your father is one sick fuck, Fury got that right. Your brother and Brock are even fucking worse for condoning it. You didn’t kill your mother either. It was unfortunate circumstances. You deserved love then, and you deserve it now. And you have it now. From me, Buck, Sam, Nat, Tony…heck, even Fury has a soft spot for you. Never have I seen him lose his cool like that. He just fired one of his top agents.”

Steve’s words bring tears to my eyes again, but this time they’re accompanied with a smile.

“I love you guys too.” I admit, laying my head back onto his chest.

“Fury knows.” Is all he says.

“I know. I think I knew he’d find out somehow, with all the extensive background checks. The army found out too, but luckily, they never needed to bring it to light. He didn’t tell Bucky or Sam, right?” I panic, quickly raising my upper body again.

“No…no…shush. Relax. He said it wasn’t his place, only that your dad and brother were sick fucks/nasty pieces of work.”

“Oh, thank god. Do you think I’ll have to tell the others.”

“No, not if you don’t want to. They will completely understand. We know better than anyone else what it is like to have a dark past. Just know that they will support you no matter what…myself included.”

Gently I lay back down again, realising just how exhausted I am now that all my adrenaline has worn off. Steve senses my tiredness.

“Go to sleep baby.”

“What about your shower?” I ask, mid-yawn.

“It can wait. Everything can wait for you.” He whispers close to my ear, but I’m so exhausted that by the time it fully registers what he said, my eyes are already closed and I’m practically asleep.

STEVE’S POV

With y/n lay so cutely on my chest asleep, I have to keep reminding myself to think about anything other than what she’s just told me. Because every time I do, I go rigid with pure white, hot, blinding rage and unconsciously tense every muscle, causing her to whine in discomfort. What hurts the most is that she has only ever confided optionally in one other person, and that person hasn’t been speaking to her for 6 months. Especially since she spotted Luke and has been working with Brock. Having no one to talk to about this must have been almost impossible, hence why she was so distracted. The thought of it makes me even more grateful for my best friends Sam and Bucky. Especially for how they looked after her today. Knowing that they have her back just as much as I do eases some of my tension, and reminding myself that she came to my room to confide in me, and said she feels safest with me, not even with Captain America, but with me, Steve Rogers, makes my heart do a little flip. One final glance down at her beautiful face relaxing from her peaceful slumber causes me to shut my eyes and relax just for a little bit, but it’s not long until the exhaustion from the mission and adrenaline rush of the day catches up to me, and soon I too am floating through dream land.

A Few Days Later…

Y/N’s POV

I can’t remember the last time I felt this free. I have no secrets from Steve (other than the fact that I am crushing on him BIG TIME) and it feels so fucking nice. He’s really helped me ever since the incident, making sure I get access to proper therapy. The school offered me some when I was younger, but it was the low-grade stuff that didn’t even scrape the surface, especially as the school counsellor really wasn’t equipped to deal with such trauma.

Bucky and Sam have also been incredible. In the end I decided to tell them about it all. Telling Steve felt so freeing, and both he and my therapist helped me to understand that it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault that my mom died. It wasn’t my fault that my dad sexually abused me. It wasn’t my fault that my dad got sent to prison for the crime that HE committed, and I certainly wasn’t to blame when Brock and Luke couldn’t contain their anger.

I decided that I wanted to tell them in Steve’s room again, it had become my safe space, and with Steve holding my hand (quite literally) I plucked up the courage to tell them. Sam was super sweet, falling into his VA role with words of encouragement, telling me how proud of me he was and that he would support me no matter what. Bucky on the other hand had to be restrained by Steve for 5 minutes to prevent him from, in his own words ‘finding those little shits, detaching each of their limb’s piece by piece, and finally putting a bullet between their eyes.’ As for my dad, bucky devised the plan of ‘chopping his dick off and suffocating him with it.’ Whilst the idea of both plans was very tempting, the thought of Bucky having to face the repercussions was more concerning.

Eventually, he agreed not to carry out his plans, just fantasise about them instead, and as soon as Steve released him, he darted up and pulled me into a bear hug.

“They should have protected you, not blame you. I would have protected you. You’re like my little sister.” He whispered into my hair. I then felt two more arms wrap around me from the back, causing Bucky to groan.

“Shut up Buck, this isn’t about you.” Sam warned, but I could feel him grinning into my neck.

“He’s right though, they should have protected you. I would have protected you.” He admitted sincerely.

“I wish you two were my brothers instead” I well up, causing more tears to fall.

“Well I guess that makes it official then. You have now adopted two new brothers.” Bucky jokes, picking me up and spinning me around. Their words cause tears to form in my eyes. He places me down and gives me an earnest smile.

“Thanks guys. Love ya.” Sam pulls me into a side hug and kisses my forehead.

“Love you too girl.”

Fury gave me the option of pressing charges against Brock and Luke, but I decided not to. I was fortunate enough that I didn’t have to actually tell Fury, he just did his research, but with a strong promise from the guys not to tell anyone, and the Avengers not to pry (because of course they found out something had happened) I wanted to do my best to move on from it. The thought of having to unpack all of that in a courtroom for a bunch of random people made me want to vomit. Instead, Steve, Sam, and Bucky went on a ‘mini mission’ to locate Brock and Luke, take them to an abandoned warehouse, and quite literally threaten them within an inch of their life (well…that was mainly Bucky) that if they ever came near me again, or told a soul, then their bodies would wash up on the shores somewhere in Europe. And it seemed to have worked. They were wiped from the S.H.I.E.L.D employee database and were almost already forgotten.

Bucky took over Rumlow’s training schedule for the trainees and the change in everyone’s moods was instant. Rather than being bullied for our weaknesses, Bucky, Steve or Sam would pull us aside and help us to fix it. Now, as a team, we are stronger than ever, passing physicals and aptitude tests better than any of us did before. It feels good to know they support us. Steve also pulled me aside to tell that me that Fury is still considering me for further training to support the Avengers when we graduate in about 4 months.

On the surface, life looked pretty good. But there was still one thing I hadn’t done.

“Are you sure it’s okay for her to come here?” I asked Bucky for the hundredth time.

“Doll…please. Stop asking me. Of course it is. She passed the clearance so there are no issues. Unless she’s like secretly Hydra and this was all a ruse to infiltrate us.” He finishes with a wink. I gasp in mock shock.

“How could you say that?” I smile as I place a hand on my chest and feign hurt. Normally I would have asked Steve, but he had to go on a quick mission with Sam and given that I’m not a fully-fledged agent I needed someone to supervise her entrance to the tower for clearance. So here we are, stood side by side in front of the back entrance to the tower. I told Elle to meet me around here to prevent garnering too much attention on Bucky. You’d be amazed at how many women fawn all over him.

“You’d be surprised by what they try to do.”

“Well, I can assure you I’m not Hydra. Just plain ‘ol Elle” comes a quiet voice from behind. Both Bucky and I turn around at the same time, and both of our breaths hitch. Mine from the shock of seeing her in front of me after so long and missing her so much. One look at Bucky and the heart eyes he was making at her told me all I needed to know.

“Hi” she squeaked out. I couldn’t form the words to say how I felt, so instead I rushed forward into her arms, and she welcomed me.

“I missed you so much” I whisper. We stand like that for about 5 minutes until Bucky quietly coughs behind us.

“Not that I want to break this up, but…” he trails off.

“Oh yeah…of course. Sorry Buck” I wince as I step back. He reaches his hand out to Elle.

“Hi, I’m Bucky” he winks, turning on his famous charm.

“Elle” she smiles back shyly. Well this is going to be fun.

6 Months Later…

Y/N’S POV

If you could go back in time and change the way you did things, you would. It turns out that telling people your past is very cathartic. Now, when you wake up, you actually feel the sun on your skin, not just peeking through the dark cloud that is your past. And this sun is especially bright today.

“GOOD MORNING HONEY”

“GET UP BABYDOLL”

“Guys, give the lady some respect.”

Hearing them outside your door brought the biggest of grins to your face.

“FUCK OFF” you shout back.

“Hey, I was nice to you.” Steve quips back. Of course he was. He always is. Ignoring the tiny flip your heart does when you hear his voice, you peel back the covers.

Today is probably the most important day of your life. You graduate S.H.I.E.L.D training. That’s right. You become a fully-fledged agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Move your asses weirdos. Y/N open up.” Comes the very demanding voice of your best friend Elle.

Why is she here in the tower you ask. Well, three guesses. Ever since Bucky set his eyes on her that fateful day six months ago, they’ve been absolutely smitten with each other. Within a week of meeting each other, they’d been on 4 dates and couldn’t stop gushing about each other. After a brief 2-month deployment, they became inseparable. Any day off they have together, they spend together. Both in bed and out of it. It can be sickening at times, but most of the time it’s actually really sweet to see them both so happy together. Plus, with Elle staying with Bucky all of the time, it means you get to see your best friend regularly, albeit with Bucky tagging along. But he’s more like a bodyguard, just hanging back, loitering ready to protect from any danger.

You see, Bucky loves you both but in different ways. You’re like his little sister, and ever since the incident he has turned up the protectiveness. Even though he saw and instilled the fear himself in Brock and Luke’s eyes, he still worries that they’ll turn up for one last attempt at punishment. Elle is the love of his damn life. When you know, you know. She sees him for him. There’s no Winter Soldier with her. There’s no super solider with her. He’s just Bucky.

The only problem with seeing your best friend all the time is also hearing her. All night. Bucky’s room is next to yours and opposite Steve’s which means Sams’ room is the quietest (though you can still hear EVERYTHING) which means that the 3 of you have found yourselves huddled in his room with a spontaneous movie night too many times to count. Even with the volume impossibly loud, there’s no mistaking what they’re doing, especially poor Steve with his super-hearing. The worst part is the next morning when trying not to make eye contact.

But overall, you, Steve and Sam couldn’t be happier for them two.

At this point, all 4 of them have seen you at your worse, so after quickly brushing your teeth you don’t even bother with pants or brushing your hair before you open your door.

“WHY are you 3 out here shouting like idiots.”

“BECAUSE IT’S YOUR BIG DAY GORGEOUS” Sam grins.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t make a big deal of today?” Bucky smirks.

“And your excuse golden boy?” you ask, cocking your hip as you turn towards Steve, but at his silence you bring your eyes to his face only to find that he’s not looking at yours, instead raking his gaze along your legs. You feel the blush creep up your neck, and at Bucky’s snicker you know he’s seen it too.

“Ahem” Sam coughs, also smirking.

“Sorry, what?” Steve asks shaking his head a bit, and when his gaze meets yours, he at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish.

“Why are you here?” you ask.

“It’s your big day baby, we gotta celebrate you properly starting with the best breakfast we can find.” He smirks widely at the nickname he dropped.

If there’s one thing about America’s golden boy, it’s that he is far from being a golden boy. He knows what it does to you when he calls you ‘baby’. Everyone knows what it does to you. There’s no way he doesn’t know about your affections towards him, but as a trainee it is wildly inappropriate for him to even acknowledge them. You have no idea whether or not Steve reciprocates, and even though Sam, Bucky, and even Elle try to tell you that he is just as sweet on you, you still have doubts. Technically you finished the academy weeks ago so there’s no reason why he hasn’t made a move yet. Knowing that he doesn’t feel the same way does make you feel awful, but being able to elicit these small moments of flirting fills the void just enough to get through the day. So even though it’s like slow torture, you’ll take it.

“Precisely.” Elle speaks up, breaking your trance with Steve.

“Seriously Elle, could you find a shorter t-shirt” you joke with her upon taking in her appearance.

Messy sex hair and the shortest t-shirt known to man that barely covers her tiny thong is all that adorns your best friends’ body. Meanwhile you’re stood there in an old pyjama t-shirt and wearing the ugliest boy shorts with messy bed hair. Not sex hair. If there’s was ever an image to highlight the differences between you and your best friend, it would be this. And even though you love her like a sister, it’s hard not to feel insecure in her presence when she looks so hot, and you don’t, especially with Steve here, making it painfully evident that you are not worthy of the hot super soldier. Elle is hot. She is worthy of a super soldier superhero. You are not.

With Elle being the best person in the world, she reads your emotions in your eyes, and if there’s one thing this girl knows how to do, it’s change the subject and make you feel better.

“Oh hush, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before” she winks.

“Oh that’s hot” Sam practically groans out.

“Gross” you and Elle say at the same time, wrinkling your noses.

“Hey”

“Oi” Steve and Bucky shout at the same time, each slapping Sam around the back of head.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about perv” Bucky grumbles, pulling off his own t-shirt and pulling it down over Elle which covers up considerably more.

“And that’s my…” Steve hesitates, causing you all to look at him. “Friend” he mumbles, as though in pain. You know that’s all you are, but it still hurts.

“We were roommates you freak” Elle hisses, shoving you into your room. “Bye boys. See you at breakfast” she shouts over her shoulder as she pushes you both into your room and slams the door.

“That boy is so damn soft on you” she grins.

“Elle, please. Not today.” You mumble, heading to your closet to pick out your outfit for the day, fighting the tears slowly pooling in your eyes.

“Okay babe. I won’t push it; I can tell it’s not the right time. But I’m not letting this go.” She warns as she exits your room.

You know exactly what she refers to: you pining after Steve. If there was one person who would notice, it would be her, which means she also knows how disappointed you are that Steve hasn’t made a move yet, and as today technically marks your final day as a trainee, it means he isn’t interested at all if he was going to make a move he would’ve. This means that, as of 4pm this afternoon, at the end of the ceremony you will officially be in the mourning period of what could have been with Steve. The thought of Steve not reciprocating your feelings shattered your soul. After you told Steve everything, he promised you that he didn’t see you any differently, but you can’t help but doubt that. Especially when everyone tells you Steve likes you, yet he shows no signs of it.

Graduation day officially marks the end of your trainee phase leaving you as a fully certified S.H.I.E.L.D agent, so if Steve wanted to make a move, then he could. Relationships with superiors are frowned upon as a trainee: people could argue Steve (and Bucky by virtue) gave you special treatment. Training ended 6 weeks ago with final exams already being marked and assessed, yet Steve hasn’t made a move, clearly highlighting his lack of interest, hence your glum mood. Even on a day which is supposed to be one of the best in your life, your heart feels like it is breaking in two. Of course you are insanely proud of yourself; not only did you finish top of your classes in everything, but you also faced your personal demons.

With that thought in mind, you managed to pluck up enough courage to dress somewhat nicely (though the lure of comfy loungewear was incredibly strong knowing how uncomfortable you would be in your formal S.H.I.E.L.D wear at the ceremony later on) and meet the guys in the kitchen for breakfast.

“HOT STUFF” Sam greeted loudly, running over to you and spinning you round. The affection in his actions warmed your soul, so you allowed yourself to grin widely and push your longing to the back of your mind in order to enjoy your day with everyone as much as possible. Afterall, it isn’t often that you get to enjoy all 4 of your best friends together.

A FEW HOURS LATER…

“Congratulations agent y/l/n, I can’t wait to work alongside you.” Steve said as he approached you and gathered you into a huge hug.

The ceremony where all new agents go up and collect their S.H.I.E.L.D agent badge just ended and lord were you relieved. Yes, you look smart and quite well put together, but the itch of the starchy uniform was really starting to irritate you. You couldn’t wait to get out of it and into your beautiful new dress for the afterparty later.

“Aw thanks Steve. I couldn’t have done it without you, or you two” you coo.

Several times the 3 soldiers have tried to downplay their role in your success, but honestly, without Steve’s constant support and unwavering faith in your ability to overcome your past, you wouldn’t have been able to make it through the mental demands of the job. Not only that, but Bucky and Sam became lifelines when it came to the physical side of training. Bucky helped you master wielding a weapon quicker than any trainer in the army ever did; the army taught you that it was your first line of defence, but Bucky taught you it was your last. With Sam not having any serum, he became a godsend when it came to practicing hand-to-hand combat or overcoming the physical demands of the job. Whenever you asked him to train with you, he never said no, and for that you were so grateful. Yes, you were very aware of just how fortunate you were to have all of this support.

“Ahhhh….you’re welcome doll.” Bucky grins widely, arm slung around Elle’s shoulders.

“Yeah honey, gotta make sure I know you got my back avenging.” Sam quipped.

“HA” you guffawed. “I don’t think you’ll be seeing me on any avenger missions falcon.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure agent y/l/n. You have displayed a strong character and admirable determination for growth and improvement. 6 months of regular agent duties, then I want you training with the Avengers.” Nick Fury said from behind you.

