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insomniac4000 · 6 months ago

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First Impressions ChrisMD

Bethany Margaret Johnson didn't sound like a popstar name so she used the moniker Annie J professionally. Her first top ten single "Like Me" debuted in the charts at number four when she was just nineteen years old and she had gone from strength to strength over the past seven years. The thing that Bethany or Betsy to her friends believed what set her apart from others and the reason for her continued success was her love for music had never wavered. Even when she was being hounded by the press and paparazzi, spent months away from home, was working fifteen or sixteen hour days for tour preparations she still loved her music. That didn't stop at her music either, she loved music in general and always kept up to date with the goings on, her contemporaries and competition as well as newer artists.

Betty could be a perfectionist and would be the first person to admit she could be a bit of a control freak about things, she was never rude with it as she had a great team but she was not one of these artists where the team did all of the work, she needed to know all of the goings on, she chose the setlists for her shows, if the record company wanted to release a certain song she would push back as much as she could to fight her corner, she okayed her outfits and she always chose her own support acts. Her her latest UK tour the artists she had chosen to open for her was the Welsh MACY and the singer and TikTok/Youtube star Arthur Hill. She had previously has Talia Mar open for her a couple of years ago which exposed her a little to the online world, Betsy had to admit that was the one part of her job she was happy to hand over to her team, it wasn't really a world she knew too much about but Talia's then boyfriend and now husband Simon seemed like a decent guy. Her and Talia had struck up a friendship and she was even invited to Talia's wedding, she went despite the fact that she didn't know anyone.

*Flashback*

"You look so beautiful! Congratulations," Betsy smiled as she hugged Talia, as the bride was the only person she really knew properly at the wedding it was a little awkward but she was glad to see her friend get married.

"Thank you, you look gorgeous I'm so glad you're here! Now we've sat you next to one of Simon's friends Chris," Talia started to explain but Simon cut her off as he hugged Betsy while she congratulated him.

"He's not long been dumped so sorry if he's a bit miserable." The sideman commented.

"Oh great," Betsy rolled her eyes a little, she came for fun.

"He's a nice guy I think he was just blindsided by the whole thing but he is dating again so you might have fun," Talia teased and Betsy smiled but rolled her eyes. She walked round the room a little before finding her table and she smiled at the dirty blonde boy with piercing blue eyes. He had some facial hair which peppered a nice and not too defined jaw line. He was wearing a blue suit with a soft yellow gold tie, he looked good and obviously knew how to dress for an occasion.

"Hi, I'm Bethany," Betsy smiled as she sat down, smoothing out her gold dress as she did so.

"Chris nice to meet you," the male said smiling showing off his white but slightly crooked teeth, not only was he cute but he was refreshingly normal. She had dated before, and as a musician the press were all over it, she dated her childhood sweetheart for six years but when they split when she was twenty five and she was linked with a model and a couple of footballers the press went wild. She wasn't a fan of footballers, she doesn't know why she did it and wasn't sure if it was all footballers or the ones she chose but they were self absorbed and pretty sure had photographers of speed dial.

"So what do you do? The brunette asked taking a sip of water which had been pre poured in glasses.

"Oh I do football videos on Youtube," Chris explained, Betsy surprised a sigh, not again. "You do music, right?" Chris asked also taking a sip of water, it was too early in the day to be drunk yet.

"Yeah," Betsy nodded she didn't mind being recognised but in some circles it could be so superficial.

"I really loved that one you did about the note. I had that on repeat for a while," Chris admitted and Betsy smiled, the song, Pen to Paper was an album track so he was obviously a fan.

"Thank you. I'm sorry I can't say I've watched any of your videos," she apologised, turning in her chair a little to face Chris slightly more.

"It's okay, it's like a ninety seven percent male audience so I'm not surprise, and thank you for the honesty."

The pair were interrupted as more people joined their table and introductions were made as well as Chris there were four couples on the table, Will and Mia, Theo and Jodie, Chip and Sabina and Callum and Laura. Betsy knew what Talia was trying to do, as the wine and conversation flowed it was working.

By the end of the night Betsy and Chris were on the dance floor together getting incredibly close, his hands on her bum during fast dances and their arms around each other during slow ones.

"Your room or mine?" Chris whispered in a gruff tone when the place was starting to empty and the after party was beginning. They had a good time and the pair swapped numbers but she grew disappointed with him when she messaged him but failed to receive a reply so she thought her very first impression of him was spot on, stupid footballers.

*Present day*

"Ah here she is!" Betsy's tour manager Lance announced when Betsy walked into the room.

"Hi, I am so sorry I had a meeting and it overran," she apologised before shaking the hands of her support acts, she was meeting them for the first time and wanted to get to know them a little bit better, break the ice and give a run down of how she usually ran things. While she wasn't uptight she wasn't the biggest fan of the sex, drugs, and rock and roll cliche, she didn't care what people did on their own time so long as they arrived on time for rehearsals and their stage slots and didn't flaunt things in the public eye something which was a very reasonable request.

Everything was set and everyone then had some casual chat to get to know each other a little bit. Soon Betsy was called away for another interview and made her goodbyes.

"Really nice to meet you both, let me or Lance know if you have enough tickets for friends and family I'm sure we can sort some things out, and VIP passes and things.

"Oh great, my roommates said they're free to come now," Arthur mentioned and Betsy nodded.

"We'll sort them out don't worry," the brunette smiled before being ushered off.

Tour went underway and was a huge hit, they reached London of which there were three dates.

"This is really cool," George commented as him and his other housemates enjoyed the backstage tour.

"It is, the crowds have been great too." The musician responded looking at his friends and noticing the smallest of the four was staring at the door as he clutched his beer, something he had been doing since he got there.

"You've been very quiet," Arthur H said to Chris who just nodded his head, he was in two minds about whether he wanted to see Betsy or not, he did intend on messaging her back but by the time he got round to it it was a long time, plus he was quite intimidated by being with someone well known his relationship with Shannon was under the microscope enough and they were only two content creators.

"Hi Arthur," Betsy chimed as she walked into his dressing room, stopping dead in her tracks when she saw the short male, his hair had changed but it was undeniably him, she looked in those eyes long enough to know them.

"Sorry I didn't know you had company," Betsy went to retreat as she stared at the curly haired man who was suddenly finding his shoes very interesting.

"These are my flatmates, Arthur, George and Chris. Guys this is Betsy otherwise known as AnnieJ," Arthur Hill explained pointing out everyone in turn. George greeted her with a hug, Arthur and Chris settled for a handshake, the two previous lovers ignoring the spark of electricity that flowed through their hands.

"Have you got time to hang out for a little bit?" Arthur asked, Betsy nodded as she didn't want to be rude plus the other two could be a laugh.

Chris looked on clutching his beer bottle so hard his knuckles turned white staring at Betsy who was laughing at one of George's jokes.

"Sorry I need to get ready, enjoy the show guys, it was nice to meet you Arthur and George and hopefully I'll see you after?" Betsy smiled before rushing off out the room.

"What is your problem? We've only heard two grunts out of you," George commented pointing at Chris who just shrugged.

"This is just not my scene," he replied, saying more words than he he had spoken in the past two hours.

"Okay, well next time I'll give your space to someone else," Arthur Hill replied as he checked the time, it was approaching show time.

"This is nothing to do with the fact you two slept together at Simon's wedding and she's obviously forgotten about it," Arthur TV explained, he had only gotten Chris's side of the story so didn't know he had failed to message Betsy back. George and Arthur Hill looked at each other before laughing.

"Chris we need to get you fixed," Arthur Hill joked before announcing he had to go and warm up.

The show had calmed Chris down somewhat, MACY was good, Arthur was great and he enjoyed watching Betsy, it was obvious she loved doing what she did things changed slightly again when she sang one of her hit songs Infamy. On the surface it just sounded like the song was about relationships but there was a deeper meaning which was about the press's judgement and hounding of people's personal lives. There was one moment where Chris swore Betsy looked at him momentarily and he felt incredibly guilty, he ghosted her because of something she was already afraid of he felt small, well even smaller.

Arthur Hill was slightly surprised when Chris asked if he could come again, considering he was quiet the day before but Arthur agreed and this time Chris came with a plan. He kept himself a little scarce at the beginning but watched her intently from the side lines that was the first time Betsy noticed his presence there.

After the show Chris knocked on Betsy's dressing room door he took a deep breath when he heard a soft come in. Chris couldn't help but smile when he saw Betsy in black leggings and a green jumper. Her regular casual self was so much different to her stage persona, she was just a regular girl underneath it all and Chris wanted to get to know her and not the flashy musician exterior he was afraid of before.

"Hi, good show," Chris smiled. Betsy just nodded before placing her glasses on, her eyes got tired if she wore her contacts for too long.

"Look I have been an absolute arsehole and if you don't want to listen to me excuses that's fine but I think I owe you an explanation," Chris continued and Betsy looked at him. His blue eyes looked so sincere, so kind and there was something about his little face she couldn't resist.

"Look if you didn't want anything else a simple text would have sufficed," Betsy replied as she sat on the arm of the grey sofa.

"But I did! I looked you up and saw all these stories and got flustered. When my ex and I broke up there's still jokes going on about it now and she still gets comments on social media and I just thought about how much worse it would be," Chris admitted and Betsy sighed, she had heard this before.

"I get it. It's fine."

"It's not, look you probably don't want anything else to do with me but I just owed you a sorry."

"I didn't say I didn't want anything more to do with you," Betsy smiled getting up from the sofa and walking slowly over to Chris who nodded as he gave a small but cheeky smile.

"Good," he smiled before his and Betsy's lips touched.

#chrismd #chris dixon #chrismd x reader #chrismd fic

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valentineforlemonandcherry · 2 years ago

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Foxtail & Wolfsbane 40

Summary: Your lifelong obsession to hunt down the Nine-Tailed Fox has not gone as expected, and seventeen years later, you find yourself coming back to the place where it all started: Hogwarts. However, with Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban and Headmaster Dumbledore’s hire of a certain Professor R. J. Lupin, you suddenly find yourself intertwined in the fates of those with whom you thought you had parted ways with long ago.

