#the way I would have pushed the woman into the water once all the jellies were back in

[starshooter-1004]

Namor- The Ocean Calls 4

Masterlist

The next morning my mind was clouded; a mix between the wine and the music from last night. I sat up in the bed my eyes adjusting to my surroundings. I stood up my feet meeting the cold stone floor and walked over to the mirror. I examined myself and saw the light purple marks that trailed down my neck and chest. The memories began to flood back, the taste of him on my lips and his warmth and scent. I felt my senses being flooded by him all over again and I reminiscence. The feeling of his hands and heat permanently imprinted into my skin. A knock was heard on my door and I walked over to answer it. They're stood Atuma and Idris. She smiled and bowed as Atuma nodded his head.

“Good morning my lady, we were instructed to get you prepared for this morning with the Ajaw,” Idris beamed. 

“Please Idris, y/n is just fine,” I smiled and took the clothes from her arms.

“Change into this and meet at the ancestral hut in the center,” said Idris. I smiled and nodded closing the door. A day with Namor once again, was I excited? The anticipation to see him is what drew me to get ready with haste. I don’t know why but I was genuinely looking forward to his company this morning. After the whirl wind of events from yesterday; I am hoping today would be a different outcome. 

I exited the hut and made my way across the winding path and bridge to the center hut. Two guards standing at the entrance as I entered; Namor seemed to be deep in thought as he painted a new figure on his wall. I stood by the door for a few moments just observing him. He had a new outfit on of the thick cotton cloth. No jewels on him except the same nose and earrings as yesterday. I then reached up to the pendant suddenly aware of the jewel we both shared. He finally turned toward me and smiled.

“Please, don’t have be the reason you stop,” I walked toward him.

“No it’s quite alright, I was just finished and needed something other than this wall to look at,” he grinned. I blushed looking down at my hands, I heard the bowl and brush be placed on the table.

“I planned on taking you to the city again today. I wanted to show you around more and the day to day lives of the Talokanian people,” He wiped his hands with a rag. He looked up at me again placing the rag on the back of the chair and caressed my cheek.

“You look beautiful this morning,” Namor then leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. I closed my eyes taking in the proximity and his warmth as he lingered. He pulled away and placed the same device from yesterday to the middle of my back activating it. The same clear jelly surrounded me and he rid himself of his cloth. In this lighting I can better admire the man I had last night; he was truly a sight. 

“Careful now your drooling,” he joked. My eyes went wide and I looked away suddenly. 

“Well, can you blame me?” I teased. He smiled and walked over to me again.

“I hope to have you in my bed again soon,” he whispered. All I could do was look at him and nod.

“Not a woman of much words when flustered hm?” He teased. I rolled my eyes and pushed his shoulder; in which he sarcastically held it as if in pain. A laugh emitted from me then; the might king of Talokan bringing himself down to make me feel strong. 

“Come on let's get going,” I turned toward the door ahead of him heading to the pool. Namor grinned and trailed behind me and I stood at the edge looking into the dark abyss with the light green hue. He approached me on my right stretching his hand once again. I instead jumped in on my own, allowing the water to engulf me and gravity to sink me. I allowed my body to float in place until Namor jumped in causing a ripple of bubbles to flutter around me. 

He took the lead again directing me where to go, my swimming still faltering compared to his. Namor slowed his pace to keep up with me and glancing back to ensure I was close. We entered the city with the same current as yesterday; I had a better time today controlling my body as we went.

“Your learning quite quickly,” he said. Namor smiled and motioned me to swim up into the cavern. There he directed me to a long beam of plants and sea fish; women and men swam around picking up objects and placing new ones. The trade within the community was fluid and everything seemed so fresh compared to the markets on the surface. Namor approached the beam picking up a shell and handing it to me. 

“The sea shell, something very common and I’m sure you're accustomed too. Inside though we place pearls and quartz. This is very popular among couple gift one another in Talokan,” Namor said. I examined the shell as the jewels reflected onto my skin and looked at Namor. 

“It’s beautiful,” I smiled. I went to place it back onto the table beam until Namor’s hand grabbed mine.

“No, keep it as a token,” he didn’t look at me only staring at my hands and the shell. I looked up at him and he seemed upset, he quickly turned from me letting my hands go and swam forward. I caught up to him here we saw children playing and swimming excitedly amongst each other. The same child noticed us and quickly swam toward us bowing and gesturing to Namor and I. She quickly beckoned us to follow; in which I didn’t wait for Namor. 

The girl had the ball in her hand and motioned her hip and legs to me with it. She was trying to teach me the aspect of the game. She bumped it off her own toward the boy ahead he kicked it my way. I immediately put my arms up expecting to feel the force. Instead the water was the resistance and it instead floated forward. I looked as it was making its way and bumped it with my hip. It narrowly missed the hoop on the side; I beamed and turned towards the girl excitedly. 

The girl giggled and began repeating the moves and adding more advanced maneuvers to the game. I forgot Namor was watching as I played with the children for a while. When I looked over I saw him some distance away arms crossed and watching with a grin. He seemed to be in a different world as he looked on; like his thoughts were elsewhere. I took the girls hands and thanked her for the game instruction and hoped to see her soon. She bowed her head and gestured to me as she did Namor. 

I turned again to Namor swimming to him; I seemed to snap him back into reality as I floated before him. He again swam toward the sun of Talokan, there we watched the sun as it beamed brightly. Such a mystery how one man was able to provide such a thing to his people so below the depths. Namor approached a chair in the center; looking like a throne more so. He gazed at it and reached for my hand. He sat on the throne and pulled me to his lap; my arms wrapped around his neck as his secured my waist. 

“What do you think of the city now that you’ve seen more of it?” He asks. I looked down removing my arms and played with the shell. 

“It’s one of the most beautiful and magnificent things I’ve ever seen. The people here are so kind and it’s amazing what your people have been able to provide,” I looked out to the city again. 

“I wish that one day, you will want to stay here,” Namor exclaimed. I turned toward him.

“I am a surface dweller Namor, I am the very thing you despise; why keep me here of all people?” I didn’t mean for my tone to be harsh. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breathe before leaning close.

“Because I was there that night; the night you cursed to the stars and the ocean. The night you wished to be whisked away from your home of loneliness and torment. That night I made the decision to take you away from all of that; to give you a new meaning to your life,” I gaped at him. Namor… heard all of that? I put my hand on my head suddenly feeling a wave of anxiety and anger come over me.

“You’ve been watching me? For how long?” I looked at him slightly angry. 

“About three months before bringing you here. I was on a patrol of the coast after reports of a mechanism mining on of our resources. Upon my discovery I heard and found you; there I made sure to list twice a week. Each time seeing you reading or talking to your self like someone was listening. Each day I came to visit you made me even more sure you were the one,” he caressed my face.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean that you could be the missing piece to my people; to me,” he looked into my eyes. A wave of anxiety shot through me and I quickly got off his lap swimming to the edge of the throne scene. He stood then looking at me with concern; I looked at him then the shell.

“Why is this specific gift important to the Talokanian people?” I asked. Namor’s shoulder slouched slightly before swimming forward.

“Because…this is often used for proposals. Both marriage or courtship,” Namor avoided eye contact, just staring at the shell. I looked at him angry, I knew I was a fool to think this was nothing more than fleeting feelings. I shoved the shell into his chest and swam toward the exit. 

“Y/n!” Namor shouted. I swam with all my might trying to quickly get away from him. The surface the real surface I had to get there. There were two currents one on the right in which we entered; I knew there that led. I turned toward the left instead and quickly went toward that current. Namor’s voice appeared more urgent in his pleas and his speed increasing. Before he could grab me I dove into the current allowing it to whisk me away. 

The current was stronger and rough it jolted me around causing me to bump and flip in turn. I couldn’t get my bearings and this scared me; my anxiety flared up and as I tried to grab the walls it would rip me away. Suddenly I rounded a corner so hard I hit my back against the wall. The barrier around me flickered causing water to be trapped within. The water was freezing and my oxygen compromised. The pressure caused my ears to ring and everything sounded muffled. In a panic I curled into a ball covering my head as I hit another wall and everything went dark. 

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Consequences

Summary: It was bound to get out and things were bound to blow up.

Genre: Angst

Warning: Language, Arguing

Word Count: 1,688

Part 1 - Part 3

* * * * * * *

No one had seen or heard from Y/n in weeks. Her disappearance caused an uproar of worry from the team and all their questions and concerns went to one person: Natasha Romanoff.

With the way the two of you had been attached at the hip, always holding hands, cuddling, and “sucking face” as Tony put it, they figured she knew what was wrong with you or where you were. 

Her responses worried them even more. The strong, mostly stoic, and confident woman would freeze up, if she were holding something she’d squeeze it with the might of Thor himself, and green eyes would water up instantly. She’d look more hurt than they’d ever seen her. 

Other than Sam, no one knew about the bet, and they still don’t know. Natasha would like to keep it that way but she’s sure she won’t be able to, not with everyone wanting to know why you haven’t been around.

After you found out, Sam and Natasha understood giving you space. Despite wanting to make things better with you as soon as possible, they stayed away, they let you deal with your feelings. Around the third week however, they got even more worried than they already were.

Both of them had practically tried to break your door down to see you since you had FRIDAY revoke their access to your room. Despite their efforts you never opened up, never even gave so much as a ‘fuck off’.

Natasha felt her heartbreak all over again that night, reminded of what it felt like to watch you walk away from her as if she wasn’t the woman you’d spent months with. Then she felt guilty for feeling heartbroken.

She didn’t have a right to feel that way. She hurt you. She made that stupid fucking bet and she broke the heart of the woman she actually saw a future with. Her life was brighter with you in it and she fucked it all up.

All her emotions were pent up, only released when she was able to wail on a punching bag or a bad guy. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, like when she couldn’t sleep at night and chose to go down to gym. No matter how much she punched the bag, or ran on the treadmill, or worked out until her bones felt like jelly and her muscles screamed at her, she still felt like shit. 

Part of her wanted to forget about it but she couldn’t, especially since the team was becoming more and more persistent.

Like now, yet again, they’re all in the common room wondering where you are and asking Natasha about it.

She wants to snap, her guilty conscience wants to admit what she did and accept all the shitty things they would no doubt say to her. But she also doesn’t want to see the disappointment on their faces.

“Romanoff,” the biggest headache of them all walks in,“ where’s my partner?” Tony asks, moving in front of the coffee table. He effectively blocks the view of the tv.

Instead of everyone getting upset with him, they turn to Natasha. They start pestering her to tell him so he can get out of the way.

Carol, who’s been staying at the compound for a few days now, watches in amusement. 

“I don’t know Stark, probably still in her room.” Natasha dismisses, eyes flicking to Sam then dropping to her lap.

Tony huffs, jaw clenching before he practically stomps away, heading down the hall towards your room. A bit of an awkward silence settles once he’s gone.

Sam is quick to push himself up off the couch, speed walking out of the room with his head down.

Admittedly, the man feels worse than he ever has before. His previous thoughts of being an asshole have gotten louder and louder in his head. You and Sam were becoming really good friends, much like with Natasha, you trusted him and he broke that.

A lot of thoughts plague his mind, from his service in the military to the things he’s experienced as an Avenger. This was now one of those things. A stupid bet kept him up at night. Mainly because it was so much more than that.

No one is around when he walks up to your door. He knocks, head resting against the door as he sighs.“ Y/n, I know I keep saying it but, I’m really sorry. Please come out, so I- so we can make it better.”

He got no answer which furthers his hurt, so with a huff, he turns and goes to his room.

In the now barren common room, Natasha still sits, completely lost in thought. Practically drowning in self hate. 

Steve sighs from his spot on the sofa across from the redhead.“ Nat, what’s been going on?” he asks.“ Y/n hasn’t been out of her room for a while and you've been different. I know you aren’t sleeping, that you’ve been spending all your nights in the gym.”

Natasha’s eyes hold more vulnerability than the blonde man had ever seen. It was startling at first, but once that passed he was filled with more worry.

He stands up and moves to sit beside Natasha, his hand ever so gently rests on her knee and the dam that had been keeping her tears at bay cracks. Green eyes shine with tears before she buries her face in her hands.

“Nat, what’s wrong?” His voice is softer than before, hand gently squeezing her knee.

She shakes her head, a sniffle sounding from her before she speaks.“ I’m a terrible person. I- I fucked it all up.”

“What did you mess up?”

There’s a pause. She drags her hands down her face, exposing the faint pink tear stains on her cheek. 

The woman sighs.“ I made a bet with Sam, t-to see who could,” more tears prick her eyes at the thought of what she’s admitting,“ sleep with her first.”

Silence encircles the room. Not even Steve’s breathing could be heard and they’re sitting right beside each other.

“I know, I’m a terrible fucking person.” She says with a huff, dropping back against the couch.

Steve processes the thought, then sighs.“ You’re not a terrible person. You did a really bad thing but that doesn’t make you terrible.”

The man’s words and his comfort do nothing to soothe Natasha. 

Even worse, word spread of what happened. Steve told his long time friend and confidant, Bucky, who immediately confronted Sam. 

The confrontation just so happened to be in the middle of the common room. Once again everyone was hanging out in the room, watching tv and talking, when the super soldier came barreling in, shouting at Sam.

An argument broke out, Sam shouting at Bucky to get off his case. The man felt bad enough already, he didn’t need some fossil telling him of his mistakes. And Bucky couldn’t believe Sam would do something so stupid and cruel. 

The whole time, Natasha sat on the couch, teary eyed and guilty. She felt the looks she was getting from everyone as the truth of her biggest mistake got aired out. She felt their judgment, then she was verbally attacked as well.

Tony, who was obviously a close friend of Y/n's, was livid. Profanities were shouted and Natasha couldn’t stand the harsh words.

It quickly became a shouting match between Sam and Bucky, and Tony and Natasha. Steve tried to mediate things, Wanda tried to calm them down, nothing worked. Feelings were high.

While the arguing was about the situation, one person in the room couldn’t help but feel like the arguing was unnecessary, wrong even.

Carol was shocked to hear about the bet, lingering back by the kitchen door with listening ears. Everyone was talking about how horrible the bet was and of course the underlying message was about Y/n being involved, but the main thing should be about how Y/n was feeling.

Her disappearance adds up.

She was gone because she was hurt. Hiding out in her room because she was embarrassed about the whole thing. She couldn’t face anyone with the thought that they knew about her being played and she certainly didn’t want to run into Natasha or Sam.

Carol had never been in a situation like this but she knew couldn’t possibly be okay, that Y/n was just fine all by herself and upset.

So, while the arguing was still going on she slipped away. She made her way through the halls in search of Y/n’s room, with the help of FRIDAY.

When she got to the door she asked FRIDAY if anyone was in there and the AI said there was. 

The blonde takes a deep breath, then lightly knocks on the door.

“Hey uh, Y/n, it’s Carol.” Her voice is full of uncertainty, maybe some nervousness, but she doesn’t let that stop her.“ I just wanted to let you know that um, I think what Nat and Sam did was gross. I know we don’t know each other very well but you deserve better than that.”

She doesn’t get a response, eliciting a sigh. But she understands that words just might not be enough. She wouldn’t want you to think she was just messing around with her words.

“I’m only here for a few more days but if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to find me.”

Admittedly there isn’t anything special about her words. Nothing the rest of the team wouldn’t come say to you now that they know. And it wasn’t the fact that it was her, like she said the two of you weren’t close by any means. Aside from occasionally having a cup of coffee together over breakfast you didn’t see each other much. 

However, she’s first. She’s the first person to come to you knowing of the bet. With you having spent weeks all alone, with no one to talk to about your situation and the hurt it caused you, you needed an outlet, you needed someone.

So you opened the door and you let her in.

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @natasha-danvers @blackxwidowsxwife @yumusak-yastik @b-5by5 @fayhar @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout​ @alotofpockets @caspianalexander @yeeterthekeeper @username23345 @how-to-disappearrr @t00manyfand0ms @lorsstar1st @jediluka @luminaaz @tellthestarshello808 @arcadia-g @ecruzsalaz

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken trust, pt.6/finale

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five 

Summary: Inside the fold, Y/N and the Darkling face off.

Warnings: angst, fluff sprinkled on top, indicating smut

========================

When she was a child, Y/N feared the darkness. Every night she would lay awake with a candle by her side, too scared to close her eyes. She feared the unspoken horrors that occurred under the cloak of darkness, of one day finding herself in peril as well. The fold fueled such fears, especially when the boys in the orphanage would speak of the Volcra. She had heard the descriptions, the vile appearances and inhuman deeds they’re capable of. They haunted her when she closed her eyes, wondering if that’s what killed her parents.

Y/N still fears the dark, just of a different kind.

She fears the darkness that resides in humans, the kind that’s lurking under the surface yet remains invisible to the naked eye. At any point, the darkness could surface and once it does, it would swallow anyone who stands in its way. Perhaps that’s where her trust issues stem from, the corruption of human hearts. People are wicked, using everything, even love, for their selfish desires.

In truth, she should have seen it before.

Aleksander Morozova should have been a clear danger for her heart right from the moment they met in that dark tent where she wondered how anyone could be comfortable in such an environment. A powerful, handsome man with a silver tongue and a weakness for her had seduced her by simply paying attention. He looked at her like no man ever before – like she was the only one for him, a source of eternal sunshine.

She shouldn’t have allowed herself to be deceived.

A woman with trust issues and a fear of darkness fell in love with a man who was darkness incarnated. He embodied all she dreaded and yet she couldn’t see beyond the mask of perfection he always kept in place. A part of her wondered if he ever showed who he truly is in those intimate moments they shared.

Throwing his head back, Aleksander laughed. His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath before it quaked with a new laugh erupting from deep inside.

“It’s not funny!” She pouted, trying to glare at him as if the sound of his laughter didn’t make her feel like she’s in a dream.

“You know I adore that pout”, Aleksander smirks, pinning her against the wall.

Breathless, her lips part just in time for Aleksander’s to take advantage. He gave a low, throaty chuckle once her knees turned to jelly and she collapsed against the strength of his arm behind her back. He bent, put his other arm beneath her knees. His mouth never leaves hers as he carries her to the bed. He abandoned her lips only to press them on her neck and she couldn’t believe how easily he swayed her.

Before long she could bear no more kissing. She ached all over and she pulled his hair to better meet his mouth. She fastened on his lips hungrily, greedily, ready to feel him inside her, around her, to completely numb her senses.

“Aren’t we eager today”, he teased her as he slowed down, determined to drawl out every moment he had with her.

“I can either be angry with you for laughing at me”, she trails off, her eyes flickering to his lips. “Or you can make me forget about the poor Grisha I flashed in your map room.”

Growling, he inhales sharply, “As amusing as it was to see you both scream, I prefer when you scream for me when we are alone.”

Rolling her eyes, she huffs, “I wanted to be spontaneous! How was I supposed to know someone else would be in the room?”

He picked up a lock of her hair from across her neck and held it up, letting the dim light of the fireplace play though the strands. He held it to his nose, then to his lips.

For the first time he could ever remember, he was completely content.

“What do you want us to do?” Ivan asks, finding the change in his general terrifying. He could see the Darkling is enraged, losing control and a Grisha powerful as he is could be lethal in such circumstances.

“You’ll do nothing”, Aleksander snapped as he mounted his horse. “I will go after her.”

He looks to his loyal Grisha with narrow eyes, aware he’ll return undoubtedly changed by whatever transpires inside the fold. Whether he returns with his Sun Summoner in hand or with her body in his arms, the Darkling would be different.

During his time with Y/N, Aleksander relied on her for happiness he long forgot about. He held onto her for as if she was all he had and she still abandoned him. They all do so once they see how far he’s ready to go in order to protect those he loves – his people….and her. He would have done anything for her.

This is his kingdom, but she’s not his queen anymore.

“We shall await for further instructions at the camp.”

Nodding, Aleksander turns away from them with a dark look on his face. For the first time since he created the fold, he will step inside and he didn’t know who would emerge victorious. If he dies, he won’t be around to care, but if she does? He was sure he will never be whole again.

He kissed the corner of her mouth boldly, waiting for a sign of resistance. Her hands pushed weakly against his shoulders but even at his slight touch, her eyes closed in surrender. 

Seeing her so, Aleksander smirked before he kissed her cheek, her ear lobe. Then, as she gasped for breath, his mouth came down on hers. His tongue sweetly touched the tip of hers and she drew back, startled. He smiled at her as if he understood how strange such affection is to her.

“Someone will see us”, she whines.

Shrugging, Aleksander’s smile grows wider, “Let them see.”

“Don’t you have a reputation of a hardass to preserve?” Her lips press into a thin line as her eyebrows rise, tantalizing him.

His eyes are nearly black as he pulls her to him again. He ran his tongue along her lips, touching the inner corners especially. She parted her teeth for him, desperate for a taste of him. He was better than the richest honey; hot and cold, soft and firm. She explored his mouth as he had explored hers, no longer shy or reserved with him.

Parting in desperate need of a proper breath, he looks at her rosy, swollen lips with complete resignation.

“My reputation means nothing to me when you’re with me. You are what I want my reputation to be.”

Panting, Y/N felt like her lungs would explode. She had been running from the edge of the fold, deep into the darkness she once feared. She ran because she wasn’t sure if Aleksander was furious enough to disregard his own safety by following her inside.

Lips quivering, she pulls out the flask Mal packed for her. Taking a sip, she frowns at the watered down taste of alcohol. She made it clear she wanted nothing but water, yet Mal disregarded her wish. Shaking her head, she smiles anyway. If Mal was with her, she’d thank him for the liquid courage. She’d have agreed to a bottle of whiskey now, lost in the dark.

Swept away in her thoughts, she gasps at the growling in the distance. Her heart nearly stops as a dark, looming shadow passes above her. She whips around as the growls come from behind her as well.

She passed sixteen markers, but she hoped to get to the eighteenth. She planned to get as close to the middle as humanly possible, but wasn’t this just it? If she kept going, nothing could guarantee her safety and she was deep enough inside the fold to at least try. 

Every night she laid awake in the past year was spent with her strengthening her light, her control. 

This was it – she could do it. 

She had to do it.

Releasing a shaky breath, Y/N folds her hands before her. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath as she parts her hands at the palms.

“I wouldn’t do that”, a painfully familiar voice sounds and her eyes open wide.

“Or you’ll kill me?” She laughs, unable to stop herself. It’s a laugh made from pure anxiety and hurt, one that made her feel like she’s mad. Her habit of laughing when she feels like she’s got nothing left to lose came rarely; the first time it happened was when she learned her parents have succumbed to the very fold she’s in now. She reckoned this would be the last time.

“I don’t want to but, if you do not submit to me –“, Aleksander starts, coming closer slowly as if she was a doe and he the hunter. Every sudden move could frighten her and he didn’t want to face what happens in that case.

“Kill me if you must but I will not submit to you, or any man who wears his crimes like crown jewels!”

Raising her voice had drawn the Volcra, the growling growing louder.

"Is it so wrong for me to want to save you?" Sniffling, Y/N swallows thickly. She couldn’t cry anymore, there were no tears left to cry. She’s dry, inside out. “Things could have been different, you know? You didn't have to fall so far.”

Lifting his chin, Aleksander took a step further in her direction. Catching the slightest shake of her head, he pauses, arms raised in mock surrender.

“You made me love you”, he speaks through gritted teeth, “To depend on you.” He clenches his jaw, his patience wearing thin. “Now you’re trying to take the last piece of my sanity with you.”

“You don’t have to do this”, she tries meekly, “We can still be magnificent. Be the man I fell in love with, please.”

“And then what? We’re supposed to play house while they’re killing our people?!” Aleksander spat, barely holding himself back. “They wouldn’t stop until they kill you right before me and any children we might have!”

Eyebrows knitted together, Y/N’s mouth opens at the words spoken. There was a moment when Y/N realized she’d misinterpreted her darling Darkling’s actions, his words, his expressions from the moment they met… as if he’d been speaking a language she couldn’t understand… that moment was the moment her heart broke…She could hardly speak in her shock when she learned he had lied to her, but this shockingly defining moment was much different than that first moment.

“Children”, she breathes out as a smile forms on her lips, one he found confusing.

All this time, Aleksander had been using the fold as a way to protect his people and yet, he failed to realize it is exactly what they need to destroy.