You spun around in complete shock, so surprised in fact that you missed the proud smiles on Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Elle’s faces as you met the stoic gaze of the man you held the most respect for.

“Tha..” you croaked out. With a slight cough, you began again, already feeling your blush creep up your cheeks. “Thank you, Director Fury, Sir. It would be an honour.”

“The honour would be mine.” Is all he added, with a knowing smile. It was as clear as day for anyone to see that Fury admired your strength in dealing with your family.

“See, I told you to have more faith in yourself.” Came the deep rumble of Steve’s voice in your ear, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath caress your soft skin. Your breath hitched un your throat, and you knew Steve noticed, but with a sudden surge of confidence, you turned your head towards him and brought your gaze up to his blue eyes.

“Lucky I have you to pick me up then” you smiled earnestly.

“Always” came his soft reply, something in his gaze softening as he held your stare intensely. It was almost as though everything around you ceased to exist, until a rather excited agent interrupted.

“Sergeant Barnes, are you going to keep training us in weaponry. You’re the best the academy’s ever had.”

The agent’s exclamation startled you both, causing Steve’s head to snap up. You followed his path as you looked at the agent in question. You knew the agent had seen you and Steve positioned rather closely, and you knew Steve knew as he pushed you away from him in a desperate manner. With a grunt, he straightened the tie of his impossibly tight shirt and mumbled a quick ‘catch-up later’ before he took off into the crowd of excited new agents.

You knew the crack in your heart was painfully evident on your face as you met the sympathetic gazes of the others. Trying to summon the last of your strength, you faked a small smile and excused yourself to the refreshments section, feigning thirst.

“Fucking punk” was all you heard from Bucky as you quickly fled the scene, trying desperately to fight the tears threatening to cascade.

“Y/N! Y/N wait” Elle cried after you. She quickly caught up and softly grasped your arm to turn you towards her. One look at your teary eyes had her quickly pulling you away from the crowds and into a more secluded section. “Come on babe.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll get over it, I just need a minute.”

“Take your time. Buck said this bit is reserved for this evening so no one will come here.”

“God, even those dimwits picked up on it. How dumb can I be” you cried out, not caring how much your mascara ran anymore.

Elle gathered you up into your arms.

“Hey, hey. I won’t have you talking about my best friend like that.” She warned. “You are not stupid. Far from it. He is the stupid one for not seeing what is right in front of him.”

“No, no he’s not. He’s smart. Who the hell would want to be with me. I have baggage a mile wide. There’s nothing appealing about me.” You sobbed into Elle’s shoulder.

“That’s not true” came the deep grumble of Steve’s voice behind you, in the tone he often used when you were being too hard on yourself. You squeaked in surprise, and before you could hide behind Elle, she had pulled away and muttered a quick “I’ll give you two some space.”

You swiftly dapped at your eyes and tried to muster the most neutral face you could, but it just seemed impossible. Steve had seen you at your worst, he always saw right through you, and you knew he was all too aware that the tears were because of him.

“Baby…I…” he started, starting forward as he reached for you, but you took a step back.

“No. Please Steve, don’t do this.” You all but begged.

“Do what. I want to be honest with you.”

“Say something just to try to make me feel better.”

“Sweetheart, that’s not what I’m doing. I would never do that. Everything I say to you is honest.” He replied in a surprisingly strong voice, completely contrasting his previous tone.

“I just…god….I….I’m really” he stuttered again, voice once again becoming uncertain. He took a deep breath in, took a step towards you, and you didn’t move back this time, which seemed to encourage him to go on.

“You were so brave when you told me about your past. I’m trying to be brave like you were. God, for a super soldier I certainly lack bravery when it comes to talking.” You giggled at his rambling, watching the corners of his lips curve slightly at the sound of your laugh. This time you took the step toward him, and watched as he straightened up, as though your presence had affected him, which you knew wasn’t true.

“I like you y/n. No, in fact I love you. A lot. Like a lot, a lot. Think of all the stars and planets and galaxies and universes out there, and then times that by 1 million, and then infinity and then 4 billion and then double it. That’s how much I love you. I have loved you since the moment you cussed me out for sneaking up on you. I loved your passion when you spoke about helping people, I loved your ability to see past me as an avenger, but instead spoke to me like a normal person. Like Steve. I loved you when you immediately accepted Sam and Buck bickering like an old married couple. I loved you when you first stepped into the training arena that day with so much determination to succeed. I loved how you slotted yourself right into my life the moment you got here. One minute I’m spending every minute either alone or with Sam and Buck and wondering what I’m doing wrong in life for them to be the only people seeking me out.”

You laughed again at his words but couldn’t stop the tears from flowing freely from your eyes. You both took a step closer to one another, this time close enough for Steve to place a hand on either side of your head, and you to brace your hands on the crisp white shirt covering his muscled chest.

“Every morning, I awake so excited to see you. For the first time in such a long time, I can barely wait to go to sleep, because it means that when I awaken in the morning, I can think of you again. Sleeping on missions used to be so hard, but now its slightly easier because I know I’ll see you in my dreams. You’re always there, waiting for me.”

“Steve” you practically whisper, watching tears gather in his own eyes as his thumbs wipe the tears from under your eyes.

“But I have never loved you more than the day you opened up to me. The courage and strength it took you to tell me made me realise just how proud of you I was. I am. That night when you lay in my arms, all I could think about was how much my heartbeat for you. Even through the rage I felt, the blinding hot rage that swarmed my mind and body and soul, every move you made, every thought about you that I had, made my heart slow. Relax. Swoon. I wanted to hurt them. Torture them, not kill them because that’s the easy way out, but I wanted them to feel the pain, but I wanted you to feel safe more. Because I love you. I can’t tell you the pain I feel in my heart when I think of what they did to you, but just know that it’s nothing compared to what I will inflict on them the next time I see them, if I ever do though it’s not likely given how much Bucky made them shit their pants.” Steve joked.

Even through your tears, you couldn’t help but smile. He loved you. He loves you.

“I know I should have told you this sooner. Believe me, it has killed me to be around you but not be able to act on this. But I did it to protect you. I know you know what they would say about you if we were ever found out. It’s wrong, but that’s the way it is, and I hate it. Sam had to take over the agents’ physical training because I couldn’t bring myself to lay a finger on you, and if I can’t fight you then I can’t fight anyone.”

“Oh Steve. I thought it was because you were worried, I’d think you were going to hurt me like Luke and Brock” you cooed, stepping even closer this time and sliding your arms around to his back, underneath his suit jacket.

“No baby. I just couldn’t hurt you. I thought I was discreet about it, but it turns out everyone knows how much of a goner I am for you except you, and that kills be baby. Hell, even seeing Bucky and Elle together made my heart hurt, because that should be us. I waited until today to tell you because I wanted everyone to see just how much of an amazing person you are first. I wanted people to watch you walk across that stage on your own so that they could see just how incredible you are to achieve this without anyone’s help. I know you think we helped you, but it’s all you baby girl. You’re phenomenal. You’ve done so well to be where you are today. You’ve handled everything alone and I couldn’t be prouder, so I wanted you to have one more day where you could feel the pride in yourself that I and everyone else has for you when we see you thrive. One more day before I hopefully swoop in and tell you that you don’t need to do it on your own anymore. That I am here to help you. To help carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Before I tell you that I lov…”

You don’t let him finish his sentence before your mind takes over your body and crashes your lips to his. It was though a thousand fireworks went off in your heart as it sung for you as though an invisible string tied to Steve’s own heart pulled you both together. You moaned and groaned into each other before the lack of oxygen caused you to pull away.

Breathless, you both stood there gazing into each other’s eyes. Despite all he had said though, you still struggled to believe that he could want you. This brought a fresh onslaught of tears to your eyes, causing you to close them in attempt to keep them at bay. Steve seemed to sense this, and closed his own as he brought his forehead to your own.

“Talk to me” he soothed.

“I am not perfect.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“I have so much baggage Steve.”

“Good thing I’m a super soldier then with super strength.”

“Steve, you don’t understand”

“No. I do understand sweetheart. You think I don’t have my own baggage. Hell, I’m over 100 hundred years old.”

“What if I ruin us”

“I doubt that very much”

“No…but…what if my problems are too much.”

“You could never be too much” he soothed.

No matter what worry you had, he found a way to oppose it.

“But this might not be like a normal relationship though” you whimpered.

“Why”

“Because I can’t…I don’t” you huffed in frustration.

“Now who can’t talk” he joked.

“Steeeveeee” you whined. “It’s not funny”

“It sort of his” he smiled.

“What if we can’t…you know…do what other couples do. I’ve not…since my dad…yanno”

“No, I don’t know. I need you to use your words honey” he cooed, and in that moment right then, you knew that Steve cared, already opening a line of communication for the both of you, something any healthy couple has.

“I haven’t you know…been…” you mumbled.

“Intimate?” he prompted.

“Yeah” you sighed out in relief that he finally got what you were trying to say. Looking up into the crystal blue gaze, you realised that the judgement you feared wasn’t there, prompting you to carry on.

“I’ve never been…. intimate” you struggled “with anyone but…but him” you admitted.

“Okay baby. Then we go slow. We go so slow that we could be together forever and only try it on our death beds. I don’t care. If you think I only want you because I want sex then clearly, I haven’t done a good enough job of proving just how much I love you.”

“NO! I…You…You’ve done a great job” you admit shyly as you begin to smile slightly again. “It’s just my stupid past interfering”

“It’s not stupid. It’s valid. We will figure it out. We will figure it all out together okay. Do you trust me?” he asked earnestly, looking so deeply into your eyes it was like your souls called out to each other.

“Steve. Of course I do…I love you.”

Your admission caused the man to smile so widely, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so elated. He picked you up in a bear hug and spun you around.

“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that” he breathed into your head once he placed you back down. “We’re in this together okay…until the end”

“The end?” you question.

“When we’re sat on our porch holding each other watching our grandchildren and great grandchildren play as we reminisce on this very moment”.

The very thought of doing that with him makes you smile just as wide as him.

“Fuck. I love you Steve”

“I know” he grins as he kisses you again.

“FUCKING FINALLY”

“GET IT GIRL”

“TOLD YOUUUU”

You both chuckled at the mixed voices of Bucky, Sam and Elle who all stood at the edge of the area, whoop whooping and grinning so much you couldn’t help but giggle yourself. You felt Steve wrap his arms around you tightly and you nuzzled yourself into his chest.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Me neither” you admit, closing your eyes and relaxing yourself completely into his embrace.

Fuck your dad. Fuck Luke, and fuck Brock, because this. They couldn’t touch this. But god help them when Steve, Sam and Buck find them again. And god help your dad on release day.

AHHHHHHH!!! Thank you guys for making it this far!!! I hope you enjoyed it :)

#Steve x reader #Steve rogers x reader #military!reader #soldier!reader #Steve rogers x military! reader angst #angst #fluff #Steve rogers angst #Steve rogers fluff #marvel #avengers #Bucky barnes #sam wilson

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kookie-doughs · 1 year ago

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Again And Again

Portgas D Ace X Reader

-Amatsuki Y/N decided to stay in the future without her sister upon meeting a friend’s son.

Chapter 12: Annabel Lee

After the war and your escape, a somber silence descended upon the world. The Straw Hat Pirates, Sabo, and the Whitebeard Pirates all collectively disappeared from the public eye.

Luffy, in his grief and fear of facing another devastating loss, made the difficult decision to temporarily disband his crew. He believed that they needed to grow stronger individually before they could face the challenges that lay ahead. With heavy hearts, the Straw Hat Pirates went their separate ways, each carrying the memory of the fight.

Sabo, too, chose to step away from the Revolutionary Army temporarily. He felt a deep sense of responsibility for his younger brother, Luffy, and for you. He wanted to be by your side, to offer support and comfort during this difficult time of grieving.

As for the Whitebeard Pirates, the loss of their beloved captain and brother dealt a crushing blow to the crew. Without their powerful leader to guide them, they decided to disband, each member seeking their own path in the world. It was a time of uncertainty and reflection for all of them.

In the days that followed, the pain of Ace's loss remained, but so did the love and support of his brothers. There were moments when you questioned everything, when you considered going back to the past once again, to the time before he was lost. The pain of losing him seemed too much to bear, and the desire to change the course of history, to save him, became overwhelming.

In the quiet moments when you were alone with your thoughts, you would replay the events in your mind, seeking for any possible way to alter the outcome. The memories of your failed attempts haunted you, and you wondered if there was some hidden detail, some overlooked chance that could have changed everything.

But each time you entertained the idea of going back, of trying again, something held you back. The memory that despite the pain and the heartache, you we're unsure if you'd trade for. The minutes of time you had spent with Ace and his brothers, before he lay. The love and connection you had forged with them were too precious to let go of, even in the face of tragedy.

With the support of Sabo and Luffy, you found the strength to keep going, even in the face of your deepest pain. They understood the weight of your grief, having shared in the loss of their beloved brother. You leaned on them heavily, finding comfort in the bond that united you as family.

But as time passed, the longing to see Ace once again never faded. It was a constant ache in your heart, a yearning that stayed with you no matter how much time had gone by. You missed his laughter, his warmth, and especially his love.

You would visit his grave, seeking solace in the quiet sanctuary where he rested. It was a place where you could pour out your heart, sharing your thoughts and feelings with him as if he were still there. You would talk to him as if he could hear you, hoping that somehow, in some way, he was listening.

Your friends, especially Marco, Luffy and Sabo, understood your longing all too well. They too missed Ace dearly, and they would reminisce about their time with him, sharing stories that brought both laughter and tears. They were your pillars of support, offering comfort and understanding whenever you needed it.

In your dreams, you would often see Ace, as if he were reaching out to you from another world. Those dreams were both a comfort and a torment, for they reminded you of what you had lost but also brought a sense of peace, as if he were assuring you that he was still with you in some way.

You often wondered what life would have been like if he were still alive. How different everything would have been, how much happier and fuller your days would be with him by your side. But you also knew that dwelling on such thoughts would not change the past.

You found yourself sitting with Sabo under the clear night sky, the stars shining brightly above you. The memories of the past still weighed heavily on your heart, but you had come to appreciate the present and the company of those who remained by your side.

As you look out at the vast sea, tears well up in your eyes, but you manage to hold them back. You turn to Sabo, feeling the weight of grief in your heart, and ask him the difficult question, "Sabo, if you had my power, would you go back in time?"

Sabo takes a moment to consider your question, his expression somber. "I wouldn't, Ace didn't want you to go back in time and change anything," Sabo says softly. "He wanted you to live in the present. Y/N, please stop suffering."

"Why is it that grieving never seems to get easier?" you ask, your voice tinged with sadness. "I thought with time, it'd be less painful, but it's still tough."

Sabo lets out a sigh, he pulls you to rest your head on his shoulder. "Grieving is different for everyone, and there's no right or wrong way to deal with it," he explains. "Time can ease the hurt a bit, but it's natural to miss someone you loved so much."

You wipe away a tear and nod again, appreciating Sabo's understanding. "Yeah, I miss him a lot," you admit.

"We all do," Sabo says, running his fingers through your hair.

His word was comforting to you. But it wasn't enough. As he left, you stood by the shore, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks bringing a sense of peace. You felt a mix of emotions - sadness, love, and the desire to have just one more moment with Ace.

"Hey Ace," you whispered softly, as if he were right there beside you. "I know I promised not to go back, but... I miss you so much. I can't help but wish I could see you again."

You took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. "I know you didn't want me to keep going back, and I understand why," you continued. "But it's hard, Ace. Grieving is so so hard, and I'm trying my best, but sometimes it feels like I'm drowning in memories."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you wiped them away with the back of your hand. "I wish I could hear your voice again, see your smile, hold you," you confessed. "I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me and how much I love you."

"I just want a future with you," you whispered, a smile forming through your tears.

Four years ago, fate had woven your paths together, and you had the privilege of meeting Ace. His fiery spirit and warm smile left an everlasting impression on your heart. Three years ago, he made the decision to join the Whitebeard Pirates, setting sail on a grand adventure. You cheered for him, supporting his dreams as he became a formidable member of the crew.

Two years ago, your feelings for Ace grew into something deeper. His courage, kindness, and the way he cared for his crewmates made you fall in love with him. It was a love that burned brightly, matching the intensity of Ace's own flame. You treasured every moment spent together, cherishing the laughter and camaraderie you shared.

Then, one year ago, everything changed. The devastating news of his capture and impending execution shook your world. The grief and anguish felt like an insurmountable weight on your shoulders. You tried everything in your power to change fate, to save him, but the universe seemed to be relentless in its cruel twists of destiny.