[Multi-Post Story] [Rowan Scamander x Reader] [Remus Lupin x Reader] [Young Sirius Black x Reader] [Tristan Graves x Reader] [Severus Snape x Reader] *Note: Rowan Scamander, Tristan Graves, Susana Holmes, Cas Carneirus, Henrietta Weiss, Thomas Picquery, and Magdalene Clarke are OC characters.

Note: Part 40 does not contain any smut.

*Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

☾ Click Here for Foxtail & Wolfsbane Home Page (All Chapter Links) ☾

Remus stood at the top of the hill, watching you. At long last, he had done what he’d always wanted to do, but never let himself – come after you.

As per usual, Remus was having the time of his life overthinking everything. What if this was overkill? What if it wasn’t my place to come after her like this? What did I mean by coming here, anyways? I mean, I know what I meant by coming after her. But what if she doesn’t wish for me to come after her like this?

Shut up, you, a rather wolfish voice snarled at Remus’ overthinking brain. Only she can tell you what she wants from you. Go to her. Go to her now.

Gathering his resolve, Remus finally made to step forward, to come down the hill towards you. It all would have made for a very romantic and heroic moment – except Remus had made the same mistake that you had of standing in one spot for too long. He tripped in the soft snow and lurched forward dramatically. Parchment sprayed into the air as Remus lost all sense of control over his own body and ended up tumbling magnificently down the snowy hill, in exactly the same path as you.

“Remus!” you cried out, suddenly breaking out of your nervous thoughts. For in that moment, seeing Remus rolling pathetically down the hill, you became quite certain that this was real life and that that was truly Remus. As Remus let out a loud “Oof!”, you recognized, yes, right, definitely not a hallucination rolling down the snow like that!

You ran up the snowy hill, but you couldn’t make it very far. Thankfully, since Remus followed the same line down the hill that you had, he rolled right to you. You caught him at the bottom of the hill. You hurriedly turned him over (you’d smushed him face-down into the snow a bit as you’d caught him) to check if he was all right. “Merlin, Remus! Are you okay?”

Remus blinked up at you. You saw his eyes wander up to the sky and he blinked even harder, shutting his eyes tightly before opening them. His mouth dropped open as he stared hazily up.

You urgently grabbed the front of his shirt. “Remus! Answer me – are you all right?”

“Er – to tell you the truth, I’m not quite sure,” Remus replied. “I’m – I’m somehow seeing four skies.”

“Oh.” You breathed out. “You’re fine.”

“I am?”

“Yes. Now sit up.” You helped Remus up. You brushed the snow from his face. You tucked his stray curl back up to join the rest of his hair (though it flopped right back out anyways). “Remus,” you said, still in disbelief, “what in the world are you doing here?”

Remus’ eyes flickered up to yours. He answered, in a steady, decided voice, “I came after you.”

“How did you know where to find me?” you asked. “I mean, how did you find this place?”

“You,” Remus replied.

“Huh?”

“Back at Hogwarts, you told me stories about an ancient forest and how it was renamed in modern times as a Japanese forest.”

“I told you about that?”

Remus nodded. “I remember because you were very excited the day you made the connection. You made me look at all of your maps and you nearly swallowed your quill whole.”

You stared at Remus, awed by how much he recalled.

Just then, Remus clarified, “Unfortunately, that was about all I could remember. I had to go to the library to do some research. See…” He began to rummage about in his pockets. Only, they were all empty.

You nodded at the stray pieces of parchment rolling merrily along the hills, going in every which way. “Was that your research?”

“Oh,” was all Remus said.

You laughed softly. “If it makes you feel any better, I tripped down exactly the same way you did.”

“I gathered that,” Remus replied. His eyes lingered on your face as he murmured, “You have snowflakes on your cheeks…” He reached out and hesitantly brushed the snow off your cheeks.

Oh, you thought.

“And your lips…”

The warmth of Remus’ fingers brushing over your lips made you stay very still, as you hoped that he would name another place on your face to touch.

“And your eyelashes…” Remus brought up both of his hands and gently cradled your face. You closed your eyes as Remus swept his thumbs over your eyelashes to brush your eyes free of snowflakes.

You breathed out slowly.

“There,” Remus murmured. He let go of you.

You opened your eyes. You were sure your cheeks were flushed, but so were Remus’.

“Ahem.” He coughed and turned his head away from you. “So this is the mythical realm?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you come back here?” Remus wondered. “Isn’t the Nine-Tailed Fox gone?”

“The Nine-Tailed Fox is gone,” you agreed. “Only I don’t understand. Why didn’t she take over my body? She evolves into her most powerful state when she receives her ninth tail. I know she did. I felt it. Her incredible surge of power. I even felt her immortality for a moment. She must be healthy and thriving, somewhere out there… But then, how am I alive? The bargain I struck with the Fox was that I would be the vessel through which she gained her ninth tail and she would grant your wish - ”

Remus made a sudden motion. But when you looked at him nervously, he immediately stilled. He watched you with an intense gaze, waiting for you to go on.

“But I woke up. I know I was asleep for a long time, but still, I’m awake. Then, I realized that Artemis was gone…” You gripped the hem of your jumper. “And the other day, Tonks told us about Rowan’s message: He said that he’d taken back all of his creatures, but there were other, new creatures. That’s when I began to wonder – to hope - ” Your hands turned into tight fists, bunching up the fabric.

Remus’ eyes flashed knowingly. “You think Artemis might be here.”

“Yes,” you confirmed in a fearful whisper. “But I can’t really explain why I think that and I don’t even know what to look for. It’s only an instinct.”

“It makes sense to me,” Remus said firmly. “Not everything that makes sense has to be logical. Clearly, just look at this place.”

“That’s true,” you murmured, feeling more hopeful since Remus seemed to understand what you were thinking.

You and Remus got to your feet. The two of you turned around uncertainly, taking in the vastness of the realm and the dizzying paradox of all four seasons existing in the same time-space all at once.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” you admitted.

“That’s all right,” Remus replied comfortingly. “This isn’t a bad place to take a walk, you know. Perhaps we’ll think of something along the way.” He made to step forward when -

“Ah, wait,” you said suddenly. “There’s something you should know. Time works differently here. When you leave, you may find that months or even years have passed in the real world. Maybe you should go back now.”

Remus’ brow furrowed. “Time skips?”

“Yes. So if you’re worried about that – if you have anyone waiting for you – you should go back.”

Remus shook his head lightly. “Never mind that. It’s all right.”

“But - ”

“I understand what you’re saying. I’m glad you told me, so I know. But the truth is, even if I went back to the real world right now, I’d spend my time worrying about you, anyways. So, it’s best if I stay with you.”

You fell silent. Isn’t Tonks waiting for him? Isn’t he worried about worrying her? A part of you – the narrow-hearted, jealous part – didn’t want to say anything, but your desire to do the right thing and your desire for Remus to be happy easily won out. You blurted out, “What about Tonks?”

Remus cocked his head at you. “What about her?”

“Is it all right to leave her?”

“Well, yes, I assume she’ll be busy with Auror exams.”

“Oh.” You felt yourself become even less certain of what to say. Finally, you decided to compromise. “Well, let’s do our best to be quick then. C’mon, Remus!” You grabbed his wrist and yanked him forward.

Surprised, Remus stumbled forward. Narrowly avoiding stepping on your heels, he tripped to the left. “W-Wait!”

Poof!

A muffled cry sounded out. You turned around frantically, only to find that you had tugged Remus right into another huge pile of snow.

“Hold on!” You hurriedly pawed at the snow, digging him out. When enough of the snow around him had disappeared, you grabbed his waist and yanked him out. You repeated, embarrassed, “Sorry, I’ll be more careful.”

While you were standing in front of him and apologizing for your short-sightedness, Remus suddenly recalled a previous time when this exact same thing happened. You’d dragged Remus out of Gryffindor Tower to celebrate the first major snowfall at Hogwarts. Overexcited, you’d pulled him right into a pile of snow. You’d done the same thing then as you had now – pulled him out and apologized. Afterwards, you’d gone to Hagrid’s to fetch Artemis and the two of you went racing off into the Forbidden Forest. Remus remembered being thankful for the snow because it tracked both of your prints so that he could follow you both into the woods. He couldn’t quite keep up with you and Artemis, as the two of you seemed to have an unspoken routine and easily bounded together over logs, rivers, and hills. You had only lost track of Artemis once, when you let her have a long head start to race off and hide from you. When that happened –

You caught Remus’ bright eyes at once. “What is it?”

Remus said excitedly, “I think I know a way for you to find Artemis.”

Your whole frame lit up with excitement. “How?”

Remus recounted, “Remember you put a little bell around Artemis’ neck? You used to call her whenever you couldn’t find her. You would lift your wand and say - ”

“Corusco!” you finished breathlessly.

“Exactly!”

But then, you wilted. “Oh… But I don’t have my wand anymore.”

Remus rummaged around in his pockets again. He let out a sigh of relief when he found his wand. He pulled it out and offered it to you. “Use mine.”

You took his wand with curiosity. Unfortunately, you could immediately feel that this wand rejected you. It did not consider you its owner, in any way. As you wrapped your fingers around it, a sharp sting ran up your hand.

“Ow!” You accidentally dropped the wand, as a stinging burn ran through your hand.

Remus started, surprised.

“Sorry,” you said. “But I don’t think your wand likes me, Remus. It zapped me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

You made to pick it up, but Remus stopped you. Not wanting you to get hurt again, he grasped your wrist to halt you and he picked up the wand himself. The wand slid naturally into his hand, fitting gracefully in his large palm and sitting easily in his long, graceful fingers.

“Here, let’s try this.” Remus stepped around you, until he was standing behind you. He held his hand out and told you, “Grasp my wand. Lightly now – and carefully, mind you.”

You gingerly picked up Remus’ wand from his hand.

“I’m going to hold my wand with you, so it’ll sense me,” Remus explained. He slowly folded his hand over yours. His hand covered yours, and suddenly, your hand was so warm, with his fingers covering yours and his palm nestled against the back of your hand.

Since Remus was quite a bit taller than you, he had to hunch over somewhat to keep the wand at a comfortable height for you to hold. He naturally shifted closer to you, until his chest pressed lightly against your back. You jolted slightly, nervous to have him so close to you.

Remus misunderstood; he thought that you were still nervous about his wand rejecting you. “Relax,” he whispered. His chin slid softly over your shoulder and he murmured into your ear, “If you trust me, the wand will lend you its strength.”