“We don’t need the fold”, her smile widens, “You are the fold, my darling Darkling and I am your Sun.” Her lips quiver, her entire body trembles and she still comes closer to him without fear. “With the two of us, we can create and destroy this fold anywhere in the world and today is our chance to demonstrate our power to all those who’d dare to defy us!”

Lips parting, he shakes his head. “What are you saying”, he sneers, still angry at her for defying him.

“I’m saying it doesn’t have to be one way or the other”, she chuckles in disbelief, “We can both destroy the fold and win this war. Every war.”

The growling is near, close enough for the hair to stand on the back of Y/N’s neck.

“Don’t”, he orders as her hands touch, “Don’t you dare!”

Shakily lifting her head, Y/N smiles, "I love you".

Before he has time to comprehend the weight of her words, his world was set aflame by a blinding light exploding all around him.

She screamed out as a bright light emerged from her entire being, enveloping her like a lover’s embrace. It is the kind of brightness that enchants the eyes to open all the wider as it warms the skin.

She never felt the warmth like this, not even when Aleksander’s lips gave her breath or when his arms gave her a reason to believe in him. This warmth is different, like the sun had incorporated itself into her soul and is finally shining through.

She looks to her hands, opening the fists that glow an ethereal light force she never experienced. Her light is like sunlight, it comes as woven strands, free and united, and flowing as it reveals and solidifies, making the world of nightmares around them into something so beautiful. 

Her eyes meet Aleksander’s dazed gaze, her smile wide but his lips are set in a firm line. 

She could feel her soul ripping as she pushed the light further from them, toward the edges. The pressure in her head grew, erasing the smile from her lips. Her legs barely kept her standing as she stumbles. She could feel a wet liquid running from her nose to her lips, the metallic taste making her eyes widen.

“You’ll kill yourself if you keep this up!” Aleksander shouts, trying to make her see sense but she shakes her head.

“I have to do this! For us!”

He could see a vein pulsating across her forehead, the blood gushing from her nose and it slowly became clear to him – he might not have been able to kill her, but seeing her like this convinced him he doesn’t have to. She’ll do it all on her own.

Reaching for her, his hands wrap around her wrists firmly. “I love you too”, he rests his forehead on hers, amplifying her power. He could feel her smile for a split second before she closed her eyes.

Gasping for air, she felt her insides burning and before she could stop herself, Y/N’s bloodcurdling scream echoed in the fold, effectively stopping his heart in fright.

As her scream dies down, Y/N goes limp in Aleksander’s arms.

Her light disappears, another one taking its place as he lowers to his knees, holding her close to him. Looking up, he almost cries as the blue skies above shine a light on his face. 

“You did it”, he croaks, shaking her slightly. “Solntse? Solnechnyy svet?!”

Unmoving, Y/N laid in his embrace as if she had simply fallen asleep, but Aleksander knew she was hanging by a thread.

“Lyubov’?” His voice breaks the self-imposed sternness, his fingers clutching the fabric of her kefta…He didn’t even realize she kept it. 

She must have put it on inside the fold, he realized.

Now, in the light of day, he finally saw the black kefta he ordered to be made for her – black with golden traces of the light she brought in his life. It was fitting she’d be given powers of light for she was the embodiment of lightning, illuminating stormy skies he couldn’t navigate through. Not on his own.

“Wake up”, he whispers. “I need you”, the raspiness of his voice and the cracks are enough testimony for the break inside his chest.

“I can’t survive without you”, he bowed his head down, a choked sob escaping him.

“I love you.” Aleksander whispered into her chest, breaking down when she didn’t say it back. Y/N always chose to say ‘I love you’ instead of goodbye, explaining goodbye was the last thing she ever wanted to tell him and he understood now. He never wanted to tell her goodbye, but maybe that’s necessary too. Maybe life is about learning a better way to say goodbye, learn to let go of the ones you love with nothing but love.

“Aleks”, she tries but the words are stuck in the back of her throat as her need to breathe becomes direr.

“Saints!” He presses his lips as he looks up at her, just as breathless as he was the day when he first saw her. “What can I do? Tell me how can I help you?!”

“All this time I’ve blamed you”, her hand rests upon his cheek, “For pulling me into the dark”, she pauses, “But I was wrong.” Wetting her lips, she manages a small smile, “It was me who brought out your dark side.”

She averts her gaze, hating the vulnerability in her voice as he takes her hand in his, inspecting the ring he gifted her with a crooked smile.

“None of it matters now”, he rests his forehead on hers, “I love you with all I am and I never want to feel like this again.”

“Look at me.” He’s not asking, rather demanding and she can feel the subtle difference just as she can feel his warm hand wrap around hers.

“Gladly”, she chuckles as he helps her sit. None of her hate for him remained. Love…hate, it was always a fine line to walk on and she finally settled on a side – his side.

Saying I love you is the bravest thing he has ever done in his life, for it took every ounce of strength and courage to openly expose his feelings to the love of his life, to put his heart on the line time and time again after all the times she walked away. He knew he didn’t deserve her as she’s always been too good for him, but he swore he’d spend the rest of his life building himself up to be the kind of man she’d be proud of.

“I love you”, he kisses the palm of her hand, giving her enough time to say it back.

“And I love you. I promise you, we will be unstoppable. Together, hand in hand, nothing will dare stand in our way.”

As soul meets soul in a lover’s kiss, the two embrace in the midst of a desert made of ruin they would find a way to rebuild. Their story is far from over, but this time around, they’ll write it together – as equal parts of a whole.

 Tags: @blackbirddaredevil23 @subjecta13-thefangirl @aquamariene-me​ @savannah-elliott @auggie2000 @daybleedsintonightfa11 

[a-glimpse-of-fantasy]

Moments

Editing by @03patrickstar ^^

⚠️ This story takes after the final episode of Duskwood. So if you haven't finished the game first, this story contains heavy spoilers.

⚠️Warnings: Suicide attempts, Mentions of suicide & Death, Child abuse, Violence

All chapters from the beginning

Previous chapter

***

Chapter 8 - A desperate outcry

His arms were scratched. Running through the forest ‘till he ran out of breath, Kyle bent down. Still gasping for air, he looked around again. 

Faye was somewhere around this area. The tracking bug they placed in her bag indicated so. Though he failed to grab her phone, he made someone place that on her. 

No matter how hard he looked, Faye was nowhere to be seen.

Why in the world? 

A sudden thought stopped Kyle from taking another step. He stiffened, frowning.

Could this…be a trap, perhaps?

Sh*t! When did I become this careless?

Rubbing his temples, Kyle tried to be more alert. He was not trained for these situations, to be honest. Kyle felt as if being trapped between two walls. The walls would move and crush him to death, eventually.

He was nearing the Grimrock. The loud noise made his situation more vulnerable. Why didn’t he think of the possibility that Jake would attack him? Irritated at the sound of the falling water, Kyle clicked his tongue. His lips letting out a cuss under his breath, Kyle looked up.

His knees seemed to have turned jelly.

What the hell?!

Kyle climbed the hill at once, not caring about breathing difficulties. He was scared. His body trembling, Kyle was unable to call out to Faye.

If he called her name, she would jump.

***

“M-mom?”

The woman turned her head. The long, black hair ruffled and randomly cut, the messed up make-up with cheeks stained in black along with the tears. The bright red dress was crumpled and now was oversized as the woman kept starving herself for days.

This was no alien scenery for him. What panicked him was where she was standing.

Kyle who just arrived home from middle school, looked around to find his mother. He preferred not to greet her but it would be even more bothersome if she finds him later.

“You ungrateful brat! You are just like your father!”

Or she would have another episode.

“You monster! Give me my family back! My husband! My son! Give them back!”

“I’m going to kill you!”

“Monster! I have to dig those eyes out!”

Such words didn’t manage to bring out an ounce of emotions from him by now. He had heard them forever.

A mother who’d call the child she gave birth to, “a monster” while asking for that very son. A father who left him with a mentally ill woman. Kyle knew that his father didn’t want to cope with his mother. She would look for him while in his embrace. Additionally, Kyle’s father had several women; it was easy for him to walk out with one of them.

A few years ago, that woman tried to dig out his eyes again. She cuffed his hands, grabbing the kitchen knife. The five-year-old Kyle could do nothing, but the thirteen-year-old Kyle could. He pushed her hard, forcefully as he could. The woman hit her head on the floor and fainted. 

Confirming she was still breathing; Kyle left that hell. He wandered in the streets and sometimes would pickpocket. Sometimes got hit by gangs, and sometimes were ordered to work for them. Either way, his priority was filling his empty stomach.

That did not last long though. He was caught by the police and was sent to his mother again. The same thing happened several times. The woman who wanted to kill him, would belatedly come back to her senses and report to the police. Then he would be dragged home again. 

Honestly, he wanted to tell the authorities about the abuse he went through. But his mother’s pleading face won’t let him. He was putting himself in hell, again and again.

He genuinely believed that he deserved all that hurt and pain.

Kyle was born to burn in that hell.

That same woman was now…

Standing on the railing at the balcony. The balcony of the 31st floor.

His body froze. A faint voice left his mouth, “Mom? Why?”

The woman only stared at him. She stared into his eyes, the eyes she hated so much. Then she burst into laughter. Laughing hysterically, her thin body waved giving him a heart attack.

Suddenly, she stopped. Then smiled sweetly. 

Whenever she did so, the blood left his face.

“Monster…Are you happy now?”

Kyle could only stare. To call out to the emergency service and ask for help was nowhere near his now blank head.

“I curse you, the monster that ruined my family. You will never be happy, Kyle. Until the day you die.”

With the last of her words, the woman let her body fall. Her body was crushed in the middle of a pool of blood.

***

A gentle movement from Faye jerked him back to reality.

Faye slowly turned around. His mind went blank, body stiffening.

What if she jumps when she sees me?

Kyle wanted to hide. But his feet were fixed. Faye looked right through him. She didn’t seem to have noticed him at all. Clutching her phone, Faye slowly stepped out of the hill. 

As she was about ten feet away from him, Faye fell to the floor. Kyle ran towards her at once.

Out of impulse, he grabbed her shaking body to his chest, hugging her tightly.

***

Ah…

He came to save me after all…

Jake.

I missed you so much…

Faye decided, at that moment. 

She would never run away from that feeling again.

I...still love you, Jake.

I love you.

-To be Continued.

[mrs-march-ahs]

can i request some hcs about the evans (or either jimmy or kyle!) with a more dominant reader?? (gn or male if you can) ty!! congrats on 300!

How Would The Evans React To the Gender Neutral Reader Wanting To Dominate Them

Another request was-  how would the evans react to the reader wanting to peg them?

So I combined the two, hope you don’t mind! Enjoy! :)

----

Tate

-Would of course be totally up for it

-Happy to be submissive

-Mainly because he wants to be taken care of every so often

-You have to kiss his neck for at least 20 minutes so that he can melt in your arms

-Find a certain spot and give him a hickey and he’ll turn into jelly

-His favourite position to take it up the ass is to just lay on his back and hold his legs up a little bit

-Or even better, you hold them up so he can relax

-His other favourite position is to lay flat on his tummy, with his legs together, and you straddle his thighs

-Either way he gets to sit back and relax while you make him feel good

-Once he gets a little more comfortable he’d love it if you teased him a little bit, like don’t touch him just fuck him so he can cum hands-free

-If he keeps reaching to stroke himself, pin his arms at either side and he’ll blush

Kit

Pre-Death Kyle

-Would be a little more hesitant, and would need a lot more reassuring

-Maybe go for a long shower together first so you can wash his hair and wash his body so he can relax a little

-At least an hour of foreplay or don’t bother

-Right when he’s about to flip you over so he’s on top, you stop him and remind him that you’re in charge

-Little kisses on his thighs and tummy while you prep him to make sure he’s relax

-Tons of little compliments

- “You’re doing so well baby”

-When he moans a little, “You’re purring for me, kitten”

-You’d make love to him rather than fuck him, especially the first time

-If he liked it a lot a few days later when you’re making out he’d awkwardly be like

- “You know like… how we did it on Tuesday? Wanna… maybe do that again? We don’t have to! But-”

- “On your hands and knees, kitten”

tw- mention of sexual trauma

Franken-Kyle

-He’d be up for the idea but would be a little nervous just sitting back

-Because of the sexual trauma he’s experienced, he would be hesitant to not be in control, because when he’s in control, he can stop whenever he wants

-You’d make up a safe word system, like traffic lights

-If he said amber, you’d stop what you’re doing or slow down until he said green

-And if he said red you’ll pull out/stop completely

-You’d first describe everything that’s going to happen so there’s no surprises

-Would only put a finger in when he’s reassured you that it’s fine, same with the second and third

-Although it’s tempting to avoid his prostate with your fingers so that when you hit it with your dick/dildo it’s amazing, to make sure he feels good you’d rub over it a little

-Just a little to test the waters

-But a moan would slip out and he’d be like, “Hold on, w-what did you do? What was that?”

- “Oh you mean this?”, you said as you curled your finger up to the spot again. A shiver possesses Kyle’s body as he arches his back.

-You’d suck his dick as you fingered him, focusing on him much more than yourself

-Probably wouldn’t end up fucking his ass the first time although you wanted to, because he’d be shaking and moaning so pretty that you wouldn’t have the heart to stop

-The second or third time though, you’d prep with your fingers and then right when he’s about to cum, pull them out and lube up your cock/dildo

- “Ready for this now Ky?”

-He’d nod but still be a little nervous, holding onto you as you fucked him

-He’d pump himself like crazy and even after he’d cum, he’d beg you to keep going a little longer

Jimmy Darling

-Most sex with dead Kyle is you dominating him

-Riding him, cowgirl, sucking him off

-Even when he fucks you, you still hold his hips and guide him to help him find a rhythm

-A rhythm that he loses when he gets too close because he can’t control himself

-Eventually you’d try to explain to him how anal sex would work, and you’d let him try it on you first

-He’d wriggle a lot trying to get used to the slightly uncomfortable feeling, but soon enough would grab your wrist and be pushing your fingers deeper

-Loud grunts, pumping himself like crazy, whining if you slow down, even after he already came

James March

-He wouldn’t be turned on by the idea but would be willing to try it for you

-You wouldn’t be able to baby him though

- “You’re doing so well sweetheart”, “Just put it in, Y/N”, “Oo, feisty”, “I’m about to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress”

-If you dared to spank him, he’d pick you up and put you over his lap and spank you until you’re bright red

-He’d love giving anal to you, but when you first start prepping him with your fingers he’d ask so many questions

- “This doesn’t feel good at all, how can you take this for me? My dick’s bigger than that, doesn’t it hurt?”

-But once you’re all the way in, you’d give him a few seconds to breath before moving

- “I feel so full, but it doesn’t feel that gre- shittttt”

-If you tried to be cheeky, you could pin his hands above his head so he can’t touch his dick

- “I’m gonna punish you like crazy for this, princess/ sugar”

Kai Anderson

-Would be hesitant at first but likes being a sub

-Eventually would be willing to try anal, but only once, and only a little bit

-You’d suck him off and rub his ass and he wouldn’t mind

-Then slowly you’d wriggle a finger in, and although he wouldn’t like it too much, you sucking him would still feel good enough

-Eventually before he knows it you’re fucking him with three fingers and he’s moaning like crazy

-He’s push your head down on his cock when he’s about to cum, and you’d push your fingers in as deep as you can

-He’d be so in shock that he came from that, that he’d need a few minutes to recover

- “Dearest, I didn’t expect to enjoy that, but you do work magic with those fingers”

- “That was just prep work James, are you ready for this?”, you said, slapping your cock against his stomach, swirling it around in the pool of cum he left

- “Think you can cum again for me Jimmy?”

- “For you? I’ll do anything”

-Always on top

-Man or woman, he’s on top

-Even if he’s tired and just wants to fuck and go to bed, he’s on top

-The only way you’d be able to dominate him is if you tricked him into it

-But he’d love it

-Check a smut I wrote about this situation :)

[roanniom]

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~ 

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield. 

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.  

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst 

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.  

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.  

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.  

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

[p-artsypants]

A Gift from Mr. Blanc

Marinette's worst nightmares were of Chat Blanc. But that's all they were: nightmares. Until one day where in the stone cold light of day, Chat Blanc walked into the classroom, with a gift in hand. "This will make you love me again, My Lady."

Ao3 | FF.net

Everyone is on this Chat Blanc train, so I bought a ticket and got a window seat. 

--

“Yes, Timestreamer, find me the best Akuma ever created!” Shadowmoth raised a manic fist as the images appeared before him. 

The woman who was once Nathalie Sancoeur stood next to him, now transformed into an Akuma with thick glasses, which almost looked like VR goggles. 

In a fit of artist’s block, Gabriel Agreste had vented that he had run out of ideas for Akuma. He had to keep going, and the villains couldn’t slack less Ladybug and Chat Noir get the upper hand. 

To which Nathalie had said, “well, you don’t need to reinvent the wheel.” 

She had meant it to be cheeky, but he took inspiration from it in a whole new way. Why invent a new villain when one from a different time is sure to work? Timetagger, an Akuma from the future, had seemed to almost win. Perhaps there were more like him out there. 

He only needed someone to see the timelines so he could pick his champion. 

So here they were, scanning through endless time streams, looking at massive successes, and massive failures. There really was no telling which one would do the job, but unless Timestreamer’s Akuma was taken or, heaven forbid, the Butterfly was taken, they could send villain after villain after villain. 

Yes, this was a good plan! 

“That one!” Shadowmoth pointed, the stark white catching his gaze. 

“That one?” Timestreamer asked, feeling unease looking into his soulless blue eyes. 

“That has to be Chat Noir’s akumatized form. He’s perfect.” 

Following orders, Timestreamer summoned the Akuma forward. 

From the static images appeared a grainy figure, slowly solidifying into a solid white boy. His expression was one of confusion and disorientation.

“Chat Blanc, I am Shadowmoth,” he began. 

Immediately, Chat Blanc snarled. “You! You monster!” And he leapt. 

Suffice to say, neither Timestreamer or Shadowmoth were prepared for a full on fight this early in the conversation. 

Shadowmoth did have training in fighting, and successfully blocked the incoming swipe at his throat with his arm. However, the claws cut right through his suit and into his flesh, making him cry out in pain. 

The next swipe hit true, and knocked the butterfly Miraculous from its place on his collar. 

Chat Blanc then plucked the Peacock from his lapel while Gabriel Agreste tried to put pressure on his grievous wounds. 

“Why?” Asked Gabriel, “don’t you know I made you? Don’t you know I can give you everything you want?” 

Chat Blanc didn’t respond, only snapped the goggles off of a shell shocked Timestreamer. He then touched the black butterfly with his claw, and it crumbled into dust. 

Nathalie ran to Gabriel and looked at his wounds. “You need to go to a hospital.” 

“No!” He protested, pushing her away. “Answer me, boy! You’re easily the most powerful Akuma ever made. Once you get the Miraculous of Ladybug and this timeline’s Chat Noir, we can make the ultimate wish! Whatever your heart’s desire, it’s yours!” He reached a hand out to the boy. 

Chat Blanc, who Gabriel knew as the exuberant and emotional Chat Noir, just looked at him with a sharp, emotionless stare. 

“You already took everything from me, Father. This is my one chance to get things back to where they are supposed to be.” 

“Adrien?” 

The gaze didn’t change, but he did raise an eyebrow. “In my timeline you knew. You knew, and you still hurt me. You hurt her. You turned me, and you forced me to kill. You left me alone in that world for months. Left me to mourn. Cursed me to this form—“ he snarled. “That can’t starve, that can’t sleep, that can’t thirst or drown—“ a tear fell down his cheek. “You left  me in a prison where I couldn’t die, and would continue to suffer because of your mistakes.” He gave a hint of a bitter smile. “Does that answer your question, old man?” 

Maybe it was just the blood loss, but Gabriel felt some remorse. “I’m sorry, son. Give me back the Butterfly, and I’ll set you free.” 

“Not a chance. Ladybug will fix me. And when I give her these, she’ll love me again. And I’ll have all the family I ever need.” With that, he summoned his baton to break through the window, and launched out into Paris. 

Gabriel laid still on the ground, holding his chest with one hand while Nathalie gripped his wrist with the other. 

“I…what am I going to do?” 

“Well, you know Adrien has the ring—“ 

“No doubt Chat Blanc will tell him everything before we can get to him. I don’t think that’s an option anymore.” 

“Then…what would you like to do?” 

He spent a long time just breathing and thinking. 

Choosing. 

“I guess, apologize. And then hope that I haven’t done enough damage to lose the only family I have left.” 

“Maybe, if he is Chat Noir, and you explain the truth to him…he’ll tell Ladybug. Maybe she’d help.” 

“I doubt she’d do anything to help me, after all I’ve done.” He leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I could just bleed out here. Save him the pain.” 

“I won’t let you do that, Sir. As upset Adrien will be, he still loves you.” 

“But for how long?” 

“I think you should live and find out.” 

—

Chat Blanc had never been so happy. He should be upset, angry, sobbing even, but he wasn’t. 

He was getting his second chance. Paris was full, alive, teeming with traffic and swearing and smoking and everything foul that wasn’t there in his wastelands. 

Hawkmoth was gone, and he was on his way to Marinette. With these, she had to love him, she just had to.

Francois DuPont never looked so pretty. The windows showed bored expressions of dozens of students. 

Students that were alive and not submerged under water. 

He dropped down in the courtyard, letting muscle memory take him up the stairs to his old classroom. The door was closed, but not locked. 

Did he knock? Or did he just walk in? It had been so long…did he introduce himself? Did he apologize for interrupting? 

He decided to forgo knocking, and pushed the door open on his own. 

All eyes turned to look at him, but his attention was only on her. 

Though he did get a glimpse of his own horrified face. 

“Chat Noir?” The teacher asked. 

“No.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.” He never stopped looking right at Marinette.

“I must be dreaming,” the girl in question said aloud. “I must have fallen asleep, and now I’m having a nightmare.” Tears were filling her eyes as her voice crumbled. “Please tell me you’re a nightmare, Chat.” 

“No, My Lady. I’m real.” Did she know him from somewhere? Or was she just assuming he was an akumatized Chat Noir? “But this shouldn’t be a nightmare, Marinette.” His steps were slow and soft, trying not to spook her. “I’m your dream come true. Because it’s over now, and we can be together.” 

She stood abruptly, smacking her knees on the desk and almost tumbling. “What are you talking about?” 

He placed the Miraculous on the desk. “It’s over now. I won. Hawkmoth is no more, and there’s nothing that can hurt us. This will make you love me again!” 

“Holy shit…” Said Alya. 

Marinette just stared at them, and then at Chat. “How—?” 

“He brought me here. Somehow, an Akuma I guess. He plucked me out of my time, and brought me here. This is my chance to start again, you know.” He grabbed her wrist. “Now our love won’t ruin the world! We can be happy again, My Lady! We can be happy and nothing will tear us apart!” 

Adrien, who had up until very recently, by reveal of a certain nickname, thought that Marinette was only just Marinette, grabbed Chat Blanc and yanked him back, forcing him to let go of Marinette. 

“Don’t touch her!” He snapped. 

“And you—“ Chat Blanc grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. “A little liar with too much self preservation! Why didn’t you act sooner?! Why couldn’t you save her?!” 

Adrien clawed at the hand on his throat. “I don’t—know what the hell—you’re talking about!” 

“Don’t play stupid, Adrien! It’s not going to work on me, and you know that!” 

His voice was just a whisper now, as he attempted to meet Chat Blanc’s gaze. “Whatever, man. But you think outing her is smart? You think that’ll make her like you?” 

Chat Blanc crushed harder, suffocating him. “It doesn’t matter with Hawkmoth out of the way! And once I kill you, there will be no competition! She’ll love me for sure!” 

Marinette had stashed the Miraculous in her purse once Chat Blanc had turned his back. She was going to attempt to talk him down, but at his threat on Adrien’s life, she realized he was beyond talking. 

“Tikki, Spots on!” 

Chat Blanc whirled back around, only to get a fist to the face. 

Adrien fell on the floor, gasping. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, helping him up.

He rubbed his neck sheepishly as he nodded. He knew she was Marinette, but the mask still turned his legs to jelly. 

“Why do you protect him, Ladybug? Don’t you know you can just be happy with me?” 