Time did not heal your wounds. A year of adjusting, Luffy was practically back to his usual self or so the Straw Hats that visit say. He plans to depart and continue with his adventure in a year.

Sabo stayed to keep watch of you, sensing that time hadn't helped you like it helped them. His return to the army yet to come.

The weight of guilt began to gnaw at your heart. You couldn't help but feel responsible for holding Sabo back from his own adventures by leaning on him for support during your grieving process. The thought of hindering his dreams made you feel even more burdened with guilt.

Marco who often takes you to the island he now started a life in, trying to keep the memory of Ace out of your mind, and get you out of Sabo's hands.

One evening, you found yourself confiding in Marco, feeling the need to share your inner turmoil with someone you trusted deeply. As you sat together on the deck of the ship, the sea breeze gently caressed your face.

"Marco, I... I need to talk to you about something," you began, your voice tinged with hesitation.

He turned to you with a concerned expression. "What's up?"

"I've been thinking a lot about Sabo lately," you admitted, looking down at your hands, "and I just... I mean, I'm grateful for his support and everything he's done for me, but... I can't help but feel like I'm holding him back from his own adventures."

Marco listened attentively, his gentle presence comforting you as you poured out your feelings.

"Sabo left the Revolutionary to be by my side, and I can't help but think what if he regrets that decision sometimes," you continued, your voice wavering. "I don't want to keep him from his dreams."

Marco placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Y/N, I understand how you feel, but you need to remember that Sabo cares about you deeply. He made that choice willingly because he wanted to be there for you during your time of grief. It's not your fault that life dealt you this difficult hand. When you finally move on from Ace, then everything can go back."

"I can't ever go back," You say.

"Y/N, just gi-"

"No, Marco, time is not going to help me. Nothing will. I'm never moving on..." You knew that as a fact.

"Y/N,"

"If I go back and save Ace, then none of this would have happened," you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. "I miss him so much, Marco. I can't imagine a life without him, and it's tearing me apart."

Marco gave you a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. "I know it's tough, Y/N. Losing someone we love leaves an emptiness that seems impossible to fill. But you have to remember that Ace wouldn't want this. He would want you to find happiness and keep moving forward, cherishing the time you had together."

Previous | Masterlist

Ending A | Ending B

Guys hihihi I made two possible endings im not gonna say which is which thanks for your support btw ily all i hope you enjoy the ending!! Personally I prefer ending A though just saying👀

-kookiedoughs

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @nykie-love-anime @cinnamonrollscafe @sol-d15

#x reader #fanfiction #y/n l/n #ace #portgas ace #portgas d ace #ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece #one piece ace #one piece portgas ace #one piece portgas d ace #one piece x reader #one piece ace x reader #one piece portgas d ace x reader #one piece portgas ace x reader

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souma-stars · 2 years ago

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🌙💔AFTER YOU BREAK UP WITH THEM: AKATSUKI💔🌙

akatsuki x gn reader, sfw

warnings: SADNESS OVERLOAD T-T, slight fluff, mention of seppuku

a/n: I’m so sorry to anyone who reads this, break up songs truly hit different :,( also this one is pretty loooongg

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KEITO

- Breaking up with you surely took a huge toll on him. You were probably the first person he had ever dated and had romantic feelings for, so he’s surely going to have a hard time coping with it.

- One of his main coping mechanisms would be becoming an even bigger workaholic than he already was. Drowning himself in the paperwork would prevent him from thinking about you and feeling the painful emotions that had resulted from your breakup. Obviously this doesn’t help him get any better as he loses more sleep and eats less.

- In the rare moments when he isn’t working, he’s thinking of you. Thinking about what went wrong, what had he done wrong and what he could’ve done better. Were you going through something that led you to break up with him? Why couldn’t you tell him? If only he was there for you when you needed him and yada yada. All this overthinking leaves him to yet again lose more sleep and have less energy throughout the day. It’s clear on his face that he isn’t doing well.

- However one day he’ll make it through all of it, with the help and support of his fellow Akatsuki members and his friends. He might still feel a bit bitter when thinking about your guys’ relationship but he would know that it was all for the best. Somewhere far in the future there would be a brighter day for him.

KURO

- No matter how hard he tries to leave the thought of you, there is always something to remind him.

- Being a person who sews, Kuro is very attentive to the smallest of details, and it was no different when it came to you. There were so many little things about you that he made mental notes of. Your favorite drink at the cafe that you both frequented at. Your favorite artist whose concert you’ve been yearning to go to. Your favorite color, your favorite flower, the type of clothing you enjoyed wearing.

- It wasn’t just your interests, it was also about you. The slight bounce in your steps when you walked— sometimes when you walked you would purposely skip over the cracks in the sidewalk. The way your eyes sparkled like the stars when you were excited. The way your brows furrowed when you were lost in thought.

- When he held your face between his hands and caressed your cheeks which were so soft, leaning in to meet your lips that had the sweetest flavor he had ever tasted. The warmth shared between you both had brought him so much comfort that he swore he could spend the rest of his life engulfed in it.

- As all of these little things built up one by one in his mind, his eyes would become wet and he would have to take a minute to compose himself

- One of Kuro’s major insecurities would come out during this time as well. The question would ring in his head— did you leave because you were scared of him? Were you acting like you weren’t afraid of him this entire time? There were certainly times where he had startled you but you had always welcomed him with open arms and a smile regardless of anything that happened. If you were scared of him, he would definitely understand. But it wouldn’t make him feel any better about himself.

- None of this went unnoticed to his younger sister, who had also missed your presence. The times when you came over and she would take you by your hand and drag you to her room, where she would sit you down and paint your nails while she rambled on about her interests. It was nice having someone other than her brother to hang out with for once…

- Over time, Kuro would eventually accept what had happened, knowing it was for the best, like Keito. If this breakup meant happiness for you, then he could be happy. His friends would help him get his mind off this matter and help him understand it to the best that he could. If he were to ever see you out in public, seeing and knowing that you were happy with your current life would bring peace to him and he would be able to move on just as you were able to.

SOUMA

- He would definitely take this out on himself. Souma would view himself as nothing less than a failure and would believe that this is the end for him. Like Keito, this was also probably his first time dating someone so he would also have a hard time coping with it.

- Being someone who is straightforward about his thoughts and feelings, Souma would surely have a hard time holding in his emotions. Many times he would hide away from others and shed painful tears. Or if there was nowhere to hide, he would shamefully burst into tears in front of others, insulting himself at every chance he got. Even at night before he sleeps, silent tears would fall on his pillow as he reminisces about the times spent together with you.

- At some points he may even become dangerously close to committing seppuku but there would always be someone there to stop him in time.

- His daily routine would probably be unaffected on the outside but on the inside he would always be thinking of you. He would practically be possessed with thoughts of you and the breakup because he would see no way past it. Like Keito, Souma would overthink the situation like crazy, to the point where it would physically drain him. It would be obvious on the outside that he was feeling down, but no one could ever comprehend the havoc wreaking in his mind and heart.

- With the support of his best friend Adonis, his Akatsuki seniors, and his close friends, Souma would eventually pull himself together. He would realize that his relationship with you was only a single step on a set of a thousand stairs. There was so much more to his life than this, and he was sure to reach them all!

#ensemble stars #enstars #ensemble stars x reader #enstars x reader #keito hasumi #keito hasumi x reader #kuro kiryu #kuro kiryu x reader #souma kanzaki #souma kanzaki x reader #akatsuki enstars #akatsuki enstars x reader #akatsuki x reader

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dodger-chan · 9 months ago

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23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

Oh, now this is a tough one, because up until a few months ago that answer would be Reveal the Yearning Desert. Well, not the entire fic exactly, but it is an AU I've been thinking about for a while and touches on tropes/concepts I haven't written before that are near to my heart. To get what you asked about here, I may have to move away from Stranger Things.

It's not exactly an AU or a trop, but more of a setting. Shortly after I saw X-Men: Days of Future Past, I started nurturing this idea for a series of fics set in 70s New York City, based off the crazy stories one of my adopted uncles used to tell about his time there (he did college at Juliard and then stayed in the city until I think '74 when he followed his now husband to San Francisco).

(oh, this is getting long more details under the cut)

The general premise would be that after the existence of mutants were revealed to the general public with Magneto's live televised assassination attempt that clearly Andy Warhol would start collecting mutants the way he collected drag queens and talented artists. The stories would center mainly around Toad, Dazzler, and Quicksilver.

Dazzler would be a singer, modeled after Grace Jones (as apparently was originally intended). She would be the most civically minded of the characters, actually trying to fight crime on her off hours. I actually did write a short bit about her rescuing the real life Candy Darling from a mugging and getting her name from Candy and her friends.

Toad was primarily concerned with his own survival, but had picked up a camera Warhol had lost interest in while crashing at The Factory and developed a surprising knack for photography. Despite his artistic talents, he would be perpetually on the edge of homelessness. As with many artists, everyone loves and respects his work, but no one actually wants to give him money. Toad was also the story's lone straight character, frequently pining after girls who weren't interested in him.

Quicksilver was the latecomer to the group, not moving to New York until after the events of Days of Future Past. He gets expelled from highschool for being a mutant (officially, the school alleges he used his mutation to spy on the girl's locker room, which Quicksilver finds more hilarious than insulting because he's very, very gay). He generally gets by through a combination of never needing money and doing favors for people in exchange for a place to crash for a couple of hours. Dazzler and Toad both see him as a little brother they want to keep out of trouble, but he doesn't need much help from them.

Quicksilver is also comfortably out to his family (not Magneto, as they haven't spoken since the prison break, but his mom, step dad and sisters) and they're all fine with it. He visits home semi-regularly and when he's seeing someone the boyfriend is invited for the holidays. No homophobia in the Maximoff household.

#ask game

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sohin-ace · 3 years ago

Text

Kakyoin - Fateful Day

Kakyoin x Jotaro's sister reader

I freaking love the Joot-sister prompt

You were always used to Jotaro and you walking separatedly from and to school. The guy had way longer legs than you and would rather not be seen with you in public and near school, for reasons mysterious to you.

At first you felt offended that he would be ashamed of you, or just not bear your presence.

You did not know, in fact, that the reasons he kept his distance from you as much as he could when on schoolgrounds or when going to school, was to protect you from danger.

Not only was Jotaro constantly surrounded by crazy girls who would probably harass you for existing in his world, but he also had troubles, to understate, with local delinquents and other gangsters who wanted to throw some hands at him.

Furthermore, with the new discovery of that bizarre, seemingly evil spirit that started following him around, you were really the last person he wanted to hurt.

Unfortunately, being distant from his little sister wasn't near enough to protect her this time.

One fateful day, soon after your grandfather arrived in Japan and Jotaro got out of holding, you were walking home from school as usual.

Jotaro was already a solid five minutes away in front of you, which meant you were all alone.

You didn't mind the lone walk, the town was peaceful and you were used to it. But something irked you when you felt an insistant presence behind you.

You turned around, checking, but no one was there. You shrugged the feeling off, feeling a bit stupid for thinking the worse and kept walking, telling yourself it must have been a cat or an innocent someone who got home.

"Jotaro~! Welcome back- hm? Where is your sister?" Holly asked as she welcomed her son who just came home.

The boy grunted, reluctantly accepting his 'welcome home' smooch. "She's coming. She's just slow."

After a long while of waiting for your return, Holly started to worry, stress and anxiety clouding her mind. Panicked, she barged in Jotaro's bedroom. You weren't usually this late.

"Jotaro, are you sure Y/N was behind you? It's been almost thirty minutes and she's still not back…"

Jotaro huffed in annoyance as he got up from his laid down position on his bed.

"Yare yare daze, quit worrying over nothing, she's probably fine."

" 'Probably'?!"

"What's going on, Holly?" Joseph joined in after hearing the commotion.

"Y/N's not back from school yet… I'm scared something might have happened to her…" Holly explained to her father, dread even more evident in her voice as she worded her worries.

Joseph rubbed her shoulder in reassurance, "It's okay, Holly, I'm sure she's not that far. Jotaro! Get up and go look for your sister! You're supposed to keep an eye on her, that's your role as a big brother!"

The old man scolded as the teenager stood up and got on his way, as if he had been asked an annoying chore.

"Yare yare, you're all so noisy over nothing." He put his shoes back on and took his leave.

Stopping every once in a while and unable to shake off your uneasy feeling truly delayed you. You were sure you'd never hear the end of this if your father knew how late you were today.

"Kujo..." A sudden deep voice called right behind you, and you turned around, meeting with a complete stranger. "…Am I correct?"

"Yes?" You replied a bit shyly as you turned fully to him. "And you are...?"

As you now had a better look at him, you realised how handsome he actually looked. Not at all how you imagined a potential creep following you.

He wore your school's uniform but you didn't recognize his face. He must be a new student, you told yourself. He had beautiful red hair and a white shawl that flew gracefully in the wind. He was also strongly and elegantly built. Just who was he?

But all that charm quickly shifted as he smirked eerily in response. He approached you, his eyes glaring into your soul and you stepped backwards as fear built up inside you. Why was he looking at you like that so suddenly?

The uneasiness from before came up tenfold, this time completely justified. You spoke up as he came uncomfortably close to you, towering over your much smaller form.

"U-um… Did you need something…?" You hesitantly stuttered as he now stood arm-length away from you.

"Yes I do." He spoke confidently, his goal like set in stone. "I need you to lead me to your brother."

"What? My brother? If it's a fight you want with him, I won't let you." You protested with more confidence, now that you started to understand where he came from.

You were used to people trying to pick fights with Jotaro. You knew your brother had way too many enemies for his own good, and surely you wouldn't let anyone get to him and filter them out if you had the occasion.

"Who even are you? I don't recognize you from school…" You squinted your eyes warily. This boy arised too many questions in your mind.

Kakyoin smiled softly at you, which you didn't trust at all. He was fishy and there was something in his eyes that you quite couldn't put you finger on.

"My name is Kakyoin Noriaki." He sighed. "I didn't want to use force on a lady, but you don't leave me any choices..."

Before you could even react, green tentacle-like appendices appeared from behind him and lunged at you. You gasped and bolted away as fast as you could.

You knew it. It was bad. Real bad. You had no chance against a Stand user like him, you couldn't manage your own newly found Stand just yet. It was exactly like your grandfather said.

You tried to run, but not even 2 meters far and his green vectors wrapped around your ankles.

As you were about to trip and land on the floor, more of the tentacles wrapped around your legs, waist, arms and wrists, preventing you from falling, keeping you still in mid-air.

You couldn't move. Kakyoin came up behind you as you struggled in Hierophant Green's grip.

"Well that was easy." He snickered over your tied up and desperate form.

"LET ME GO!! LET ME- HMMFF!" He put a large hand over your mouth, effectively silencing your now muffled screams.

"Shhh! Don't make this harder for us, I'll just borrow your body real quick. It'll be over before you even know it. I'll make this painless, I'm a gentleman."

He released your mouth and Hierophant green squeezed itself around your neck, choking you, your mouth agape for you desperately needed air.

He took this advantage to grab your wrists and lock you against his chest as his Stand released you to nest itself inside your opened mouth.

Your body tensed up at the foreign and disgusting feeling of the spirit slipping down your throat and you violently squirmed in Kakyoin's grip as he forced your mouth closed, keeping the Stand inside to own your will and possess you. Just as Dio had taught him.

"Good. That's good. Jotaro would never kill his own sister, now would he? Even though his own sister will kill him. How tragically ironic."

He wrapped his arms back to your midsection as you stopped squirming, tired and breathless from fighting against him in vain. He held you against him as he knew you would surely collapse if he let go.

"Haaah… Ahh… Haaaa… Haaahh…" You panted shakily, scared and exhausted as your head hung low and your cold hands rested upon his own, barely able to swat them away from you with how shakey you were.

You were weak and alone, which was perfect for him to use. He chuckled and you felt the rumble of his chest against your back as he did. You felt like crying.

"It's too bad that you have to die. You're so cute, I would have loved to bring you to Master Dio with me."

You suddenly felt nauseous. You felt his stand inside you, trying to slide itself into every part of you and take control of your body.

You tried to resist, your arms and legs were shaking, your arched your back and writhed in pain, you knew your own Stand was fighting against it.

To Kakyoin's utter shock, Hierophant Green was violently pushed out of you by your own Stand as you let out lung-piercing coughs. Spitting the enemy out like some flesh-eating parasyte.

"WHAT-?!" Kakyoin yelped at the scene, but was then forced to let go of you as your Stand punched Hierophant Green in the face, the red-head owner feeling the hit full-force as well.