You breathed out, willing yourself to calm down.

“That’s right,” Remus encouraged you, speaking very softly. “You can do it. Channel your magic through me.”

You closed your eyes and leaned back a little against Remus.

Remus’ eyes flickered down to you. When he saw you leaning against him, he couldn’t help but think, Lovely, you’re still the same, aren’t you? You look just as you did when I first taught you the Patronus… You trusted me then. You trust me now – even after everything. I’ll give you my magic, Lovely. I’d give all of it to you, if I could.

In a quiet whisper, Remus told you, “Say the spell now.”

You took a deep breath and then you whispered fervently, “Corusco!”

Ring! Ring, ring, ring!

You gasped.

Ring, ring, ring!

“Where’s the sound coming from?” Remus wondered, looking this way and that.

You furiously scanned the many landscapes, too, until – “There!” you cried, punching your other hand into the air to point. Far out in the winter terrain, a silvery little figure came dashing forward. You had to squint to catch it at first, as it was quite a small figure. Once you caught a glimpse of it, though, you could follow its figure was it wove through the trees, flashing through the dark forest that covered most of the winter horizon. It had quite a ways to run – but that was all right, you could meet it halfway, because you were running towards it, too.

You sprinted forward as fast as you could. With each step, your heart became increasingly full of anticipation – until you cried out in a desperate, aching voice, “Artemis! I’m coming!”

All of a sudden, you came across a huge river which blocked your path. No! Please! Let me find a way to cross! Please, please, please! To your dismay, the river had no obvious crossing point and the current looked very fast. Worse still, since the riverbank was covered with tall flowers, you lost sight of Artemis.

Meanwhile, Remus was fighting against the same, tall flowers, trying desperately to find you. “Lovely! Where’ve you gone?”

“Here, Remus!” you called out.

Remus reached you. Instantly, he realized what the situation was and how distressed you were. “Oh no. He held out his wand again. “Do you want try once mo - ?”

Ring! Ring, ring, ring!

Remus cut off. Both of you lifted your heads and tried to peer through the thick meadow of flowers as the bright, clear sound of a bell rang out nearby.

“Art?” you called uncertainly, unsure of which direction the sound was coming from.

Ring! The sound was even clearer – meaning it was quite close.

Then – “Arf! Arf, arf!” A lithe, full-grown, yet still slightly small fox burst out of the flowers and tackled you to the ground.

“Artemis!” you shouted, recognizing her at once. Her fur was silver now, but there was no doubt that this was Artemis.

Remus started, flustered by how you’d been tackled to the ground. Only, you were too busy shouting with joy and rubbing your beloved fox all over her head and tummy, just how she liked it. “Art, it’s you! Oh Merlin, it’s you!” You sat up and threw your arms around her. Burying your face against her fur, you cried, “You’re alive!”

Artemis barked joyfully, happy to hear the sound of your voice, too. However, when she heard you say the word “alive,” she suddenly quieted.

You stilled, too, immediately noticing her reaction. You lifted your head.

Artemis turned her head and she looked at you knowingly. She looked as if she were waiting for you to catch on…

“You’re not alive, are you?” you realized. “That is, you’re not alive in the way you once were, the way I am…”

Artemis gave you a slow nod.

“You can’t leave this realm,” you recognized. “You’re a mythical creature now. You’re like the fox, before she got her ninth tail. You’re immortal, but you’re a creature of this realm.”

Artemis nodded again.

You breathed out. “How did this happen to you?”

Instead of answering, Artemis nuzzled you again, rubbing her now-silver little snout against your shoulder. You brought your hand up and petted her lovingly. But this time, you realized how cold she was and how she didn’t seem to have the same weight as she did before.

“Are you all right?” you whispered to her.

Artemis’ eyes turned into pleased little crescents as she smiled, in her own, mischievous fox way.

“Yeah? You’re happy here?” you confirmed.

Artemis let out a bright bark.

Your heart panged. You felt happy for Artemis, but you also felt sad because you realized that she wasn’t coming back with you. Still, you tried to be grateful just for this moment of reunion and for the fact that she was all right. “Okay, then,” you said softly. “That’s the only important thing, anyways.”

You slid your arms around her and hugged her again. “I missed you so much. Did you know that? I was so worried when I couldn’t find you.”

Artemis let out a small bark. You noticed how her bark was much more clear, even melodic, now. She truly is a creature of this realm. You whispered to her, “Guess you’re not my earthly fox anymore, huh? You’re my mythical fox now.”

Artemis wrapped her tail around your waist. She let out a happy purr.

“Oh,” you remembered, “that’s right. You always wanted to be magical. You used to chew at my wand all the time. It was basically a fox pacifier.”

Artemis grinned again – and she looked rather smug.

You laughed softly, finally sure that Artemis was truly all right. “So, you got your wish, after all. Good for you, Art.”

Just then, a harsh, unexpected bark sounded out from some distance away. “Woof!”

You started. Artemis bounded jubilantly to her feet and she replied with a welcoming bark of her own.

“Who is she calling to?” Remus asked you.

You shook your head, unsure. I expected Artemis to be here, but what other creature could possibly be here? you thought, surprised. Rowan said that he took all of his creatures back. So, what creature could it be?

Then, you saw it – a spry, but quite sizeable wolf was making its way deftly through the flowers. The wolf pushed its way past the final row of flowers and joined you, Remus, and Artemis.

Remus hurriedly pushed you behind him and held out his wand. But Artemis walked forward and nuzzled the wolf. Friend, Artemis was saying clearly, and she was right, for the wolf nuzzled her back. He was very gentle with her, pushing his snout lightly and affectionately against her small frame.

You stuck your head out and peered around Remus. What is that creature? Is it really a wolf? But why is it all silver? Is it a mythical creature, too? But it’s a different kind of silver from Art. Art’s a grey-silver and the wolf is a pure silver. You peered even more closely at the wolf. What’s that on it’s chest? Like an emblem… Hm, it’s a perfect circle. Is it just a coincidental mark?

Right at that moment, the wolf stopped nuzzling Artemis. He straightened up to his full height and looked at Remus.

“What? What do you want?” Remus said apprehensively.

The wolf let out a single, gruff bark.

Your eyes widened. A perfect circle – it’s a moon! A full moon!

“Remus!” you gasped, shocking him. He nearly stumbled back. You caught him, as you said breathlessly, “That’s you!”

Remus turned his head so fast he nearly bumped your head. “What?”

“That’s your werewolf spirit! Look! There’s a full moon on its chest!”

Remus whipped his head back around and he looked closely at at the wolf’s chest. When he saw the symbol and recognized it as the full moon, his breath caught. “You’re saying that’s me?”

“Yes,” you said, certain of it now. “That’s your werewolf spirit, Remus. So, this is where he came to, after he left your being.”

Remus knelt down, peering at the wolf. In a trembling voice, he whispered, “You’re me…?”

The wolf walked up to him.

Remus shivered, but he stood his ground and remained crouching, so he could come face-to-face with the wolf. The wolf was quite an impressive size, and when he moved, his strength could be felt and seen in his movements. Soon, the wolf was face-to-face with Remus.

Remus put his wand down and lifted his hand.

The wolf slowly pressed his snout against Remus’ hand.

When the wolf’s nose touched Remus’ palm, Remus breathed out suddenly. “Merlin, it’s really you. I can feel the energy of the full moon coursing through me.”

The wolf blinked up at Remus. Their eyes met.

Remus swallowed hard. Then, he whispered darkly, “But you’re a monster.”

Offended, the wolf let out a harsh breath and immediately turned its head away from Remus.

You held your breath, suddenly afraid.

“You made my life so difficult,” Remus continued in a harsh, bitter whisper. “You were the reason why I was always ill, why my family broke apart, why I could never get a job, why I’m a burden to all my friends, why I could never allow myself to love someone, why I questioned whether life was worth living, why I hated myself…” Tears slowly dripped down Remus’ face. He whispered, in an utterly broken voice, “But seeing you like this, as a true wolf, all I can do is pity you. I denied every instinct and craving you ever had and I blamed so much of my own failures on you. I’m sorry for our miserable existence. Still, I couldn’t give into you. Don’t you see? I had to resent you.” Remus broke down, sobbing.

You fell to your knees beside Remus and you hugged him tightly. “Sh, Rem,” you whispered kindly. “It’s all right. It’s okay to hurt. God knows how long you’ve held this all in.”

The wolf let out a displeased snort. He made a sudden motion, as if to take off. However, Artemis let out a low whine. She nodded her head at you. The wolf stared at Artemis, then at you, and then back to Artemis. Artemis nodded again. The wolf’s curiosity got the better of him, and he began to sniff at you.

Hearing the wolf, Remus lifted his head. When he saw the wolf coming closer to you, Remus quickly wiped away his tears and pulled you close to him.

“It’s all right,” you reassured him. “He’s not going to hurt me.”

“Are you sure?” Remus asked you, his voice cracking even in that short phrase.

You nodded. It was your turn to gently put your hands on his cheeks and to cradle his face. You assured Remus, “You’re not going to hurt me.”

The wolf was now sniffing at the hem of your cloak. You turned your head towards him. “Hello,” you said pleasantly. “We’ve never met.” You paused and amended, “Not properly, anyways.”

Remus shamefully looked away from you. You tightened your hug on Remus, but you kept talking to the wolf. “You’re friends with Art, I see. I’m glad. I was forever trying to teach Art to like you when you were with Remus, but I’m not sure Art ever really took to Rem. Now we know for sure that it was Remus that Artemis didn’t like and not you, huh?” You laughed, finding the thought quite funny.

The wolf looked at you skeptically. Clearly, he didn’t trust easily. Still, he seemed satisfied enough with you as he made his way back to Artemis. When Artemis saw him coming back, she bounded forward happily to meet him. The wolf tried not to appear too pleased at first, but when Artemis managed to lick his face, the wolf clearly softened. He laid down on his tummy so Artemis could lick his face without having to jump up.

You smiled. “Look, Remus. They really are friends.”

Remus didn’t say anything, but his eyes softened as he watched Artemis and the wolf together.