Marinette pushed Adrien behind her. “I might be able to be happy with my Chat Noir, but never with you. I love Adrien, and I’ll fight to protect him, even if he doesn’t love me back.” Though it was a brave declaration, she still blushed. 

“Ugh, don’t you get it? I am him!” 

“What?” 

“I’m Adrien! Adrien is Chat Noir! We’re supposed to be together! And we were! We were happy, Marinette! And then—and then you told me you didn’t love me anymore. You almost got akumatized over that…but I saved you.” He snarled. “But he kept us apart. My father knew who I was, and he turned me into this…” 

“Wait,” Adrien rasped. “Father turned you into…an akuma?” 

“Because he’s Hawkmoth, Adrien. He always has been. Mother is alive, in a coma, in the basement. And he never let you see her, because he doesn’t trust you.” 

“Shut up!” Ladybug shouted. 

“Even after he knew who I was, he still hit me. He beat me, Adrien, because he doesn’t love us!” 

Adrien held a hand over his face, willing his sobs to stay silent. 

“We’re just a pawn for him. But…I can make it better. Let me destroy you, and everything will stop hurting. I’ll take care of Marinette, I promise!” 

“That’s enough!” Ladybug lashed out and snagged his bell, ripped it from his throat, and smashed it on the floor. 

Then she caught the butterfly as it emerged, purified it, and let it go. But she didn’t call for a cure, not yet. 

Chat Noir, sans bell, glanced around the room in confusion. “Ladybug? What’s going on? Why are we here? Where’s Hawkmoth?” 

She met him with tear streaked cheeks. “You’re in the wrong timeline, Chat Noir.” 

His eyes flicked to Adrien, who was clearly shell shocked. “That would make…some sense.” 

“You were akumatized, and our Hawkmoth brought you here…probably to recruit you.” 

“Did I hurt anyone?” 

“You beat him. You beat Hawkmoth.” 

“And you tried to take my place,” Adrien hissed, showing his bruised throat. 

Chat Noir gripped his hair fiercely. “Oh crap! Oh crap crap crap! I’m so sorry! He’ll be all better once you do the cure, right Bug?” 

“Yeah. Physically, at least…but you did say some things that will hurt for a long time.” 

“I didn’t mean any of it! I was an Akuma, they lie and say all sorts of things—“ 

“You told me about Father. And mother.” 

“Oh…” he sighed. “Unfortunately, that’s too fresh in my mind to be a lie. I saw mom. He wanted to use the Miraculous to bring her back, but he was so unwilling to listen to me, to even think about working with us—that’s how it happened. He got me.” 

“I’m so sorry, Kitty.” Ladybug lamented. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” 

He shook his head. “It’s over now. If I defeated him, then you don’t have to be subjected to it,” he told Adrien. “I don’t mind taking one for the team.” 

“Did you kill him?” Adrien asked. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Even if he did, casting cure would fix it.” Said Ladybug. “There might be hope for a happy ending.” 

Chat Noir took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “My Lady, will you send me back? I have to see her again. My Marinette. I have to see her and make up with her.” 

Ladybug patted his cheek fondly. “Knowing me, she probably still loves you. But something happened to make her put distance between you.” 

“You’ll be happy together, right?” He asked, pouting. 

Adrien slipped an arm around her waist and held her. “I think we’ll manage.” 

Ladybug hugged Chat briefly. “Thank you. For all your trauma and suffering, you helped us.” 

“You also revealed both of our identities to the class, but that’s the kind of mistake I would make as an Akuma…” Adrien winced. 

Chat Noir looked at all the shocked and concerned faces around him. “Wow, look at all these comforting, understanding, and loyal friends you have. Where’s Lila?” 

“Out sick today,” provided Sabrina. 

“Perfect! Don’t ever ever tell her what happened here. She’s a liar and would tell our identities in a heartbeat for a chance for fame.” 

“Not a problem, Kitty Cat,” said Alya, with a wink. “Some of us are pretty good secret keepers.” 

“You knew!?” Adrien cried, with betrayal in his voice. 

Alya winced. “Ah, yeah…”

“Adrien.” Ladybug took his face and held it with trembling hands. “My kitty, my partner, my best friend, what I’m about to tell you is going to suck and you’re going to hate it, and that’s why I haven’t told you.”

“I’ve already had a lot of bad news dropped on me today, lay it on me.” 

She glanced at the rest of the class and then Chat Noir. “Let me send him home, and then we’ll talk in privacy.” 

He nodded, not really fond of how much the class had already learned about him today. 

Ladybug threw her yo-yo up in the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!” 

In a wave of fluttering red, Chat Noir was gone, and so were the bruises on Adrien’s neck. 

“Spots off.” 

Now, the class started whispering. Up until that moment, shock held them in silence. After all, it's not everyday you find out your classmates are superheroes. 

“Miss Bustier, are you okay if we leave for a while?”

The teacher stammered a second, unfreezing from her complete and total shock. “I think it would be a crime to make you stay here today.”

Marinette smiled gratefully, before taking Adrien’s hand and leading him out into the hall. He was silent, rightfully so, and Marinette could only be happy there was no chance of him getting akumatized. 

Finally, they took a seat on a bench, and waited for the other to speak. 

“I…didn’t think this was how our identities would be revealed,” he breathed. 

“I always wanted to tell you.” Marinette insisted, “even though I said otherwise. Tikki and Master Fu were so adamant that I not tell a soul.” 

“So why does Alya know?”

She rested a hand on his. “I’ll get to that. But first…Chat Blanc.” 

Adrien sat attentive and quiet, holding his accusations for later. 

“It started about three months ago, when I gave you that Beret.” 

“Beret? The one from the Brazilian fan club?”

“Yeah…except it wasn’t. It was from me. Originally, I left it in your room, with my name on it. My real name. A little while after I left, Bunnix came to me, and explained that she needed my help. She took me into her burrow, and led me to the future…the future where you were akumatized.” 

“As Chat Blanc.”

“Yes.”

“That same akuma, that same Chat Noir?”

“I assume so. The moon was destroyed, the city flooded. You were all alone, everyone was gone.” 

“Where…where was that Ladybug?” 

She hesitated to say it, but admitted, “I found her underwater…cataclysmed.” 

“No…I wouldn’t have—“ 

“I know, Adrien. Chat Blanc was upset about it too. He cried. He wanted my Miraculous to make the wish and fix it.” 

“Sounds like an Akuma alright,” he said bitterly. 

“At the time, all I knew was that you knew my identity, and you said that our love destroyed the world. So…I assumed that you became akumatized by finding out who I was…and that the beret had something to do with it. So I erased my name.” 

“Oh…but Chat Blanc said he was akumatized because of my parents.” 

“I didn’t know that back then. I wish I had. As it stood, I was certain an identity reveal would end up with an Akuma.” 

“I understand your reasoning…but what about Alya?” 

She sighed, the guilt toiling around inside her. “That wasn’t…it was a spur of the moment thing. I was back into a corner and people were getting really worried about me. Worried and nosey…and so I told Alya. Rena Rouge.” 

“Ah. I see.” 

“I should have told you. I should have told you so you could have told someone. It’s not fair to think I was the only one that needed a confident.” 

“If I had to pick someone that wasn’t you, it would have been Nino. So I get it. Really, I do.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes regardless. He was hurting so badly, but what could she even do to help? 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to apologize.” 

“Yes! Yes I do! Adrien, you’re my partner. Yes, keeping secrets can keep us safe for a while, but eventually we’ll run out of trust and then we’ll be in danger again. I don’t want to lose you!” 

He gave her a little smile. “I might be upset, but you aren’t going to lose me. I promise.” 

She squeezed his hand. “No more secrets. We train as guardians together. I’ll tell you all the auxiliary heroes, and all the formulas and—“ she stopped, blushing. 

“What?” 

“Ugh…I have to tell you something, since I said no more secrets.” 

“Is it bad?” 

“…no?” 

He turned his hand to squeeze her back. “Okay. Well then, let’s hear it.” 

She looked away, too nervous to look at his face. “Gah! This is just as hard as it’s always been!” 

“I’m not going to judge you.” 

“I know! I know!” 

Pretend this is just Chat. She goaded herself. 

“I…I’m in…love with you?” She squeaked out. There. The deed was done. She shyly turned to look at him. 

Wide, sparkling eyes full of tears, but a big smile on his face. “You mean it? You said as much to Chat Blanc, but I didn’t know for sure…”  

“Ugh, right. That.” She nodded. “You were the boy I kept turning…well, you down for. I’m sorry…” 

“I’m not!” He chirped. “Marinette, if anyone was going to have a crush on me as Adrien, I’m so glad it’s you. You really know me! You’re special to me, and I always considered you as a friend.” 

She sighed, hearing the magic words. “As I’ve heard.” 

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

She blushed again. “It’s just…whenever we had a moment, or I tried to do something special for you, you always remind me that you feel…nothing for me.” 

“Wait, what? That’s what you got out of that?” 

“That you want me as a friend and just a friend?” 

He actually laughed at her and pulled her into a hug. “Marinette, I thought you were nervous around me because you were uncomfortable. I said that stuff to let you know I treasured our friendship. I love you so so much, My Lady. I was deeply in love with Ladybug, and completely in denial with Marinette.” 

“Can confirm!” Shouted Plagg from inside his jacket. 

“So having you be the same? I’m…I’m so happy!” He hugged her tightly. “Today has thrown a lot of bad things at me, and I’m so worried about what comes next. But with you, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” He pulled away slightly. “You…will stay with me for whatever happens, right? I know Hawkmoth being my dad is kind of a deal breaker…” 

Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned up into him, kissing him right on the mouth. 

He stiffened briefly, before melting against her and pulling her tighter into the hug. 

The kiss was perfect, not in execution or performance, but because of the love they felt. Adrien nipped at her lip, and Marinette hummed as she twined her fingers into his hair. 

They pulled away begrudgingly. 

“You and me against the world, right Kitty?” 

“You know exactly what to say to make my heart swoon, my lady love.” 

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” 

“Kiss me and I’ll get over it.” 

“I’m serious, Kitty.” She touched his cheek. “I knew it was going to hurt, and I foolishly and cowardly put it off, hoping it would go away.” 

“Marinette, from what you said…it wasn’t just painful for me. It scared you, didn’t it? You said…when Chat Blanc appeared, that you thought you were having a nightmare. Do you dream of him?” 

“Sometimes.” 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault, Adrien.” 

He considered his next move, and decided to scoop her up into his lap. “So, here’s my idea. If you have another nightmare about him, you call me, and I’ll be there in a jiffy.” 

“And do what?” 

“Hold you. Kiss you. Reassure you. Cuddle with you until you fall asleep. Whatever you need.” 

She snuggled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, bugaboo.” 

Silence lapsed between for a while, as they just sat together, enjoying the warmth of their bodies, and the open air between them. 

Marinette sighed. “We should probably go confront your father.” 

“Yeah. We should…” 

“Could…I offer you a reward if we go through with it?” 

“What could possibly motivate me?” 

“Once we’re done, and everything is put away…we can find a random, secluded rooftop and…make out for a while.” 

Adrien stood, with Marinette still in his arms. “You know how to motivate a man.” 

“I’ll be with you every step of the way. Just think about later.” 

“One peck for the road?” 

“One.” 

Adrien held her tightly before dipping her and pressing a sinful, toe-curling kiss to her lips. When he finished a few minutes later, she breathlessly huffed, “that was not a peck.” 

“No, but I need the strength.” 

“Somehow, it’s a lot harder to stay mad at you. You can put me down now.” 

“Nah. Plagg, Claws out!” 

“Tikki, Spots on!” 

The closer they got to the mansion, the faster Chat’s mood tanked. All the surface level happy feelings had bubbled away, and now he was filled with dread and apprehension. 

“I…I don’t want to send my dad to jail,” he said, as they landed inside the walls. 

“I know Kitty. I can do the talking.” 

“You’re so good at it, Princess.” 

She knocked twice, but didn’t wait for an answer before entering. 

It didn’t matter. Gabriel and Nathalie were sitting in the lobby, waiting, as it appeared. 

“Hello son,” said Gabriel, with not a trace of malice in his voice. 

Chat halted, paling considerably. “You know?” 

“Chat Blanc revealed as much. What did he tell you?” 

“He said that…mom was still alive. You wanted the Miraculous to wake her up.” 

“That’s right. But…” he sighed. “Can I humble myself and ask for your help, Ladybug? Can you look at her? Can you see if there’s any hope?” 

“I would love to.”

[jasontoddswhitestreak]

you’re alive in my head

summary: in which natasha no longer had to live in a world without you, there you were in her arms once again. but why can’t she remember your life before westview?

content warning: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, set after endgame, angst, mentions of death, trauma, their relationship ending on a bad note, trust issues & previous steve x nat, there is some hints to homophobia in this chapter :/ (WANDAVISION SPOILERS!)

note: sorry this chapter was late!! it’s 3.3k words and i got my friend to spell check and edit it, ty ashy ily <33

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (lmk if you want anymore content like this!)

‘моя любовь’ = ‘my love’ in russian <3

‘принцесса’ = ‘princess’ (i used google translate so idk how accurate it is

SERIES MASTERLIST

PART THREE COMING SOON

Death.

It's a complicated thing; A theory.

Nobody knows what happens to you after you die. Nobody knows what happens to your soul after you die. We make things up to make ourselves feel better, and convince ourselves that our deceased loved ones are watching over us, all the while convincing others that our loved ones are in a better place now.

But in reality, those are just dreams dying to be true.

Natasha didn't know if you were dead or alive. She just knew your body turned into particles of dust, your soul disappeared along with the rest of you. She didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, so she spoke to you.

She spoke to you, thinking you were listening to her; believing you were listening to her and that you were still around.

It was almost as if she was speaking to your ghost, the mere presence of you that remained with her, the piece of you that was a part of her. It felt wrong being in the compound without you, she felt as though she was trapped; trapped with the many reminders of how she failed you. The walls were suffocating her. Every time she thought about what had happened it felt as though the rooms were becoming smaller. The large 'A' plastered around the compound taunting her, reminding her of what they lost. Of what she lost.

So she had to get away.

Natasha found herself taking trips to the beach, the one the two of you adored oh so much. She'd walk along the sand, the harsh wind blowing against her face. The air smelled of salt, and she'd take a deep breath in with a smile. She'd reminisce all the times the two of you managed to get away from the compound, how effortlessly gorgeous you'd look with the breeze blowing through your hair, your laughter sounding like a melody that Natasha now longed to hear once more.

If she stood really still, she could, once more, feel the warmth of your fingers dragging against her skin, gently tracing shapes onto her body. Her heart would ache whenever she'd turn to the side, finding that nobody was beside her.

She had to get used to living in a world without you.

"моя любовь..." She sighed, fumbling with a stone she'd picked up, before swinging her arm and throwing it into the rippling water. The temperature was dropping. Christmas coming closer and closer every day. Natasha wrapped her coat tighter around her body, staring at the waves in front of her, observing the way they'd hit the shore before pulling back into the ocean. In the distance, she could see boats, and although they were far away, she noticed how the water carried them; the movement of the ocean pushing the boat into the direction of the wind. "No sailors.." Natasha realized, her eyes following a lifeguard boat making its way to the empty boats, likely checking for any survivors.

Yet another reminder of how the Avengers had failed.

It's only been a couple of months since the battle yet the traces of you continued to fade away. The sweater that was once yours now clung to Natasha's body as she made her way back home.

She'd do anything to bring you back. She'd do anything to have you in her arms again, complaining about something you'd undoubtedly forget hours later. She missed the way you'd never share your snacks with anyone but her. The feeling of warmth that would blossom inside her when your eyes met in a crowded room. All the times when your knee would brush against hers during a meeting. She missed the way it felt to lay next to you. She missed forgetting the world with you.

God, she missed you so much.

But there she was. In the same room as you, years later, preparing breakfast. Her hair was coiled and pinned up, keeping it in place. Her dress fit her perfectly, the skirt swaying with her movements as she elegantly makes her way across the kitchen floor. Her every movement seemed like a performance; like she was the performer and you were the audience, watching her in awe. She was captivating in every possible way, her enchanting voice pulling you in like a siren.

"Good morning, honey! I've been up all morning making us a delightful breakfast." Natasha greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, her performance almost seeming comical. "Nat... it's just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." You pointed out, glancing over your shared kitchen, seeing the mess that was made. Somehow milk spilled all over the counters, dripping onto the ground, you immediately recognized the smell of burnt toast that hung in the air as you continued looking around.

"Peanut butter and jelly is your favourite, remember?" Natasha reminded you. Your eyes widened at the realization, thanking her. You helped her bring the food to the table, making a note to yourself to tidy up the kitchen before the dinner at Wanda and Vision's that the two of you were invited for.

But you couldn't recall Wanda telling you about the dinner?

"Are you okay, моя любовь?" She placed her hand above yours on the counter. The two of you sat in front of each other, your half-eaten breakfast resting between the two of you. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm with my best girl." You smiled softly at her, and though your words said one thing, Natasha could easily recognise the distant look on your face as you stared off into space, lost in your own thoughts. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours принцесса?" She teased, squeezing your hand gently.

"What time are we supposed to be at Wanda's?" You asked her, snapping yourself out of the trance you were in. Natasha hesitated, eyebrows furrowed as she watched your every move. Something was bothering you. "We're going to Wanda's in the evening моя любовь, she asked us a while back if we could help out before the others arrived, remember?" Natasha stated as the two of you brought your plates to the sink, beginning to tidy up.

"I'm not sure how much help you'll be sweetheart." You teased, pointing at the mess that was created due to Natasha making breakfast. She feigned hurt in response, "Oh принцесса, you're breaking my heart!" She made her way around you, passing you the cutlery as you rinsed the plates. You chuckled softly at her playful behaviour. "I think we should stick with me making us breakfast so our kitchen doesn't end up getting flooded, wouldn't you agree?" You chuckled, as you made your way around the kitchen, the two of you tidying up the mess Natasha had created.

"If only we were a robot," Natasha sighed, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You leaned back into her, embracing the warmth which radiated from her body, "or had powers." This was a position you were so very used to. "If only," she responded playfully. You turn your head back at the grinning redhead, as she leaned in for a kiss, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt your lips meet.

"You know," Natasha started, "we do have some time to spare-" you then cut her off.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart," You smiled softly, turning in her arms before making your way to your shared bedroom. Natasha followed closely behind.

The two of you were dolled up, looking your best.

Your dress ended just below your knees, the skirt extenuating your hips; it swayed with every movement you made. The short sleeves of the dress looked as though they were about to fall off your shoulders. Natasha's dress, however, was much more slim fitting and hugged her hips perfectly before flowing down, much like a waterfall, making it harder to look at anything else but her.

"Do you think Wanda will get mad at us for arriving a bit later than expected?" You asked nervously, fumbling with your fingers as the two of you made your way down the path that led to Wanda and Vision's home. Natasha shuffled around balancing the tray of pastries you'd prepared in one hand while using her free hand to rub your back gently, comforting you, "I'm sure she won't mind, моя любовь," she reassured you. As you near the house you could hear mumbling from the inside; you heard three or more different voices.

"Is that- is Vision singing?" You asked worriedly, glancing at Natasha who was mirroring your reaction. She knocked on the door, and the singing inside had abruptly stopped. "Oh, that must be our other guests," You heard Vision exclaim, "perfect timing!" You could hear his footsteps gradually get closer. The door swung open and Vision gave a nervous smile, glancing down at the tray of food Natasha was holding before letting out a sigh of relief. He hugged the both of you before welcoming you into his home. He introduced you to Mr. Hart, Visions boss, and Mrs. Hart, his wife.

"Oh hello," Mrs. Hart greeted, "no need to be so formal tonight honey." she smiled at you, pushing away the hand you had extended for her to shake. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug which quite honestly surprised you. You awkwardly pat the older yet noteably shorter woman on the back before pulling away to quickly greet her husband. He glanced at you and Natasha in confusion, opening his mouth to say something before getting interrupted. "Oh here, let me take that, Natasha. You stay here and I'll go get a plate to put these on." You glanced at everyone in the room, offering them a smile before making your way to the kitchen, Vision stopped you before you got to the door, extending his arm out.

"Thank you," he leaned down to whisper to you. You squeezed his arm in response. You weren't used to seeing Vision in this form. He looked human. You rushed into the kitchen, startling Wanda, "I've figured you needed help." You smiled sheepishly at her, placing the tray down onto the counter, taking in all the chaos that was going on in the kitchen. It reminded you of this morning.

"Well, this isn't the first chaotic kitchen I've walked into today," you teased, reaching out for a plate before neatly plating the pastries onto it. Wanda laughed nervously in response, as she flicked through the recipe cards, searching for the right one. You walked back into the living room, placing the plate onto the coffee table prompting Vision to jump up out of his seat and offer Mr. and Mrs. Hart an appetizer. Looking to Natasha, you gave her a wink before swiftly turning around, your dress swaying with your movements as you made your way back into the kitchen, missing the frown forming on Mr. Hart's face.

"Oh, what was I supposed to do next?" Wanda began rambling, "what was the main course again?"

Making your way to the recipe cards floating in the air you attempted to help her find the card with the right recipe, steak. You could hear Vision playing a song on the ukulele while Natasha unwillingly sang alongside him.

"That's not it" You sighed, sifting through the cards, "is this one steak?"

"Steak," Wanda started, "Diane!" she accidentally yells. Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd done. She looks to you with a frown. You just barely heard Vision respond with a, "yes dear?"

"This is going terribly," Wanda frowned, leaning her head upon your shoulder. You chuckled, rubbing her back gently before pulling her away, forcing her to look at you, "Hey, you can do this, okay? You're not alone," you reassured her, attempting to raise her spirits. She sighed in relief, repeating to herself ", "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this..."

Vision barged into the kitchen unexpectedly, his nerves radiating through room. Wanda panics, accidentally using her powers to throw the lobsters out of the window.

"How can I be of assistance." Vision asks, mirroring Wanda's expression.

"Well," Wanda started, "the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop, so the steak is the last man standing," she explains, making her way around the kitchen. You held the recipe card in your hand, skimming the instructions, "it says here you could cut down the prep time with a meat tenderiser." You recited, looking at the couple once more. "Excellent plan! Where's the tenderiser?" Vision questions, ready to help in the kitchen.

"I'm looking at him," Wanda began, holding her hand out to pass the tenderiser to Vision. You pull her hand back before Vision reaches out for it. "No. What you need to do, Vision, is go entertain your guests. Have faith in your wife and I, okay?" You pushed him out of the kitchen, before turning around and clapping your hands.

"So, where were we?" You asked, hopefully.

After a stressful couple of minutes, a brief visit from a woman with a pineapple, and Natasha almost spilling water on her dress; dinner was served.

Well technically, breakfast was served.

The six of you sat around the dining table, nervously looking around. Mr. and Mrs. Hart looked at the food in confusion, staring at the cooked bacon and eggs paired with the red wine and chocolate covered strawberries.

"Breakfast for dinner?" Mr, Hart began, with obvious judgement written all over his face. "How very-" "European." Mrs. Hart cut him off, smiling reassuringly at the two of you.

"European?" You muttered, glancing at Wanda in confusion, who then motioned her hand in a 'I'll tell you later' sort of way. "Oh, let's have a toast!" Vision began, raising his glass up. All of you followed suite as Vision continued.

"To my lovely and talented wife," he gloated, unable to take his eyes off her.

"And to our esteemed guests," Wanda added. You didn't miss the wink she threw at you and Natasha, causing the two of you to stifle your laughs. Everyone clinked their glasses together and dug into their food. It wasn't long after when the questioning began.

"So, where did you move from?" Mrs. Hart began, "what brought you here? How long have you been married? And why don't you have children yet?" She interrogated Wanda and Vision, and you glanced over at Natasha, hesitantly, who shrugged in response before continuing to eat her food. Her eyes then met Mr. Hart's, who's eyebrows were furrowed at the interaction, waiting for his wife to finish speaking so he could say something. You didn't notice Wanda struggling to answer the questions being thrown, while Vision looked at Wanda desperately waiting for an answer. It was almost as if the two of them didn't know themselves.

You also failed to notice Wanda zoning out of the conversation, staring off into the distance as Mrs. Hart continued pestering her for answers. "And what about the two of you, huh? You two roommates?" Mr. Hart questioned, noticing how closely seated you were next to Natasha.