Kakyoin fell down, knocked down by the impact as you collapsed to your knees, coughing up and vomiting spit and blood.

Adrenaline pushing you through, you didn't let yourself any time to recover and took this chance to run away as fast as you could, taking sharp turns and passing through narrow paths that you prayed he wouldn't fit through or have the idea of searching.

You eventually lost track of him, gasping desperately for air as your lungs hurt in a dry and sharp pain, fed by the ceaseless pounding of your heart. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, you couldn't take it anymore.

Right as you passed the Torii gate of the temple nearest to your neighborhood, one you walked through every day, you passed out cold onto the paved holy ground.

Jotaro slowly walked his way back to the path you usually both took to come home after school. He walked and walked, but still no trace of you on the way.

Although he would never admit it, his anxiety grew inside him and his heartbeat quickened as he realised that you were way too far from home for his own liking. You were right behind him, how could this happen?

He started to feel guilty that he didn't even check if you were still following him or not. Especially when he realized that so many people, people who yearned to get under Jotaro Kujo's skin, could easily do so by taking you down and harming you, his own sister.

His train of thoughts were interrupted when he found something, or rather someone on the stoned floor of the local temple. And as he approached the figure, sure enough, his eyes widened and his heart jumped in his chest. No...

"Y/N…!"

He immediately kneeled down next to you and lifted you to his lap. He checked you up and down for injuries and noticed you had fresh bruises forming on your wrists and neck and you were bleeding from your mouth. He could not believe what he was seeing.

"Aah… Jojo…" you whimpered in a wheeze as you recognized your brother's voice and his smokey scent.

"Who did this to you? What's the name of that fucking asshole?!" He growled, his gruff voice contrasting with the care he held you with.

"H-he's a stand user like you… Kakyoin… He's after you, don't go to school tomorrow…" You croaked and coughed out while looking up at his worried eyes and your brother scoffed.

"Yare yare, you're stupid to think I won't go to school and drum his ass."

He lifted you up and carried you back home to get your injuries treated. As to be expected, Holly freaked out at your state and Jotaro received a earful from Joseph who told him to never let a young girl walk all by herself, let alone his little sister and especially with all the trouble he gets into.

The next day, you stayed home to rest for the day, making you feel much better. Thankfully you had no major injuries and the Speedwagon foundation doctors knew about Stand inflicted wounds.

You had interesting chats with the guest Abdul and Joseph spoiled you all day like you were his baby which, to be fair, you were in his eyes.

In the mean time, Jotaro had met with Kakyoin and had an inevitable fight. Unfortunately, what Kakyoin had going on was much deeper than just wanted to bully Jotaro. When Jotaro came back home, he brought Kakyoin's unconscious body and you learned about what happened to him, about Dio, the fleshbud, and why he aimed at killing Jotaro.

Knowing what had transpired and with you doing much better, you decided to go check on the boy. You felt it was important to start allover with him.

You knocked gently on the guest room's door and slid it open, revealing Kakyoin in his injured state. Your brother truly did not hold back, you thought.

"Hello Kakyoin…" You greeted a bit shyly as you walked through the door. The red head looked at you with wide eyes as he recognized you.

"Y-...you're the girl I attacked yesterday?" You nodded and he sighed sadly. "I'm deeply sorry for what I did… That was.... Despicable of me..."

"Don't worry," You approached him and knelt down at his side. "My grandfather explained what happened to you. I'm not mad. You weren't yourself."

Kakyoin then glanced at your bruised neck and looked away in shame.

"I can't believe I harmed a girl… in such a low, awful way…" You chuckled lightly at his exaggerated worry.

"Hey, I'm fine! Look, you're in an even worse state than I am. Stop fretting and let us take care of you, okay?" You gently smiled at him.

He looked at you with a soft gaze. He bit his lip and blinked back the tears that prickled in his eyes. Were all members of this family pure redempting angels of sympathy and goodness?

"Thank you, Kujo, you're very kind..."

"Just call me Y/N." You smiled as you leaned in to move out some hairs that were stuck to his frontal bandage.

"Y/N…" He softly repeated, a blush rising to his face. Even your name was beautiful, he thought to himself, never daring to say it out loud.

His heart fluttered in his chest at your feathery touch and he felt suddenly much shier. He wanted to hold that soft hand in his own, but before he could even do anything, Holly called your name from afar.

"Y/N! Can you please come here for a second?"

"I'm coming!" You replied before looking back at the boy. "Sorry, I have to go. I'll let you rest until dinner is ready."

Kakyoin nodded and laid back down on the mattress. He let out a soft 'oh' of surprise when you gripped the blanket and tucked him in sweetly before getting up and leaving, sliding the door close behind you.

He sighed, unable to fight his little goofy grin.

"Damn it… I'm falling in love…"

Old writing again. I'm really just putting the dusty stuff I should have posted a year ago. I apologize for the poor litterature.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jojo #jojo no kimyou na bouken #writing #x reader #reader insert #reader is a kujo #kujo reader #reader is Jotaro's sister #kakyoin x reader #kakyoin noriaki #kakyoin #kakyoin noriaki x reader #part 3 #jojo part 3 #stardust crusaders

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 3 years ago

Note

Always wanted to ask for : Wesker x his SO in first few months of relationship at Umbrella (trying to hide work romance because of Albert's dumb work rules, but fails miserably) :D

Note: I gotta admit, it did occur in my mind at some point but never put it on paper. Thank you so much for being patient💜 It would also help me a lot if you can drop a comment or reblog 🤗

Pairing: Albert Wesker x F!Reader

Warnings: none.

-> Wesker is a calculated man who prefers logical thinking over feelings, so he doesn’t believe in romance or in the concept of relationship. For him, a partner is that person who you rely on to satisfy your needs and then move on with your life and goals. When they first met, his soon-to-be partner was aware of his ways, yet it was a surprise for both when things evolved into a separate direction, one that seemed like a traditional relationship. They would often meet after work, with Wesker coming to check on y/n for foolish reasons or y/n coming to ask Wesker silly questions. They yearned for each other attention and y/n was the first to initiate a serious talk about their feelings. Wesker enjoyed her company and he didn’t lie to himself when admitting that there was a slight sense of competition between them. Not that it bothered him, in fact, he liked a more competitive partner because it would push him to work harder on his skills.

-> And so they began dating, a weird territory for both of them since they have a deeper connection with their work rather than their personal life. Since Wesker is a strict and organized man, he’ll try to set boundaries between them so things won’t get out of control. He’ll focus more on what the outside world sees, meaning he won’t be comfortable expressing their affection in public. Mostly he will be the now to push her away every time she wants to be affectionate with him. Albert doesn’t want useless rumors circulating around. Not that he cares about what others think, he just doesn’t like people barging into his personal life or make assumptions about it. He tries to keep it professional and he can’t with y/n beside him because he melts the second that woman touches him. Because of this calming effect, he cannot think straight and he can’t risk mixing the wrong chemicals. So, the fewer interactions, the better. In their privacy, they both act like normal couples with no trouble expressing themselves.

->Speaking of public, one of his greatest fear is Annette, William’s wife, because she won’t hesitate to tease the poor man. She knows him as an incurable bachelor and finally having someone will be a premier of her mocking show. She has a liking for mocking Albert and it's not due to some hidden friendship, but more to an antipathy between them. She claims to be a bad influence on her family, but she doesn’t realize is that the only bad influence in William’s life is his own work. Next in line would be his sister, Alex, who has great satisfaction in teasing him due to their sibling rivalry. She is a mean queen and will show no mercy to her adoptive brother. His significant other is no exception. Alex would gladly run to her and tell her all these embarrassing secrets about Wesker, like his emo phase, the time he dreamed to be in a band and practice his growl ending up woking an entire institution one night, and the list goes on. What she enjoys the most is the picture she has of him from when he was in the army and was forced to have a crew cut. William wouldn’t care as he is too preoccupied with his research. How many juicy secrets slipped through William’s ear, secrets many would die to know (literally). He would just nod and keep starring throughout the small lenses of the microscope. It’s not the first time Wesker tells him about his amorous life, so his brain switches to autopilot mode. Sherry would be the most awkward and she will ask if y/n is her new aunt.

-> It works great. Wesker managed to keep the situation under control until he started to lose control over himself. He feels so better and confident in this relationship with y/n that he can’t resist not praising this woman for the good she makes him feel. So, he will kiss her while gently whispering a “thank you” whenever she would help him with his work. He will hold her hand in the cafeteria and leave small presents on her desk whenever he would arrive earlier (chocolate, flowers, samples).

-> It’s obvious he had plenty relationship in the past, some in the traditional way, some modern ones, wither were visible for the public eye or not.

-> One of the main reasons he was afraid of opening up at the beginning was to protect himself. He can’t possibly tell how it will evolve so it’s easier to set boundaries. He has enough experience to know that everything is sweet at the beginning, that both fake it, and that it can turn out very bad. He wants to get to know his s/o before displaying their affection to the public or to get more emotionally involved. However, Y/N doesn’t seem to be bothered by this. She wants to take it slow as well, even if she wants to jump on him whenever she sees him. What can’t you love at him? He’s smart, handsome, responsible, and had a stable job. Sure he can be weird but y/n can see past that.

Wesker was meticulously watching the cells moving through the microscope lenses. It was a normal human blood sample that was about to be infected with the T-virus. Without moving from his position, he greeted his s/o who just made her way in the lab searching for some samples as well. He can’t get enough of her. He’s been breaking his stupid rules for weeks now. First, he held her hand in the cafeteria while waiting in line, then subtle hugs or shoulder massages while she was working, then small kisses that he didn’t care they turned out to be more passionate for the public eye. The relationship turned out to be better than expected and he sees it as a success. Besides, as the relationship advanced, Wesker became more aware of the other male coworkers who flirted with y/n (unaware of their relationship at that time), so he had to mark his belongings. Everyone knows about them, yet they know better than to be intrusive. As expected, Annette and Alex had their fun in teasing the couple and y/n had her fun in seeing Albert in a crew cut. He was adorable.

Once she got her samples, she went next to Albert without disturbing him.

Her fingers gently slid between his large ones while the other hand put down the samples and grabbed his arm. He squeezed gently her hand not taking his eyes from the microscope.

“Can you pass me the T-virus sample?”

“The blue one?”

“Mhm” he nodded.

Without breaking the hold, she passed him what he asked for.

Once the substance made contact with the blood Albert muttered under his breath “It’s working.” He said as the cell rapidly moved.

“What’s working?”

“The virus becomes more efficient.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

Albert couldn’t tell. He didn’t understand Spencer’s intentions so he couldn’t really have a proper reaction.

“I guess.” He stood up taking y/n in a proper hug. Her head was resting on his chest and she could hear his racing heartbeat. Something troubled him but she didn’t know why.

“You know can talk to me.” She lifted her head so she can look at him but he looked down at her with a worried gaze.

“It’s nothing, relax.” His hands moved to her shoulder and he pressed his lips on her forehead staying like that for a few seconds. The sound his lips made when he pulled away echoed in the room. They’ve been sitting in silence for a couple of minutes in each other’s embrace until Albert finally calmed down. He really needs to learn how to express his feelings.

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #resident evil

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cheekygreenty · 3 years ago

Text

Little Witch - Part 23

The Darkling x Reader

Aleksander walked into the dungeons not long after you, Zoya briefing him as you stood over the man who had caused a ruckus in your Palace. You were getting tired of his lies and fibs, basically begging to force the information out of his yourself but alas Ivan had some morals, telling you that the truth would come out of him in due time without the need for torture. Pity.

'I've been swindled, hoodwinked' he cried and you huffed, retreating to Zoya's side in annoyance. This man had some nerve lying in a room with 2 Heartrenderers.

'My guards tell me that they caught you fleeing the scene of the crime.'

'Yes, I followed them.'

'Followed whom?'

'They come from the other side of the Fold. From the start, they seemed, just, a bit off to me...-' You banged the back of your head against the wall in frustration, your patience wafer-thin. Zoya too looked done with the situation. Her jaw ticking in a telltale sign of annoyance.. '-So I ran.'

'How much of that is true?'

'He did cross the Fold with the others-' Ivan started but you cut in to finish.'-the rest were lies.'

You watched as Aleksander and Ivan entertained the man but your nerve had snapped for these theatrics. You needed to get the information and act on it, not make a spectacle. The man was already practically dead so why was he even trying to cover up his true identity?

Aleksander pulled up his sleeve and the tally on his arm was visible from your place at the wall. Countless journeys through the Fold burned into his skin in line form, a tradition used in all of Ravka by members of the public and First-Army.

'That is certainly entertaining. You are the Conductor, Arken Visser, are you not? You smuggle Grisha out of my palace! You help them abandon the war effort.' You were getting tired now, Aleksander had always played with his prey but this was dragging on and you had a growing list of urgent things to do: a dead Inferni to tend to, a missing sun-summoner to find, and a royal proposal.

You sighed loudly again, starting a slow pace around the dimly lit dungeon. To Arken you looked intimidating, his terrified eyes followed your steps around him, but all you were doing was keeping your boredom at bay.

'No. I deal in legal indentures. I don’t mess with Grisha.'

'Lie' both you and Ivan mused.

'I don't need them to tell me'

'Saints, hurry this up' You muttered under your breath as you rounded around to Zoya again. Being the good soldier she is, she ignored you. Your ears perked up and actually started listening as the trembling man confessed his ties with Zlatan, only then did your petty behavior pause momentarily.

'You put on a disguise. And you played at being assassin'

'That’s right.' You smiled at his concrete confession, having enough evidence now to use and to kill him. You thought back to the Inferni in the chapel as Arkin mentioned the Ketterdam thieves, did they do that too?

Aleksander turned his head to the side toward Zoya signaling for her to leave. You looked to Ivan and nodded in her direction, instantly assuming you were to stay. Ivan looked less than happy but obliged.

'And the dead Inferni in the chapel? Was that part of the thieves' plan?' You spoke up.

Arkin looked up at you with wide eyes 'That was not me, I swear. I can't be sure it was them either' You scoffed as his heartbeat remained steady indicating no lies. Great, I don't even have the murderer. Aleksander walked away from him, throwing a glance your way as he walked away too. You didn't need to be told what to do, you just did what you yearned to do the second you laid your eyes on the Conductor.

'Tell me how I can help' He shouted as you took a step back creating a distance.

'You already have.' Aleksander's voice echoed in the halls. You raised your hand with elegance and looked into the man's eyes one last time before his demise. Shadows pooled around your feet and fire enthralled the clothes on his back. The vein in his neck grew prominent as your other hand clenched into a fist. His shouts and screams were silent in your ears, a skill you had managed to master years ago to preserve your sanity.

'You don't mess with Grisha, Arkin.'

*****

Hours had passed and the work never stopped. Sleep was long forgotten that night. Aleksander was beside himself too, the search for Alina and the Stag weighed on him heavily, and now with the added search for Nina Zenik he hadn't slept a minute too. You needed to tell him about the Queen, as minutes ticked you cursed your cowardliness and fear. You were scared to tell him. You admitted it, but that fear was nothing in comparison to dread bubbling inside of you on how he would react.

Your steps were slow and lazy, the winter fete gown still on your body. There was a burn on the bottom of it from Polin, the twin sister of the dead Inferni. Upon telling the woman her brother was dead, her grief overcame her and momentarily had a mind of its own. You told her it was okay, but the smell of smoke still loomed around you like a reminder of the night.

Your frame was now in direct line of vision of the open door of Aleksander's study. Fedyor stood in the center of the room, his red kefta eerily similar to the roaring fire. You hesitated to walk in, but your feet dragged you in any way. Compared to Aleksander who'd been in the same predicament as you, you looked chaotic. Your once gorgeous gown was now dirty and burned gown, your hair falling down your shoulders in a tangled mess and the undereye bags contending with Aleksander's kefta. You looked like you'd been to hell and back. So when Fedyor cast a worried look at you on his way out, you simply shrugged and sat down in the chair, shoulder slacking and eyes drooping.

'I'm leading a team to search for the criminals at sundown, care to join?' He closed the doors and walked to a teapot, pouring a mug and handing it to you with a gentle kiss on your head. A sweet gesture but not sweet enough to push your worries aside.

'Aleksander sit down' It came out in a clipped tone and surprised him.

'What?

'Sit down' You waved your hand and the gust of wind pulled out the chair opposite you. Waiting until he sat down, you took your sip of the hot liquid. His body settled into the chair then his eyes studied your face too closely for your liking so you cleared your throat and turned your head away from him, suddenly feeling shy.