After a moment, the wolf stood up. He let out a soft, but quite low grumble. Artemis’ ears and tail perked up. Then, with a merry yelp, Artemis took off. The wolf waited patiently for about ten seconds and then, with a powerful leap off of his hind legs, he was off, too. Artemis’ barking got louder and louder the closer he got to catching up, until she was barking furiously, clearly laughing in her own way, as he managed to catch him to her.

Then, the most incredible thing happened. As Artemis and the wolf (Lupin, you thought in your head) ran through the field together, the flowers immediately around them began to light up with a silvery glow and to ring.

You gasped when you realized that the flowers were snowdrops. The Nine-Tailed Fox’s crystal-clear melodic voice, Artemis’ old bell sound, the snowdrops… All of it has come together.

You and Remus got up onto your feet and both of you in the magical sight of the field of snowdrops lighting up and ringing its merry winter bells as the two forever-mythical spirits ran off into the wintery forest. Though you didn’t know it, they were running back home, to a small, warm cave at the foot of the mountains. The entrance to the cave was framed with tiny, white foxtail ferns and a single, sturdy wolfsbane plant guarding the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

Neither you nor Remus were quite yourselves as you headed for the door leading back to the real world. However, when you neared the doorway, you caught sight of something that shocked you back to your senses. You grabbed Remus’ arm and squeezed hard.

“Is something wrong?”

You nodded up ahead. “Look at that.”

Incredibly, where there used to be only a silver glimmer – all but undetectable unless one knew to look for it – there was now a proper doorway. It was floating in the air, but it was very clearly a metal doorway. What was more, it was framed with white and pink flowers. It looked like the flowers had grown up and around the metal doorframe.

Oh, you realized, so that’s why there were white and pink flowers framing Remus when he first appeared. He was stepping out of the door.

“A doorway,” you said, awed. “That wasn’t there before.”

“It wasn’t?”

You shook your head. “I wonder if that means…” You hesitated. “Remus, will you hold onto my hand? I want to try something, but please pull me out if I ask you to of if I scream.”

“Scream? Why? What are you planning to do?”

“I just want to test this door.”

“Are you sure it’s all right for you to do this?” Remus said nervously, following you to the door. “Can’t we throw a branch through it? Or can’t I do it instead?”

“No, no, I’m sure it’ll be all right,” you said. “Now, please hold my hand.”

Remus took your hand in both of his and clutched onto your hand tightly.

You stood before the doorway and then you carefully put your hand through the door.

Whoosh! You gasped when you suddenly felt a rush of wind hit your hand.

Taking no chances, Remus immediately yanked your hand as hard as he could. You were yanked right into his arms. “Oh!” you breathed out.

“Are you all right?” Remus said urgently. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, I’m fine.” You laughed. “Sorry I made you nervous.”

“But what was all that about?” Remus asked you. He didn’t seem aware of the fact that he was all but crushing you in his arms, even though he had to look down far enough that his chin almost touched his chest as he peered down at you.

“I wanted to check if that doorway was a stable doorway to the real world,” you informed him. You put your hand on Remus’ chest and he instinctively relaxed, letting you go a little.

“And is it?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yes. There’s no doubt about it. The wind I felt was wind from the real world. Even more incredible, it’s stable enough that people can come and go as they please.” You frowned slightly, though, as you wondered, “But how could a door be built here? I thought it was condition of a time crystal that it be totally independent of all other notions of time.” You looked up at the sky. Remus followed your gaze, tilting his head up to the sky too.

“It must have something to do with how there are four seasons here now,” you guessed.

“What do you mean?”

“It used to be only winter here. And there were no creatures. Well, Rowan’s creatures were here, but they weren’t of here, strictly speaking.” When you mentioned Rowan, you suddenly had an idea of what might have happened.

You stared once more at the doorway. This time, instead of paying attention to its structure or the beautiful flowers gracing it, you looked closely at the metal. It looks like the same metal that Tristan’s watch was made of, you thought. Hm…

Remus’ voice broke into your musings. “Shouldn’t we get out of here? I don’t mean to rush you, but now that we know Artemis is all right and if we’re worried about time skips…”

Ah, right. Remus has to get back – to his real life and to Tonks, you remembered. “Right.” You stepped away from Remus, slipping out of his warms. With a small sigh, you murmured, “Back to the real world we go.”

I shouldn’t be sad, you reminded yourself. I’ve found Artemis and Remus has found his happiness. This is what I wished for, after all. It’s all right if I’m going back alone. Even if Artemis can’t come back with me, even if the Nine-Tailed Fox is no longer in my soul, and even if Remus is with somebody else, I know I’m strong enough to find my own way.

Standing in front of the doorway, you reached out to Remus and said warmly, “Thank you, Remus, for coming after me.”

Remus slid his hand into yours. Grasping his hand, you stepped through the doorway, and the both of you returned to the real world.

* * * * * * * * * *

As it was, Tristan’s watch, which Rowan had planted in the ground near the doorway, had grown to create the metal doorway.

The fundamental principle empowering the Graves’ metal magic was fate. Fate is a stable concept of time because it constitutes a prior determination. However, fate is also a flexible concept because it can accept the notion of ‘progress’ within it without losing its original meaning. Fate is the confines within which humans exert free will. As such, the metal of Tristan’s watch introduced a notion of determined progress, of circularity, without breaking the notion of ‘eternity’ that the ice phoenix’s heart was underholding (and which underpins the very existence of this realm). In this way, progress is accepted as a ‘part’ of eternity so long as it remains pre-determined and circular – in other words, so long as it does not introduce change into the environment. Thus, the four seasons occur all at once here.

And where did the seasons come from, you may wonder? Well, just as the mythical realm influenced Rowan’s creatures, so those creatures influenced the mythical realm. As Newt and Rowan always said, magical creatures are more powerful than wizards and witches in the magic that they produce. Frank had forged a summer for the mythical realm – a summer full of dazzling thunderstorms, but with an even brighter sun. Nula had offered the colors of her lovely, exuberant ruffles to create the autumn foliage of the mythical realm. And Sil had given his iridescence, playfulness, and adaptability to craft a blessed, twinkling, though slightly mischievous spring. They had left something of themselves here in this mythical realm: seeds of their spirits. However, it was only after Rowan planted Tristan’s watch into the ground that those seeds sprouted into the full being of four different seasons.

‘Infinity’ now took on a new meaning in the mythical realm. That was how the mythical realm, created by the ice phoenix and protected by the Nine-Tailed Fox, was not only restored and taken back from the succubus, but revived and reinvented into a much livelier place, where myth was invited to explore and grow itself, rather than simply being frozen for the sake of being preserved.

As for the Nine-Tailed Fox, she had in fact returned briefly to guide Artemis’ spirit here. When she arrived, she felt the ice phoenix speak to her soul. My, my. Look how you’ve grown. A full Nine-Tailed Fox. Your family would have been very proud of you.

The Nine-Tailed Fox held her head up proudly and swished her gorgeous, full tails. She playfully showed off before the ice phoenix, who laughed merrily. But then, the Nine-Tailed Fox noticed the four seasons, and she gasped aloud. Seasons! There are seasons in the mythical world?

Yes, there are.

How your heart has grown, my friend, the Fox whispered, almost afraid of her happiness. You don’t even need me to be a guardian of this world anymore, do you?

No, the ice phoenix agreed. You are free to wander wherever you’d like without having to worry about this realm anymore. He sighed. I’m sorry, my old friend, I never meant for this realm to become a burden for you. I’m glad you’ve found your true freedom now.

Please don’t, the Nine-Tailed Fox replied. You kept me alive by giving me a home, both in life and in sacrifice. When I had no mother or father to run to, no tails to hide in, you lent me your wings for comfort. You wrapped them around me as though I were your own. That was how I survived those long years. I may be free but my heart is always with you, in this wonderful realm that you’ve created and hold steady. That’s why this little fox, Artemis, will be able to live there.

At this, the ice phoenix chuckled. So, you brought her here.

The Nine-Tailed Fox blinked. That’s how it worked out.

The ice phoenix observed, She’s quite a young spirit.

Yes.

And she’s in love.

Is she?

Yes. A wolf spirit came after her, you know. He arrived just now, on the other side of the mountains. They’ve just met, and yet they’re clearly in love.

The Nine-Tailed Fox smiled an elusive, mysterious smile. Well, well, imagine that.

Yes, just imagine.

The Fox’s tails swirled in the air. Her paws itched. She was ready to take the many universes out there by storm.

Go, the ice phoenix urged. Live your destiny. You’ve earned every right to be the true Nine-Tailed Fox that you are.

I’ll come back soon, the Fox promised.

Don’t. Be happy. Be free, the ice phoenix said decidedly. Besides, you’re immortal and I’m eternal. We will meet again someday. Until then, I’m happy to wait. I’m happy imagining your freedom. It’s how I’ve always wanted to spend my eternity.

The Nine-Tailed Fox lifted her head and howled. It was a powerful sound. The force of her howl caused a gush of wind to rush over the mythical world. Lightning crackled in the summer world; new flowers burst into bloom in the spring world; the variegated foliage shivered mightily, all at once, in the autumn world; and out in the icy, winter world, a small fox and a weary wolf howled together in reply, the way they might howl at a moon.

The Nine-Tailed Fox’s eyes glimmered brightly. Her lips pulled back and she bared her teeth ferociously. A low, thrumming growl ran through from the tip of her nose down to each of her nine tails. Then, the Nine-Tailed Fox bounded up into the sky. There was a bright, silver flash and a busy flurry of nine tails swishing brightly in the four-colored sky – and she was gone, off to live the spiritual adventures befitting a true Nine-Tailed Fox.

#fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter imagine #foxtail and wolfsbane #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders era

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drrealityslenderverse · 2 years ago

Text

Bad Break

Alex broke Masky's leg and he's not having a good time. Hoody finds and helps him despite an earlier argument.

Back to Contents || Back to One-shot Contents

The masked man hobbled through the trees, his breath panting laboriously as he pushed himself to keep going. His leg throbbed in agonizing protest from all the movement. The rough terrain didn’t make matters any easier on him. The worst part was that he was miles from home and he was alone, even his partner was gone thanks to an argument days before.

A loud grunt rumbled in his throat as his broken leg finally gave out. Another scream tore from his lips as the bone shifted further from its normal placement. If Alex was still in the area, he was sure to have heard that. He needed to keep going.