"Something like that," Natasha responded, biting back the smirk that was fighting it's way onto her lips.

"Two lovely women such as yourselves shouldn't struggle to find a man. Why don't the two of you have husbands yet?" Mr. Hart asked, leaning forward. You felt the hair in your arms rise as you realised where the conversation was leading. Glancing at Natasha nervously, you noticed how her fingers were clenched around her cutlery.

"We just prefer each other's company," you stated simply, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth to distract yourself.

"What do you mean? Are you- that's unnatural!" He ranted. You ignored him, noticing that Wanda was still trying to answer questions about her and Visions marriage.

"Yes, yes, we were married in," Wanda paused, getting lost in her thoughts. Mr. Hart continued his rant to you and Natasha as You, Vision and Natasha glanced at Wanda nervously.

"You're both women! That's wrong!" Mr Hart argues.

"Well, what's your story?" Mrs. Hart questions Wanda.

Mr. Hart began shouting, slamming his fist onto the table as Mrs. Hart continued to grill Wanda for answers. Wanda snaps back into reality due to a sudden, unexpected noise. She turned to face Mr. Hart who began to choking. You stared at Natasha, frightened and unsure as of what to do in this situation.

"Oh, Arthur, stop it!" Mrs. Hart laughed. She repeated the words 'stop it' over and over again, her tone gradually becoming more panicked as her husband continued to choke. His hand rested on his throat. Vision stared at Mr. Hart in an unsure manner, his hands resting against the table almost as if the were pinned against it. You only just noticed how Mrs. Hart turned to Wanda as she continued repeating those same words.

"Stop it," she pleaded, her voice shaking as she looked at Wanda, who was staring at Mr. Hart in shock. Mr. Hart fell off his chair and onto the ground as he continued to choke. You wanted to rush over and help him but it felt as though your hands were bound to the table and you couldn't move your legs. You were only able to watch as the man continued to choke while his wife chuckled.

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Vision, help him," Wanda demanded. Vision rushed out of his seat and next to Mr. Hart, phasing his hand through his throat and removing a whole chocolate covered strawberry.

When did Mr. Hart pick up the strawberry? You thought to yourself.

"Let me help you up," Vision offers, helping Mr. Hart back to his feet. The atmosphere in the room had immediately changed, going back to exactly how it was before. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped and everyone forgot what was happening.

"Would you look at the time!" Mr. Hart exclaimed making his way to the door as his wife followed behind him.

"Well," Wanda started, "are you both alright?" she questioned nervously, as she stood up. "Yes, we better be going. We had such a lovely time!" Mrs. Hart reassured. The couple left the house very abruptly, mentioning something about a promotion before exiting the front door.

"Oh, we must be going as well!" Natasha exclaims, pushing herself up out of her seat before saying goodbye to the two. She hugged them both before making her way out of the door. You hugged Vision and thanked him for having you over before making your way to Wanda.

"Tonight was wonderful, Wanda," you reassured, pulling her into a hug. You felt her shoulders slacken in your arms, sighing softly as she returned your embrace before pulling away from you, her arms resting on your shoulders.

"Thank you, thank you for everything."

As the two of you made your way home, you couldn't help but let Mr. Hart's words play on repeat in your mind. You could tell Natasha knew what was bugging you as she squeezed your hand gently. The two of you continued to hold hands as you made your way home.

"I know we can't get married," you started, as you stood in your living room, staring at the woman who made you feel most at home. She nodded, waiting for you to continue as she rested her hand against your cheek, allowing her thumb to gently stroke your face.

"But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. For better or for worse. I never want to be apart from you," you chuckled softly, staring at her in awe, allowing your eyes to glance at her lips before you looked back into her eyes.

"I know, моя любовь. And I'd do anything for you," Natasha began.

"Even die for you."

natasha romanoff taglist: @blackxwidowsxwife @severepeanutartisanhands @madamevirgo @starsvck @umsolikeblog @baddecisions-png @yourmcu

all works: @teenwonder @amourtentiaa @husherstan @peggycarter-steverogers

[bansept]

Ichihime Week | Day 3: Family

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The Kurosaki family always had little trips prepared for this or that occasion: the end of school, someone’s birthday… And of course, Masaki’s death anniversary. When the children were young, it was a thrilling idea, a way to discover a new place and imagine an exciting story. When the children grew, the mere thought of going away was disturbing, annoying. The meaning of moving to a place with the family got lost in cries of boredom and arguments, but Isshin never gave up.

Yuzu and Karin were still there, in his house, and officially speaking, still “had” to obey his commands, canceling plans they might have with their friends. One day, one of the twins had muttered the word “dictatorship”, and he had cried, whimpering at how ungrateful his daughters were to him. They still came, frowning a little bit, but a smile never too far behind.

Ichigo had been too busy to go on a family trip. First, with the Dojo: who knew a place that was not so visited could be lively at the exact time his presence was required to have fun? The kids and teenagers were far too inclined in asking him to show them moves for him to refuse. A paycheck was a paycheck. Second, Orihime herself was atrociously busy. Being the main confectioner, she oversaw most of the confection of chocolate delights in the bakery. Giving orders was a full-time job, and even if her love for her work brought her happiness, she was as exhausted as her husband.

The third was Kazui. Or mostly, the presence and necessity to oversee a young child, the infant going to a nanny when his parents could not attend to his needs. Moody because of his teething, Kazui was a small little ball of smile, and the next minute, a crying angry puddle of anger. As peaceful and adorable as he could be, he was still so young, so dependable of his parents that taking him anywhere outside of the environments he knew was a big no-no.

“Ichigo, can you please go and get him?” Orihime mumbled, one hand raised to her husband’s shoulder, pushing him slightly to make him understand with subtility that she would not move a muscle herself.

Ichigo, eyes half open and short hair sticking out in a comical manner, groaned a response stuck between a ‘yes’ and ‘you’re next’ before getting up tiredly to retrieve his crying son.

Somehow, and after a good year of no traveling in family, Orihime had suggested a family day here, in their house. To catch up, to brag about how Kazui was able to carry his head by himself and how close he was to sit steadily. Yuzu and Karin could see their brother and nephew, and Isshin could discuss with his daughter-in-law. Strangely enough, the idea was immediately accepted when it was Orihime that talked it out. And so now, the two young parents would prepare their small home for the rest.

Ichigo came back into the room, Kazui sniffling in his arms, little hands gripping his father’s shirt. The man was shushing him, rocking the boy slowly and repeating everything was alright.

“You’re hurting? I’m sorry baby… It should stop soon… Didn’t the doc say it lasted like, 8 days for a crisis? It’s been 6 days…” Ichigo asked, finger going to his son’s mouth so he could massage his gums, anything for the pain to be lessened.

“Maybe he’s hungry too… Here, give him to me.” Orihime answered, sitting up against the bed and opening her arms. Ichigo carefully placed the infant in her embrace, giving him a light peck on the forehead. Kazui shuffled a little but smiled when he saw his mother.

Orihime made some funny gurgles, talking to her boy with a high voice, trying to get him in a better mood until he got something to eat. Ichigo watched the scene with a smile and stretched his back, sighing.

“Should get things ready before the horde arrives.” Ichigo joked, walking to the bathroom near their room to get some water on his face. That should help wake him up.

He heard the funny noise die down as Orihime breastfed their son. Ichigo didn’t need to be next to them to know she was smiling down at him tenderly, and Kazui was certainly looking up at her with the same brown eyes filled with amazement. At least they were in calm waters for now…

.

.

.

By the time it was 9:30, Kazui was set to stay in the living room and play with Ichigo in his cute outfit. Orihime and Ichigo themselves were ready, preparing their small house for the arrival of his family, but nothing too fancy. In Ichigo’s opinion, they didn’t need to have balloons floating around, or a cake ready when it was still morning.

“And right at this moment, that giant ice cream cone yelled at me to run far from the bean paste, but I just couldn’t! How can you choose between two of your favorite things?” Orihime asked, hands on her hips, eyes wide as saucers, clearly expecting an answer from her husband, who definitely knew she had to stop eating sweets before going to sleep.

“Um… Yeah, but that bean paste was clearly trying to eat you… So I’d say, you listen to ice cream.” It was silly to answer her about her own very silly dreams while holding Kazui up so he could experiment walking. But that kind of silly was always welcomed.

Orihime shook her head with a pout, but was interrupted by the sound of someone pressing the doorbell. She got up from her seat, fixing her dress slightly before opening the door with a big smile.

“Yuzu! Karin! Hi!” She hugged them both preciously, the twins greeting her in response. Stepping back, she looked around to see Isshin wasn’t behind them, and frowned, worried.

“Don’t worry about dad, he’ll arrive quickly. We were just ahead so he could work on another file before coming.” Karin explained, waving a hand as her sister cooed at the interesting picture of Ichigo holding Kazui by his hands, the little boy not knowing what to do with the two jelly legs he possessed.

“Ichi! Aw, let me get a picture!”

“Yuzu stop! No! Not a picture come on!”

Karin placed a bag near the door, observing with a satisfied smile her brother being taken advantage of, unable to escape or fight the will of his own sister and his wife.

“Are… No, I can’t hold him… I’ll drop him!”

“No, you won’t. Come on, he’s your nephew, you gotta hold him once in your life.”

Karin frowned, Yuzu prepared her phone for yet another picture and Orihime held up Kazui to Karin, reassuring her that he wouldn’t end up on the floor. The baby seemed to not mind, appreciating any hands that carried him, knowing none would harm him. Ichigo was like an eagle, not even blinking while he stared at his sister, the black-haired girl grumbling a little at how she was forced. But really, she wasn’t.

“Is… Like that, okay? Is that good?” She asked, infant stuck in her arms, and Orihime nodded.

“Yes, just like that. See? It wasn’t too complicated.”

“Yeah… But I didn’t expect him to be so… Heavy? No, not heavy… But he’s not as light as I thought he’d be.”

“He’s growing. Of course he’ll be heavier than at his birth.” Ichigo remarked, snickering at the grimace Karin sent him.

Orihime smiled brightly at the two bickering siblings. Ichigo used to not joke around with his sisters, too busy mopping his anger and pain in his corner, but now, he was having a great time annoying the twins. She guessed it was something older brothers did.

Isshin opened the door loudly, singing about finally seeing his grandson and daughter-in-law again after so long, the ridiculous amount of baby gifts in his hands falling on the floor as he walked in. Now, as to why Isshin, out of all people, had a key to their house, Ichigo was not willing to say. He had chosen Yuzu to have it first, but she had lost it for a good day, and the panic it brought was a cold shower to everyone, to the point Karin mentioned Isshin as the best key keeper out of the three of them.

Which, of course, was true. Since he was an adult and all. But he was still Isshin. Loud, impulsive and horribly annoying Isshin.

“How is he?? Aw, look at him in his cute little clothes! Oh yes, you look just like your dada when he was your age Kazui! Although, thank God you have your mama’s smile!” He cooed at the baby, who of course didn’t understand a single word, but the mere expression and intonation pulled his smile up, showing just a few teeth. Isshin gasped and tickled the baby’s tummy. “Oh, yes, you already have such cute little gums!”

Orihime laughed at the voice Isshin always took whenever Kazui was around, and freed him from the many plushies he had gathered in his arms.

“Oh, thank you, Orihime. So, is everything doing alright for you three?” He questioned, straightening up and looking at the woman. Of course, as a doctor, he’d ask this question with real interest.

“Yes, we’re all fine. Kazui is still having a bit of a crisis from time to time, but we manage to handle it well. And Ichigo is getting better and better at handling Kazui.” She smiled, whispering the last part in a conspiratorial tone. Her husband heard her, and with a blush, frowned in her general direction.

Isshin grinned at the exchange, but didn’t tease his son further. It was strange how one day he was grumpy, and the next, he and Orihime walked into his house to tell him they were dating. From that moment, his son was like a stranger: offering help to do this or that house chores, hesitantly discussing with his family, feeling happy and calm around them… And now that he was a father, he hardly ever yelled at Isshin anymore. Of course, he was still mad at him for being the silly old man he always had been, but Ichigo seemed to be mindful of what his own son was going to grow up to.

By the time Kazui was hungry again, Orihime excused herself as she picked the infant and walked back to her room, giving Isshin the opportunity to talk with Ichigo.

“So… How are you handling all of that?”

Ichigo raised his head from the table, placing another plate on the surface and shrugging his shoulders.

“Well… We’re happy. I think that’s what matters. Orihime and I are working, so it’s a good thing, even if we wish we could be around Kazui more. And Kazui is growing up…” He turned silent after that, the timid smile he had on his face stilling.

Isshin tapped his back lightly.

“You’re doing a good job Ichigo. Although you became a father early, you’re doing your best for him and for your wife. Honestly, you can be proud of yourself.”

The orange-haired man shook his head with amusement, gazing at his goat chinned father.

“I tell myself that. But soon he’ll be able to stand on his own, or even talk… And we’ll have to teach him everything about this crazy world of ours… Things about Shinigamis and Hollows, Arrancars even, so that he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Isshin looked around the room to his daughters, watching as they discussed on which fluffy plushy was the cutest.

“Your sisters only knew after a good while. But don’t worry about that. Kazui will have a lot of people to teach him, and all these people will keep him safe. Plus… I’m pretty sure he will be safe with the amazing parents he has.”

Ichigo’s eyes opened wide, tenderness and surprise taking the lead in his mixed emotions. Isshin was right : Orihime and he were not alone in this. People from Karakura, the Soul Society and the others stuck between the two would help them keep their child safe. Keep him from being hurt. That simple but truthful knowledge made him gasp for air, relaxed and thankful.

The young man nodded, throat a bit too tight for him to talk in his usual confident tone. Orihime walked back in, Kazui looking sated and in a good mood as his mother placed him in Yuzu’s eager arms.

“You know… I, guess it’s strange for everyone to see me like that… Not yelling at you for goofing around. But Orihime told me she felt that this excitement I almost resented a few years back, this closeness with family members, she thought it was the right way to be wife the family you loved. She wants Kazui to grow up surrounded with love and joy, and I want that too for him.” He scratched the back of his neck, eyes on his sisters then on Orihime. “I still think you’re a silly old man that makes way too much noise. But… I’m happy you’re Kazui’s grandfather, and my father.”

It was Isshin’s turn to have his eyes become the size of tennis balls, tears rushing up. He needed to hold it down, to not explode with joy, to not ruin the moment by hugging his son that had more or less told him he loved him, after so long. So, instead, he ruffled his son’s new short hair.

“It’s my greatest pride to be part of this beautiful family.”

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Aaaaaaand day 3!

More than 2100 words, I like that hehe

I thought about writing Kazui to be taller so he could be asking this or that question or be a cute lil cutie pie, but since I visited a family member who recently had a child, heh, I was more inspired in writing an infant.

Don't hesitate to review this, and see you tomorrow for day 4!

[geminiwritten]

heatwave ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: you’re not a huge fan of the hot weather until a certain super soldier finally gets his arse out of bed and gives you a reason to love it

notes: i wrote this over quite a few days so i’m really sorry if its disjointed, and i’m so sorry if its repetitive of my last piece! i’m still trying to get through a bit of writer’s block, so i hope y’all enjoy!

word count: 3359

The heat seemed to wash over you in waves. Pulses of warmth rolling through your body and stealing your breath. Every inch of your skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, drawing all the hydration from your body and draining any energy you might have possessed if it wasn’t for the heatwave currently sweeping through New York City.

“Ugh,” you groaned, your head lulling to the side where Natasha laid, “I think I’m dying.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “You’re not dying.”

“I might be.”

“Oh, come on you two,” Sam hollered from the pool a little way across the balcony, “have some fun for once in your lives!”

Natasha propped herself up on her elbows and squinted over the top of her sunglasses, “With you idiots? No thanks.”

“Why are you always such a killjoy, Romanoff?”

“Why are you always such a pain in the ass, Wilson?” you called back, mimicking Natasha on your elbows.

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from the whiniest member of the team.”

Your frown deepened, this time out of anger and not because of the bright glare from the sun.

“Watch it, Wilson,” a voice called out from behind you, “or she’ll come over there and kick your ass.”

Both you and Natasha whipped around to find Bucky. He had probably only just woken, his mop of hair tied up into a loose bun with escaped tendrils sticking to the hot skin of his neck and forehead. This time, it wasn’t the heat that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Nice to see you’re alive, Buck,” Steve chuckled as he waded through the pool toward where Sam was leaning against the edge.

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something smart but having his breath stolen as he stepped out of the shade and into the sun. “Holy shit,” he gasped, “it’s hot.”

“Sharp observation skills, Einstein,” Natasha quipped.

“At least Barnes will get in the pool unlike you two party poopers,” Sam said, before copping a volleyball to the back of the head thanks to Bruce’s poor aim.

He spun around quickly, ball in hand and ready to hurl it back at his attacker.

“Well then,” Bucky sighed, now standing beside you, “I guess it’s time for a swim.”

He looked down at you sprawled across your towel, one arm draped over your eyes to shield from the sun and the other resting on your bare stomach. You suddenly felt exposed, nervous under the gaze of his pale blue eyes.

“Want to join me?”

Your pulse thudded in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to get in the water with him, but the sound of shouts and spraying water reminded you of the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’ll have to pass,” you replied.

He pushed his bottom lip forward, “It’s your loss, doll, this heat is a killer.”

Your limbs turned to jelly at the sound of that pet name rolling off his tongue.

“Ugh,” Natasha scoffed beside you, “you two are sickening.”

You wanted to turn around and bite back at her, but what happened next had you paralysed. Every nerve in your body ignited, goosebumps rising across every inch of your skin in spite of the steamy weather. Bucky’s fingers curled under the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head to reveal his sculpted body beneath. His abs rolled and tensed as he rid himself of the material and discarded it on the ground, making your mouth water and your head spin with a thousand different unholy thoughts.

A shriek from the red headed woman beside you broke you out of your trance, and only then did you notice the spray of pool water that had washed over you and most of the balcony.

“You’re an arse, Barnes!” Natasha yelled, standing and angrily snatching up her towel.

You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose as you let your gaze settle on the giggling men in the pool. Bucky’s now wet, broad shoulders glistened under the sunlight, his alabaster skin taught across the landscape of muscle.

“Do you want some lunch or are you just going to keep staring like a creep?” Natasha asked as she stood over you.

Your gaze hardly wavered, “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed, her lips curling into a smirk, “because I think you’ve got a little bit of drool on your chin there.”

If Bucky wasn’t pulling himself out of the water right at the moment, you might have turned around to poke your tongue at her, but instead you opted for flipping her the bird while your eyes remained trained on the pool area.

The rest of the steamy day went by far too quickly. Despite your hate for the heat, you stayed out on the balcony until the sun began to set. Only when Bucky and Sam wrapped themselves in towels and declared that it was time for dinner did you finally put your book away, not that you had managed to read even a single page of it.

“Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?” Sam asked as the three of you stepped inside.

“Yeah,” you replied, “and the day after.”

“I bet you’re happy about that,” he chuckled, watching disappointment sweep across your face as Bucky pulled his shirt over his head

“Shut up.”

He chuckled at your feeble attempt to jab his side, easily evading your attack.

“Alright, children,” Tony called from the kitchen, “dinner’s ready.”

Like moths to a flame, the rest of the team gathered around the kitchen bench where Natasha and Tony had laid out the pre-cut ingredients for everyone to make their own burgers.

“I’m going to have a shower before eating,” Bucky said, to no one in particular as he draped his damp towel over his forearm.

“Do you need any help?” Sam asked, his grin evil, “Because I’m sure Y/N would love-”

“Sam!” you snapped.

Thankfully, Bucky remained oblivious, his brows knit into an adorable frown.

“Never mind, Buck,” you said, “I’ll make sure they save you some food.”

His face broke into that familiar smile that melted your heart, “Thanks, doll.”

Once again, your legs wobbled like jelly and you had to steady yourself on the back of the lounge.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned, “I can’t wait until they day you two finally fu-”

“Language,” Steve interrupted with a disapproving glare at Sam.

You poked your tongue out before turning toward the array of burger ingredients, your empty stomach rumbling at the sight.

The next day rolled around just as the weather forecast had predicted. The air was thick with humidity and the sun blared down just as it had yesterday. Once again you found yourself on a towel beside the pool, half of the team splashing around while the other half laid languidly in the shade.

“Still not getting in today?” Steve asked as he approached the bar fridge near where you had placed your towel.

You shook your head, “I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire of an overly aggressive game of chicken.”

“I mean, you could play the game with us, maybe even get to climb onto Bucky’s shoulders.”

You whipped around, your glare lethal, “What the fuck, Rogers?”

He chuckled, “Sorry, Sam told me to.”

“You are the last person I would expect to stoop to his level,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly.

He shrugged, “Well, no one has told Buck, if that makes up for anything.”

“I’m guessing everyone else knows, though.”

He didn’t respond, only smiled sheepishly.

“Ugh,” you sighed.

“In my own defence, Natasha told me about your crush months ago and I haven’t let it slip once. It’s been-”

“Sam,” you interrupted him, “I know.”

He took a generous sip of water before crouching beside you, “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Steve knew he couldn’t say anymore. He knew nothing he said would convince you to tell Bucky how you felt, and he knew he couldn’t betray his best friend’s trust by divulging the fact that Bucky really had confessed his feelings for you before. He decided to let you be, gathering three more bottles of water before heading back to the pool.

The day passed almost identically to the one before it, and so did the next. It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning on the third night of the heatwave that you felt a sudden change. You awoke abruptly, a shiver running down your spine as cool air blew through the open window and brushed across your bare skin. You frowned at the night sky before tiredly pulling your duvet up to your chin and falling back asleep.

By morning, the heat was well and truly gone. Clouds blanketed New York City, threatening to rain as they rolled angrily across the grey sky.

“I guess it’s back to work today, Avengers,” Tony said from behind his tablet.

Almost everyone was awake, crowded around the kitchen bench awaiting Clint’s famous French toast.

“What work?” Peter asked.

“Homework for you, kid,” Steve replied, earning an indignant frown from Peter.

You couldn’t help but giggle into your mug of coffee, before almost spraying it back out at the sight that then exited the elevator.

Bucky. Shirtless. Again.

You began to wonder what you had done to be so lucky, your heart thrumming against your rib cage so hard you worried that someone might hear it.

“Oh, my, Barnes,” Tony gasped, “you know it’s still in the A.M., right?”

Bucky simply rolled his tired eyes before slumping onto the lounge, mumbling, “Hungry.”

It wasn’t long before Clint served breakfast, everyone scoffing their food as if they hadn’t eaten in days, and soon after that, Peter dismissed himself for school and Tony and Bruce made their way to the lab.

“I think I need to get back into the gym today,” Clint sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

You sighed, “Same.”

“Bucky and I were planning on heading down there in the afternoon actually, we could do a group training session,” Steve said as he filled the sink, ready to wash everyone’s dishes.

“I’m in,” Natasha replied, “I was going to head into town for some groceries this morning, so the afternoon is better for me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint added, “Count me in.”

“Me too,” Sam said through his last mouthful of toast, “and obviously Y/N will be there too.”

You turned to him quickly, a frown already etched between your brows, “What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckled, “Steve said that he and Bucky were planning it, so obviously you-”

You elbowed him sharply in the gut before standing from your seat at the dining table and stomping over to the kitchen.

Natasha sighed, “You better be careful, Wilson, you’re playing with fire.”

“But it’s so obvious that they both like each other, why can’t they just fuck already.”

Steve’s ears turned red and Natasha laughed, but neither of them seemed to notice as Bucky finally made his way over from the living area.

“Who needs to fuck already?” he asked, brows knit.

“No one,” Steve answered quickly, “Tony wants help moving a new delivery, I said we’d help him out. Come on.”

He ushered the confused Bucky out of the room, but not before shooting daggers at Sam.

After breakfast you decided to go with Natasha into town. The compound was running low on a few things that Tony always forgot to add to the weekly grocery delivery, so you took your time shopping and chatting. It was nice to simply enjoy the feeling of not having sweat drip from every inch of your skin, though you couldn’t help mourning the sticky weather that would encourage Bucky to constantly walk around shirtless.

It was almost four o’clock when you finally changed into your workout gear and headed for the gym. Most of the team were already in there, and those that weren’t had kindly declined the offer of a group training session.