'I spoke with the Queen.'

'And?' He was alert and upright, leaning closer to you in an abrupt second. You blew out a breath and choked down the lump in your throat. You were most certainly not going to cry. You started ranting, letting your words run free and take over the panic in your mind.

'Ummmm, well it's definitely not what you think. It wasn't what I thought anyway. I thought maybe she would ask me to be her advisor or something I don't know bu-'

'Y/N what did she say?' He was growing impatient.

'She wants me to marry the Prince. Not just her, the King too.' You set down the hot mug and smoothed out the disaster of a dress on your lap. Your lips pulled down into a frown but you willed yourself not to cry. Don't cry.

'.....what?' His eyes were wide now, you could see his jaw clench.

'It didn't feel like a question. I think she has something on me.' You had been trying to push that thought away as hard as you could but you felt safe telling Aleksander. 'She didn't explicitly say it, but her words weren't kind or gentle. It wasn't a proposal. It felt like a 'do this or else' kind of situation' You played with the handle of the mug to distract yourself from his gaze and your urge to let the waterworks flow.

'I don't know what to do.' As if the burning in your throat wasn't enough, your steady voice cracked toward the end of that sentence, letting the first tear drip from your eye. You let go of the mug and crossed your arms against the table surface.

He didn't say anything just sat back in the chair, letting a hand through the softness of his black hair. Somewhere deep down you felt relief- relief that he wasn't jumping at the opportunity to marry you off.

'Are you sure? What would it be?'

'I can't be sure but I'm being careful. There's only one thing it can be' You let your head fall into your folded arms, shielding away from him in case the sobs you were holding back burst out of your seams. There was only ever one thing you had done that could be used against you and to this day it haunted your nightmares. The gruesomeness of it keeping you up at night.

'Did you give her an answer?'

'No.' The table shook as his fist came down on it harshly after a brief and stealthy silence.

'You're not doing it. No way' You heard his chair move back and his boots walk toward you. His hands came to pick your arms up off the table and haul you up to his height. All his attention was fixed on you. 'Did you hear me? No. I mean it. Don't do that to yourself.'

'It didn't seem like a choice Aleksander'

'Then make it one. Over my dead body are they going to take that away from you' His grip on your arms tightened as he spoke those words and you had no shadow of a doubt he meant them. You had your ups and downs together, but Aleksander rarely ever lied about things like this.

'You don't belong with them, you belong here in the Little Palace and you're not leaving again' His gaze was hot and intense, the anger and rage from the night building up and boiling over.

In that moment, Aleksander had snapped. The Crown was taking you away from him, just like they had done with Luda and countless others. He swore to protect you all those years ago and he was finally going to do right by you.

'I'm not letting that sobachka take you away from me.'

---------

Part 24

Masterlist

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!) @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa @azkahanif

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sjmsstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Nesta’s Control

Warnings: major NSFW, small bit of swearing

A/N: so fun story, this was an untitled document for a while and I literally almost sent it to my construction studies teacher instead of my homework. Fair to say, my heart fell out of my ass, but it’s fine because I didn’t! Anywayyy I wrote this while drunk and it’s just pure smut like get ur holy water kids because this needs it. Not the dirtiest thing I’ve ever written but definitely the dirtiest I’m prepared to put on a public forum. Bit of dirty talk, bit of wing play, lots of edging. Enjoy this 2.5k of smut x

Cassian was naturally quite controlling and demanding in bed. And Nesta adored it, cauldron, she thrives off it, but she was also well aware of the effect she had on him.

She could see it in the final throes of pleasure when that mask cracked and pure desperation broke through as he seemed to forget everything but pleasure.

She lived for those moments when the general came out to play. Now she wanted to see the General beg.

Her plan was simple, since they were mated almost a year ago, they slept in the same bed and fucked at least once a day.

Nesta intended to keep him at arms length for several days and see how it affected him, it would be hard to pull off, both pragmatically and a test to her own will. But she knew the pay off would be worth it.

Nesta picked her days wisely. This week she was teaching a new group of priestesses and leading them in Valkyrie exercises. She knew how worked up Cassian got when she was barking commands at the women.

However, she successfully evaded her mate by eating dinner with Gwyn in the library and pretending to be asleep when he entered their room later in the evening.

The next morning she ensured he was awake and watching her as she dressed. Making a show of braiding her hair, knowing how much he enjoyed pulling it, and gliding on her leathers, knowing how much he enjoyed tearing them off her.

He looked inclined to do as much but she kept her scent hidden, kissed him lightly before dancing out of the room.

Cassian was on edge all morning at training, but Nesta pretended not to notice.

Cass was called away to a meeting with Rhys that evening and returned late into the night, to find his mate again asleep in bed. Except this time the sheets were covered in the scent of her pleasure. Nesta had ensured he would be well aware of what she had been doing while he was gone. He groaned at the thought of her.

Creamy thighs spread wide as she got herself off to the thought of them together. She probably bit that plump bottom lip of hers to keep those sweet moans quiet. She probably failed and groaned aloud as she finished. Then promptly fell asleep apparently.

Cassian had never despised his brother so much.

The next morning Nesta left before Cassian could even stir, not trusting herself to be near him when he was half asleep and likely to drag her back to bed.

She could barely look at him all during training and fled to meet her sister at the river house with out even changing out of her leathers. She wouldn’t put it past Cassian to swoop out of the sky and have his wicked way with her. Though she would undoubtedly immensely enjoy it, it would be detrimental to her plan.

Feyre, noting her distraction, had questioned her but Nesta changed the subject quickly. She had grown close with Feyre over the past year but this wasn’t exactly a conversation she wanted to have with her sister.

The high lady invited her to dinner and Nesta accepted gratefully. Knowing Cassian was in the House, probably eating dinner alone made her heart ache but she would make it up to him. Tonight was his final night of torment and she would make it all worth it.

But first she needed her sister’s help.

“Feyre, can you do me favour, no questions asked?”

The high lady looked mildly concerned, “You didn’t kill Mor did you?”

“No,” Nesta chuckled. “I need you to get Cass out of the house for the next few hours”

“Why?” Feyre asked.

Nesta stayed silent but her reddened cheeks gave it all away.

“Oh cauldron it’s a sex thing, isn’t it? Never mind, don’t answer that. Yes I’ll tell him I need help with … I’ll think of something ”

Nesta was saved further embarrassment by Rhys who had arrived to escort her back to the House.

Cassian was indeed gone when Nesta arrived home and not knowing how long she had, she quickly bathed, brushed out her hair and dressed in a short red nightgown that had previously brought Cassian to his knees.

She had just settled herself in, pretending to be asleep when she felt his presence coming down the hall. Every part of her yearned to leap up and greet him at the door, preferably on all fours, but she remained where she was.

Cass entered the room and stopped short at the sight of his mate in bed, hair fanning around her and wearing a nightgown the same shade as his siphons.

Nesta knew he was too much of a gentleman to wake her up but through their bond she could tell he needed release. He stripped off his leathers and water ran from the bathing room.

Minutes later, the bed shifted next to her and her mate planted a kiss on her head, then stopped short.

She had positioned the blankets perfectly so that from this angle he had a view straight to the swell of her breasts. He groaned and Nesta felt the force of a pure warrior focused on her.

It took all of Nesta’s willpower not to move as he reached down and gripped himself. It was not uncommon for them to pleasure themselves if one woke up, however usually the other woke soon after and joined them.

It took all of Nesta’s control not to leap around and ride him into the mattress but she kept her scent hidden and thought of all the ways she would rip those groans from him.

Nesta knew he wouldn’t be sated, not by his own hand. It may have provided a temporary release but Cauldron, he would be desperate for her.

His moans were fire to her blood as he finished into his hand and stepped into the bathing room to clean up.

Nesta loosed a breath, stilling again as he came back into the room, lay down next to her and tucked her into his side. She fell asleep to thought of him driving deep into her over and over.

Nesta dressed in her tightest leathers the next morning and may shouted at her troops more than strictly necessary, but Cassian was so distracted Az dragged him to the ground twice.

When they finished for the morning Cassian took her by the arm and dragged her into the house. The scent of his arousal was intoxicating.

The second they got inside the House he had her pinned against the wall, tongue down her throat, that long, hard length pressed against her.

She almost lost it then but she was so close, just a few more minutes and this would all be worth it. She lightly shoved him back but he didn’t move just continued to grind himself against her. Their leathers sliding easily and not providing nearly enough friction.

Nesta shucked off her top, knowing he would want to see her. He leaned back to drink his fill of her breasts and she took her chance.

Nesta threw her leathers to the ground and as he leant down to mouth her tits, she ducked.

Nesta went under his arm and sprinted down the hall, laughing as she heard him tearing after her. She leapt onto the bed and turned just in time to see his frame filling the doorway, wings splayed wide, eyes wholly black.

She was going to devour him.

He tore off his jacket as he approached her, then reached for her leggings. She took her opportunity. Faster than he could react, she flipped him over, pinning him to the bed, their bare chests against each other.

Nesta grabbed his hand, tying it to the middle of the bedframe with a loose piece of fabric they kept for this exact purpose. Though usually it was Nesta tied up and aching.

She left his other hand loose, knowing he’d have need of it.

“Minx” his eyes flashed, “what are you up to, my sweet thing?”

She kissed his chest them slid his leathers off his legs, leaving him wholly naked, “something you’re going to despise and ultimately adore.”

Tanned skin, dark wings spread and glowing eyes, he looked like a dream made flesh.

A filthy dream filled with hot mouths and grasping hands.

That would come later.

For now she stepped off the bed and turned her back to him. Bending over she stripped off her leggings.

She was already soaked and from the low groan behind her, Cassian was aware of that fact.

He was gripping himself when she turned back to him. Boldly pumping, his eyes fixed on her glistening apex.

She crawled towards him and leaned up to whisper softly in his ear, “Stop now sweetheart, or you won’t touch me for another week”

It seemed to take all of Cassian’s 400 years of strength to move his hand away from his throbbing cock but he reached for Nesta instead.

She let him smooth his hand down her face to her chest and cup her breast.

He flicked her nipple and leaned forward to take it in his teeth and it was Nesta’s turn to gather her willpower.

“Not allowed touch me either, darling” she said sweetly, moving away.

Cassian’s hand tangled with the bed sheets, muscled forearm straining as she spread her legs.

Cassian gritted his teeth, transfixed as Nesta trailed a hand down her torso.

That hand blazed a path lower till it reached where she was aching most.

She dipped two fingers into herself, gathering the wetness there and swirling it around.

Cassians hand strained against its binding, cloth biting into his wrist.

“You look so good spread out like that,” she moans, fingers plunging in over and over, deeper and deeper. “I can’t help but do this every time I think about you with your cock out.”

She wasn’t sure he was breathing.

“I need to do this every time you’re near but I can’t have you in me.”

Her legs jerked, she was nearing the edge but she needed something else.

“Touch yourself” she moaned out. “pleasure yourself to the sight of me.”

He almost sagged in relief. He gripped his reddened length in one hand roughly.

Cauldron, he was hot.

She was so close and he knew it too.

“Nesta,”he growled in warning.

She was aware of how much he needed to be the reason she came, but she also didn’t care. Seeing him hard and needy like that, tugging harshly at his thick cock.

She arched suddenly and came, hard.

As she came down she saw him still gripping himself.

That wouldn’t do.

“Stop.”

By some miracle he did.

His eyes were furious as she crawled towards him, so in appeasement and congratulations, she let him suck her wet fingers.

His eyes closed and his groan ignited something deep within her.

Nesta moved, straddling him and let a drop of her release fall onto his straining cock.

Cassian’s eyes shot open and his free hand grabbed her hip attempting to pull her onto him but she dodged out of the way.

“You know the rules,” she purred, “no touching without permission. Now sit up, I need full access to your wings.”

A shudder ran through the warrior but he did as he was told.

Good boy.

Said wings rustled as he spread them out fully across the bed.

Nesta had become well acquainted with these wings over the past few months and therefore knew which tendon, vein and scars to stroke to bring Cassian to that edge.

Naturally she went straight for them.

Cassian bit back a curse, low and viscous, as Nesta stroked a finger down the inside of one tendon.

Cassian’s hips jerked involuntarily as she leaned up and sucked slightly on the base of a talon.

She let her fingers glide across the membrane and watched a roll of precum escape the tip of his cock.

Nesta couldn’t help herself. Leaning over his shoulder she caught the droplet with her finger and brought it to her mouth. Cassian’s eyes followed her with a warriors focus

“Fuck you taste good”

He looked on the edge of cumming.

Good.

She trailed her teeth lightly across the top of his left wing and an unholy groan left his mouth.

“Nes please-“ his voice broke off as her tongue flicked lightly. “Nesta please- Mother spare me- Fuck Nesta”

His hands was twisted so hard in the blanket she thought the bed clothes might rip.

He was a mess. Hair askew, mouth open, eyes closed, cock hard like some hedonistic god.

She reached up and with a flick of her wrist undid the knot, at the same time she whispered “touch me Cass”

He was on her in a second, plunging into her the next.

There was no small touches, no teasing strokes just pure, unmitigated power.

He slammed into her, driving deep each time he thrust home.

She couldn’t help but tighten at the warrior slamming into her and he groaned his approval as wetness flooded through her.

Obscene noises filled the room as his balls slapped against her.

She moaned.

He followed the sound down to her mouth.

A bruising kiss, then harsh words spoken against her mouth.

“You keep me on edge for days”

Thrust.

“Hard every time you walk past me and unable to do anything about it”

White hot pleasure racing through her.

“Not able to concentrate on anything except the memory of this”

Coiling bliss.

“The memory of you so fucking tight around me. Fuck Nesta I can hardly think, hardly breathe when you’re near me and I’m not inside you, and you don’t let me take you for nearly an entire week?”

She didn’t have words to respond, couldn’t form coherent thoughts in her mind.

“Fuck Nes, you’re so-“ he groaned, hips stuttering and she knew he was close.

She wrapped her legs fully around him and grabbed the top of his right wing.

He slammed into her, desperate for release and unleashed himself inside of her.

At the first shot of warmth she unraveled. Tension raced up her legs and she arched into Cass as he continued thrusting and emptying into her.

Wrapped around each other, as intertwined and inseparable as their souls.

He shuddered finally stilling, head against her neck.

She looped shaking arms around his shoulders, body still trembling from just how hard she came.

“Nesta?” He croaked out, somewhere below her left ear.

“Yes, my darling?”

“That was the hottest thing ever, but please never make me wait that long again”

She laughed, “careful Cass, I’ll make you wait even longer.”

He hardened again within her and round two began.

Please let me know if you want to be tagged in all my writing or the Nessian stuff

Tagging: @bookstantrash @perseusannabeth @champanheandluxxury @witchyautumnfae @nessian-trash-heap

#nessian smut #nessian fic #nessian #acosf spoiler #sjmsstuff writes #Nesta’s control #sjm fic #sjm books #sjm fandom #sjmaas #sjm #nessian fanfiction

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bananapie99 · 4 years ago

Text

Welcome Home

Part IV of my new Home series

Part I here

Part II here

Part III here

Inspired by Welcome Home from Bandstand the musical

Welcome home my dear, welcome home my sweet. Welcome home my hero, welcome home my heart.

*****************************************************************************************************

Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers (brother) x Reader

*****************************************************************************************************

Now our wait has ended, our years of yearning, and I’m at my doorway, my love returning...

The day had finally come. The longest week of your life had passed, and Bucky was almost home. This morning you spent twice the time you normally do getting ready, wanting to look perfect for your reunion. It had been nearly two years since you had felt Bucky, smelled Bucky.

It came time to head to his family’s home. A few days prior you all decided to meet there, that way Bucky could see you all at once and not have to decide who to see first. Sitting, waiting, became an agonizing task. You twisted the ring around your ring finger, unable to sit still.

Any minute now.

A watched pot never boils, but that did not stop you from looking at the clock every 5 seconds. Your head started spinning with possibilities. What if there was an accident on the way back? Or maybe the war made him realize he wanted something different for his life. He could walk right past you, or ask for the ring back.

Stop it (y/n). You scolded yourself for even thinking that way. He would not have written all those letters if he was not in love with you.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.

You jumped up, standing straight, still fiddling with your ring.

Bucky’s father took a few steps towards the door and opened it up.

“Hey dad.”

His voice. Oh that sweet voice had never sounded so beautiful. Your vision started to blur as you attempted to fight back the tears.

His dad opened the door wider, letting Bucky inside.