Picking up a sturdy branch, the man pulled himself to his feet and limped onward with his injured limb dragging in the dirt. Each step caused pain to spike through it. Despite fighting back tears, eventually droplets rolled down his cheeks. Sniffing and swiping the tears with his jacket’s sleeve, he hobbled onward.

“Hoody would know how to set this properly.” Thunder rumbled in the distance as he drowned himself in the pain and misery of the situation. “Next time I see Alex…”

It wasn’t long before his foul mood worsened. The storm made everything muddy and he slogged his way through it despite his exhaustion. In the dark, the only times he could see were between the bursts of lightning. For all he knew, he could’ve been going in circles. But he wanted to get home where it was warm and safe.

The stick he was using sank deeper into the mud, sending him off balance as he attempted to yank it free. His breath slammed out of his body as the world tumbled around him. Water submerged him for a moment at the bottom of the hill before he managed to drag himself back to land. Coughing, he spat out the water and inhaled deep ragged breaths. His body shuddered and a faint cry escaped as he resigned himself to lying helpless in the mud. If his leg hadn’t been broken before, it certainly was now—and mangled up further thanks to that fall.

“Don’t know where I am…” He tried to stay awake but his strength had ebbed away long ago and now that he was lying down he couldn’t stop his eyes from closing.

Brian followed the trail through the woods until he came to a hill. Shaking his head, the hooded man carefully made his way down the steep slope and stopped at the edge of the river. With the storm the night before, it was flooded and the current was swift. He considered himself—and his masked friend—lucky that it hadn’t swept Tim away.

“Should’ve listened to me.” A huff of annoyance breezed out. He’d told Masky to wait. But no, he wanted to take on Alex right then and there. “Look where that got him.”

He did genuinely feel bad for letting Masky go at it alone with a broken leg, but it wasn’t like he could’ve predicted the man would make it worse and end up falling in a river! Once the storm had gotten bad, he figured his partner would stop and seek shelter like he’d done. Brian quietly walked over and crouched down next to the mud-covered man lying face down in the dirt.

“...Masky?” Guilt sank in further when he didn’t get a response; he should’ve caught up to him. It wouldn’t have been difficult. “Tim?”

Reaching out a gloved hand, he shook the man as hard as he could without causing more harm to his badly broken leg. A jagged gasp told him Tim was at least still alive and the flutter of his eyelids gave him some hope he’d be alright. Brian watched as his partner sank back into unconsciousness. Looked like he’d be hauling Masky back home without the man’s help. Grunting, he hoisted the shorter but heavier man onto his back and started for the abandoned building he’d been staying in.

It was nearly dark again by the time he laid Masky down on the admittedly filthy blankets that didn’t do much to soften against the uncomfortable floor. A growl rumbled through the man’s throat as the action jostled his leg. Hoody pushed his shoulders down firmly and tsked in disapproval at his partner when he tried getting up. Luckily for Masky, Hoody kept a small stash of first-aid supplies. It wasn’t much, certainly nothing for broken bones, but he could improvise.

“Bite.” He shoved a wad of gauze at him.

Giving several grumbles of complaint, Masky obeyed. Hoody watched as the annoyance quickly shifted to agony as he began shoving the leg of Masky’s pants up to assess the damage. The man’s teeth clenched on the gauze like a vice grip. The hooded man shook his head and pulled out a somewhat dull pocket knife and tore at the jean fabric; rolling it up wasn’t doing much to help.

“Oh…” His eyes widened under his mask.

The bone hadn’t broken the skin but he could clearly see the bulge of the broken end pressing out against the skin. Other cuts littered the area, some deeper than others but decidedly unconcerning so long as they were kept clean. The skin itself had morphed into a large dark bruise. Hoody was surprised Masky had even been able to stand on this, let alone tramp through the woods on it—granted the man was stubborn and had likely made it worse than it originally was.

“I can set it. Least good enough until Tim’s back and can get to a doctor.” His eyes met Masky’s dark ones. Despite neither speaking, Masky seemed to read his mind and gave a small nod for him to continue.

A barely muffled scream tore out of Masky’s throat and echoed through the small empty space. Ignoring it, Hoody continued to work on repositioning the bone. Taking a few sturdy sticks, he set the leg and wrapped the remaining bandages around it to keep the bone straight. Heaving breaths slowly settled back down as Masky once again relaxed, spitting out the mangled gauze he’d bit down on.

“This time, listen when I say stay put.” He was glad he hadn’t lost the man but was still pissed Masky hadn’t listened to begin with.

Tugging off his mask, Hoody laid down on Masky’s uninjured side and draped an arm over the man’s chest. Content with knowing he hadn’t lost the man, he allowed himself to relax and drift off.

By the next morning, Tim was back. Hoody knew the signs. With a sigh, he grudgingly put his mask back on and said a silent farewell to his partner before slipping out of the building to continue monitoring Tim out of sight.

#marble hornets #slenderverse #creepypasta #tim wright #brian thomas #masky #hoody #mh masky #mh hoody #one shot #marble hornets one shot #a03 fanfic #alex kralie #masky x hoodie #masky x hoody #mh brim

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spyoikawa · 3 years ago

Note

still on that saiki k brainrot so hear me out-

metori, saiki, teruhashi, aren and hairo with an s/o who really loves to bake/cook-

no thoughts just Reader learning how to make coffee jelly for saiki (like maybe they make him a tower of coffee jelly for an anniversary or his birthday-). no thoughts just Reader cooking something for metori who pretends to not want to eat it cause it’s ‘peasant food’ but ends up really enjoying their cooking. no thoughts just cooking/baking date with teruhashi. no thoughts just teaching aren how to cook/bake and having a food trade with him, bringing him lunch/a snack to school. and no thoughts just hairo hyping Reader up while they cook/bake and making stuff for him to bring to class rep meetings-

thank you! <3

the excitement I got got I saw teruhasi- i don't see a lot of writing for her and I get happy when I get to do less than common things! Thanks!

I'm running low on creative juices, so please I hope you don't mind if I use the exact scenarios you suggested 💀

Note: some of the things I wrote felt really rude so please don't mind the tone tags in parentheses, also i have not edited this yet

Saiki, Teruhasi, Hairo, Aren, and Saiko with an S/O who can cook/bake

♡romantic♡

Saiki Kusuo (italics = saiki telepathy)

Although it was undeniably tasty, your boyfriend's obsession with coffee jelly was not only getting out of hand but also quite expensive-

I mean he spent 3,000 yen for one serving-

But yanno what it's ok, coffee jelly is easy to make, and this gives you an excuse to hang out (not that you need one)

"Ok Ku, i had an idea"

I like it, just make sure you teach me how to do it too

"Rude. I wasn't finished"

You did in your head

As endearing as it could be sometimes, Saiki's mind-reading could be a pain occasionally

You wound me.

"Good. (/j)"

After a long debate over recipes and serving sizes, there it was, in all its glory, your first batches of coffee jelly

it was heaven

You did end up sharing the recipe with him, but it still became a little tradition to make the coffee jelly together

It just tastes better that way :)

Kokomi Teruhashi

In the midst of your TV and cuddles date, Kokomi huffed and turned off the TV

But of course it was rude to just turn off the TV, so she offered to play a board game instead

You did play with her, but your curiosity was begging as to why she wanted to change the activity

"Hey Kokomi, this game is fun, don't worry... but why'd you turn off the TV so suddenly?"

"Oh, it was nothing! I just thought you would like this game, and I wanted you to enjoy yourself more!"

Now, that's the answer the most perfect girl in the world would give

But Kokomi is still human, there's gotta be something wrong

You spent a while thinking to yourself about what you were watching, you two agreed on a documentary, then after the documentary, the channel played a cooking show with a guest baker/cook Makoto Teruhashi- oh.

So that was it

At the end of the round, you stood up and offered your hand to pull up Kokomi with you.

"Hey, wanna make a bet?"

She looked up with a bit of curiosity.

"I bet you, I can make your favorite dish, far better than Makoto can"

She smiled a bit, "sure!"

Her favorite food was simple, so you taught her to cook it and added in some other things just for fun (and so she can't recreate it without your secret ingredients)

Now you guys have cooking dates often and always find ways to spice up foods (and beat Makoto at whatever he was doing on tv)

Hairo Kineshi

my thoughts and prayers go to you

we all saw what happened when he tried to make crepes

but in his mind, it was a learning opportunity

You guys were taking an after-school stroll, the weather was really nice, it would be a shame if you two just went home and did nothing. Walks like these tend to get sentimental and nostalgic, so your conversation subconsciously started to drift towards school life.

"And do you remember that time we had to get kuboyasu, kaido, and nendo to play on a baseball team? Oh my god thank god it didn't go too poorly, that one player really pulled through at the end..." you laughed out

"Haha I do remember that, I can't believe we got them to play, it really could've gone worse" He smiled as he remembered that day, but then his eyes drifted up to a bakery across the road. "Speaking of poor experiences..."

after he explained to you he and kaido's crepe disaster, you couldn't help but tease fun at him for a bit

but you did agree to teach him more about cooking and baking

he's a bit too passionate about cracking eggs, but hey, at least you can work faster

after many, many burnt crepes and pans, there it was, a fallen appart, incorrectly folded, but still a properly cooked crepe sat there in all its beauty

it kinda looked like this

Although he does learn many different things with you, crepes will be the thing he makes over and over again, even when he has it down to a science, just because it's the first thing you taught him, and he will keep that sweet memory forever (get it. sweet? Cause crepes? Im funny i swear.)

Aren Kuboyasu

He actually knows how to cook pretty well

He's not really sure when he picked up cooking, its kinda just stuck around, but he enjoys it, it makes him seem more goody

and he can treat you :)

I will die on my "aren lives for the most basic/domestic activities hill"

cooking with him is always an experience, he will play music in the background, and pull you aside to dance at random times

also does that really hot thing where he stands behind you, reaches around to hold your hands, and basically has you in a cage while showing you how to do something

it's one of those spontaneous things to do, if there's nothing else to do, might as well make something to eat

firm believer in "if you have to eat to live, you might as well eat delicious foods" so he will always try out new things with you if its healthy and tasty

"bab look at this show" you called out from where you were sitting, there was a cooking show/food documentary on, and it was showing a special food. "it says this chicken has a secret sauce they dip it in"

he walked over to the tv and watched it for a couple seconds, thinking a bit.