Steve, Sam, Tony, and Bucky were gathered around the sparring mats each taking turns at attacking the training dummy, while Clint was over by the weights alone. You quickly found Wanda and Natasha on the treadmills and decided to start there.

“Afternoon,” Wanda greeted you, her smile sweet as she swiped the sweat from her brow.

You grinned back, “Fancy seeing you out of your room.”

“I don’t do heat,” she said, “but Nat has just been telling me about how much you’ve been enjoying it.”

You tossed your gym towel at her, gasping, “Oh, shut up!”

The two red heads giggled, thankfully too amused to notice the way your eyes drifted across the gym to where Bucky was training.

After almost an hour on the treadmill, chatting idly about nothing in particular with Nat and Wanda, Steve called the team to attention. Everyone moved in from around the gym, forming a misshapen circle around the sparring mats that he and Clint had just hauled from the storage room.

“It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Sam said as he plopped down on the floor and began stretching his legs out in front of him, “is the air on, Tony?”

Tony, who was chugging half a bottle of water, simply shrugged and waved haphazardly at the control panel by the main entry doors.

“I’ll check it,” you offered before turning on your heel.

You tapped the screen and it came to life, but the display wasn’t the same as the one in your room. It had more options and dials for more variables than just the temperature, but on the top right of the screen was a little green button that you assumed meant it was on. You chose the dial that looked like it controlled the fan speed and turned it all the way up.

“All good, Y/N?” Steve called.

You nodded before hurrying back to the group, bending your right leg up to your buttocks in a quick stretch. Steve and Nat then took their positions in the middle of the circle and began demonstrating the fight sequences that they wanted the team to practice.

“Now partner up, pick a mat, and practice until you can do it as fast as you can,” Steve said, before looking directly at Sam, “without hurting each other.”

Sam sighed with exasperation as he turned to his partner, Bucky. You turned to Wanda while Nat joined Clint on a mat and Tony stepped up to where Steve was. Each pair started slowly mimicking the moves that had just been demonstrated.

“It is hot in here,” Wanda said, her breath heavy as she ducked your fist.

You simply nodded, too focused on your movements to be able to speak.

Grunts, huffs, and the thud of heavy feet on the vinyl mats echoed throughout the gym for fifteen minutes before Steve called a break. You practically dove for your water bottle, only to choke on the first mouthful of water when Bucky yanked his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. Wanda caught your eye, giggling as you spluttered.

“I thought the heatwave was over,” Clint said.

Tony nodded, “It is, I think the air-con is playing up.”

“It’s broken?” Wanda gasped.

He shrugged, opening his mouth to respond but stopping when Steve spoke first, “Alright, enough chatting, let’s get back into it.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Wanda’s fist made contact with your shoulder, your abdomen, and almost your jaw if she hadn’t quickly noticed that you were too distracted to block her swing. Her foot then collided with your hip twice before she finally gave in on trying to get your attention.

Your eyes were glossed over and glued to the super soldier duelling Sam. His exposed skin glistened with sweat, muscles rippling under taught, alabaster skin. His stare was hard, eyes almost grey as they narrowed on every move that Sam made. Your palms began to sweat, knees wobbling as you watched his tongue swipe quickly across his pink lips.

“Y/N!” Wanda snapped, her fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to face her, “focus.”

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered.

You raised your shaky hands, trying to block out the shirtless man still in your peripheral vision.

By the time Steve called the training session to an end, the air was almost as dense as the storm clouds outside. Everyone was soaked in their own sweat, hair clinging to sticky skin and muscles beneath burning from use.

“I swear to God, Tony,” Wanda said as she draped her towel over her shoulder, “if the air-con is broken, I’m not going to let you sleep until it’s fixed.”

He chuckled, fingers already moving swiftly across the tablet in his lap, “It’s not broken.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Sam exclaimed, arms gesturing wildly toward the gym’s huge windows that were completely veiled in condensation.

Tony nodded toward you, “Y/N turned the temperature up instead of down.”

Heat blossomed in your chest, crawling up your neck and to the tips of your ears. Every pair of eyes landed on you, a mixture of irritation and amusement etched across the faces of your teammates.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I got confused.”

Most of the group simply chuckled or shrugged, collecting their things and heading for the door, but Sam took his time. The devilish smirk adorning his lips made your pulse begin to race.

“Far out, Y/N,” he said, “you didn’t have to torture all of us just to get Barnes to take his clothes off.”

Your eyes went wide, brows shooting up toward your hairline as every coherent thought left your head. Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears.

The team was suddenly silent, those closest to the door hurrying out and the rest quickly rushing after them. Wanda stuck her elbow into Sam’s side before dragging him out by his shirt collar.

Bucky remained, paralysed feet still glued to the ground as he quickly tried to catch up on what had just happened.

“Sam was just joking,” you finally managed to speak, “he’s an arse.”

Bucky blinked slowly, “Yeah… such an arse.”

You nodded, mouth dry as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Okay, well, I’ve got to-”

“He is an arse,” Bucky interrupted you, blue eyes wide with curiosity, “but he doesn’t usually lie.”

You didn’t know what to say, your nervous fingers tangling behind your back. His stare was heavy, pressing down on your shoulders and holding you still as he slowly stepped closer.

“Do you like me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I like you, Buck, you’re-”

“No,” one last step and his breath fanned the exposed skin of your neck, “do you-”

This time, it was your turn to interrupt. Every bit of pent-up tension and suppressed desire propelled you toward him, coming up onto the balls of your feet and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your lips crashed into his, so hard you might have worried about bruising them if the thought of a mark left by Bucky wasn’t so thrilling.

He hesitated only for a moment before his hands found your waist, practically lifting you off the ground and squashing your body against his. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue glided across your bottom lip, begging for entry. A low, almost feral growl rumbled up from his chest once you allowed him in, tongues clashing.

You only parted when breath became absolutely necessary, your lungs burning for air. He let you back onto your own feet, though his strong arms stayed wound around your waist.

“Um, yeah,” you said between gulps of air, “I really like you, Buck.”

He chuckled, “Well, that’s a relief because I really like you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling away completely and wrapping his gym towel around his shoulders.

“I need a shower,” he said, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the door, “and it’s your turn to take your clothes off now.”

END.

[camdentown-library]

The flames in your eyes || ENG ver. Ethan Torchio x reader

❝ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚. 

𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 ��𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠. ❞

Genre: Fluff ;; romantic ;; slowburn

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x fem!reader

Warning: English is not my native language, I may have made grammatical errors. do not hesitate to correct me

N / A: The facts told are purely the fruit of my imagination, it is not my intention to do any wrong to any person mentioned, and above all the character of Ethan could (surely) not reflect the person in reality.

Happy reading to you all!

CHAPTER 1

The first rays of July had cast on the roofs of the houses in Rome, giving the off-white plaster and rosy tiles a golden sheen that tasted like honey. The wisteria were in bloom, as was the medlar tree under Marlena's house; the scent of life in the full act of her cycle, always knocked on her dining room window, filling it with sweet fragrances.

The girl used to take her place at the table during the late morning hours, surrounded by books and tomes quite old and gnawed by the dust, with the good resolution that even that day she would read and study those very boring pages of that equally boring examination. of Egyptology. The university summer session had already begun, she had just taken a couple of exams last June and was now preparing two more that she would take in the first weeks of September.

That time could seem apparently short, Marlena didn't care that much, what could ever distract her from her work? She had no friends, and by now, even though she had crossed the threshold of 21 years in the autumn, the girl was now completely extinct her naive youth, as well as her desire to laze.

The out of tune and unexpected sound of the intercom triggered her head bent over the books of the young woman, who after having heaved a sigh perhaps a little annoyed, she decided to get up from her chair, leave the dining room and cross the wide and not too long corridor in the shape of an "L" of his apartment, finally arriving at a brisk pace towards the device it had croaked in order to answer.

"Yes?" she asked quite firmly but not too cordially.

"I'm the postman, will you open me?" answered a stranger, as she pushed the button to open the gate.

Marlena therefore opened the heavy old door of her house, remaining patient to wait for the man to arrive at the door. Although she had lived in that condominium with her father for as long as she remembered it, she had not yet found a rational explanation for its lack of mailboxes. Was it because it was a palace built in the 1920s? Well that would explain the absence of an elevator as well, but a damn mailbox wouldn't be hard to add.

The man's gasping breath brought her back to reality as her eyes saw him peeking from the flight of stairs. Was he already that tired after not even crossing the second floor? The young woman wondered a little disappointed.

"Are you Madam Levavi?" the postman then asked, catching his breath and rummaging through her purse. Marlena wrinkled her nose instinctively.

"Ahm ... not madam, I'm her daughter" she replied shaking her head, what could that postman ever care if she was "miss" or "madam"? The girl lightly bit the inside of her cheek as a reproach.

"Here you are. How many floors are there still?" She asked the man wiping her sweaty forehead with a handkerchief after giving her the mail.

"Two more ..." Marlena replied disinterestedly as she closed the door, observing her letters.

Bills for electricity, water, the tax to be paid for the next university year and ... a letter?

Well, it certainly wasn't sent by her father...

The girl looked at the text of that letter once more, rereading it and rereading it several times, wrapped in a silence that was probably inherent in memories that clouded her common sense, while slowly after taking a few steps back, she gently placed her back to the wall.

"Dear Marlena,

I know perfectly well that it might have been easier to call you, but you know I've always enjoyed writing you letters.

Unfortunately I noticed that in the last few I sent you you didn't answer, I guess it's because the university keeps you very busy ...

However, I learned that your father is out of Italy on a business trip and he will be away until the end of August; It seemed only right to invite you to spend these last months of summer in our house outside the city.

I know that since your mom left, you haven't had the desire to visit us anymore, but I think it would do you good to change the air for a while. The place is quiet, there is the sea and also a large and extensive countryside with a pine forest and the locals are really friendly and helpful.

You can also bring Lapo if you want, I know you are very close.

Either way, let me know your verdict.

A strong hug.

Grandmother Agata.”

She had distant memories of that house, distant but still happy. He remembered when he woke up early in the morning with grandmother Agata and grandfather Laertes to be able to go to the sea and his little hands while looking for hermit crabs and shells on the shore, as he remembered the music in the square and the laughter echoing in the same way as the bells of the church on Sunday, everyone was happy ... and life seemed to be less unfair to those who deserved it less, it tasted like jam and fruit jellies, salt on the lips and bees flying.

Marlena's chest swelled with air, as if she had been holding her breath until then...perhaps because diving into one's childhood was like floundering in a stormy sea pretending to stay afloat.

The cheerful barking of her dog Lapo brought the young woman back to the present, who decided to place the letters on a window sill not far from the front door and set off together with the playful animal towards the kitchen. Lapo was a nice Bernese Mountain Dog, with a black, brown and white coat. It had been given to her five years ago, perhaps because her father had sensed that even his absence had created in the heart of his only daughter, a sense of distressing loneliness, which had consumed her to the bone making her totally apathetic for certain verses.

But Lapo, Lapo had saved her from her, with Lapo she spoke and shared gestures of affection, such as caresses and little licks between her fingers and hair. Sometimes Marlena fell asleep in her bed, with the bulky dog ​​on her, because feeling her warm and humid breath on her blankets reminded her in her sleep that she was not alone in the dark of the night. As long as Lapo's heart had beaten the young girl she was not afraid of having to wake up or sleep.

Although she tried to convince herself that staying in her comfort zone would be easier than answering "yes" to her grandmother's request, a part of her was again attracting her to that letter; her gaze was captured by the horizon of her mind, while in the distance she could almost hear the sounds and flavors of a place almost too fairytale to be part of the material world.

"I know I should answer..." she murmured as she was intent on washing the peel of a red apple in the kitchen sink. Meanwhile the dog sat up looking at her intensely while she wagged his tail waiting for her.

"...It's just that, that place...and then I should finish studying, I have an exam to take at the end of the summer, Lapo" but the dog tilted his head in disappointment and then got up and trotted out of the room, looking for of who knows what amusement, leaving Marlena to her thoughts, as she bit into the freshly dried fruit with the kitchen towel.

All of this would only be for a little over a month and a half, just a month and a half and then she would leave it all behind her again, as she did a long time ago.

“Hello grandma. I'm Marlena..."

Marlena after putting the letter back next to her bedside table, she grabbed the cell phone not far away and typed some numbers on the screen, not too convincingly, and then brought the object to her ear.

There were those ten seconds of waiting that seemed the stroke of half a century, until a voice said "Hello?".

Marlena had brought two large bags with her. One for clothes and the other full of junk such as: books, objects for the dog, tricks and everything that for her mind, not so familiar with travel, she considered indispensable. She was not so convinced that both of them would enter the trunk, but the exemplary ability to know how to adapt and make do with her grandfather always left her with amazement on the edge of her lips.

It took two days before grandfather Laerte's small and overly backward FIAT Punto made its peerless entrance next to the bottle-green gate of the small cloister of the Marlena palace.

The man had taken more or less ten minutes just to park, the niece had wondered how long it would take him to get there and start again.

The young woman was sitting in the back seats, together with Lapo. She held in her hands a small bunch of tulips that Laertes had brought her, made by herself. He said to her:

"I went for a walk in the countryside and tried to capture the most beautiful of all, like my granddaughter!" followed by a proud, croaking laugh. Laertes had always been a proud and incurable romantic, without ever giving up some of her drama, grandmother Agata did nothing but remind her of it in her letters.

Like when Marlena pointed out to him, that the steering wheel of the car was too damaged for the latter to be considered in accordance with the law, but he had always replied that a good soldier and partisan would appeal to his driving experience and a little 'of elbow grease, in order to be sure that the itinerary of the journey would be peaceful and without unpleasant hitches.

Lapo let out an enthusiastic bark when the croaking car left the endless concrete of the highway behind, and then took a narrow, winding, uphill road that would have led them to the small town.

Her gaze stared blankly at what was running, like tape in a movie camera, out the window; She saw the buildings of the city become less present, as well as the stench of smog, then there was a long stretch of highway, immersed in the wheat fields and every now and then some small farm or spare parts industry or other jobs would emerge.

In the car there would have been complete silence, had it not been for the old radio which played an entire disc of all of Lucio Dalla's masterpieces; Marlena's grandfather liked that singer, but not in the same way chatting while driving, because according to him it would have increased the chances of road accidents by 50%, and frankly, the granddaughter didn't mind at all this acknowledgment ... she didn't even know where she should have started and however much her relatives tried to make her feel at ease, she imagined herself as a stranger, a stranger, who had knocked on their door and was now just trying to learn and remember their common manners.

"If you look to the right you will see the sea, Marlena" Laertes informed her, while he struggled with the steering wheel at every bend, but he did not dare to make even a moan under stress. The girl decided to accept those words, and looking out (after rolling down the window) a crisp air of salt pervaded her nostrils like the balm of a mint. Her eyes tried to show as little as possible the defeat of an amazement that had overwhelmed her like a raging wave, making her heart pound.

The sea. Marlena loved the sea. And for a few moments she was wondering what she had forced her to shut up in the house all that time, but then her mind went back to static and clear. She knew why, and there was no other reason to get her back together, even if it was difficult.

Yet there seemed to be few people around the streets, perhaps because at that time anyone with a minimum of wit would have holed up in the cool four walls of their home, just to escape the scorching heat that did not yield until the stroke of five in the afternoon .

By now it was almost two in the afternoon when Laertes' car passed the threshold of the square of the small town, while the attentive (even if apparently lost) gaze of his granddaughter observed everything in detail.

Nothing seems to have changed in that place since the last one who went there. The street was always covered with the usual, old and coarse slabs of white stone and eroded by the weather, as well as the various shops that surrounded the square and the small houses side by side, glazed with a fresh off-white plaster and dark brown roofs, the fountain in the center, and the small restaurant with its balcony overlooking the long pine forest that extended at the foot of the modest hill that supported the town.

A jolt suddenly shook Marlena, when her grandfather decided to pull over and pull up the handbrake of his FIAT, thus causing a slight recoil unexpectedly enough to suddenly wake the girl from her thoughts. She cleared her throat, while she opened her door, so that Lapo could finally trot and wag his tail excitedly around, on the other hand she didn't blame him, it must have been hard for a dog to stay good in the car for so many hours.

"Here we are!" proclaimed the elderly man putting the car keys in his pocket and then ring the bell of the small house next to FIAT "Your grandmother will be so happy to see you, I bet she will have prepared ciambelle with red wine to celebrate your reunion" he added while he waited for the woman he mentioned to open to him, already anticipating on his lips the pungent and sweet taste of those sweets he loved so much.

"So I suppose you made at least thirty" commented the young woman ironically, as she dragged out the two bags with extreme difficulty, attracting the attention of Laertes who, hastily adjusting his frizzy white hair, hastened to reach his niece to give her your support.

“Ah don't worry, kid. I'll take care of it, maybe you can ring the door, your grandmother has now gone deaf as a bell...” he said as he gave a slight snort and then muttered something.

"C’mon, grandpa" Marlena replied then raising her eyes to the sky trying not to smile, how melodramatic could that man be?

After pressing her finger on the bell again, the girl waited for someone to answer and hearing the approach of some quick steps together with the rubbing of flip-flops on the floor, made her realize that Agata had finally heard their arrival. Marlena did not even have time to greet the elderly lady, who took her in her arms, wrapping her in an embrace that caught her unprepared and to which she did not respond immediately.

“Oh my love! I’m so happy to see you again! But look how you have grown! It seems only yesterday when you reached mid-thigh and now...” the hands a little gnarled, but from the soft fingertips of the woman, gently took the face of her niece like a cup, as if to feel if her presence was only fantasy or reality "...You are a woman to all intents and purposes" she whispered and then fussed with kisses all over her face, while Marlena whining pretending to be somehow annoyed.

After climbing a short flight of stairs that led to the house located on the upper floor, the girl's nostrils and consciousness were flooded with memories and sensations already savored. She observed the now old floor of the house, granite tiles that alternated with one hand painted and another not; Marlena rejoiced with a touch of amusement when she as a child she spent boring afternoons playing on them, jumping only on the decorated ones because according to her imagination those remains were made of incandescent lava.

The walls were always the same, covered with a light blue paint and slightly lumpy at times, she could feel it, when the index and middle fingers of her right hand absently brushed the surface.

The house of Marlena's grandparents was very simple and perhaps apparently a little cramped. Having opened the wooden entrance door, after having passed the landing and the stairs, she had in front of her a corridor that extended along to her right, thus marking the various doors of each room that the house gathered inside. Almost parallel to the entrance there was the kitchen door on the opposite wall, without doors, next to it the bathroom door, and then the door to the room of the two elderly spouses. At the end of the corridor there was a small balcony with the railing covered with hanging vases where, like a multicolored waterfall, a thick branching of coral red bucanville came out which, in addition to poetically letting itself fall from the small niche, climbed elegant and graceful on the handrail of the then hug the outside walls of the house.

Marlena took advantage of it, to be able to peep there, while she deeply breathed the fragrant and velvety scent of those petals, mixed with the sea breeze that came from beyond the pine forest that surrounded the town. She observed the small houses around her while if she winked she could distinguish the clear line of the flat and calm sea that merged in perfect alchemy with the clear sky on the horizon.

The young woman tried in every way to convince herself that that enchanted place, that little corner of paradise had never failed her...but she suddenly proclaimed herself foolish for having thought such a cynical thing in the least.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

[flesheatinglette]

----It's been a long while but I wrote a fanfic

Enjoy! ----

-Fuugen-Intoxicating Moments

The warm sticky air hung heavy in the night making the three traveling companions grateful they were able to pull together some cash to afford some decent lodgings. Fuu was very grateful to be able to sleep without being eaten alive by bugs. The few odd jobs helped them accumulate a small savings before setting off again in the morning.

Mugen arrived at the room with several pots of sake in his arms kicking his sandals off.

“Hey!” Fuu screeched “ we aren’t supposed to be spending money on that!”

“Calm down we have plenty left over.”He rolled his eyes, sitting in the center of The room.

Placing the booze in front of him, he removed his red oversized over shirt. “ it’s our last night here that’s enough of a reason to drink for me. Maybe you should have some too it might make you more tolerable to be around.” He teased popping open the quark of the first bottle.

She huffed watching Jin settle in across from Mugen retrieving a small saucer cup to enjoy some of the sake as well.

In a show of reluctant compliance, Fuu plopped down next to Mugen with a huff.

Grabbing her saucer cup and the neck of the bottle she tipped it over slightly letting the liquid trickle out into the cup.

————————————

The moon hung high as the sounds of crickets and frogs hummed outside.

After a few hours, empty discarded jugs were spewed across the floor. Poor Jin, now propped up against the wall, his head had been spinning and couldn’t keep conscious.

“Damn you two drank up a lot of my booze...Did Jin pass out? Good grief...” Mugen grumbled as he swished around the last jug to hear the half-empty sloshing noise it made before pouring himself another cup.

Fuu swigged back what was left in her cup and let out a dramatic sigh after the liquid slid down her throat. The once burning sensation has long become numbed out with a lot of her mind. All she could feel was how warm her face had gotten.

“ Don’t complain, I worked for that money too! I wanna celebrate~” she slurred reaching for the jug in front of Mugen sloppily pointing herself another drink.

“ Not what I would call a celebration. There’s not even any women here to get things going.” the crude man complained lowering his cup from his lips.

“Well then, what would you call me...” she blurted out glaring over at him.

“Pfft! A plank of wood that’s a pain in my ass.” He cracked without any hesitation.

Fuu’s eyebrow twitched as a thought crept into her mind. “I got it...You just can’t handle a woman like me.” She said in a snooty tone, lifting her drink once more to her lips, sipping half of it down before lazily placing the cup to the side.

“Teh, there’s nothing to handle.” He stated bluntly shooting a look over to her flushed face in time to see her grab at the neck of her kimono revealing the pale skin of her shoulder and collarbone.

“So you’re telling me you’re not a man. “ she challenged with a sly smirk on her face.

“Fuu that’s enough.” Mugen said in a low tone.

Slightly stumbling, the inebriated girl leaned over on her knees. Supporting her weight on her right arm. She reached out with her free hand gently grabbing onto a tuff of wild hair beside his face.

“Awe don’t be scared I don’t bite~” she giggled. Twirling his hair in between her fingers, a sense of pride bloomed as she assumed he was becoming flustered.

In a quick movement, Mugen grabbed her hand from his hair and lunged her back pinning her to the ground with a thud. He towered over her, engulfing her form in his shadow, as a wicked grin came over his lips.

Clutching tighter he looked over her small frame, tracing each detail with his eyes slowly up to her face.

“You know what kind of man I am you little bitch. You should be the one who’s scared.” He growled as his hand shifted from pinning down her arm to clenching around her throat. “Are you really that clueless about what kind of monster I am?”

The quick movement made her head spin. Her eyes looked over his face as her fingertips slid slowly over his scarred knuckles around her neck.

“After all this time, I know exactly who you are...” her voice hitched, sliding her hand to the top of his hand “ I’ve seen you fight, steal, and even kill recklessly..but..” Fuu’s soft fingertips left his hand and softly brushed against Mugen’s stubbled cheek. “But I know you won’t hurt me because we care about each other.” the stubborn girl said with no doubt behind her eyes.

His face couldn’t hide the small shock those words caused. Feeling this soft warm touch brought flashbacks to the blood-soaked riverside and the words from the blind assassin.

“Inside of you looms a simmering storm of hatred and rage. But perhaps what I’m actually sensing is sadness. It’s as if you’ve never once been loved by anyone. It’s as if you’re just like me.”

Memories of this headstrong girl, throwing herself between him and the assassin’s almost killing blow, had been tucked into the back of his mind. Along with the cold upsetting rage of watching Sara die at his hands.

Mugen’s hand loosened, adjusting to rest on Fuu’s collarbone. Feeling the thump of her heart under his palm, he slowly leaned over, gently placing his forehead on hers.

Her heartbeat raced as her finger danced up the side of his prickly face brushing into his hair.

“Mugen..” she whispered feeling his warm breath on her face.

“I can’t take this shit.” He murmured as his dark eyes closed. Hearing his name said so sweetly sent a chill through him. Removing his hand from her heaving chest Mugen got to his feet and swiftly made his way outside.