Immediately his eyes found yours and you could no longer fight back the tears. You let out a sob and opened your arms as he dropped his bag and ran across the living room to reach you. Suddenly your feet were off the ground, his arms locked around your waist as he spun you in a quick circle. He set you back down, but did not let go. One of his hands left your waist, finding its home under your chin, pulling your eyes up to meet his. Oh those eyes. You could drown in the turbulent ocean of those orbs. You opened your mouth to speak, but before any words could come out his lips covered yours. The kiss was desperate and heavy, one that you would never share in public given any other circumstance. Your ears burned, knowing his family and your brother were watching, but at the same time, you did not care. Bucky was here. Bucky was home.

He released your mouth, pulling you flush against his chest. He rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Welcome home James,” you finally let out just above a whisper. Your hand reached up to touch his neck and was met by the cool metal chain of his dog tags. You wove your fingers around the chain, not wanting to let go of his identification, regardless of how morbid the concept of the tags were.

Rebecca came over and rested a hand on his shoulder. He hesitated a moment, not wanting to let go of you. You gave him a squeeze, then loosened your hold on him to signal it was okay. He needed to finish his hellos.

As he released you, he turned towards his sister, pulling her in to a similar hug and kissing her cheek. By now his mother was a mess in her tears, holding onto her husband.

Bucky released Rebecca and turned to his mother, opening his arms.

“I missed ya ma.”

She practically threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder. He held her close, gently swaying side to side, trying to soothe her cries.

It took her a while to calm back down, but who could blame her? Even with all the letters home, his time away was unbearable. None of you would say it out loud, but every day you all waited for that telegram to arrive, delivering the impossible news. But now here he was, home, safe.

Finally, he let go of his mom and hugged Steve. As you watched the two of them, something seemed off. What you were seeing before you did not look right. You had been so excited to see Bucky when he got home that you realized you had not really seen him.

His arm.

His left arm is not his arm.

You walked over to them and grabbed what should have been his left arm, and gasped when you were met with wood. You pushed the sleeve up on his jacket to reveal the rest of the wooden limb. You stumbled back a step before he reached out to catch you.

“Bucky... what happened?”

You felt the tears starting to come again.

“(Y/n), it’s okay, I’m okay,” he cooed, trying to calm you down. “Remember the situation I wrote you about? But it’s not a big deal Cookie, I’m okay I promise.”

Your heart splintered looking at the prosthetic. The situation he wrote about talked about removing a bullet, not removing an arm. The war had already taken enough, why his arm too?

He used his flesh hand to wipe at the tears painting your cheeks and kissed you again, gently this time.

Mentally you scolded yourself for the second time today. Who were you to cry? Bucky is the one who was shipped off to war and lost an arm, along with who knows what or who else. But Bucky did not seem to mind. He met your eyes with a soft smile before pulling you back into his chest. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity in silence, Steve and his family migrating towards the kitchen to you give you two some time. Neither of you wanted to break the moment, but Bucky finally spoke.

“So when is the wedding? When do you officially become Mrs. James Barnes?”

Hearing him say those words made you dizzy. Luckily Bucky had you so tight to his chest you did not have to worry about falling.

Finally you found your voice. “Just say the words, Sergeant.”

He let out a laugh that made his chest vibrate against you. You forgot how magical his laugh sounded.

“How about now?”

Wedding plans be damned, you were ready. All you needed was Bucky by your side.

“Tell your family and call the pastor, I need thirty minutes,” you said before stretching up to kiss his jawline. Quickly you walked into the kitchen, grabbed Rebecca, and drug her out of their house. You took off running towards your apartment, Rebecca sprinting to catch up.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?? Why are we running?”

You grinned. “The wedding. It’s happening today!”

Rebecca squealed and picked up her pace.

At your and Steve’s apartment, you and Rebecca frantically gathered what you needed. Your and Rebecca’s dresses were hanging nicely in your closet, shoes tucked underneath them. Since you had left so quickly you were unsure if Steve was coming back here or not, so you decided to grab his suit and shoes as well.

In the drawer to your vanity you saw the small velvet box and put that into your purse. Last week Steve gave it to you as a gift, your parents’ wedding rings inside. He told you he wanted you and Bucky to have them. You cried when he gave them to you, so touched by the gesture and sacrifice he was making for himself by giving the rings to you.

“They would want you to have them, (y/n). I want you to have them. Promise.”

At that moment, the door to your apartment opened and you heard Steve calling out for you.

“In here,” you called out from your bedroom.

You heard him enter and told him his suit was draped over the couch.

He reached out and took your arm in his hand.

(Y/n), stop moving for a second. Look at me.”

You stopped what you were doing and met his eyes.

“There’s no need to rush the wedding today, Bucky does not mind waiting. He wants you to have the day you dreamed of, not something you rushed to just because he is home. He’s home, and he is not going anywhere. Today is a lot to take in on its own...him being back, his arm...”

You winced at the mention of his arm. To be honest, you had forgotten about that already and hearing the words was a bit of a shock. But you were touched by the sentiment, knowing it was true and knowing Bucky sent Steve over here to tell you that.

“I know, Steve. But this is my dream wedding. I do not care about the flowers or the decorations really, today is not about the looks or the party. I just want to marry him. I just want him. I want to say those words and know that he is mine forever. I want the declaration and the ceremony. I want the vows. As long as I have you walking me down the aisle and Bucky waiting for me at the end, it will be my dream wedding.”

Steve was satisfied by your answer and kissed your forehead, before grabbing his suit off the couch and rushing to the church to meet Bucky.

What else did you need?

The letter.

The letter that promised you he was alright after radio silence. You wanted that letter in the church with you, along with his telegram.

I’m coming home.

Now he was home. In his arms you had your home back as well.

You put those into your purse next to the ring box.

Rebecca and you went over your mental list one more time just to make sure you had not missed something big, then took off for the church.

Inside, Rebecca and you found a room to store everything and get dressed. She helped you close up your dress and adjust your hairstyle, adding in your mother’s clip and her mother’s veil.

You gave Rebecca the ring box and the letters. Where you wanted the letters, you did not know. But they needed to be in the church.

Rebecca put on her dress and stepped out to check if Steve, Bucky and the pastor were ready.

A few minutes later she peeked her head back in the room.

“They are all ready (y/n). Are you?”

You took a shaky breath, already overwhelmed by your emotions. You felt tears start for the hundredth time that day, but fought to keep them back. Unable to speak without the tears falling, you just nodded yes. Rebecca held her hand out to you and you took it in your own, following her towards the altar.

Bucky’s parents were seated in the first row of pews. Rebecca kissed your cheek and told you “see you down there,” before rushing towards the end of the aisle where her brother stood. When your eyes saw Bucky standing down there you could no longer hold the tears in, a single sob escaping your throat.

Immediately Bucky looked up, eyes locking on you. He smiled as his own tears started to fall.

Steve linked his arm with yours and gently nudged your shoulder.

“You ready (y/n?)”

Absolutely.

The two of you started your walk down the aisle at a normal pace, but as you got closer you could not wait any longer and started to pick up speed. Bucky let out a laugh at your eagerness.

Finally at the end of the aisle, Steve kissed your cheek before placing your hand into Bucky’s.

For a moment you and Bucky just stood there, holding each other’s hands and looking into one another’s eyes. You both grinned.

The pastor cleared his throat and began talking.

If you were being honest, most of the ceremony was a blur. But then you heard it.

“Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take (y/f/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, ‘til death do you part?”

“I do.” He slid your mother’s old wedding band onto your finger. The perfect size.

More tears.

“Do you, (y/f/n), tale James Buchanan Barnes to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, ‘til death do you part?”

The words were caught in your throat and you nodded, trying to force them out. With a little sob you finally got out “I do.” You went to slide the ring onto his finger, but were met with wood.

He leaned in towards you to whisper, “I’ll wear it on my right hand, babydoll. I want to feel the ring.”

Even more tears.

You slid the ring on his right hand and were amazed at how perfectly it had fit him.

Meant to be.

The pastor spoke again. “You may now kiss the bride.”

He moved closer to you, wooden arm finding its place around your waist, as his flesh hand cupped your face. He whispered “forever and always,” before leaning down the rest of the way to give you a kiss that made your head spin.

It really happened. You and Bucky were married. He was your husband. You were his wife. This had to be a dream. But this time, it was not. You were completely his and he was completely yours.

Bucky slid his arm around your waist and led you back down the aisle, family close behind.

The rest of the day you two could not keep your hands to yourself. If you were standing, his arm was around your waist, pulling your back into his chest, If you were sitting, your head was resting on his shoulder, hands and arms tangled together. He kissed you every chance he got; on your cheek, forehead, shoulder, lips. He was not picky.

As the evening went on and the alcohol continued to flow, he became even more handsy, if that was possible. His hand found home on your leg, occasionally teasing the hem of your skirt, Feeling his mother’s eyes on you two you kept pushing his hand away, but he was either oblivious or didn’t care. You certainly didn’t mind, but you did not want or need those looks. Even as a married woman you wanted to be respectable, and it was too early on in your marriage to suddenly end up on his mother’s bad side.

Desperate for conversation you blurt out the first question you could think of.

“Where are we staying tonight Buck?”

In the excitement and commotion of the day, Bucky and you had never stopped to consider what your married life living situation would be.

“You can stay here,” his mother chimed in.

“No!” The declination came from Bucky and you simultaneously,

Realizing the harshness of your answer, you followed up with “thank you Mrs. Barnes, that is very sweet of you. I just would not want to impose.”

Before she could respond, Steve came to the rescue,

“Take the apartment for a couple days, (y/n). Would it be alright if I borrowed Buck’s room here for a couple days Mrs. Barnes?”

It was not the arrangement she was hoping for, but his mother agreed.

Bucky pulled you closer into his side and his lips met your ears.

“Tomorrow we’ll start lookin’ for our home Cookie.”

You nodded in agreement. You liked the sound of that, our home.

“But for now I think it is time we get going.” He stood and extended his right hand to you. “Ready to head home, Mrs. Barnes?”

Your cheeks burned and your head spun at his words. That was going to take some getting used to. Taking his hand, you stood.

He disappeared to his room for a moment to grab his bag he had packed earlier. The two of you said your goodbyes, then started the little walk towards your apartment. At the door you pulled out your keys and unlocked the apartment, pushing the door open. You took a step forward to enter but Bucky stopped you. He scooped you up into his arms, your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

“It’s tradition, babydoll. Can’t have my brand new bride walking herself into our home.” He winked at you and walked inside. He kicked the door shut behind him and turned around for you to lock the door, not ready to set you down just yet.

Bucky kept walking, holding you in his arms, straight back to your bedroom, where he finally set you down on the bed. He held himself above you, eyes locked on your own. Slowly, he moved his head closer, leaning in until his lips met yours, tongue gently finding its way to yours.

Your heart started racing in anticipation of the evening. It was well known that Bucky had...experience with girls. That did not bother you. What made you anxious was the fact that you had none. Of course you were not completely clueless, you had the knowledge, but that was all you had. Bucky knew this though. The night before he left for the war you spoke about it, and he had told you “you’re worth waiting for, (y/n).”

As nervous as you were, you knew there was nothing to worry about with Bucky. He loved you and you loved him. All he wanted now that he was home was to keep you safe.

You stretched your head up and kissed Bucky. “Welcome home, my husband.”

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Requests open!

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Taglist: @moteldwelling @belladonnabarnes @emmabarnes @ritz-hell-hotel

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky

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con-fection · 4 years ago

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ASHES TO ASHES | jim moriarty x reader | part 1/13

Summary:

Jim Moriarty has always loved fairytales. In particular, grim, macabre ones that end in bloodshed. You've been abused by your step-family for years - in every meaningful way, you embody the story of Cinderella. Except, in your version, Cinderella murders her family and burns the house down. When Sherlock Holmes is assigned to find the killers of your step-family, he inadvertently becomes obsessed with you. And when Sherlock is obsessed, Jim Moriarty becomes a man intrigued.Word Count: 4k

Most fairy tales follow the same format. A lovely, picturesque life, subsequently followed by a tragedy, a period of hardship, all of which is solved by the power of love. The dashing prince saves the damsel in distress, and they remain happy and in love forever, having easily recovered from the trauma of the tragedy and hardship.

Originally, fairy tales did not end quite so nicely. They were macabre, morbid and horrifying. Just as real-life has a tendency to be. They weren't an idyllic escape from everyday life. They were nightmarish stories that reflected the fears of society.

By 1815, The Brothers Grimm had compiled several stories, among them The Frog Prince, Hansel and Gretel, Little Red Riding Hood, Rapunzel... and Cinderella.

The latter had always, always been your favourite. You had memorised every line, every word, every single mark of punctuation. You could recite every single version of the story off-by-heart. All of the variations sparked a deep-rooted curiosity in you.

How could the same story end so differently?

All that changed was the person reciting the story - and they would chip away at it, changing it piece by piece, passing it down orally, until it was barely recognisable. In some versions, the characters got their happy ending. Cinderella would marry her Prince Charming with the help of her Fairy Godmother. In others, they didn't. One of her vile step-sisters will hack off parts of their feet and marry Prince Charming, and Cinderella would be left alone.

Sometimes minor aspects of the story would change. Different variations would feature doves, her dead Mother, fairies, and occasionally, the glass slipper would be golden.

Your version was entirely different to anything imagined before.

...unbeknownst to you, however, was the fact that you weren't the only person that liked grim fairytales.

---

Your mother's battle with her myriad of diseases had been one that had defined your childhood. She had been ever-so frail, perpetually in and out of hospitals, constantly deteriorating. There was more than one occasion where you had watched her drop to the floor, her body entirely limp, and you had to be the one to call the ambulance. There were always, always, blood-soaked handkerchiefs strewn around the house.

She was plagued by illness, and in some ways you were suffering just as much as she was. Most children were afforded the luxury of not having to confront the idea of death - often they simply could not even comprehend it. You weren't so lucky as to experience that naivety.

There had been no play-dates for you, there was no time to entertain any other children when each moment had the potential to be her last. Every single waking moment was occupied with the crippling, gut-wrenching fear that one day she might fall down and that the paramedics wouldn't be able to find a pulse.

Every night you would go to bed praying that she would be there in the morning, that she would get her happy ending, that she could read your favourite fairy-tale to you night after night.

"And Cinderella and Prince Charming lived happily ever after, the end!" She would say, smiling brightly as if she hadn't read this to you so many times that she was bored of it. Your mother could probably recite it by heart now, too.

"Do we get a happily ever after, Mommy?" You had asked one night, right after your mother had set the book of fairy-tales down on your bedside table.

"If you pray, God will answer." She replied, ever-so-vaguely, fiddling with the little golden cross necklace dangling between her collarbones. Now you can recognise that she didn't look surprised by your question, rather, she was in the throes of longing for that happily ever after.

You liked 'happily ever after'. It was a comforting lie that you would willingly believe. In 'happily ever after' there was no pain - in your idea of a happy ending, your mother would recover and you wouldn't burst into tears the moment she staggered out of the room.

But 'happily ever after' had to come after years of torment and misery. It always did. There was no story in which the protagonist began happy and remained that way for all eternity. That would be dreadfully boring, and yet it was what you yearned for the most. Boring and happy would be good.

Her death was a mercy - quick and painless, in her sleep. Her funeral was equally as brief as her life, a bleak affair that you can hardly recall. You had been so, so young then, and the tears just wouldn't stop coming, rolling down your face as your chest wracked with sobs. You can't remember much about it, other than the feeling of your father's hand on your shoulder and the awful, almighty bitterness that threatened to send you to your knees.

Naturally, your mother's funeral had been one of the worst days of your life. She looked so small, so ashen in her casket. Her lips were completely unmoving, drawn into a thin line. Never again would she recite your favourite bedtime story. She didn't look like she was sleeping, not when all vibrancy had been removed from her skin, to the point where it was practically grey and she smelled like a chemical preservative that made you wrinkle your nose and sob even harder.

But, even worse than the funeral had been the wedding.

It had been horrifically easy for your father to move on, and to find comfort in your step-mother, Verona. You had only met her once before they were married.

"Honey, I want you to meet somebody." Your father had said. He looked so happy, smiling in a way that you hadn't seen him do since before your mother died, his lips curved upwards and a strange look in his eyes. "This is Verona, and she means a lot to me."

He looked at Verona the same way that you looked at your fairy-tales. They were an escape, a place where you could pretend that things were different and that you were happy. Verona, with her perfectly curled hair and pearly-white teeth, was his escape, his happy ending. You wanted so badly for her to be yours, as well. It wasn't to be.