"...wanna figure it out?"

"yes. I'll make the chicken if you figure out the sauce?"

"deal."

will you ever know if you got the secret sause? Nope, but you did figure out a chicken recipe that is good as hell

he probably writes down all the recipes you "invented" together for safekeeping and so he can return to it later, but he refuses to show it to anyone

Saiko Metori

as much as I love him, we all saw in that one episode how picky he is while eating, and is probably a bitch to please while cooking/baking

so after a lot of convincing, you got him to sit in the kitchen with you so he can watch you bake for the two of you

in reality, all you have to do is give the dish a fancy rich-sounding name, you just have to be really careful with what you say

like this 💀

you decided to bake for him today, baking is a lot more "by the book" than cooking, so you thought he would take a bit of comfort in knowing it was done in a professional way

"alright tori, so I think I'll make a heavy pastry made with fine cacao and extracts, baked into a rich dessert for a fine sweet palette"

"you're making brownies aren't you"

"🧍‍♂️"

Told you, you have to be as specific as possible

He does eventually get interested in what you're doing though, as he never really sees his personal chef cook, and wants to help you by the end

He really did enjoy it! It quickly became one of his favorite treats

But funny enough, no matter how many bakeries he tried or how many times his chef tried, they never tasted the same

(you put in special spices as your own little mark on the treat)

so he ends up having you over for more cooking dates

Which he really does enjoy btw

as a tsundere he will look all annoyed and probably call you a plebe, but these are his favorite types of dates

#saiko metori #saiko x reader #metori x reader #kuboyasu x reader #saiki x reader #teruhashi x reader #hairo x reader #saiki k hcs #kuboyasu hcs #hairo hcs #saiki hcs #saiko hcs #teruhashi hcs

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yoonpobs · 4 years ago

Text

bad boy good thing | m

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 3, 451

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

“You’re so pretty like this,” Jungkook whispers against your cheek but it’s nothing like sweet nothings that would comfort you.

No. It’s dirty, it’s relentless when he hooks his fingers upwards against your spongey walls while his other hand clamps on your mouth to keep your gasps at bay. There’s nothing that you can do when he has your pleasure quite literally in the palm of his hands.

“Mmph.” You groan, hips bucking upwards despite your mind telling you that this was wrong, that you weren’t like this.

But Jungkook had a way of clouding your conscience and leading you to unmapped territories when he looks at you with his doe-eyes that looked nothing like innocence but more like trouble.

Jungkook’s absolutely brutal when he finger fucks your pussy until it's squelching within the bathroom walls, nearly overpowering the music from outside. You’re pathetically whining and moaning under him, back stained with sweat while he presses you against the sink. When he looks at you, it’s almost worth it.

Almost.

“This fucking pussy gets wet only for me, yeah?” He growls, eyes barring anomalistically when he releases his other hand from your mouth to grip your chin to look at him.

You can’t control the moan that you let out when he drags his fingertips across the spongey surface of your cunt, your hole fluttering around his long digits that hypnotised you every single time.

“J-Jungkook—” You gasp when he presses his thumb against your clit, your wetness lubricating the movement until your legs shudder around his hips while his eyes zero onto your pussy.

The way he revs up his spit at the back of his throat should’ve been disgusting and you should’ve run for the hills, but Jungkook had a way of making everything you were taught to avoid look appetising because a dollop of his slaver drops directly onto your clit and you feel your stomach clench.

“Fuck. You’re such a slut, aren’t you?” He hisses, “Acting so prim and proper on the outside but you just wanna get fucked like a dirty little secret, huh?”

You shake your head when he pounds harder into you that your body is hiking up the sink with the force he’s exerting into shoving his fingers into your pussy. Tears of ecstasy or shame—you don’t know—but they’re accumulating at the edge of your eyes and threatening release, just like your orgasm that’s impending.

“You’re a liar.” He spits at you and it’s not as malicious as it should be because he’s smirking, a grin so menacing but addictive that you can’t help your dazed eyes that fall onto his face.

Your hand is gripping his shoulder while the other holds onto the sink because your pussy is spasming around his fingers and your wetness is everywhere. It’s on his jeans, fingers, and the remnants of your juice taint his lips—and you feel your stomach clench harder while your mind grows fuzzier.

“N-Not lying.” You whimper.

Jungkook scoffs like he doesn’t believe you, “You’re a liar. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you? What’s everyone going to think if they see you fucked out with just my fingers?”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when he leans down in one sudden motion that you can’t even catch up with and envelopes your throbbing bud into his mouth and sucks. Sucks so hard that you scream and you’re sure the partygoers know exactly what’s going on in the bathroom.

“Jungkook!” You scream, clutching his hair.

He chuckles darkly against your pussy but doesn’t relent his actions. The dark locks between your thighs make everything much harder to focus on, but all you can feel and see in Jungkook.

“N-No—I c-can’t—fuck!—” You’re not pushing him away but your hips are unconsciously grinding against his mouth when he finger fucks your pussy all while giving you the beautiful stimulation from his hot mouth.

“You’re going to cum for me and drench my face, yeah?” He mumbles into your pussy but it’s nothing short of demanding, “Gonna eat your fucking pussy clean.”

You’re so close, so so close and Jungkook feels it. He’s generous today, hooking his fingers deeper, and harder until—

“Fuck!” You scream.

Jungkook smirks against your pussy, knowing he’s found it. And Jungkook is someone who doesn’t stop when he knows he’s doing well, he just goes harder. That’s exactly what he does that pushes you over the edge.

He hooks his fingers until you’re nearly lifted off the sink, but his hand presses against your stomach to keep you still, prolonging the intense feeling of pleasure mixed with pain.

“J-Jungkook—f-fuck, I—can’t—p-please—I’m c-cumming—” You’re a blubbering mess and you’re outwardly crying, and Jungkook loves the tears that stream down your face as a result of his hard work on your pussy.

“Cum for me pretty.” He rubs your clit vigorously as he pulls away just to see you unravel.

And you do, so intensely and captivatingly that Jungkook nearly cums himself on the spot. But you were a sight to behold when your face contorts in pleasure, pussy clenching uncontrollably while you spurt the evidence of your orgasm all over the sink and onto Jungkook’s clothes.

Your orgasm is all too long and too short, but it’s good. It sends you away to a spiral of acute gratification that doesn’t disappoint. You barely make out Jungkook’s darkened but pleased expression when your body shudders from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

When you come down, and you blink your eyes to come back to the world—the first thing you see is Jungkook’s stained shirt like he spilled water on it but it was just the proof of your arousal and his effort.

Jungkook tugs you close to make sure you see the way he sticks his three fingers into his mouth, smirking at your wide eyes.

“Good girls taste the best.” He hums.

You blush despite the fact he’s seen the worst and best parts of you, hiding away from his keen gaze when he leans down to chase your lips.

“The p-party.” You mumble.

Jungkook scoffs with a wicked grin on his face, “Bet everyone heard how loud you get for me.”

You grimace at the thought of walking out there, where your friends and peers are after the session Jungkook put you through with the redness on your cheeks that could only allude to one thing.

And what you did with Jungkook comes crashing down onto you all at once, even if your stomach still flutters at the pleasure he’s given you. You weren’t like this. You didn’t follow men into bathrooms and let them stick their fingers into your pussy just so you could chase your high. You didn’t let men like Jungkook touch you the way he did when he squeezed your cheeks to look at him.

You broke all of the rules you made for yourself, compartmentalised in your brain—and you can only blame—

“Jungkook.” You say softly, eyes looking up to him and you’re sure he sees your dried tears, “This has to stop.”

For the second time of the night, Jungkook looks like he doesn’t believe you. And that’s probably because you don’t even believe yourself.

Jungkook smirks, “You say that every time it’s over but you’re the one looking for me when I’m gone.”

“I don’t look for you.” You frown.

He scoffs.

“You don’t? Then why would the esteemed _____ who sets the fucking curve all the damn time turn up at a house party where she doesn’t belong?”

You purse your lips and look away. You both knew that parties were not your thing and definitely not one where a bunch of drunk college students was involved.

“You know the only reason I’m here tonight is because of Jimin and Tae.” You snap.

He rolls his eyes before caging you into the sink, and you realise that your skirt is still lifted up—wetness sticking your thighs together in an uncomfortable way that makes you wince.

“And where are they now?” He sneers, looking at you in a mocking manner.

You clench your fists by your side and try to look brave in front of Jungkook. There was no reason why he had this effect on you when you were older than him when he used to worship the ground you walked on when you were children. Now that the tables were turned you had no clue how to navigate it.

“They’re—they’re …” You appeal helplessly, “Does it matter?”

Jungkook tongues the inside of his cheek in a way that you noted came from a childhood habit turned attractive, and you hate yourself even more for feeling your heart flutter.

“That’s what I thought.” Jungkook snorts.

He pushes himself off the sink and away from you, and you unconsciously find yourself chasing him. Jungkook notices this but chooses to just smirk at you. You try to glare at him and convince both of you that you didn’t want him, that you wouldn’t come back.

But when Jungkook cups your jaw with his right hand and brings his lips to yours before he leaves, you know that choice was never yours, to begin with.

Sana approaches you out of the blue after one of your lectures and you know something is up when her eyebrows are raised.

“Hey, ____!”

You turn around, nearly slamming into her when she steadies herself, eyes inquisitive with a knowing smile that you don’t like.

Sana was one of those people in college that you were friends with purely for convenience. She was in a few of your lectures and somehow always ended up in your group during projects; so it was strategic for you to maintain an amicable relationship with her.

You thought you could see yourself being good friends with her, but she was far too extroverted and involved in campus affairs. Not that was a bad thing—but it was bad for your social ineptness and lack of engagement in social settings. And the fact that wherever she went, gossip seemed to follow.

“Sana.” You greet with a small smile.

She nudges your shoulders before the two of you fall into similar steps as you make your way out of the lecture hall.

“How have you been?” You know it’s small talk and that she’s easing you in, which only settles the anxiety further at the pit of your stomach.

“I’ve been busy.” You shrug, “Mid-terms are around the corner.”

She snorts, “By corner you mean two months down the road and you’re just being an overachiever?”

You blush at being called out and you know she meant no ill-intent. She laughs at your reaction while you offer her a sheepish smile in return.