She laid there for a moment stunned by his reaction. Before she could fully think about what she was doing, she was fixing her kimono, running out the door after him.

“H-hey! What's your deal Mugen?!” she yelled out snatching onto the back end of his shirt.

“My deal?! What about yours? Are you messin’ with me? Your little brain is filled to the brim with sake, it's making it hard for you to think!” He shouted turning towards her.

With watering eyes, Fuu tugged harder at his shirt “Are you an idiot? Are my signals not strong enough to get through that thick skull of yours?!” her voice shuttered as she exhaled.

Mugen stood there silent for a moment studying her face, looking at the reflection of the moon’s light in her eyes. His mind was a buzz with her words but a tugging feeling in his gut held him back. “Look girlie, I’m not here to be your drunken mistake that you end up regretting. You wouldn't look at me with those doe eyes for a second if you were sober..so I’m out of here till you can get your mind back to normal. “ the stubborn man snapped.

With furl brows Fuu pushed Mugen into the support beam of the awning over the walkway. “Listen here mister morals!”She stumbled against him keeping eye contact. “Even when my mind is ‘normal’ I still finding myself looking for you or thinking about you.” her eyes stayed serious as she grasped the neck of his white sleeveless shirt. “I use to think it was because of how much you annoy me. But the more I watched you run off after women with lust in your eyes, I felt this endless clench in my throat that would spread to my chest. I can’t make these feelings stop. I can’t help it...”

Before he could proses what she was saying the girl pushed up on her toes yanking his collar towards herself. Soft lips pressed against his. The warmth of her mouth begging for him to consume her made his head blank out for a moment. His hands raised to his sides before he gave in. Grasping at her shoulders, adjusting himself, he pulled her light body into his chest. Pushing off the post, almost lifting her feet from the ground, he stepped forward shifting the control to him.

The sake taste of his lips was intoxicating on their own. Releasing the shirt her arms slid up around his neck. Feeling his big hands wander over her back as his body pushes against hers made her whole being as warm as her face. As his tongue slipped through her lips her eyes became alert. Fuu had never kissed like this before. Only small peck to childhood crushes. Feeling his experience made her heart thump with excitement as his hands reached and grasped her hips. The blush on her cheeks intensified making her head burn as her eyes narrowed offering her tongue to his.

The wild-haired man’s desire began to boil as he felt her give in to him. A grunt slipped feeling her slick tongue encouraged him. He slowly pulled away looking from her kiss swollen lips to her longing eyes. Mugen’s calloused hands went from her hips to cup her pale face as he pulled his mind together.

“Mugen..p-please...I wanna kiss you more.” Fuu said in a soft whimper. Her mind began to go white as she clung to him trying to keep her focus between his eyes and lips. Her legs were like jelly mostly holding herself up by his neck.

“I’m going to regret this in the morning... I know am... We need to go back to the room.” Mugen groaned placing his hands on her arms putting her back on her feet. Watching her stumble in place he let out a frustrated sigh. In one motion he lifted her into his arms. Without another word, Mugen walked into their room where Jin was still passed out. Squatting down he placed the girl's small frame onto a premade futon. “You need to get some sleep.” He said looking at threw half-lidded eyes.

The moments between being tasting Mugen’s fiery kisses and laying down on the futon were blank in her mind. Seeing him over her with that look sent pain through her heart. As he shifted to stand she reached out grabbing onto his arm. “P-please don’t go... Stay with me.” Her voice was almost a whisper as she tugged at him weakly towards the futon. Fuu's grip slightly clenched looking over his face.

Truthfully he didn’t want to restrain himself. Seeing her in front of him made it harder not to lose all control and devour her leaving his mark and scent throughout every fiber of her being. A small nagging fear kept him in its grasp making his mind reconsider his basic instinct. “Damn it... Fine...” he growled flopping down on his side next to her propping his head on his hand supported by his elbow. “But we are going to sleep...”

Fuu looked him over sliding into him lacing her arms through the triangle opening of his supporting arm and over the other side of his neck. Planting small kisses up his collarbone to his neck, she could feel his blood rushing under her lips warming them with each pump.

Mugen reached over with his free arm pulling out her hair sticks one by one letting the strands fall free under his nose. Her sweet smell mixed with the small impact of each kiss threatened to fog his mind. He looked down at her tossing the hair sticks to the side as their eyes connected.

Fuu lifted her jaw to his, planting a delicate unsure peck on his bottom lip.

Mugen’s free hand found itself running through her hair, as he leaned in closer, holding her lips to his for a moment longer. They slowly broke the kiss pulling back without words.

Her head nestled down in the space between his arm and his chest. The mix of the alcohol and his scent relaxed her mind enough to fall asleep. Her arms went limp retreating to the space between them, feebly grasping at his shirt to make sure he didn’t leave.

Watching her chest softly rise and fall as she slept lulled his tired mind to sleep soon after her.

—————————————

Day brake began to creep in as the outside creatures began to wake. Jin’s head throbbed as he made it to his feet completely out of it. The hungover samurai left the room to make his way to the public bathhouse to freshen up before they would have to continue their journey.

Mugen hadn’t moved all night keeping his back to the door as he listened to Jin leave. Hearing the door close he leaned a bit to peak over his shoulder.

A small lazy hand lifted touching his face turning his attention back to the half-sleeping girl next to him. “M-Mugen..” a faint breath escaped her lips as her eyes stayed closed.

He let out a huff before adjusting himself to a more comfortable position. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close to his chest feeling her give in to him. Feeling the warmth of her body snuggle on him, their breath sank together as they fell back asleep.

[yeojaa]

finders keep hers, iii.

read parts one and two!  the long awaited conclusion!  i’m sorry it turned into a friggin’ novel.  i hope it does the first two parts justice, though.  these kids are...  idiots.  i love them and you (and also the best beta reader @hobi-gif​)!  💖

pairing.  jjk x named f!reader.  rating.  explicit, ofc.  tags.  this is...  really soft at certain parts.  and then really raunchy at others.  oops?  but fr - mainly fluff with some smut at the end.  you might need a filling.  wc.  5.4k.

You’re buzzed into the building without a moment’s hesitation, the kind concierge with the gummy smile and greying temples beaming at you as you enter.  “Nice to see you, Miss Lee.”

“You too, Mr. Choi.”  A grin of your own is offered, gym bag hiked higher over your shoulder as you pause to chat.  You’re in no rush.  “Is he home?”

“I don’t believe so.”  The sudden look of disapproval that colours the older gentleman’s features is almost comical, reminiscent of a disparaging parent.  It’s the same expression you’re greeted with nearly every time you visit.  “He left in a town car yesterday afternoon and I don’t think he’s been back since.  That boy’s going to get himself in trouble one day.”  As if Jungkook didn’t already - as if it didn’t follow him around, glued to the bottoms of his Italian leather shoes.

“Tell me about it.”

“You know…”  There’s that twinkle in Mr. Choi’s eyes again - the one that tells you he’s about to repeat the same words he always does when he catches you alone.  “A nice girl like you could get him to settle down.”

Your response is what it always is - a scoff and a laugh rolled into one.  It careens off your tongue, ringing in the spacious lobby.  “I don’t think anyone will ever get him to settle down.”

How true that is, you’re not sure.  For your sake, you try not to think about it too much. 

The old man is undeterred though, shrugging his narrow shoulders beneath the neat uniform he wears.  It’s a little loose in the chest but immaculate otherwise, tie knotted in a classic Windsor and collar ironed perfectly.  He levels you with that shrewd stare of his but says nothing further, simply engaging you in an unspoken staring contest. 

Sometimes, you wonder how much he sees.  How much he knows .

You break before he does, tearing your gaze away and blinking rapidly.  He laughs, full bellied and deep from the chest.  “Get on upstairs, Miss Lee.”  You aren’t offended by the dismissal.  “It’s always nice chatting with you.”

You remind yourself to bring him chocolates the next time you’re by.  The ones with hazelnuts, because those are his favourite. A fact you only know because you’ve helped your best friend pick up a box for him every Christmas, writing the card and having him sign it right before it gets left behind the desk.

Actually, you helped Jungkook with a lot of things.  Always had.  It was simply the nature of your friendship - passed down by your parents and forged stronger by childhood playdates, your fair share of teenage squabbling, and college hangovers so bad they’d created an unbreakable bond.  

Whenever he would need you, you’d be there - whether that meant picking him up at 4 AM from the airport because he wanted “some shitty fast food and to see you” or helping him pick gifts for Mother’s Day.  There was no task too small, no moment too inconsequential. 

Unconditional love, they called it. 

It’s why you have no problem swanning into his apartment with the extra key you’ve had since he moved in, kicking off your trainers and tucking them neatly alongside the rows of black leather and expensive sneakers.  

You do so much for him that you take where you can, indulging in all of the luxuries you’ve never been afforded.  Unparalleled view, stupidly expensive toiletries, a damn jacuzzi tub . 

You pull your sweater over your head - truthfully, one of Jungkook’s from college that you’d never felt inclined to give back - and toss it over the back of a barstool on your way into the guest suite.  Your bag follows shortly after, deposited at the foot of the bed that exists as a rotating welcome mat to your and Jungkook’s circle of friends.  

The rest of your clothes - sports bra, shorts, thong, socks - are stripped, folded, and tucked into the laundry bag you keep handy.  You know you could leave them here and Jungkook’s housekeeper would take care of it, but you’ve never been too comfortable with that.  Different upbringings.

The spray is like sweet relief the moment you step beneath the rainforest shower.  It’s the perfect temperature and pressure, melting the sweat and tension from your bones.  

But it isn't why you’re here, so you make quick work in the glass enclosure, scrubbing your body bare and lathering and conditioning your hair into a squeaky clean mess.  Any other time, you’d just spend a good half hour standing beneath the head but you’re feeling particularly indulgent today.  

Call it a spa day, courtesy of one Jeon Jungkook. 

You don’t bother to dry off, water splashing across the floor as you step from the shower and sink into the spacious tub that overlooks the heart of Seoul.  Diptyque bath oil encapsulates the room in a bubble of sweet almond, similarly branded candle burning on the ledge.  The jets release a steady stream against your tired back and legs, massaging your limbs into jelly. 

You can’t help the sigh of utter relaxation that rolls off your tongue, sinking into water in the same instance your shoulders do.    

This is what dreams are made of.  Anyone who says differently is an idiot and a liar. 

“When are you going to tell her?”

You’re not expecting the voice and it breaks the silence like a thousand pound weight, shattering the calm and nearly startling you enough for you to knock your head on the edge of the tub.  

There’s no reason for you to be surprised.  Not really.  This isn’t your home, after all.  You aren’t entitled to any sort of privacy.  

It doesn’t matter, though.  The discomfort in your chest is unfolding regardless, lodging rocks in your throat.  

Because it’s a female voice.  Lilting, soft, draped in familiarity.  Not someone brand new.  

Your heart stutters at the realisation.  The rush of blood against your eardrums is so loud you momentarily wonder whether they can hear it all the way in the living room.  They must be able to - it’s practically deafening.  You can’t even hear the rest of their conversation.

Their conversation .

Which seems to have ended, leaving only silence.

You suddenly remember your shoes, your sweater.  Traces of you littered throughout the apartment that isn’t yours.  God, you’re an idiot.  He was going to kill you - or she was.  You’re not sure which is worse.

You’re reaching for the fluffy white towel on the rack when you’re scared near half to death yet again.  This time, by your best friend who cuts an imposing figure in the doorway, broad form resting casually against the frame.  He looks surprisingly unbothered, curls pushed back from his forehead by a pair of sunglasses and arms folded over his chest.

“Jesus!”  The shriek comes four octaves higher than it normally would, pitching into the open so loudly you wince.  “You scared me!”

You can’t help the way you peek past his shoulder for a sign of the girl he’d brought home.

“Enjoying yourself?”  There’s something amused dancing in the darks of his eyes, his mouth curving around the same emotion as he steps into the bathroom.  You’d be bothered if he were anyone else, unnecessarily long legs carrying him to you in three strides.  

“I didn’t know you were home.”  You can’t quite meet his stare, still far too distracted by the mystery woman.  Had he left her on the couch?  Maybe his bedroom as he snuck you out?  What excuse could he come up with?

“Didn’t know you were home either.”  

He’s made himself comfortable right on the ledge of the tub, marked fingers dragging lazily through the still-scalding water.  He doesn’t seem terribly in a rush.  That puts you on edge.

Was he going to hide you in here? 

“I wanted to relax after my run.”  You don’t owe him an explanation - not really - but you offer it anyway.  You figure you need to, when you might’ve ruined his Sunday morning romp session.  You can’t bring yourself to address it, though.  The words just won’t come, sitting on the tip of your tongue like thorns.  It hurts to swallow. 

Jungkook doesn’t further the conversation - a first for him.  He’s normally a chatterbox.

The silence stretches on.  Suffocating.

You force yourself to speak, staring down at your hands that are slowly pruning beneath the water.  “Should I… go?”  The way it comes is feeble, soft, uncertain.  You hate it.

By the look of surprise on his face, he does, too.  He cackles suddenly, like a goddamn witch.  “Why?”

Heat floods across your cheeks.  You wish you could blame it on the bath or the steam that still collects on the mirrors.  It pulls high over your ears, colouring them tomato red and embarrassed.  Surely, he knows why.  

When he repeats himself, it’s harder, without any of the laughter from before.  

Rather than answer, you wave a hand through the air, fingers wiggling.  The universal sign for you know .  It should be enough - you hope it’s enough.  Your ego won’t let you verbalise it.  

“Suddenly mute, baby?”

It isn’t quite mocking - teasing, maybe - but it stokes the fire that burns in the pit of your stomach and licks uncomfortably at the organ in your chest.  You don’t even look at him as you nearly spit the words, petulant and far more bothered than you should be.  “You’ve got a girl here.”  

A laugh that isn’t quite a laugh comes, swathed in velvet and coloured blue.  The effort you make to not shoot him a glare is herculean.  

He’s still snickering when he speaks.  “You mean my sister?”

“Your sister?”  It’s more surprise at yourself that has you whipping to look at him, bewilderment tossing all other emotion out the window.  Because his sister was practically your sister.  How had you not recognised her voice?  You feel silly all at once, the embarrassment from earlier fading into reticence. 

“Yeah.  I spent the night babysitting the twins.”

You sometimes forget how much Jungkook loves children - especially his sisters’.  It’s hard to reconcile the family man he effortlessly transforms into when he spends most of his waking hours playing the perfect part of unaffected bachelor. 

“How are they?”  You ask because you care - you adore Minseo and Minhyuk - but also so you can move the conversation along.  The last thing you want to do is dwell on your mistake.

“They’re good.  Getting big.”  He’s got that smile on his face - the one that’s softer than any other, with deep lines at the corners of his eyes.  Reserved especially for the people he cares about most.  Your favourite sight.  “You can come with me next time.  Minnie asked about you, anyway.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest.

Being liked by peers?  Great.  Being respected by your superiors?  Rewarding.  But being loved by children?  It was in a league all its own - better than ice cream on a hot day.

“Sure.”  You can’t keep the grin away.

That is, until he speaks again, circling the conversation back.  “So, were you jealous?”  His ability to piss you off is uncanny.  It’s like it’s written into his genetic code, each molecule of his body tasked with ruining your day. 

“No.”  It’s meant to be a scoff.  It’s not very believable.

“You sure, princess?”  The fingers on your chin are wholly unnecessary - he’s got you caught in his stare, locked in place with nowhere to go.

“Yes, Bunny .”  You know how much he hates the nickname, only tolerating it because it’s you.  You can’t deny the pleasure that comes at the sight of his jaw tensing, muscle jumping in agitation.  Just as he’s your weakness, you’re his, too.  “Now let me finish—”

He cuts you off, sharp and unrelenting:  “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”  

“You heard me.  Get out of the tub or I’m pulling you out myself.”  Risen to his full height, he’s an imposing figure.  Even worse, there’s something you can’t read in his expression - something that has your nerves firing wildly.  Your heart rattles around in your chest, uncertain.  

He leaves you without another word.

You scramble out of the bath as quickly as your confused limbs allow you, knotting the towel beneath your arms.  You’re not quite sure what to do next, caught between pulling your clean clothes out of your workout bag and demanding an answer from your sphinx of a best friend.

What the hell was his problem? 

Your impatience wins out as you’re tugging a brush through your hair, fumbling uncharacteristically through knots until you’re too frustrated to continue.  You’re ready to tear into him when you storm out of the guestroom;  you’ve got a barrage of insults on your tongue, proverbial gun cocked and ready to unload.  

They melt away when you spy him on the couch, neatly wrapped bouquet laid across the coffee table.

“Come here.”  It’s not a request so much as a demand - commanding and soft all at once.  A small part of you wants to fire off a rebuttal;  that part dies when he repeats himself, louder this time. 

The seat you take beside him is begrudging, a good foot of space held between your bodies.  You fiddle with the hem of your towel, turning a loose thread over and over your index finger. 

“What?”  It’s snippy, discontent - kerosene on the fire that burns beneath Jungkook’s skin.

“Watch it,”  he retorts, though there’s no acid to his words.  Frankly, he sounds more frustrated than angry, more exasperated than pissed off.

That makes one of you.

Only he can bring out this side of you - brusque and biting.  “ You watch it, Bunny.”

Fingers find the bridge of his nose, a gesture you don’t see very often.  Guilt blooms behind your ribcage as he rubs at the tension between his eyes.  For someone who has it all, he looks like he’s a moment away from losing it. 

“You’re a brat, you know that?”  

“Takes one to know one,”  you retort, not unkindly.  

“You’re making this really hard,”  he snaps in the same instant he all but throws the overwhelming bunch of flowers at you.  

You nearly drop them you’re so surprised.

“What are these for?”

“You.”

“Me?”  

“Did I stutter?”

If you weren’t so busy studying the arrangement of florals, you’d have some witty comeback.  As it stands, you’re preoccupied by the pretty bunch of peonies and tulips.  You wonder what he’s done wrong - why he’s found it necessary to soften the blow with your favourite flowers. 

Your thoughts drift back to his sister’s words:  when are you going to tell her?

All at once, you want nothing more than to leave.  You don’t want whatever heartbreak is about to come.  You’re not ready for it.  

“Listen—”

He cuts you off, again.  “I love you.”

You’re not sure how your face looks.  You imagine you could look up flabbergasted in the dictionary and you’d find a photo of your expression right now.  “What?”

Jungkook won’t quite look at you, intently focused on an indiscernible point against the far wall.  When he speaks the words again, they’re full of uncertainty - but not in the way you expect.  The confession is as believable as any you’ve ever heard - he really does sound like he loves you - but somehow, it’s draped in dread and held aloft by hummingbird wings.  “I love you.”  

He’s nervous, you realise in amazement. 

“Come again?”  

He meets your stare then, brow knitting with unease.  He doesn’t say it again, though.

“Are you messing around with me?”  You don’t mean it how it comes - a little accusatory.

“I’m not an asshole.”  Except both of you know he certainly can be.  You don’t call him on it, though, opting instead to peer curiously at him, hands fisted around the bouquet in your lap.  “I talked to my sister.  She…”  He shrugs once, an almost helpless roll of his shoulders.  “She told me I was an idiot.”

You’re not surprised by that.  Lina had always been the one to give it to him straight.

“She said I would lose you if I didn’t get my shit together.”  There’s a bit of childish petulance that works its way into each syllable - he hates being told what to do.  “Said I needed to tell you or I’d regret it.  Which is stupid, because we’ve been best friends forever and she’s younger than me so what does she know—”  He must realise he’s rambling, something he never does.  “But—”

“But?”  Quiet, hopeful, coaxing. 

There’s a warmth in your chest - illuminating and golden and so bright it hurts to think about.  It grows with each moment that passes, spurred on by the look in his eyes and how they find yours.  

Hesitation pulls the silence a beat too long.  The light wanes.  You wonder if the moment has passed.  

And then he continues, a little more earnestly.  “Was she right?  Am I going to lose you?”

You’re not entirely sure what he’s asking.  You don’t think he even knows what he’s asking.  You try to answer anyway, as honest as you can without pinning your heart directly on your sleeve.  “You’ll never lose me.”

“You know what I mean.”  

Did you?  “You’ll never lose me.”  You’re the one repeating yourself this time, just that bit harder.  

“Then say it.”  Again, not a request.  A prayer, perhaps.  Ardent and needy - a world away from the Jeon Jungkook you know.

You don’t hesitate.  “I love you.”

He doesn’t either - upon you so quickly you don’t have time to blink or think.  

How he kisses you now feels different.  More .  It’s like being consumed entirely - changed from the inside out in ways you never thought possible.  Where he touches, sparks fly, filling you like stars in the night sky.  Lava rolls over every inch, dragging heat and want and need from the soles of your feet to the tip of your nose.  You’re gasping rather than breathing, clawing against the front of his shirt and twining your fingers into the strands that curl over his nape. 

“You never told me you could kiss like that.”  It’s lacking coherence, made by a partial inhale and wild, wondrous eyes.

His response is a laugh and another kiss, forceful and adoring and utterly devastating.  “Shut up,”  he mouths against your lips, tongue licking over your teeth and gums like he’s trying to memorise every inch of you.  Hands follow in the same amorous motions, tugging and pulling and aching for you closer;  the tips of his fingers sear white hot heat over your hips, the small of your waist, the delicate bones of your ribcage.

“I’m serious...”  You really are - far more than you should be.  You’d been missing out on this ?  It’s incomprehensible.

The sound he makes is more of a growl, playful and resounding in the cavern of his chest.  It rattles your own, sending your heart on a downward spiral into the pit of your stomach.  His nose traces the column of your throat, soft lips guiding him further until he’s mouthing hotly over the bare skin of your shoulder.  Tongue teases, delves ever so gently into the dip of your collarbone, and swipes back up, laving over the maroon that peeks around the edge of his teeth.  You can’t help but keen, holding him so closely you wonder if you’re suffocating him.

“So am I.”  Each syllable is punctuated by another nip, another nibble.  It seems like his goal is to bloom roses across your skin - a wreath to welcome him home, made by his own touch.

You don’t mind.  

“Say it again,”  he demands, hopeful and unashamed from his place against your neck.  

The admission comes easily, as if it’s always lived on the tip of your tongue.  “I love you.”  

“Again.”  You’re not ready for the way he stares at you - like he’s never done before.  Like he’s seeing you for the first time and he’s awestruck.  “Say it again.”

“I love you.”  Hands find the familiar contours of his face, thumbs brushing over the hollows of his eyes, over the beauty mark that sits front and centre beneath his lip.  Each graze follows a repetition of the confession, as if you might burn the three simple words beneath his skin - write it into his DNA like he’s written into yours.  “I love you.  I love you.  I love you, Bunny .”

He holds you close - so tightly it feels almost as if he’ll crush you - and captures your mouth again.  It’s more gentle but just as lovesick.  A thousand unspoken words spill from his tongue to yours, swallowed whole with greed you don’t bother to hide.

“I need you.”  It’s whiny, framed by a pout that could end wars and paired with doe eyes so wide and innocent you almost want to roll your own.  

“You have me.”

“Do I?”  There’s a very deliberate roll of his hips, denim of his jeans rough against the exposed softness of your inner thighs, hands manoeuvring over the partially covered swell of your hips.  The press of his fingers is purposeful, digging tension into every inch.  As if he might transfer some of the unadulterated need that thrums through his veins, turning his heart to jelly and brain to mush.

“Since when do you ask?”  You have a point.

“You’re right,”  his grin is almost lazy, drawing over his mouth in a measured crawl.  “Good girls just do what they’re told, right?”  His grips tightens almost imperceptibly, holding you to him almost effortlessly.  You’ve been in this position a hundred times before but it’s never been this easy - like breathing.

The gasp you offer is all mock affront, hand laid palm-down across your chest.  You don’t miss the way his gaze follows it before ticking lower, unabashed in its admiration.  “Are you saying I’m not?”

“Don’t know, baby.”  The war on your neck has resumed, teeth traded seamlessly for the softer promise of his tongue, the dry brush of his lips.  It’s almost sinful, garnering sighs of affection and need from somewhere low in your throat.  “Want to be a good girl for me?”

You’re not quite used to this version of him - playful and needy and not nearly as demanding as usual.  A part of you wants to draw out the side of him you know is there, hidden just beneath the surface;  the other wants to bask in this, all feather soft and cotton candy sweet.