"Hello," She cooed down at you. She could smile so sweetly, her peach-pink lips drawn upwards to reveal just a flash of white teeth. It was so saccharine, so lovely. Her voice could take on this mellow, melodic tone. It reminded you terribly of a siren's call - beautiful, and so, so alluring, but it wasn't something that you should put your trust in unless you wanted to drown. Verona always looked down at you - there never came a point where you were to be considered an equal. Never.

There was something about her that made your skin crawl. She was a vile lady, with a wicked grin, honey-blonde hair and long nails that looked like talons. To you as a child, you came to view her as practically a witch, clawing her way into your life just to destroy it for her own amusement. Your father was completely and utterly blind, incapable of seeing any flaw within her.

Now that you were older, you could see her as more than a one-dimensional figure that was simply labelled 'the villain'. She wasn't a nice person, not by your account, but she was complex. Verona was always distant from you, eternally glacial and condescending whenever nobody was watching. She wasn't like that to everybody, though.

Along with the step-mother came two of what you had assumed to be Satan's most accomplished demons. They had inherited a fascinating ability from their mother. The instant your father was in the room, all torment would cease. Whether it be pulling your hair, or vandalising your possessions, they had an innate ability to tell whenever your father was close by.

Verona loved them. It was the only time where she seemed to be genuine in her affection. She would dote on them constantly, cooing at them and reading them stories in the same way that your mother had once done for you. She could pretend to tolerate you in public, and at first, you had lapped it up, basking in her siren's call voice and gazing upon her like she could be your escape, too, like she was something to be cherished, to be worshipped.

She bombarded you with an eternal cycle of love - so much love that you couldn't even feel the pain of losing your mother. She would treat you like you were her own daughter. She would pat you on the head and speak to you so sweetly. And after, would always come the abuse. The screaming, the slapping, the hissed remarks, the threats.

It was hard to deify her after that. So, Verona became the villain, the terrible step-mother who was always there to hold you down.

The wedding itself had been hosted at the very same church your parents had been married in. Their vows were exchanged between what you remembered to be Verona's awful giggles, and you yourself had been a flower girl, along with your step-sisters.

Somehow you managed to feel even worse than you had at your mother's funeral. It wasn't really acceptable to scream and cry at a wedding, so you did your best to look at the very least neutral.

You had spent most of the day staring at the gaudy paper garlands strung from the ceiling, doing your best to avoid thinking about the three women joining the family.

Everybody seemed to adore your step-sisters. They were perfect when they had to be, blonde angels with blue eyes and the sweetest disposition. Aubrey and Alora - twins that were identical in every sense of the word. Your father loved these girls, and he loved his new wife. It was like his previous one, and his first, biological daughter had simply been discarded and pushed to the periphery.

There were no more blood-speckled handkerchiefs strewn about the house, no more pills stashed above the sink, and no more quick trips to the hospital. Instead, there were Verona's lipsticks, and your step-sisters' toys. Pictures of them dominated the mantle place. Their achievements were the ones to be celebrated.

"Well done, Alora. We're so proud of you."

"Oh, Aubrey, you're so smart!"

Any incidents of your step-family's cruelty that you did manage to complain to your father about were either dismissed as the lies of a girl acting out as a result of her grief, or as some minor sibling rivalry that you would get over in time. In fact, your father seemed delighted when he interpreted it as the latter. Sibling rivalry meant that you were coming to see each other as sisters.

"You know, one day, when you grow up, I bet you're doing to be so glad to have Aubrey and Alora. I know that you girls don't always get along, but this is a good thing. They're your sisters." Your father had said, so gently, so softly that you wished for a moment you could believe it - that it was true and you could bring yourself to be thankful.

It flooded you with some kind of resentment - that he could be so passive, so enchanted by Verona and her perfect daughters, that you could become practically irrelevant. That of all of them, your concerns were the ones to be disregarded.

That resentment didn't fade when he died.

It had been an accident - a car-crash. It hadn't even been his fault. He had been on his way home to you, and some maniac had run him off the road. It could have happened to anybody. It should have happened to somebody else. It should have been something you saw on the news and thought about briefly. Instead, you were left an orphan.

His body was far too mangled for any kind of open-casket funeral. By the age of twelve, you had been to two funerals - one for each parent. What most children would do is to hope they were happy together, reunited in heaven. That's what you should have hoped for. Instead, you would pray, over and over again, every single fucking night, that they were burning. That they were being roasted in the flames of hell, and that they were screaming out for your forgiveness.

God hadn't listened when you had asked for your mother to get well and recover from her illnesses, nor when you asked for her to come back to you. Life had been so cruel, and so, you reasoned that its creator must be cruel, too. Perhaps God would listen if you wanted to inflict pain, instead.

The resentment didn't fade - rather, it intensified. After that, you really didn't need anybody to read Cinderella to you.

You had lived it.

---

The first person to rise was always you. It had been that way for years, the beginning of your well-established daily routine.

It was so cold, down in the basement. It wasn't given the same insulation as the rest of the house - and why would it have been? Your parents had mostly used it for storage, primarily for things like your bike, tools, and those family picture albums that you couldn't even bring yourself to open. At the time, there was nothing down there that had really deserved to be kept warm.

It was in rather poor condition. The bricks that comprised the walls were all cracked, and the black paint covering them was chipped and unevenly applied, the shelves looked liable to fall down any minute, and there were piles and piles of things everywhere. There is a saw lying on the ground, next to a few planks of wood that your father had never had an opportunity to use for anything and a stack of cannisters of gasoline that you eye affectionately.

There was always a breeze blowing through the basement, too. Your parents had discarded what they didn't need and stored it in the basement, and once they were both dead and buried, your step-mother had done the same to you.

Your old bedroom, where your mother used to read you bedtime stories and you would fret over her health, had been stripped bare and subsequently turned into Verona's walk-in wardrobe. You had been relegated to the basement, left to freeze whilst fur-coats and cocktail dresses got to enjoy central heating.

To keep warm, you would bundle yourself up in whatever shoddy blankets you could find. They would scratch at your skin and you would shiver against them, grinding your teeth together and hissing at the cold, silently cursing at Verona. It wasn't entirely uncommon for you to wake up and discover your lips had turned blue. It would worry you sometimes, that if it got too cold, you would simply die in the night and there would be nobody to notice.

It was early enough that you could hear the birds cooing sweetly outside, singing to one another as they flit through the branches in the trees outside. It was such a lovely thing to watch, and even lovelier to hear. It's such a pretty sound. You're not entirely sure that your step-family have ever woken early enough to hear it. If they hadn't before, then by now they had certainly missed their chance.

This was meant to be when you would start your chores. Your step-mother had left you to take on a maid role in the house, cooking and cleaning for them, waiting on them hand and foot, scrubbing the floors and surfaces until they shined. It filled you with rage.

Of the four of you, you were by far the best in every measurable way. Verona and her daughters were harpies, beasts with perfect faces that managed to fool just about everybody they came into contact with. Your father had been just one of many that was too naive to see it. They didn't bother with the pretenses around you - you had always seen them for what they were.

By now, you should be starting to sweep the bottom floor of the house, and making breakfast. But today would be different.

You creep up the stairs, your eyes constantly darting around the house, searching for any sign of the other inhabitants. They aren't awake, and you don't expect them to be, but it's always good to check, just in case.

Verona's left her purse on the countertop, next to a wine glass with a pink smudge on its rim and a pair of black elbow-length gloves she'd worn to a dinner the night before. The mere sight of it makes your lips curve up into a sneer. It's the ugliest shade of pink lipstick - vibrant and bold in all the wrong ways, but she somehow makes it look good. Of course she does - it's a talent of hers, really, to make the worst things seem not simply palatable, but also tempting.

You leave the wine glass, there will be no need to clean it today. With a sharp intake of breath, you open the purse, snatching all the money you can from it. Fortunately, Verona likes to keep most of her money in cash, so there's a decent amount. There's enough, at the very least.

The kitchen is obsessively cleaned - every surface shines from your efforts. It's clinical, sterile even, and the smell of cleaning products still permeates the air. There's a broom in the parlour, but you won't be using it.

Never before had you done anything like this. Today was a day that you had fantasised about for years, exploring and navigating different variations of it before constructing the master plan. These steps you were taking had been carefully considered, each and every action poured over obsessively, to the point of madness. All aspects of the plan were to be treated with reverence - they had practically become holy, and you recited them more often than you would prayers.

Already, you were breathing too quickly. There was adrenaline in your system, and your hands were slightly clammy. Nerves - but you weren't nervous. Not really. This was a burning, scalding anticipation that writhed around in your gut and clawed at your insides.

You allow yourself a brief moment to try and relax, letting your eyes flutter shut and letting your shoulders drop. There is a need to be tense - everything hinges on today, on whether or not you accomplish the plan.

When your eyes open, you immediately gravitate towards the knives. Before you select one, you go for Verona's black silk gloves, putting them on and admiring the way they look against your skin, and how smooth they are. They're the kind that's awfully expensive, but they look glamorous. She had worn them just the night prior, when she went to some fancy dinner.

They're hauntingly elegant, a mark of sophistication that contrasts so nicely with what you're about to do. They're a rather lovely way of ensuring that there's no fingerprints left in the house.

It's then that you pick a knife - a weighty silver meat cleaver with dark grey indentations on the handle. They make it look almost porous, and you know that the knife had been part of a set, a gift from one of Verona's friends who was into the culinary arts.

It's heavy, and you test the weight, passing it between your hands, looking at it reverently. The birds are still singing, chirping in harmony, nature's soundtrack to what is about to become a horrific crime. Whether the birdsong will harmonise with screams has yet to be determined. It has the potential to sound like a symphony - a completely lovely cacophony of everything you enjoy.

The meat cleaver shines in the soft sunlight - simply holding it makes you feel assured.

---

You create your own version of Cinderella. One where the house burns down.

The evil step-mother and bratty step-sisters are already dead when the match hits the gasoline that's long-since soaked into the floors. They had been hacked to pieces, their throats split open, almost to the point of decapitation. The blood would seep from the gaping wounds, spilling onto the bed sheets and staining their blonde hair red. They had looked so human in their sleep, so unsuspecting.

There wasn't even any time for them to awake and feel terror, or shock. That, at the very least, is a mercy. You had never really intended for it to be - it was more of a practicality than a fantasy. In the fantasies, the executions had lasted far, far longer.

As a child, experiencing the pains of loss, you had prayed for your parents to burn, so that they may feel as much pain as you. There was no way of knowing whether or not God would come to answer your prayers, so you decide instead to burn the people you can reach.

The meat cleaver is placed back into the kitchen - there's a chance that the wooden knife block may burn and char it and obscure the fact that it was the murder weapon. You keep Verona's gloves and you keep the cash.

There's something so beautiful, so incredibly vindicating about watching it all go up in smoke.

The house burns so beautifully. Flames dance in the windows, consuming the lacey white curtains, creeping their way up the ceiling until the roof catches fire and slowly caves in on itself, the slate-grey tiles becoming charred, crumbling and sliding over one another.

The birds stop singing. They squawk in agitation, fleeing from the nearby trees and taking to the skies. They, much like you, evacuate and watch the show from afar. They start their birdsong afresh once they're out of danger, singing proudly.

Plumes of smoke take to the air, contaminating and invading the morning sky. It's so dark, so thick that it's liable to block out the sun. The smoke's descending to the ground, too, sweeping over the grass like a terrible, ominous fog, rolling over the street and barrelling towards you in waves.

Your eyes and throat burn - you can feel the heat, even from a distance. You're breathing in wisps of the smoke - it's so strong that you feel simultaneously feel like you're choking, juxtaposed with this great, overwhelming sense of freedom. It smells so horrible you want to gag - it's not like the comforting smell from whenever your father would barbeque. It's stifling, oppressive, even.

And yet, despite your eyes watering and the feeling of nausea that the smell inspires within you, you doubt there has ever been a sweeter smell.

The flames flicker so brightly, swaying in tandem in a variety of oranges, reds, yellows and even a flash of white. They're so bright you can see it reflected on your skin.

The plan has been completed. You're entirely satisfied, and yet you're left directionless. Everything has amounted to this moment - to the burning of the monsters. This is your happy ever after, you think.

You stand there, bathed in an orange hue, simply watching, for as long as you're able.

Inevitably, you have to leave. You're rather tempted to dash back across the street and take Verona's car, if only to steal away another thing she loved. Her daughters, her life, her car. But you don't, as much as you would like to. It's another whim, another fleeting fantasy that has to be sacrificed for the sake of your freedom. Perhaps the car would burn, too. It's relatively close to the house.

Getting caught would simply transfer you from one life of imprisonment to another. The inner city of London seems as good a destination as any - it's not too far, and there nobody will know your name.

#jim moriarty #jim moriarty x reader #bbc sherlock

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its-nuwanda-baby · 4 years ago

Note

its a bit of a odd pair but maybe some neil x knox?? hcs if you do them or a confession fic 👉👈

confession one shot, coming right up!

A Punch in the Right Direction (Knox x Neil)

Warnings: underaged drinking, language, slight mentions of blood, slight mentions of homophobia (only in the beginning!)

I PROMISE YOU IT’S WAYYY FLUFFIER THAN IT SOUNDS LOLL

when neil befriends a girl at rehearsals, he has no idea that she will single-handedly deliver him his doom... in the form of one, stupidly wasted knox overstreet. chaos ensues. also Todd and Stick are boyfriends because I can, and because that funky lil man will have a place in everything I write (I am but a stick stan account). ENJOY!!! let me know what you think!

Neil Perry had always known he was gay. He knew right when he kissed Charlie in the first grade, on a dare from Pitts, that this was what a crush was supposed to feel like. He accepted early on in life that the world was not kind to people like him. He understood that words like “queer,” “fairy,” and “homo” were names for people like him, and that the sneers of disgust that accompanied them were just part of a package deal. He knew when he started school at Welton Academy that there was the inevitable danger of crushing on roommates and friends, and by his senior year at the all boys school, he was used to the routine of identifying and burying unwanted feelings until they were forgotten. So, when Knox Overstreet had leaned against his doorframe on the first day of school, smirking like an idiot, Neil had no problem identifying the beginnings of a crush bubbling in his chest. He had no problem, when Knox had reached out to shake the hand of Neil’s new (incredibly shy) roommate, pushing down the goofy smile that had threatened to spread on his face at how sweet Knox was being. Neil Perry had a crush on Knox Overstreet, and, given his previous experiences, it was about as scary as a kitten.

He had no problem hiding his disappointment when Knox announced he wouldn’t be at study group that night, even trying to pull him out of his obvious state of disappointment- “anything’s better than Hell-ton hash, Knox…” he had said, with just the perfect amount of nonchalance to make it convincing. Oh well, he thought, at least it would be easier to focus on the trig homework he needed to finish.

And, when Knox returned, looking like his head was stuck in the atmosphere of Jupiter, Neil had so convincingly feigned his excitement when Knox had announced his infatuation with Chris- “are you crazy? What’s wrong with that?”- when the only thought going through his head had been you idiot, she has a boyfriend. What about me? I’m right here?

Neil Perry was, for the most part, a good actor. He could play the part of the excited friend, the matchmaker, the hopeless romantic, and he could play them with ease. It was Todd’s fault, really, that everything had begun to unravel. That the feelings became too much to bury. In Neil’s experience, once it was out in the open, there’s no going back. If only Todd wasn’t so damn observant.

The conversation had gone somewhat normal, in the beginning:

“I dunno, Todd… I guess I just don’t understand it! I mean, she has a boyfriend already! If Knox really loves her so much, why isn’t he happy for her?”

“Neil, no offense, but don’t you have more important things to worry about than Knox’s love life?”

“Like?”

“Like, just about everything else? Why is it so important to you, anyways?”

That had shut Neil up. Maybe he wasn’t too good at hiding his feelings, after all. Then, the dreaded question reared its ugly head.

“Do you… like Knox?”

He had never been good at this part, the part where he had to lie about his feelings. Usually, nobody could even tell something was off, and he never even had to think about what to say if someone guessed. Todd was just… different, somehow. Neil knew he was also queer. He had seen Todd holding hands with another boy from their hall, nicknamed Stick. They were a nice couple, and Neil had to bite back his jealousy at seeing what he only wished he could have with Knox.

“Neil? You know you can tell me, right?”

“You know the answer to that question already.”

Todd gave a small nod and moved to sit next to Neil, putting an arm around his shoulders.

“You know, I may be the newest addition to this friend group, but I don’t think Chris is the one Knox really wants.”

And before Neil could process the implications of the statement, Stick was at their door, and Todd was waving goodbye to Neil and leaning to kiss his boyfriend hello, and then they were gone.