“It’s always good to be prepared.”

She nods her head as the two of you approach the outdoor student lounge where a few other college kids were either dozing off or typing away on their laptops for last-minute assignments.

“So I heard …” Sana trails off and you sigh knowingly, already somewhat prepared.

“You heard …?” You parrot.

“You and Jeon are close, right?”

You stop in your tracks when you hear his name, as you feel her stop right behind you while you tuck your laptop to your chest.

“J-Jeon?”

Sana nods when you turn around to face her. You hope she isn’t as observant as you think she is because your face is undoubtedly red right now.

“Yeah. Jungkook.” She reaffirms.

“We’re … we grew up together.” You tell her, “With Jimin and Taehyung.”

You made sure to include your other two friends because you didn’t like where the conversation was going, and you needed to ensure there was some form of distance established between you and Jungkook, not wanting to further entangle yourself with him than you already are.

She raises an eyebrow, “So you’re close?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“I guess you could say that. We went to the same high school so it was natural for our paths to cross.”

Sana nods her head slowly as if processing the information.

“Why—”

“But you’re older than him, right?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

You blink at her, then you nod. Redness on your cheeks already appearing.

“Yeah. B-But … I mean by only two years. It’s not like that’s a lot.” You say defensively.

You weren’t sure why you felt the need to clarify that because there was no reason why Sana needed to know that you were just two years older than Jungkook. It was the type of information that was unnecessary and redundant given that she clearly pointed out the fact you were older.

Sana hums before looking at you with knowing eyes, but you try to pretend like you don’t see it.

“And you’ve never fooled around before?”

Her question makes you choke and causes heat to rapidly rush to your cheeks.

“What?” You cry, “Of course not!”

Sana looks at you dryly before schooling herself with a neutral smile.

“None at all?” She pries, “But he’s so hot?”

You roll your eyes, already wanting to leave the conversation, knowing it wasn’t the wisest decision to have allowed it to prolong this far after Jungkook’s name was brought up.

“He’s like a litter brother to me.” You snap.

You hate that you know you’re lying through your teeth because you would have not let a little brother do the things Jungkook has done to you.

Sana nods, sides of her lips twitching upwards at your answer.

You sigh, “What is this about?”

She waves you off.

“Just wanted to know if he was single.”

You raise an eyebrow, heart nearly stopping at the insinuation.

“Okay …?”

Sana smiles up at you like she wasn’t interrogating you on your apparent relationship with Jungkook, a young boy turned bad with the realism of college-hood and social interactions that you can’t even compare him to the boy you knew from high school; all awkward and limbs.

“My friend’s asking. You know Jennie?”

You almost turn pale. Because of course, you know Jennie because she’s beautiful, popular, outgoing and everything that you weren’t; and everything Jungkook should’ve liked—and you were sure he did.

“Y-Yeah.” You stutter.

“She always thought you two were together so she never made her move. At least I can tell her that isn’t the case.” Sana chirps.

“Y-Yeah … you can.” You mumble, eyes looking away and the only thing plaguing your mind is the visual of Jennie and Jungkook together.

“But I always did try to tell her that she was in her head about the two of you.” Sana laughs.

You turn around, and your heart knows you should keep your mouth shut but you were always too curious for your own good.

“Oh?” You furrow your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” Sana shrugs, “I mean. You’re top of the class, Ms. Student President and always put together. And not to say Jungkook isn’t but … he’s not exactly like you, you know?”

You know that. Because every time you look at old pictures of you and Jungkook you already felt the disparity, the clear-cut chase that he was at the top of the food chain while you were always left with the leftovers. You weren’t the type of girl that hung around Jungkook’s circle and he wasn’t the type of person you would hang out with.

The two of you weren’t young anymore and Jimin and Taehyung weren’t able to be that bridge between the both of you either. You and Jungkook were so drastically different and it scared you because you remember a time where you thought he was the endgame.

“I guess you’re right.” You say softly.

“Anyways. Sorry for bothering you!” Sana smiles before tugging her bag over her shoulder and offering you a small wave before she darts off in the other direction.

You’re left standing in the middle of the lounge with a heavier sense of dread on your shoulders, and the image of Jennie in your mind. She’s pretty. And you bet she’s nice too, but fun enough for Jungkook to want. Nothing like you.

But you shake your head off with the thoughts. You didn’t even deserve to think about this because Jungkook was never yours. Even if he tempts you with his words and his scalding touch, you were just someone familiar to him.

He didn’t want you.

You purse your lips and will yourself not to shed a tear in public, so you quickly turn on your heel to head towards the library; where the world is a lot quieter.

“Did you see this?” Jimin leans closer to shove his phone in front of your face.

You frown and ignore him, but he’s like an annoying brother who won’t budge when he waves the device even more.

“What?” You snap, eyes shut in irritation.

“Damn. Who pissed in your cereal?” Jimin mutters.

You roll your eyes and sigh, looking at him with a softer expression.

“Sorry.” You wince, “I just had a bad day and … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded it on you.”

Jimin smiles at you pitifully before turning to face you, placing his phone downwards on the table.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You think about what’s been bothering you and you can only think of Jungkook. How he pretended like he didn’t know you after he fingered you in the bathroom at a party. How Sana didn’t think you and Jungkook were possible. How Jennie was interested and she was gorgeous. How Jungkook would be too.

“Nah.” You wave him off, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Jimin eyes you sceptically but you rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You sure?”

You nod, before cocking your head to his phone.

“What did you want to show me?”

He blinks at his phone and then picks it up, already in a different mood when he opens his device to his Instagram page.

“Did you know Kook and Jennie were a thing?” Is the first thing you hear after Jimin shows you a video that makes your heart drop into your stomach.

It’s Jungkook—and Jennie.

But that’s not it.

They’re kissing, quite passionately and people are egging them on when Jungkook slips a leg between her thighs while he cradles her face against his own. You see people cheering and hollering when Jungkook slips his tongue into her mouth, and Jennie smiling against the kiss.

It was at the party. The party where he fingered you and kissed you on the lips before he proceeded to pretend like he didn’t know you and disappear.

You wonder how you missed all of that.

“______?” Jimin calls out to you.

You blink up at him before he looks at you with a confused yet concerned expression.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks.

You clear the lump in your throat, and your point is proven. They do look good together.

“I-I …” You mumble, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Jimin doesn’t believe you and he sets his phone down, but before he can say anything a new figure joins you at the table by slamming their stuff down.

When you look up, you see Jungkook—and it hurts so badly when you recognise his cocksure smirk with his eyes trained on your face.

“What are the two of you whispering about?” He snorts, settling into his seat.

Before Jimin can say anything, you push yourself up abruptly that startles both Jimin and Jungkook.

“I have to go.” You blurt.

Jimin furrows his eyebrows, “Are you really okay—”

“Yes.” You say tightly, packing your belongings as quickly as you can without sparing Jungkook another glance.

“You’re not even going to say hi?” Jungkook asks, and if you were in a better headspace then you’d hear the slight irritation in his tone.

You purse your lips, but still, keep your eyes away from him. You don’t respond to him, and neither do you flatter Jimin’s concerned stare.

But before you can leave, Jimin grabs your wrist and your breath hitches, head-turning slowly to face him while you ignore Jungkook’s heavy gaze on you.

“Text me?” He says softly.

You knew from Jimin’s eyes that he’s worried, and you felt slightly guilty for leaving him behind like this when you promised him to study. But you couldn’t be around Jungkook right now. Not when your mind was everywhere and you were confused about everything.

Not when the video exists.

“I will.” You reply, equally as soft.

You tug your hands away and don’t spare Jungkook another glance before you’re rushing out of the library, the lump in your throat more apparent than ever.

999 notes · View notes

mayaflowerxs · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I just want to say that I really like your writing! can you write nsfw alphabet with jeno, please? 🥺

NSFW Alphabet w/ Jeno

Warning: SMUTTY

A/N: THANK U SM! This one is for you enjoy ! :)

Aftercare:

There wouldn’t be much aftercare other than him asking you if he was a little too rough on you. He would be very soft on you, that inner dom of his gone as he’s at your aid for anything.

Body part:

He loves your hips. He practically has the world in his hands and that’s you. He also loves pinning you and it drives him crazy how much power he has over you pinned down underneath him. He also loves sucking hickies on them, it’s a great view for him to see when he has his hands on them. And not only does he love them when having sex he also loves them because he can easily pull you near him at any time. It comforts him when he wraps his arms around your waist.

Cum:

He loves coming all over your face, it’s absolutely glorious for him. Like a painting so valuable you can’t even put a price on it. He especially loves kissing you while his liquids is on your face, absolutely loses it when you lick some it off (if you’re into that)

Dirty Secret:

Consensual somnophilia is the best kind of sex for him. He loves how cute and innocent you look being woken up by his cock ramming you deeply. Lots of times he’ll try to keep himself from having sex with you because he tries to wait until you fall asleep. He won’t tell you out loud he likes it because he doesn’t want you to think he’s weird so he tries not to do it too often which is a bit of a bummer for him.

Experience:

He’s experienced all right. A gorgeous man like that and he hasn’t slept with two or three girls maybe more? Can’t be. He doesn’t care that everyone knows how many people he slept with even if he wasn’t dating them but if you did the same I can see him a bit competitive. Each time a man comes up to you, the reminder of you being with other guys before him ticks him off. So when you two get in bed, he makes it his goal to make you feel a lot more satisfied. To prove to himself only he can make you feel so good and no one else.

Favorite Position:

Missionary. He absolutely loves seeing you so vulnerable underneath him. Like I said, he loves pinning you and grabbing my your waist so missionary definitely is the go to position. He also loves it when he pulls your leg over his shoulder UGH, his stupid smirk forming on his face once he hits a new spot that makes you wild, ego bar raised.

Goofy:

He’s not goofy at all when it comes to sex. Even when stuff leads up to it he isn’t goofy. He also isn’t serious also. He’s kinda, dommy I guess? He knows what he wants and it’s going to happen. And if he’s angry… oh boy be prepared. He won’t even let you talk and use you like a rag doll.

Hair:

He’s in the middle. It isn’t completely bare but also isn’t a bush you know?