“Always,”  you return, with a coquettish smile and fluttering lashes. 

“Always,”  he murmurs, tasting it for the first time.  He sounds almost giddy when he repeats it once, then twice, then a third time for good measure.  You think it’ll come again, laughter rolling off your tongue as you stare into the eyes of the boy you love.  Instead, he speaks in a voice full of gravel and grit, all traces of your sunshine boy suddenly swallowed whole by the darks of his pupils.  “Fuck - I can’t wait to have you.”

“Then what’re you waiting for?”  You don’t need to push him.  You like to do it anyway.  It feels right .

“You’re the worst.”  What Jungkook means is you’re the best and I love you and I’m going to fuck you six ways into next week .  What he means is this is the scariest thing he’s ever done but it’s all right because he has you.  What he means is thank you - and how he shows it is through worship.  

On the way to the bedroom, he crowds every inch of you, holding you so closely you wonder if he’s trying to carve himself into your bones.  He’s firm and unrelenting, balancing you against his chest as he smothers every available inch of your shoulders in sweet, sloppy kisses.  He revels in the way you cling to him like you’ve never needed anything else. 

In his bed, he lays you out and strips you bare.  He offers devotion with every pass of his fingers, every trail of his tongue.  He wants you so badly it’s hard to focus on giving you everything you deserve, but he tries anyway.  He sucks love into your neck and over your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers until you’re panting and he’s aching for the same treatment.  

On his knees, he prays at the altar of your body, taking his time to map the constellations on your skin, the memories written into each scar and dot.  His tongue follows the raised flesh that sits across your hip - an unfortunate mishap from a schoolyard dare.  You whine and he nearly cries, soothing over the sensitive spot with hands and lips and tenderness.  He lays kisses on each freckle, each irregular mark.  From your navel to your knee and everywhere in between, he caresses and comforts, turning those blemishes into stars.  

He also teases - subtly, quietly, with wandering hands and focused breaths.  You don’t realise it until it’s too late, your insides molten, your pulse a thunderclap in your ears.  

“Jungkook.”  It sounds more like begging than anything.  Exactly what he wants.

“What’s up, princess?”  Spoken so casually, as if he isn’t between your legs, long fingers tracing through the slick that coats your thighs.  He gazes up from behind too long strands, all wide-eyed and terribly sweet - until he pops a digit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around the taste of you.  “Something wrong?”

“Stop teasing.”  You hear yourself whine but it doesn’t quite sound like you, higher pitched and needier than you’ve ever been.  

“I thought you were going to be good for me,”  he returns with a tut and a push of that same finger deep into your cunt.  He flexes it experimentally, beaming up at you when you clench around the intrusion that’s too much and not even close to being enough all at once.  “You’re so wet, baby.  I just slide right in.”  

As if to drive his point home, he drives another finger in, scissoring them languidly to stretch you open.  It’s such a pretty sight, messy and inviting.  He can’t resist a taste, dragging the flat of his tongue over and around the fingers that continue to fuck into you at a faster pace.   

“ Jungkook! ”  You’re shrieking, bucking against the onslaught of sensations.  A shapely arm immediately cages you against the bed, palm splayed across your hips.  

“Stay still.”  It’s a growl, teeth bared against the sensitive pearl between your legs.  Words are punctuated with the softest pressure - a silent threat that goes no further.  You wonder what he’ll do if he has to repeat himself.  “Good girls listen, remember?”

You’re fumbling across his shoulders, nails digging crescents everywhere you can reach.  You need him so badly it hurts .  “Please.”  

“Please what?”  That patented, stupid smirk cradles his mouth, tongue peeking out as he stares at you expectantly.  “If you’re going to be so demanding, at least use your words.”  He watches the way your eyes roll back into your head when he slots another finger in with the others and curls them against that particular spot that has you seeing stars.  The bastard has the audacity to coo at you.  “What’s wrong, baby?  Can’t speak?”

You’re near wailing, gasping and whining around words that sound like his name.  Angry red lines sprout across his shoulders, his arms - demands carved into flesh. 

He makes a sound, wistful and resigned.  You think - try to think, beyond the pleasure that’s building steadily in the pit of your stomach - that he’s finally going to give you what you need.  You’re almost crying for it, moisture crowding your lashes and threatening to spill over.

Then he withdraws, all at once.

You could scream.  In fact, you do, red in the face and chest heaving.  “I hate you!”  

“No.”  He’s upon you in an instant, insistent and terribly smug.  There’s a playground in his smile, childish laughter spilling into the spaces between you.  “You actually love me.”  He noses at your neck, the heat of his palm searing against your side as he sighs almost dreamily.  “Say it again.”

You answer him with something more than love - frustration and annoyance and so much devotion you can’t keep it out no matter how hard you try.  “No.”

It’s a challenge more than anything.  He knows it;  you know it.

He accepts it readily, just as you expect him to.  

“Say it.”  Enamel presses steady, heavy, into the sensitive spot right beneath your ear.  He mouths over the skin that blows out red and inviting beneath his ministrations, the firm press of his fingers gripping you without hesitation.  You can feel the entire weight of him against you, length nestled comfortably against your core.  He repeats himself as he rocks against you, dragging the swollen, leaking head of his cock through your folds with an agonising slowness that has you clenching around nothing.  “Come on, baby.”

You’re keening, adjusting your hips and grinding against him.  You still won’t say it, hoping to find a rhythm in the quiet that’s punctuated by your laboured breaths and his occasional laughter.

“Just say it and I’ll give you what you want.  I’ll give you everything.  Promise, sweetheart.”  

Framed against the late morning sun, hair spilling across his forehead in curls of india ink, he’s so handsome your heart leaps into your throat.  “I love you.”  It’s a wet confession, carried by a wave of emotion you don’t expect.

“I love you,”  he echoes, sinking into you so gradually you feel like you’re caught in slow motion, all of your focus balanced on the tip of a needle.  

It’s never been like this before.  Each inch is a delicious stretch, filling you and claiming you.  The drag is incredible, your walls fluttering around the intrusion and aching for more.  You bite back a sob, digging into the wide expanse of his back with your nails as your mouth seeks purchase anywhere it can - over his jaw, up his neck, across his shoulders.  He soothes you as he presses deeper, reassurances whispered against your temple.  

“I’ve got you, baby.  Let me make you feel good.”  When he bottoms out, you demand more - somehow, somehow - locking your ankles against the small of his waist. He doesn’t miss the way you clench, so tight around him it almost hurts , when he says those three words once again.  “I love you.”

His lips find yours and he brushes them over and over - a salve for the burn he ignites beneath your skin.  It doesn’t matter that he’s both the calm and the chaos.  Jungkook’s always been everything to you.

The rhythm he sets is unhurried and perfect.  Each snap of his hips has his cock dragging against your walls, filling and stretching you so well;  everywhere his skin brushes yours, you’re alive.  There are a million nerve endings going haywire beneath your skin, flashing bright as holiday lights.  

That’s what it’s like - Christmas morning .  Picture perfect and filled with wonder.

He’s completely smitten when he draws back just enough to see the entirety of you - your fucked-out expression, the rose-wreath he’s wrought around your neck, the sweat that beads between your tits and tempts him to duck his head.  “I love you.”  It’s almost hypnotising - watching you take him, pussy dripping and needy around his cock. 

“I love you,”  you parrot back - or try to.  It’s not very coherent, driven to a point of nonsense when his hips begin to stutter and he makes up for the loss of rhythm by slipping his fingers over your clit in circle eights.  

You’re at your breaking point.  He knows - can read you like the back of his hand - and holds you there, back bowing to kiss you breathless, pressure unrelenting against the bundle of nerves.  

“That’s it, princess.  Right there.”   

The coil snaps at the third pass and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks, his name spilling off your tongue in tandem with the erratic thudding of your heart.  White spots your vision, entire body electrified as you crash headlong into an abyss of bliss.  You hear him join you with a hoarse whine, a mix of your cum slipping out of you as he rides out his own high with shallow thrusts, mouth open and panting against your shoulder.  

The comedown is hazy, dusted in exhaustion and a thin sheen of sweat.  When he slips from you, he doesn’t go far, tugging you comfortably against his side like you’re not both a little gross.  It’s not the first time you’ve fucked but it feels different.  

“I love you, baby.”  

“I love you, Bunny.”

You realise - it feels exactly like that.  Making love.

[knifeewifee]

Into the Dark Tamaki x Fem! Reader

A/N: WOW this took fucking FOREVER, But I’m super proud of it! I didn’t proof read the last bit cause I’m LAZY but I hope yall like it!

This is in a  Apocalypse AU. There are no Quirks in this AU. Female Reader

TW: NSFW, Gore, Death, Violence, Some Blood, SelfHarm ish, Kinda Angsty

Tag list: @strawbirb​ @heroheads​ @caprisun-calories​ @hummusatune​ @honeytama​ @we-mentally-unstable​ @redflannel​ @engel-hageshii

Check out the others here!: https://lady-bakuhoe.tumblr.com/post/620733945423740928/here-is-another-nsfw-collaboration-for-the-bnharem

Word Count: 4.3 k ish

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The irony of the situation was not lost on you. It has been over a year since the mysterious disease that spread worldwide had first come around. There was no real name for this infection other than calling those who were infected ‘Vampires’ or ‘The Dead Ones’. There’s only one real way of being infected and that's to have one of the infected’s blood mix with your own in some way or another. They always show the same feature. Sharp teeth and claws, inhuman speed, strength and the most dangerous of them all, a never ending hunger for human blood. So strong that the ‘vampires’ become bloodthirsty and violent monsters who are more than willing to tear into the throats or limbs of their loved ones to quench an almost never ending need for the crimson liquid. Once infected there was no way of turning back. Mostly because you were, in fact dead as a doornail. You can’t reverse death.

When the disease first came around the only option was to kill them. Despite their strength and speed it wasn’t so hard. They were weak to the sun and always burned in a horrific way into ash. The smell of burning flesh was so strong around that time. Another way to kill them was to take off their heads. Which wasn’t as easy. They could heal their bodies quickly and if you miss it almost guaranteed your death by the monster.

Once they were changed they were no longer the one you loved or knew. Most aren’t even sure if they remember who they were before they were changed. They attack with no remorse. So they ended the same way.

   Which is why you find your situation so.. Disheartening. You sat on the wooden crate staring at the dark haired man in front of you. Tamaki Amajiki was someone who you didn’t know well before this whole event happened. His anxiety was an ever flooding emotion that got in his way of making friends. He sat next to you in your animal science class and his shyness always made it difficult to start a conversation with the man. Despite this your heart would always flutter at the sound of his soft voice whenever he did speak. When he did speak his passion was conveyed in a way like no other. You could see it in his dark colored eyes. The sparkle in them when he talked about how he wanted to become a vet to help animals in need.

His kindness didn’t stop at animals though, he was also incredibly kind to people as well. More than willing to help others in need. Which is how you both ended up in this situation. Tamaki was chained to the brick wall. The gray metal shined dimly in the little candle light there was. You watched him softly as small whines of pain left his lips. You hated to see him this way.

   While out gathering supplies you were attacked and Tamaki protected you. Unfortunately he was badly injured from it. You don’t know how but at some point the vampire must have bled onto Tamaki, because now he’s on the floor in front of you as one of the infected. You know that you’re supposed to get rid of them. To stop the spread of this, but over the year you have spent together you had fallen deeply in love with the timid dark haired man. You couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him. So instead you chained him up in the basement of a cabin that the two of you had found way out into the forest in the mountains away from the dangerous cities.

This was a stupid thing to do, this could get you killed but the fear of death didn’t scare you. Tamaki would never hurt you. He is far too kind and caring to do that. Not on purpose anyways.

When you first met him one year ago he was timid but had a kind heart that you found to be his best trait. Over the time that you had spent with him you learned more things about him. You learned he looked up to his best friend Mirio. You learned how hard Tamaki worked. You could see the passion in his eyes, you knew no matter how much anxiety he had that Tamaki would do his best no matter what.

You thought that he’d become a great vet. That was before everything went to hell. When this mysterious disease first appeared it spread fast and took down large cities, Like Tokyo, New York and Shanghai in only a matter of days. Law enforcement and medical workers were affected first since they came to the aid of those injured and infected. Without reinforcements and medical care many people died or were unprotected. The ‘vampires; were mindless and violent. No one was sure if they could even talk or communicate in any other way other than ungodly screaming. Like the hunger they suffered was so painful they could feel it in their very souls.. If they had one anymore that is. They attack any and all without prejudice. Blood covered the streets and the inside of homes. It was clear to most that leaving the city was the best option. If only it had been that easy.

You did what most people did and packed up your car to leave. You didn’t pack much, some clothes, pictures, food and water. You knew this would last a long time and packing light was your best option. It hurt to leave some of your things, to leave precious memories behind, but at this moment, survival was what was important. You didn’t have any family or much friends for that matter. Not anymore. All of the streets leading out of the city were packed with cars as far as you could see. It seems you weren’t the only one with common sense. After an hour night fell over the streets like a suffocating blanket, you felt uneasy. Nothing was moving.. Why weren’t the cars moving?

That's when you heard it. Screaming, it wasn’t just from one person. It was from many. Young and old, men and women. All their screams echoed down the packed streets. You panicked and slid into your back seat grabbing canned food, water, a shirt and pants into a backpack and slung it over your shoulder, there was no way in hell you were gonna sit here like a pig to the slaughter. You exited your car with a machete in hand and weaved and dodged around cars keeping low. How could you have been so stupid? You put yourself in a bad position. Surrounded by people in a place you couldn’t move, you needed to get out of here.

You didn’t want to die. Not yet, you wanted to do so much.  You wanted to be so much. Though those plans are ruined now that you look back. You were disoriented by a scream. This scream wasn’t far away. In fact this scream was right behind you. You turned and saw it standing over the body of a young woman. You could hear her downing in her own blood as that thing tore into her throat with a god awful sound that you could never describe in a way that would truly express how horrid it was. No amount of horror movies could prepare you for a sound like that. One that made your stomach turn and your heart break. The glass of her car window laid on the ground, her hands gripping at it, like she was trying to look for some sort of weapon to protect herself. You could see the desperate fight in her eyes. One of someone, who wasn’t ready to die yet. Soon her body went limp. Her blood colored the street and her car like paint.

You slid behind a car and covered your mouth. You wanted to sob, scream or try to help her but you knew there was no helping her, she was gone. You steadied your breathing and looked around. Was that the only vampire here right now? Was there still hope of getting the fuck out of this situation? You couldn’t keep yourself still, you wanted to run. You wanted to get out of there. You didn’t want to be like her. Suddenly you felt something on your neck, something that both terrified you and sent your heart into despair. The smell of copper heavy on its rotting breath. You turned your head to see it staring at you with sharp golden eyes that practically glowed in the darkness that surrounds you.

It was mere inches from you, and yet your body wouldn’t move. Fear etched its way into your bones and muscles stiling you like a statue. Your eyes moved down to its fangs. It’s mouth twisted into some sort of sick grin as its clawed and disfigured hand reached out towards you. That's when the situation hit you. You need to fucking MOVE.  NOW. It was like the cement in your bones disappeared as you bolted from your hiding place. You had never moved so fast in your life your legs and lungs burned as raced around cars and people.

Just as you thought you had gotten away you feel a sharp pain in your side and your legs turn to jelly under you. Your face hits the rough asphalt hard, bits of rock digging into your hands, knees and cheek. The matchette you once held thrown out of reach. You let out a whimper of pain. Not from the fall but the burning hot pain in your side. Like someone pushed hot steel through your skin. The taste of copper filled your mouth. A string of curses leaves your lips as you desperately try to crawl away. This wasn’t how you were going to die. Not by one of those things. You were NOT going to be an unsatisfying meal to one of those vampires.

You felt something grab your leg with sharp dagger like nails digging into your ankle. You kick at it with your other leg screaming as you desperately try to fight. ‘Is this karma?’ You thought. ‘ Am I being punished for standing by while others died in front of me?’ A sob wrecked through your body as you turned clawing at the ground trying to reach for your only weapon.

“L-LEAVE HER ALONE!” the familiar erupted through the night. It felt like everything was in slow motion as you turned to see the face of the timid man who used to sit next to you in your class and the now headless vampire who had your life in it’s hands.

Before you could even react to what had just happened you were wrapped into Tamaki’s arms and lifted up. Tamaki didn’t say a word. In fact he didn't even really look at you as he ran through the cars and into the grass that separated the road and the thick forest that leads to the mountains. His breathing was uneven and panicked as he bolted past the tree line and into the dark forest.

That was how the two of you ended up together in such a fucked up situation. The two of you wandered through the forest for days until the two of you found an abandoned cabin at the base of the mountains, the thickest part of what seemed like a never ending woodland. Your wounds weren’t too bad and with the little medical knowledge Tamaki had from class he was able to patch you up. As the weeks went by the two of you became closer.  

The more you were with him the more you fell in love with him, and he also fell for you just as hard. On cold nights you’d sleep close to him with his arms wrapped around you. At the time. The small things you two did together made it seem like the world hasn’t fallen apart. Like Everything was okay.

But now. Your world was falling apart all over again. The one person you had, the last person you had in the fucked up world was now one of the vampires. The pain of this realization twisted in your chest. Being stabbed again would hurt less than to watch your love cry out and whimper on the floor, begging for something to eat. But you knew it wasn't food he wanted. Unfortunately the blood of animals didn’t work. Instead it only made him sick and hurt him more. You want to stop his pain. You want to ease his hunger. There was only one way to do that.

You pulled out a pocket knife from your jacket pocket. You pulled off your jacket and tossed it on the cold cement floor. Tamaki looked up at you from the floor, his reddened eyes scanning your form. “W- … What are you doing?” His vision is blurred from pain filled tears but he could clearly see the gleam of the pocket in the dim candle light. He knew exactly what you were going to do. He didn’t want that. Tamaki shifted from his laid down position and tried to move towards you. “S-Stop don’t do that!” The chains pull tightly, stopping him from moving closer.

“Tamaki.. You’re in so much pain. I just want to help you.” You look at him softly as you open the pocket knife and put the blade to your wrist. “I can give you some of my blood. Animal blood is only hurting you more, it makes you sick!”

Tamaki pulls at the metal confindments roughly. The thought of you hurting yourself for him made his chest burn in despair. This was his fault. He got infected and now you’re suffering for his mistakes. “I’m infected. I’m already sick. Don’t … Don’t hurt yourself for me, bunny” He looks at you with sadden eyes as he watches you intently. It made him feel sick that part of him wanted it, that he could smell your scent no matter how far away you were. A sickly sweet smell of burning sugar or incense. One that he craves to always have near him. It only made him hunger for your blood more. To be buried in your scent and devour you whole.

His heart sank as he saw beads of crimson blood slide down your perfect skin. You slowly make your way towards Tamaki with your arm outstretched. “Tamaki Please.” the crack in your voice spoke volumes about how you felt. This is your fault. You wanted to help him, he was in pain because you lost focus, because you didn’t check your surroundings. You had your head in the clouds and forgot what kind of world you live in now.

“Just drink it, Tama.”  Tamaki looked away from you and moved back. “N-no. I can’t. I don't want this..” He swiftly turns away and leans his head on the wall behind him. He wraps his arms around himself like if he didn’t he’d fall apart right there. You wrap your arms around him and lean your head against his back. You felt his body tense under your arms. At this point it didn’t matter to you that he may be dangerous. This is Tamaki. A man you loved more than anything, whose kindness knew no boundaries.  Nothing would change that, here he is, in an unbearable kind of pain you’d never understand. A never ending hunger you'll never feel, but he still refuses. He’s different. He isn’t like anyone else. He may be a ‘vampire’ now but he’s still the gentle man, with the same soft eyes and caring hands.

“I’m sorry, Tama. This is all my fault. You’re like this because of me.. I just wanted to help you.”  Tamaki starts to shake a small groan escaping his lips. “I-I .. You need to move away from me...”

“No.” You rub your face into his shoulder, trying to fight off the tears. “I’m not going anywher-”  your words are cut short by a sudden and swift movement from Tamaki pushing you into the freezing brick wall. You never saw Tamaki as being particularly big. He always slouched into himself making him seem much smaller than what he really was. But in this moment he loomed over you, his dark eyes almost shining red in the soft yellow light. You’d be lying if a small bit of fear didn’t grip you in its paralyzing claws.

Tamaki grabbed your hand, the blood from the cut you made earlier smeared across your arm and hand. His thumb moved carefully over the red and raised skin. He never breaks his gaze from your arm as he brings it closer to his trembling lips.  Tamaki didn’t want this. He needed this. Overwhelming guilt flooded him as his pale lips pressed against the fresh cut. He couldn’t hold back any longer, the smell of copper and your overstimulating scent made his head spin.  

You bring your other arm up and run your fingers gently through his indigo locks. Your face twists slightly with pain as Tamaki’s tongue runs across your self made injury. The crimson honey sliding along this tongue and down throat. It was almost intoxicating, it was addicting. He wanted more. The normally reserved man pressed into you his grip on your arm tightens as he locks his lips around the source of his pleasure. He slides his knee in between your legs, a soft groan radiating from deep in this throat.

“Tama-.. ki?” A heat rushes to your cheeks as soon as you see the look in his eyes. Not the same look he used to have. He has a much darker expression now as his lips release from your wrist and he pressed his forehead to yours. The smell of the rouge liquid heavy on his breath as he leans in closer to your lips. His hands move down to your hips and pulled you flush against his growing bludge. You gasp slightly as his lips lock with yours in a needy and sloppy kiss.

Tamaki bites your bottom lip asking for entrance that you gladly gave him. He slid his tongue into your mouth and the taste of your own blood filled your mouth. There were so many things running through your head at the moment. Should you even be doing this? Was this okay?

You grab onto Tamaki’s shirt to tug him closer to you. The heat of the kiss was leaving you breathless, your mind was reeling from lack of air and the pang of need that radiated from in between your legs. You’ve never done something like this with Tamaki. You’ve never really kissed him before, because he’s always become far too nervous and would hide away. Now here he is taking your breath away in a way you never thought he could. Or would do.

The way Tamaki’s scorching hot tongue explored your mouth made your heart feel like it was going to explode. You wanted to melt into his arms and stay like this for ever. But the moment was cut short when Tamaki pulled away heavily panting, a string of saliva connecting your lips. You almost forgot you hadn’t been breathing, “Tama..”

“I want more..”  His lips brush across your neck making your heart leap into your throat. A small whine forms at the back of his throat as he nips gently at your neck. His hands slip under your shirt as he kisses and sucks on your neck leaving small hickies as he works his way to your collarbone.

“I… I want more of you”  Tamaki lets out a shaky breath as his fingers make their way to your unprotected plush breasts. You let out a sigh as he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses it to the floor. The cold air of the stale room brushed over your now exposed skin. His sharp eyes trace over every line and curse of your body committing it to memory. A red blush dusted across his face and to his pointed ears as he looks up towards your equally flustered expression.

He looks back towards your breasts cupping one into his hand and taking your sensitive bud into his searing mouth. His sharp fangs drags gently over your skin as he sucks and licks your nipple. His fingertips run gently over your sides causing you to moan his name softly. The sound of your voice only makes his erection that much more unbearable for him. He bites down softly and a small sharp pain fills your breast. The metallic taste of blood ran over his tongue once more as he runs it across the newly made mark. A twinge of guilt setting in this stomach at the small whimper that radiates from your throat. He pulls away slightly, only to have your fingers run through his long soft locks.

“Tamaki.. Do whatever you want with me, I’m yours..”  You lean down and place a gentle kiss on his lips, that quickly turns heated once again as his worry and guilt dissipates and is replaced with lust. His hand slides over your bare soft stomach towards the hem of your pants. He quickly unbuttons them and slides his fingers into your panties brushing his fingers against your silky wet folds.

A shiver runs up your spin as you feel Tamaki’s warm breath against your throat. “You're so wet and warm..” his words dance across your skin as he nips at your pulse point gently. A low grow reverberates from his chest as he slowly rubs circles with his calloused finger over your engorged clit. Your delicate hands quickly cling on to Tamaki’s shirt. A needy moan fills the room. You hips moved on their own begging for more stimulation against his hand. You almost felt embarrassed grinding against his finger like a bitch in heat, but you’ve wanted this for so long. You want Tamaki. You didn’t care about anything else at this moment.