But, if not Chris, then who? The question haunted his mind for days, and by the end of October, Neil Perry’s crush had grown into quite a bit more, which meant that burying his feelings was about to get a hell of a lot more complicated. Thanks to rehearsals and a new friend, maybe even impossible.

Neil enjoyed rehearsals. He loved watching his fellow actors lose themselves in the performance. He loved listening to the chatter of the tech crew as they discussed backdrops and lighting. He loved the smell of sawdust and paint that lingered in the air and on his clothes. The one thing he never really got the hang of was the talking. Despite being known as a social butterfly at Welton, the mixture of Henley Hall girls and public school kids was a whole new atmosphere for him, and if there’s one thing Neil Perry hated, it was change. So, when the girl who played Hermia walked up and introduced herself, he was so overjoyed at the prospect of a friend that he hadn’t stopped to ponder over the familiarity of her surname.

“Hey, you look a little lost! I’m Ginny, Ginny Danbury. I play Hermia.”

He had looked up, unsure at first of whether he was the one being addressed. In discovering that he was, his face broke out into the trademark Neil Perry Smile, the one he reserved for his dad and Dr. Nolan.

“Neil. Perry. I, uh, I play Puck.”

They had shaken hands, he in his crown of twigs, and she in her pink tulle dress, and a friendship was born.

Two weeks before the performance, she mentioned her older brother.

“So, I got home last night, and Chet- that’s my brother, by the way- Chet asked me if I had been hooking up with someone. Apparently, he thinks the only valid reason to be out late is if you’re getting laid…”

She had kept talking after that, but Neil had stopped listening. What had Knox said about that girl? Practically engaged… to Chet Danbury. When rehearsal was over that night, Ginny asked Neil a question.

“Would you mind giving me your phone number?”

—

The smell of cheap liquor greeted Knox before he had even opened the door. Charlie’s words rang in his head; you don’t really think she means you’re going with her? He was right, after all… this was Chris’s boyfriend’s house, and he was a guest. His guest. He was really starting to regret passing up a Poets meeting for this, when he could have been cozied up next to Neil in the cave. Neil… with his perfect brown eyes that should be considered national treasures, in Knox’s opinion, and a voice like velvet… Neil, the reason he had even begun pursuing Chris in the first place, as a way to distract him from the true object of his affections. Neil, whose absent-minded, yearning looks were surely reserved for everyone, not just him… keep it together, Knox, tonight is the night you forget about Neil Perry, once and for all.

“Carpe diem, Knoxious… carpe diem.”

He opened the door.

About an hour later, he was wasted. His earlier attempt to get a beer had been sabotaged by two football players who were a little too closely acquainted with the bottles of vodka and whiskey lined up on the counter. Before he knew what was happening, his beer had been replaced by a shot of liquor that smelled exactly like the stuff his sisters used to clean off their nail polish, and he had been affectionately dubbed “Mutt Sanders’ brother” by the shorter of the two jocks, despite his protests of never having met a Mutt Sanders. A few shots later and he was stumbling into the basement, nearly incoherent. What happened after that would surely remain burned into his memory forever, but the most that he could bring himself to tell anyone was that he had somehow ended up on the floor with a bloody nose and a splitting headache.

The full story is a bit more complicated. Knox, intoxicated and feeling brave, had begun his search for Chris in the kitchen, weaving around crowds of people he didn’t know. If he had been sober, he certainly would have been a little less obvious, but Knox Overstreet was a man on a mission, and although the alcohol helped him focus on the task at hand (find Chris, woo Chris, (maybe) hook up with Chris, fall in love with Chris, forget Neil Perry), it certainly didn’t aid him in his attempts at subtlety. By the time he managed to get to the basement, he forgot why he was there.

Neil, Knox, you’re here to find- no, you’re here to FORGET Neil. Find Chris, forget Neil. Find Chris, forget Neil. It was here that Knox began to feel the fourth shot in his legs, and he quickly moved to sit on the couch before they gave out. Cursing his low alcohol tolerance, he began to scope out the crowd in the basement for Chris, when he suddenly became aware of two things at once: the presence of an annoyingly loud couple mid-makeout on his right, and the sleeping presence of Chris Noel on his left. And Knox Overstreet, in a burst of alcohol-infused idiocy, began to stroke her hair, and suddenly it wasn’t Chris on the couch beside him, but Neil. Neil Perry, and he was smiling up at Knox, saying something that Knox couldn’t understand because all he could see was the shape of Neil’s lips, moving ever so slowly towards his, and in that moment, as their lips met, time seemed to slow down, and the voices and music were all combining into a kind of ambient soundtrack- that is, until the distorted voice of Kitchen Jock #1 made its way into Knox’s alcohol-muddled brain, pulling him back to earth in word form.

Chet… CHET, it’s Mutt Sanders’ brother! And he’s feelin’ up YOUR GIRL!

And he wasn’t kissing Neil, he was kissing Chris, and she wasn’t asleep, she was sitting up, asking him what he was doing, and, hell, what was he doing? As he opened his mouth to answer her, he picked up a bright red blur in his peripheral vision, moving towards him.

Next thing he knew, he was on the floor.

—

There was a knock on the door.

“Mr. Perry. You have a phone call.”

“Yessir, I’ll be right there, sir.”

Todd shot him a confused look from where he was sat on the floor with Stick. He and Neil had left the Poets meeting about ten minutes after Charlie showed up with girls and liquor, and Meeks and Pitts had soon followed. The latter two had denied their invites to a study group, which meant they were most definitely making out in their room, so Todd had asked Neil about inviting Stick to work on the Latin conjugation assignment together, to which Neil had happily agreed.

In all honesty, Neil was glad for the phone call. Todd and Stick were so cute together it was nearly maddening, especially when Neil could so easily imagine him and Knox together in the same ways. The gentle brush of their shoulders against one another as Todd checked Stick’s spelling, the way Stick watched Todd’s lips moved as he practiced his pronunciations… to anyone else, it would have been endearing, but to Neil it felt like a lifetime prison sentence.

Dr. Hager handed him the telephone when he got to the end of the hall, and he nodded a “thank you” before watching the man disappear into his room.

“Hello, this is Neil Perry?”

“Neil, thank goodness you’re there!”

“Ginny?”

“Yes, oh, I’m so sorry to bother you on a Friday night, but there’s been a bit of an… incident…”

Shit. Knox had been at the Danburys’ house. Neil’s blood turned to ice.

“What sort of incident? Is everyone alright?”

“Well, sort of… do you happen to know Knox Overstreet?”

Boy, did he ever…

So that’s how Neil ended up at the Danburys’ house at 10 pm on a Friday night, picking up a bleeding (and incredibly drunk) Knox. Ginny hadn’t been able to tell him what happened, and nobody else got a good look, but the story was that, while an intoxicated Knox had been trying to dance with Chris, Chet noticed and punched him in the nose. Neil believed it.

So there they were, sitting on the dock near the lake as Neil pressed snow to the bruise that was rapidly forming around Knox’s eye.

Around 11, Neil deemed Knox sober enough to take back to the dorms without causing suspicion, and they crept up the stairs and down the hall to Neil’s and Todd’s dorm.

Neil softly pushed the door open with his foot to see Todd at his desk, surrounded by crumpled pieces of paper. Upon seeing Knox’s inebriated state and the exhausted look on Neil’s face, he immediately jumped to help Knox out of his coat and tie while Neil guided him to sit on one of the beds.

“Neil! Buddy! How’d you get here?”

Neil and Todd immediately shushed Knox, whose bruised face contorted into a frown.

“Sorryyyy” was the slurred response, given in a sort of whisper-yell smoothie.

“Knoxy, don’t talk. Your nose is still bleeding.” Neil’s voice was dripping in concern, which caused one of Todd’s eyebrows to perk up in his tell-tale “I told you so” smirk. Knox was preoccupied with trying to lick the blood from his nose “to clean it!”, and Neil was trying to get him to sit still.

After about an hour, Todd had gone to room with Hopkins for the night, to his immense gratitude (drunk Knox was not a character Hopkins was particularly interested in dealing with, and neither Todd nor Neil blamed him one bit). Knox, who had sobered up enough to gain the ability to form coherent sentences (but not a filter) was delighted to fill Neil in on the happenings of the party, to which Neil couldn’t bring an objection from his lips. As annoying as he could be, Neil loved Knox’s ramblings, sober or otherwise.

“And then, I was sitting on the couch and the strangest thing happened! Chris was there, but it wasn’t really Chris! It was you, Neil, can you believe it? You were there!”

Neil hummed in mock surprise, grabbing the cup of water he had gotten from the bathroom and wetting another towel.

“No, Neil, you gotta remember, you kissed me! Well, you almost did…”

Neil froze, almost dropping the water.

“I.. did what?”

“You kissed me, silly! And I thought I was drunk…”

“Knox, I wasn’t at the party… I didn’t kiss you.”

The crushed look on Knox’s face at Neil’s words would have been adorable if it hadn’t been so sad…

“You… didn’t kiss me?” Neil shook his head slowly. “But then, who did I kiss?”

“Knox, Chris’s boyfriend punched your lights out. You were seeing things.”

“But Neil, you don’t get it. That was supposed to be our kiss!”

“Shh, Knox, stop moving so much. Your nose isn’t bleeding anymore, so let’s get you to bed. Can you stand up?”

Knox pouted, pouted, which almost caused Neil to drop dead on the spot, and stood up shakily before giggling and leaning into the wall.

“Nope!” He sang, popping the “p.”

Neil sighed. Knox was wearing jeans and a dress shirt, which meant he was going to be incredibly uncomfortable. Might as well do it now, then at least he won’t remember if anything embarrassing happens…

“Knox, you’re going to be uncomfortable sleeping in that.”

“So strip me, Perry, I’m not afraid,” he said with a drunken attempt at a wink that should not have made Neil’s heart flutter in the way that it did. He sighed and moved to unbutton Knox’s shirt, breathing another sigh of relief when he was met with the sight of a cotton t-shirt underneath. Crisis number one, averted.

“If I hold onto your shoulders, can you get your own pants off?”

“Yyyyyyeup!” It took Knox three tries to find the button on his jeans, but eventually, his clothes were folded neatly on Neil’s desk and Knox was sitting on the bed in just a t-shirt and boxers.

“You know, Neil, it’s your fault I went to that stupid party anyways.”

“Pardon?”

“Your fault, Neil. You and your stupid hair and your stupid face… you’re so stupid and fucking hot and it drives me so insane. It’s your fault I tried so hard to get Chris, and… and it’s your fault that my fucking nose is broken. There, I said it.”

There had only ever been a handful of times where Neil Perry was rendered fully speechless. Usually, it happened when his father said something particularly nasty, or when Todd occasionally worked up the courage to read his original poems at DPS meetings. But nothing could have prepared him for what Knox Overstreet said to him at 11:30pm on that fateful Friday night as he knelt on the floor between his legs.

“Wh-what?”

“You’re so stupid, Neil… I can’t do this anymore.”

And before he could say anything, Knox pulled him in by his tie and captured Neil’s parted lips with alcohol drowned ones of his own.

Neil pushed him away with no hesitation. “Knox, I-“

“Neil, come on… first Chris, now you too?”

“Knox…”

“No, Neil. You always talk, now I’m talking. I’m in love with you, and I thought maybe you might have been in love with me after tonight, but I was wrong and I’m starting to think that maybe going after Chris was a good thing, because she made me forget about you, even if it was just a little bit for a little bit of time. I’m…” Knox went silent as Neil kissed him again, softly.

“Knox, I like you. I like you a lot, actually, but you’re still really drunk and we should wait to talk about this, yeah?”

He stroked Knox’s hair softly, smiling when the other boy nodded and leaned into his touch.

“Okay. I’m gonna get ready for bed now, alright? I’m not leaving, I promise.”

Knox hummed affirmatively, getting under the covers of Neil’s bed.

“Smells like you… smells nice.” He buried his face in Neil’s pillow.

Neil smiled as he turned off the lights and got into Todd’s bed, listening to Knox’s quiet snores until he fell asleep.

—

“Fuck”

Knox opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it when the world exploded, sending shards of light and color into his aching brain. Groaning, he buried his face in his (no, not his, his was softer?) pillow, wincing at the unexpected throb around his eye. He rolled over, facing the ceiling, moving an arm up to cover his eye when he heard the door open and relaxing immensely when he heard Todd’s voice.

“Morning, Knoxious. You okay?” Todd’s concern was evident, which made Knox feel a lot better. He loved that about Todd, he made up for what he lacked in confidence with an abundance of love and care for other people. Here he was now, handing Knox a bad of ice and a plate of pancakes from the diner he loved in town.

“Stick and I got breakfast this morning, thought you could use a hangover cure. Oh, which reminds me, I also brought you this,” he said, handing Knox a cup of water and a bottle of aspirin. He took everything with a smile, which widened when he saw Todd return it. Todd never smiled, and when he did, it was almost always genuine, and it made Knox feel warm inside to know that he had caused it.

“Where’s- ahem- where’s Neil?” Knox cleared the sleep from his throat and gulped down a couple pills before digging into the pancakes- blueberry. My favorite! Todd knows my favorite!

“Oh, uh, I actually don’t know,” Todd shrugged, furrowing his eyebrows, “He might be down by the dock? He goes there to study sometimes when he’s conflicted.”

Knox nodded, drinking the rest of the water and making quick work of the remaining pancakes.

“I’m gonna go find him. We gotta talk. If you see him, let him know I’m looking for him, alright?”

Knox got out of bed, only slowing for a moment when he realized he wasn’t wearing pants, before grabbing his jeans from their place on Neil’s chair and tugging them on before leaving the room.

Knox Overstreet had shitty hangovers. He had the headaches, the nausea, the fatigue, the dehydration, you name it… but he couldn’t seem to get wasted enough to ever forget anything. Usually, that was a good thing. As Knox marched towards the dock, he couldn’t decide whether he was glad to have the memories of the previous night, or if he wished that they would disappear forever.

His eyes are so fucking pretty. Fuck, how could I ever think I was in love with Chris when he was right here in front of me?

“Knox? You okay?”

“Mmm. You’re pretty, that’s all.”

He had laughed, then. God, his laugh was like music. His laugh was music.

“You’re pretty too, Knoxy.”

Fuck. It was too much, he was right here, and he had just taken Knox’s shirt off, and he was sitting on the floor between his legs, and it was all too much.

Carpe fucking Diem.

“You’re so stupid, Neil… I can’t do this anymore.”

Knox was grateful for Neil’s tie in that moment, because it was the one thing tethering him to the mortal world. Neil’s lips felt like home, and he knew it was more than just a drunken kiss. He was made to be kissing Neil, and he felt like he could do it forever.

And then it had ended.

“Knox, I-“

“Fuck.” He cursed at himself, the memory hurting his head worse than the alcohol or the bruise.

“I like you a lot, actually…”

“You’re pretty drunk still”

“Wait to talk about this, yeah?”

“Knox! Down here!”

Speak of the fucking devil. Neil Perry, looking as beautiful as ever, was sitting on the dock, long legs sprawled out, reading glasses balanced on the tip of his nose. He looked delicious. Knox shoved back those thoughts before they made themselves known on his physical form and waved at Neil, walking towards him.

“Hey, Neil.”

“I’m glad you’re up! How are you? How’s your head?”

“‘M fine, Neil. Really. Thanks to you and Todd.”

As he sat down next to Neil, he couldn’t tell if the look the other boy gave him was a look of concern or of longing.

“The bruise actually looks a lot better. I’ll bet it’s gone completely by Monday.”

Knox tried to hide the way his breath hitched as Neil’s hand moved to cup his cheek, stroking the area around his eye so tenderly it should have been illegal.

“Neil…”

“I know. We need to talk about last night.”

“I shouldn’t have…”

“Actually, I’m… I’m glad you did. Considering you meant it, at least.”

Knox was speechless. He had planned a whole speech out on his way down, only to have all words robbed from him by the flecks of sunlit gold in Neil’s brown eyes.

I love you

“I did. Mean it, that is… I definitely meant it.”

Jesus Christ, I love you, Neil Perry

“Then you won’t mind if… if I did it again?”

Knox met Neil’s eyes with his own.

“Not in the slightest.”

Then, he did the same with his lips.

And I love you, Knox Overstreet.

#neil perry #knox overstreet #dead poets society #dps #dps fanfic #dead poets society fanfic #dead poets society fanfiction #dps fanfiction #neil perry x knox overstreet #Spencer writes!#perrystreet #that's their ship name now

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