“You’re so pretty like this.. You’re so beautiful. “ Tamaki begins to rub against your greedy clit faster. “Cum for me, bunny. Please” His lips latch into your collarbone kissing and suck eagerly leaving his mark. Your cries of pleasure become stuck in your throat and all you can let out are choked out whines and praise as the coil in your stomach begins to tighten rapidly. You pussy empty pussy clenching around nothing. You wanted him so badly. The feeling of euphoria washes over your quacking body as your orgasm washes over you. You bury your face into Tamaki unable to hold yourself up anymore as his fingers continue their assault against your now overstimulated clit.

“Tamaki, Please. I want you so bad.” With your words Tamaki helped you pull off your remaining clothes. He unbuckles his pants and pulls his cock out. It was much thicker than you thought it would be. A small bit of panic runs through you as you begin to wonder if that would fit in you. You push the thoughts to the side as you run your fingers over his hot shaft. He pushes you back into the wall pulling you around his hips, his hands cup around your ass holding you up. The cold metal of his chains press into your skin causing a chill to run through your body. You wrap your arms around his neck looking for any kind of support. The feeling of his precum covered tip running over your entrance set your body on fire.

His names fell from your lips to implore him to take you. To finally make you, his. His sensitive tip presses into your cut without much resistance, inch by inch his member stretches your wall. His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass as he bottoms out inside you. A loud moan rips through his throat as the taut ring of your entrance squeezes around him.

Before you could become used to the size of him inside you his hips began to move. Your legs wrap securely around his lower back as you cry his name with each needy thrust. His thrusts are irregular and fast slamming into you without thought. His lips find yours in a passionate and burning kiss. His moans fill your mouth as his hips snap into yours. The feeling of his cock rubbing against your tight walls made your head spin. You hadn’t noticed the look in his eyes as he kissed your jaw and down towards your throat once again.

A scorching pain fills your body as Tamaki’s fangs skin into the soft skin of your neck. A small string of sorrys leaves him as he laps up the small river of crimson honey. He sucks your blood desperately as his pace picks up and becomes much harder. The pain in your neck and pussy sends you over the edge again as your body is once again hit with another orgasm. Your nails dig into Tamaki’s shoulder as you press your head into the stone wall.

The head of his cock kisses the entrance of your cervix and his sloppy movements become slower. You could feel his cock twitch inside you. A loud groan radiates from the back of his throat as his cock spits ropes of cum into your pussy, filling you up. A hiss of release bruisers across your neck as he kisses the bite mark on your neck in apology.

“I’m sorry… Did I-I hurt you?” he slowly lets you down as his knees finally buckle underneath him. He wraps his sinewy arms around your waist and lays his head in your shoulder. Taking in your sweet scent. You shake your head and run your hands down his back.

“No.. You didn’t” The two of you stay like that on the floor for a while. You didn’t mind this.. You didn’t mind that he was no longer human. If this was the life you were meant to have them so be it. You’ll gladly go into the dark with him. Tamaki is different from the rest. You love him and he loves you.

[richiettozier]

mal amour

Richie counted to one hundred before pushing against the fancy intercom. Passerby didn't mind his stalling, they just threw a curious glance at him, probably asking themselves why he stood immobile like that for almost two minutes straight before doing anything – he didn't even notice those looks. His eyes are too busy in reading over and over the Kaspbrak tag written elegantly besides the intercom's button.

“Yes?” answered the robotic voice of a woman, and something from his chest fell into the bottom of his stomach. Romantically, his heart. Truthfully, he'd say just bile.

Richie cleared his throat, “Pizza man!” he half–joked. He hoped that she would let him enter with that blatant excuse, but he didn't feel so lucky so he didn't expect anything more of a click and the deaf sound of the silent intercom.

“We never order pizza.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“I was kidding, obviously.” Richie sighed and tapped once against the wall of the apartment building, also leaning to get closer to the device. He was tired from the trip from Los Angeles to here in New York, so he didn't want to raise his voice. He was lacking of sleep, but it wasn't because of the flight he took in the middle of the night. “I am a... friend of Eddie? I believe he lives here. You know, it's his name on the intercom.”

“A friend of my Eddie?” she seemed to gasp. Richie didn't like the sound she was making, the incredulity he was hearing from the metallic noises coming out the device.

“That's what I said.”

“And what you are called?”

The fuck. “Eddie's mom–” he bristled, stopping himself. He glanced down at his bags abandoned by his feet, and grudgingly he decided that he shouldn't make mom's jokes right now, if he didn't wish to go sleep under a bridge tonight – not that he would sleep in any other place, but it was surely more uncomfortable than a couch. “I mean, Eddie calls me Richie, sometimes Rich, and when he's particularly mad at me he even calls me Richard. But actually, everyone calls me Richie, because that's my name. It's a...” he gulped, “A pleasure. Or it would be, if we weren't talking through an intercom.”

The intercom clicked, in the end, and the silence Richie was expecting finally arrived. He leaned his forehead against the cold marble of the building door's edge and closed his stinging eyes, shunning them from the midday New York sun. Shit. He grabbed his two bags and threw them over his shoulders – half himself wanted to go, just go away, because evidently he wasn't welcomed between the lovebirds; but the other half wanted to ring the intercom again and again, until Eddie himself, obviously annoyed, jumped down the stairs to kick him away from there.

The latter seemed to be the best of the two options. At least Richie would see him, angry and alive, before going fuck himself. His finger stopped mid hair, though, when a long bip came from the building's door, signaling that someone – Richie guessed Eddie, at this point – finally fucking let him enter.

Richie didn't know which floor Eddie's apartment was, so he chose to walk up the stairs instead of use the elevator – a grave mistake, but necessary. He started with a quick step regardless of the tiredness he was feeling in his very bones, but just after a single flight of stairs he already was wheezing. “Thank the fucking God,” he huffed, when he reached the third floor and there was Eddie waiting for him in front of the door of his apartment.

Eddie was clearly looking at the elevator, expecting him to come out of it, that was why he almost jumped when he heard his heavy steps stumbling on the stairs. “Why the fuck you didn't use the elevator, Rich?” It was Eddie's greeting, and Richie almost cried hearing it. “I think I never used the stairs in three years, maybe more.”

“I didn't know where your apartment was, dickwad.” Richie inhaled deeply when he arrived in front of Eddie, and he felt his fingers twitch around the straps of his bags. He tightened his grip, “Hey, Eds.”

Eddie's expression melted, and dimples appeared at the sides of his mouth as he smiled and walked towards him, with warm eyes and open arms. “You fucker.” Eddie hugged him, patting his shoulders. Richie's arms almost circled his waist in the hug, but then he decided to just pat his back the same way. He felt eyes looking through him, but Richie tried not to look up and see who the stare belonged to. He had some ideas, though. “What are you doing here? Are you on tour? You didn't tell you were about to start one so soon.”

Eddie ended the hug, and Richie finally felt enough himself to take a good look at him without feeling jelly legs. He was in a suit, so he must have come back from whatever office he was working in to have lunch – with his wife – and he was so good looking that Richie thought it to be very unfair. He tried not to think much about his own state, worse than he was even before getting up the plane, and he wasn't decent then either. “Well, uh,” Richie sniffed, “No, I'm not on tour. I am still in that sabbatical time, or whatever Steve called my doing absolutely nothing.”

Eddie ushered him inside, and only then Richie forced himself not to look at his ass and stare straight ahead. There is no one, no woman watching at him with a frown, no plus–sized wife sending daggers with her eyes. Only Eddie, and the terrible smell of disinfectant lingering in the too white and aseptic apartment.

“Want a drink?” asked Eddie, gesturing at him to go sit on the couch.

“The strongest you have.” Richie knew that he probably just had, like, lame wine, but he was not going to complain, as he sat on the strangely comfortable cushions of the couch, throwing his bags on the floor without much care.

Eddie put a plain glass of water on the coffee table in front of him. Richie didn't even felt surprised. He should have expected it. Had he really married his fucking mother? “I just have water,” Eddie said, defensively.

“I can see that. It's fine,” Richie waved a hand, “So.”

“So.” Eddie sat next to him, closer than expected, but still too far. “Not that I'm not happy to see you, don't get me wrong here, man. But...” Eddie's warm eyes fell on his bags on the floor, “You should have, you know, gone to the hotel before coming here. So you didn't have to bring your things around the city.”

Richie shrugged, “Haven't booked a room.”

Eddie blinked, then sighed. His eyebrows were scrunched in an adorable frown, “I don't know why, but I'm not surprised.”

“I just, got on a plan and came here, you know? Without much thought. I–” Richie lowered his voice and leaned towards him, fidgeting slightly with his own fingers. He didn't want to look around and see if his wife was eavesdropping their conversation, so he just... let it all out. Who fucking cared. “I wanted to see you.”

Make sure you're still breathing, make sure your chest isn't pierced through, make sure that you're not bleeding on the sewers' dirty floor.

Eddie looked contrite, “Rich–”

“Just for a couple of days? I just need to, to stay with you for a couple of days, not much more. Is it too much to ask? You know, this couch is the most confortable couch my ass has ever put his glorious form on, I'm serious!” Eddie laughed, and Richie took it as a victory, “I wouldn't invite myself if I really didn't need it. I really, really need you. Er, I mean, it. Oh, fuck, alright, you! I need you!”

Eddie lowered his eyes, pointing them on the floor. Richie felt the silence stretching for almost thirty seconds before feeling a bubble of idiotic chatter raising from his throat, but he didn't have the time to splutter out a joke – he just wanted Eddie to laugh, after all – because a snort came out of Eddie's nose, “Rich, you idiot, you can stay as long as you want. No one will kick you out of here.” Eddie's mouth clicked shut, as if he said something he shouldn't, something unforgiving. But at the same time, the determination into his big eyes was saying that he wouldn't change his mind no matter what. “But you really have to sleep on the couch, I have no spare room.”

“Damn, Spaghetti boy, such a luxurious apartment and you didn't even have a spare room? You are the worst rich man I've ever met.”

“Shut up and fuck you.” Eddie shoved him, cackling with a tense laugh that Richie didn't really like, but it was better than nothing, he guessed. “Well, I think introductions are in order, considering that you have to stay here for a while.” he sighed, passing a nervous hand through his neatly hair, ruffling it. Richie's fingers twitched. He felt a pang of guilt for causing Eddie's discomfort, and for thinking of how he longed to do the same with his own hand. When he got up, Richie followed him, “I will take some time off from work, so we can... talk, yeah?”

“You don't need to do that.”

“Yeah, I do. You need me, you said.” Eddie threw him a glance through his long lashes, “And you look like shit, Richie. You look like you went to hell and back.”

I did, Richie thought. He desperately tried to come up with a joke, but all the things roaming into his mind in that moment weren't really funny. So he shrugged, “Yeah, the flight killed me.”

“Later we can go eat something,” Eddie was saying, as he walked into a room that Richie thought to be the kitchen, but it was so clean and neat that maybe he put his feet into an exhibition of furniture without noticing it. “We can talk... freely with a slice of pizza in front of us, how about that?”

“That sounds very good, if you add some ice cream right after.”

“What kind of guy do you think I am now?” Eddie snorted. One that doesn't order pizza anymore, Richie almost said, but the words got stuck in his throat at the sight of the woman he found sitting by an island, cleaning the already shiny marble of the furniture.

That woman was... was Eddie's mother. “I'm having a dé–jà vu.” choked out Richie, leaning against the doorframe, passing a hand on his forehead. “Mrs. K?!”

Eddie hissed, cursed and elbowed him in the ribs.

The woman was huge. Usually there wouldn't be anything wrong about this, but the fucked up similarities to Eddie's mother were making the impact way too traumatizing – Richie would say that only the straight, blonde mid long hair falling over her broad shoulders is the real difference that convinced him that she was not really the late Mrs. Kaspbrak.

“Richie, she's my wife, Myra.” Eddie was saying, ignoring the tumultuous whirlwind fucking Richie's mind. Well, Richie knew, from Eddie's words and confessions back in Derry, that he didn't get over the shadow of his mother, that he completely forgot fighting against her abuses when they were teenagers, but – Richie didn't think it was that bad. Jesus. “Myra, this is Richie, one of my childhood friends. I told you about them, you remember?”

“Yes, you did.” she snarled, “They caused you that scar! And you still have contact with them? You bring them here, in our house? They are dangerous! They will cause you harm, dear!” she said, her light eyebrows knitted together in a worried expression that twisted in rage when her eyes fell on Richie.

Richie, as Eddie just ignored her words as if he'd heard them so many times that they have no meaning anymore to him, grimaced slightly though at her outburst. He felt bad, the lingering uneasiness he had in his bones and insides since they all left Derry spiked up suddenly like an old burn sliding against a hot surface again. He eyed at the silver scar on Eddie's cheek, almost invisible but definitely still there. That scar wasn't Richie's fault, even if guilt squeezed his insides nonetheless, even if he always claimed to love him and then he left him alone right when that scar was made; still it could have been so much worse not much later, and at in that occasion it would have been all his fault.

“I'm wounded,” Richie said, pressing a hand against his chest, “Eddie talked so well about you, Mrs. K, I can't believe he didn't do the same to you!”

She narrowed her eyes even more, and Eddie tugged at his shirtsleeve. “Rich, drop it.”

Richie did. He didn't like the tight lines around his eyes, making him older – still hot, but older. More tired. It was the same expression he wore at sixteen every night Richie had found him in front of his front door, with a backpack and a beg on his lips. God, Eddie didn't deserve this shit again.

Later that day, after a hurried lunch with a slice of pizza – Eddie couldn't take immediately time off, so their talk had been delayed – and a more tense too early dinner with Eddie's wife, Eddie went to talk with his boss on the phone, demanding a vacancy for family matters. He made him rest on the couch, gave him a blanket even if there was a fucking terrible heat outside, while he disappeared in what it should have been his and his wife's bedroom.

His wife was with him, and Richie immediately heard when Eddie stopped talking to his boss and started arguing with her. He didn't catch all of their words, but then she shouted something like, “Is it his fault that you are treating me like this for weeks, Eddie?”, and really, call him a son of a bitch, but he really didn't care that they are at loggerheads because of him. He would gladly take the blame – the merit – of Eddie's blown up marriage. And actually, hearing Eddie's voice coming angry and skittish, screaming that “Richie needs me, I am his best friend!” and groaning when she cried and said to him with a teared up voice “and I am your wife!” from the other side of the apartment was easing his nerves, lulling him into a sleep that for weeks wasn't coming to him at all.

❀  read the rest on ao3!

[stylesluxx]

allergic reaction – h.styles

[warnings: allergic reaction (obv), hospitals, crying but not really angst?? swearing and mentions of sex (no smut)]

summary: in which y/n develops an allergy to her favorite food

word count: 2,106

masterlist

Harry made the best sandwiches. And you can't believe that for three years, you didn't know you were in a relationship with the Gordon Ramsey of sandwiches.

Ever since your trip to London last year, it was a tradition for the two of you to share a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at least once a week. And you would only eat it if he made it, no exceptions.

The two of you were on a plane to London to visit his mom and sister; you were cuddled into his side, watching Phineas and Ferb on his laptop, when your stomach grumbled loudly.

You looked up at Harry sheepishly, causing him to chuckle and kiss your forehead. He got the attention of the nearest flight attendant and let you order.

"What are you hungry for, Baby?" He asked and rubbed your arm with the hand that was around your shoulders.

"Do you think I could get a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" You shyly asked the woman.

PB&Js aren't something people would usually get on a plane but you thought maybe you'd test your luck.

"Chunky or smooth?" She asked, making you smile happily.

"Smooth please."

"Do you think I could get one too?" Your boyfriend asked.

"Of course!" She nodded and walked off.

She came back after a few minutes, one plate in each hand, making you sit up to bring the tray down in front of you.

You and Harry both thanked her as she walked off, leaving you two to your sandwiches.

"What made you want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?" Harry asked before biting down into his sandwich.

"Just had a taste for it," You shrugged. "What made you want to copy me?"

"Just had a taste for it."

"Oh, I bet," You giggled and bit into the sandwich. You took a couple more bites before nodding in amazement. "This is the best PB&J I've ever had in my entire life. Like the perfect ratio."

"I bet I could make it better," Harry challenged, eyebrow raised and looking at you from the corner of his eye.

"H, in the three years we've been together, the only things I've seen you make are ramen and cereal," You teased.

"Watch. When we land, I'm gonna make you the best sandwich you've ever had."

"Okay, Chef Harry," You giggled and went back to eating your sandwich.

When you got to his apartment in London, he dropped the bags off in the bedroom before running back to the kitchen and getting started on a sandwich.

"Har, I'm sure it can wait for the morning," You laughed and kicked off your sneakers, setting them by the door.

"No, because I need to prove you wrong," He shook his head and continued.

You shook your head, sat at the island, and watched him make what would soon become his specialty meal.

He cut the sandwich into two triangles and cut off the crust the way he knew you liked. He made sure to leave as much sandwich as possible, but still getting off all the crust, before pushing the plate toward you and smiling in anticipation.

"Go 'head, baby," He urged you.

"You know... it's okay for you to not be good at something. Singing is phenomenal; sex is phenomenal; you're a phenomenal boyfriend, a phenomenal person even! So, it's okay if you're an average sandwich maker," You played with him, trying to put off eating the sandwich.

"Just try the damn sandwich, Y/N!" He playfully yelled and banged his fist on the counter.

"Okay, okay," You giggled and picked up one half of the sandwich.

You looked at it carefully before putting a piece in your mouth and taking a bite. You slowly chewed it, taking in all the flavors, before swallowing and going for another bite. You repeated the slow chewing two more times before you set the sandwich back on the plate.

"So?"

"It's actually... really good, Har. Like really good," You admitted and gave him a big smile.

"You just saying that?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

You laughed and shook your head. "The only thing that makes yours an A+ and the flight attendant's an A is the fact that you know how I like my sandwiches cut and the crust. Like I told you, phenomenal boyfriend," You shrugged and picked the sandwich back up to finish it.

"Told you!" He yelled victoriously and pumped his fist in the air.

"Yeah, yeah, you told me."

Harry was finally back home after touring and doing press, so for a week you just left him to relax. You cuddled whenever he wanted, cooked his favorite meals, danced with him to his favorite songs. It was actually stuff that you normally did when he was home. But for the week you didn't pretend to fight it or playfully groan.

But now his week was up and you were craving a sandwich.

"Harryyy," You sang and squeezed his nose while he watched tv.

"Stop it," He whined and swatted your hand away.

You just moved your hand to his cheeks and pinched them as if he were a tiny baby with cute, fat cheeks. "Harryyy," You sang again.

"What do you want, you pest?" He teased and tore his eyes away from the tv to look over at you.

"I was just thinking... it's been a while since we had your special sandwiches," You hummed while rubbing your chin as if thinking.

He let out a laugh through his nose, making his body jerk slightly. "Y/N, you haven't had a sandwich since I left, have you?" He asked.

"It appears I haven't," You continued playing clueless and pursed your lips.

"Alright, Baby, your PB&J is coming right up," He nodded and kissed your forehead.

His feet moved from the coffee table to the floor as he stood up and made his way into the kitchen.

You smiled brightly, clapped your hands together, and rested them on your stomach. You had been waiting months for this moment and you were in pure bliss that you were finally getting what you wanted. As the saying goes, good things come to those who wait.

Harry walked back into the living room with two plates, one for you and one for him. "Harry Styles, singer, songwriter, actor, and Y/N Y/L/N's personal PB&J chef. Here you go, Baby," He introduced himself with a playful smirk and handed a plate to you.

"You're so silly," You smiled before thanking him.

He nodded and sat back in his spot next to you, putting his feet on the table and arm around your shoulder.

"Bone apple teeth!" He cheered and held up half of his sandwich.

"Bone app the tea!" You toasted and raised one of your halves to tap his.

You both bit into your sandwiches at the same time and smiled at each other, ignoring the bread sticking to your teeth.

You finished your sandwiches quickly and set the plates down on the table. You leaned into your boyfriend's side and focused on the Avengers Assemble cartoon that Harry had playing.

After an episode of, you felt your lips start to tingle but you brushed it off, not thinking much of it. But once you were running your tongue over the top of your mouth, trying to get rid of the itch, you figured something was off.

"What kind of peanut butter and jelly did you use?" You asked Harry, looking up at him with an uncomfortable expression, eyebrows scrunched together.

"The same stuff I've been using," He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the tv.

"Do you think it was expired?"

"No, it wasn't. I checked. What's wro-" He went to ask but stopped when he looked at you. "Okay, so we should probably get you to a hospital."

"Harry, what's wrong?"

"Baby, your face is all swollen. Come on, put your Crocs on so we can go," Harry gently ordered and shot up from the couch. He walked over to the coat hanger and grabbed two of his jackets. He put one on himself and grabbed the car keys.

"What do you mean my face is swollen?"

"Y/N, is something wrong with your throat, why are you scratching at it?"

He walked over to you and wrapped his other jacket around your shoulders.

You hadn't noticed your hand was scratching at your throat until he asked and now that was all you could focus on.

"I don't know. It's itchy, Harry. A-And it feels like it getting harder to breathe," You frowned. You felt your eyes water and the scariness of it all was starting to set in. "Harry, what's happening?"

"Baby, just put your shoes on, okay? You're gonna be fine," He tried to assure you but you let out a sob anyway, making his frown grow deeper.

You trudged over to your shoes by the door and slipped them on while trying to contain your tears and regain control over your breathing.

The ride to the hospital was quick and, before you knew it, you were lying on a hospital bed, hand gripping tightly onto Harry's.

"You're gonna be fine," He assured you and kissed your hand softly.

He pulled away and kept rubbing circles with his thumb while the doctors and nurses surrounded you, hooking you onto machines and giving you antibiotics. You nodded and closed your eyes, not to sleep but to try to relax, and hoped this nightmare would be over soon and, you'd be back home.

–

Spending three days in the hospital wasn't ideal but Harry wanted the doctors and nurses to be thorough. You were hooked up to monitors the whole time and nurses were coming in and out to check your temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, and blood oxygen level. Not only that but you had a small tube in your nose to help with your breathing. You were completely against it at first, claiming you could breathe just fine, but one look at Harry's pouty face made you give in. You were taking blood and urine tests to monitor your organs and see what exactly you were allergic to, but you had a pretty good idea of what it was before the doctors could break the news.

Harry stayed by your side for all three days, not bothering to go home and change. No, you weren't dying but he wanted to be there to make sure you were as comfortable as possible.

Once you were back home, Harry texted your parents, Anne, and Gemma to let them know. Anne and Gem wanted to fly out to see you but Harry assured them that you were going to be just fine and you'd call once you were all settled in at home. There was no stopping your parents though; they were on a plane to New York from their vacation home, ready to baby you once they landed.

Harry marched into the apartment and went straight to the kitchen, not hesitating to throw the practically full jar of peanut butter in the trash. He went to the bathroom and started a bath for you, even carried you to the tub once it was ready. He helped strip you of your clothes and get you into the bath as if you were a fragile baby that needed help.

"Har, I'm okay. Come get in the tub with me; you deserve to relax. Please," You breathed out and looked up at him with soft doe eyes.

"Since you asked so nicely," He teased and gave you a reluctant nod.

He undressed and sat at the other end of the tub, before pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

"I'm gonna be okay?" You asked. You knew the answer but you just wanted to hear him say it. It always calmed you when he said it.

"You're okay, Baby. Just allergic to peanuts," He sighed and let his wet hands trail down your back.

"I eat peanut butter all the time. I'm just not understanding how this happened," You frowned, shaking your head in disbelief.

"It happens but you'll be okay."

"Our tradition is ruined though," You grumbled and moved away to look up at him.

"We'll have a new tradition. We hate peanuts in this house! Fuck peanuts!" He yelled out and stuck up two middle fingers, making you burst into laughter.

Once you calmed down, you leaned back into his chest, sighing happily, completely in awe at the fact that you had the perfect boyfriend.

"My face isn't back to normal yet?"

"Not quite. You're still my little marshmallow for few more days."

[AN: I was gonna make this a part of my Quaratine Series but I decided not to overcomplicate things with the hospital and stuff. but yeah, hope you enjoyed ! feel free to shoot me a message about literally anyhting !]