Intimacy:

He’s not sensual during the sex. He likes it rough for sure and he’s a pretty kinky man. You know the intimacy is raised to the maximum when he’s having a very hard time. For a man like him who likes things to be rough, when he’s stressed he actually doesn’t go rough on you. Instead he prefers to have you be on top and remind him how much love he has then repays you.

Jerk off:

He does it quite often. When he has to stay at the dorm, he’ll lock himself in his room and get off with the thought of you doing dirty things to him. He hates it when he can’t spent time with you, so he results to touching himself. Not even just when he misses you. He’ll get the random crave of touching you but since he can’t come over to fuck you in your bed, he results to masturbating somewhere near and private. After he’s done with whatever he had going on that day, he’ll visit you and finish off the rest of his urges out on you.

Kink:

Somnophilia, exhibitionism are his go two. He might have others but they aren’t as much of a strong liking for it to be considered a kink of his. He loves fucking you in places where it is absolutely not for sexual intercourse. He can’t help it, your just to hot to not fuck and doing it in public? Oh yesss.

Location:

This boy usually fucks you at your house. But if he had a location where he wishes to fuck you in every single time you two have sex is by the park in the car. You guys have done it numerous of times and he has had the best orgasms every single time. He just loves having car sex and not just car sex, it has to be near a park.

Motivation:

You’re literally so damn fine he gets horny by the mere thought of you sucking him off. If you’re with him you could literally be using short shorts and his oversized shirt and he already has your shorts and panties by your ankles.

No:

Does not do threesomes and pegging. He’s very possessive of you. Not too much but enough to where you know this man does not share at all. If you’re screaming it’s because he’s fucking you so good not because another man is doing so. Your his and his only.

Oral:

Fucking LOVES oral. He loves how cute you look as your eyes stare directly into his as you have your pretty lips wrapped around his oozing tip. Makes him want to fuck your mouth all day. He also loves how squirmy you get when he starts eating you out so good. He knows how to use his mouth and any time you try to push his head away from your sore cunt he pins your hands down and only goes wilder on your pussy. Adding another orgasm for being a bad girl.

Pace:

Mf is fast and rough. He loves how fast he’s fucking you to the point the slapping sounds start to increase in volume. Not only that, your moans also get louder. Small bruising starts forming from how hard he’s gripping your waist.

Quickies:

He likes quickies if he’s really horny but most times he likes taking his time with you. He loves to overstimulate you so he definitely is going to take his sweet time taking good care of you.

Risk:

Oh my god this boy is all for it. The risk of getting caught is his adrenaline to continue pounding you harder and harder. The idea of getting caught makes him feel alive and he honestly wouldn’t care if he got caught. The most riskiest thing you guys have done is fucked on a hill, anybody could’ve found you guys but he couldn’t care at all. Poor you, he had you go on for 5 rounds and fingered you. By the time you two were done and got dressed you guys started going down the hill when a family was barely making it up. You were relieved they didn’t arrive sooner but Jeno was low key bummed you guys didn’t get caught. Quickly getting over it once he saw the family had a younger kid with them. Definitely glad they weren’t caught, the kid was too young to be asking questions.

Stamina:

This boy can last for a WHILE. If you two have a place to be and can only do at least two rounds he still has a lot more he needs to release. He might seem completely fine from the outside but once you guys are home there he goes pounding you from behind, tight grip on your hips as he plunged into you until you were begging for him no more.

Toys:

He’s all for toys. He only uses devices to edge you on but once your close to climaxing, he turns it off and replaces it by using himself to fuck you your climax.

Unfair:

He loves teasing so damn much. He loves how desperate you get every time he denies you release. But as soon as you do it to him you better pray he goes easy on you because if not, you two will go all night.

Volume:

He’s a groaner. He loves hearing you scream his name as your 4th orgasm has you close to tears. Anytime he feels overly pleased he’ll bite your neck and suck hickies on them. Gripping your hair when he’s coming. Continuously groaning, filling you up to the brim.

Wildcard: Once he really needed to have you bent over a table to fuck your because of much of a brat you were being. Since the boys were with you at a restaurant, he instead fingered you throughout the entire dinner. Somehow the boys never realized Jeno wasn’t using an arm, well al except Jisung. And when you begged Jeno to retracted his arm, he took you to the bathroom and fucked you in there. Yeah the boys never let that go.

X-ray: I see him to be at least 7 inches, nice girth but isn’t that thick but enough to completely fuck you dumb.

Yearning: HE’S ALWAYS HORNY! Idk how he does it to keep himself cool in front of others but if you’re in arms reach you’re in for a wild ride because he will not get off you until every last drop of energy of him is completely sucked out of him.

Zzz:

He doesn’t sleep right away unless he went literally crazy on you. If it was one of those times where you do kinda had to cut down the rounds he wouldn’t be tired but rather wide awake and ready to go on with the day. But if he has your legs wrapped around him as he fucks you orgasm after orgasm then he most likely will fall on the bed besides you, knock out in seconds.

#nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct jeno #nct jeno imagines #jeno imagines #lee jeno #jeno smut #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jeno scenarios #nct reactions

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mostly-marvel-musings · 3 years ago

Note

Hi, Thor with make up sex prompt

Miss J - Part 1

A/N: We love angry jealous, make-up sex always! Thanks for this request.

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Warnings: 18+ angst.

Word count: 1400+

Requests & Challenges

Thor Odinson Taglist – @raspberrymama @bitchycherryblossomlove @jennie22feona @innerpaperexpertcloud @thorfanficwriter @darklydeliciousdesires @longlostinanotherworld

Everything Taglist – @godofplumsandthunder @ladyacrasia @agustdowney @swaggysposts @littlegasps @suchababie @another-stark-sub @supraveng @kahlanmars @disappointmentofthefam @pandaxnienke @tom-hlover @just-the-hiddles @fyreball66 @asmigurub @avantgardium-leviosa @imerdwarf @gladiosamicitias @fanofalltheficsx @ladyburberry @chickensarentcheap

Tags are open folks!

You couldn’t care less about the formal affair though. All you wished for was to kick those uncomfortably high heels off, pull on your favourite pair of sweats and cry yourself to sleep, like you’d been doing for the past week.

A week of the big green monster of jealousy trapping your rational self in its ugly tentacles. A week of drowning your sorrows in alcohol and ice-cream, wallowing in your misery.

Agent Hill had a small mission lined up for you tomorrow which you thought would be a welcome distraction.

Getting a few good punches in and kicking a few arses would definitely help the pent up anger to fizzle out.

“Allow me to introduce you to the world-renowned astrophysicist, Jane Foster.”

You smiled politely and shook your current live-in boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend’s hand, whom Thor had introduced you to with such pride and delight.

It was supposed to be a quiet dinner date at your favourite place when Jane showed up with Eric Selvig and Darcy, spotting Thor immediately because it was obvious not to, in any given situation. Cordial exchange of pleasantries later, Thor thought it’d be a good idea for them to join you at your table.

You didn’t mind, not at first anyway, somewhere around your second drink of the night, it got difficult to keep up with the conversation. Not being a part of the ‘gang’ felt like high school all over again.

You tried your best not to let it show, even made attempts to join in them reminisce old stories but it was proving rather difficult. There is only so much one can take, so by the time dessert arrived, you had retracted back into your shell. The only person who showed genuine interest in you the entire night was Darcy.

Needless to say, the ride back home was silent. You didn’t see the point in bringing it up with Thor since you knew he wasn’t at fault, not really, he was too kind and seeing his old friends had made him happy. You didn’t wish to spoil his evening, even if it meant your pre-planned date was.

Days turned to weeks as your mind pushed away that incident and chose to focus on other things. Thor knew something was up, but didn’t bring it up, assuming you would be over it.

There wasn’t a mission to keep you busy but an upcoming Stark party you were looking forward to.

An easy evening with your boyfriend and the team with great food was something you needed. Little did you know it would turn into a dinner party from hell.

The Avengers Compound was abuzz with polite chatter, dignitaries and fellow colleagues dressed in their finest, enjoyed an elegant evening of expensive aperitifs and exquisite hors d'oeuvres.

You arrived alone after Thor mentioned he had to pick something up for the party and had left the house early. That ‘something’ was actually a someone you were hoping to never run into.

Jane Foster.

A pleasant conversation you were engaged in with Steve was cut short when they arrived, standing too close to each other before she took his arm and walked in.

“Are you okay, (Y/N)?”

Steve frowned, following your gaze until he understood the cause of your reaction.

“What does it look like?”

He raised his hands up before taking your empty champagne flute and going over to the bar for a refill while you took a few deep breaths to keep calm and regain your composure.

“There you are, my love.”

Thor’s warm greeting failed to warm your heart as the man wrapped his arm around your waist and pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Here I am.”

You managed a small smile, eyes flitting between the two of them as if waiting for them to make some announcement.

“I thought you’d gone to pick up that bottle of scotch we wanted to give Tony.”

“I was going to, but then Jane suggested we try this different one and I think Stark will appreciate this more.”

Thor showed you the bottle they had purchased but you didn’t give it a glance, you were busy glaring at the man who’d preferred her choice over yours.

“Oh (Y/N), Jane is being considered for a Nobel prize in astrophysics for her study of the Convergence.”

Thor beamed down at the woman before meeting your glare that quickly got replaced with a faux grin.

“Congratulations.”

“Thank you (Y/N).” Jane smiled at you kindly.

“If she wins, which I’m certain she will, I have offered to accompany her in Sweden to receive the award.”

“Oh.”

“O-only if you’re okay with it.” Jane interrupted, quickly catching on your reaction to his statement.

“Why won’t I be okay? Looks like Thor’s decided everything by himself. Excuse me.”

You hurried to get away as fast as you could, not really sure where you were going, leaving Thor frowning after you and an exasperated Steve Rogers holding your drink in his hand.

The bathroom seemed like a good idea to collect yourself or let a few angry tears escape, you chose to do both.

Thor was standing right outside the door when you stepped out, arms crossed over his velvet-blazer clad chest.

“That was rude.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“You march in here with your ex hanging on your arm, buy a gift of her choice and then tell me you’re planning a fucking holiday trip with her!” You snapped, not bothered about causing a scene at the party.

“Don’t raise your voice here.” Thor warned but you were too pissed off to even listen.

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do! This was supposed to be a nice evening with the team, you and I were supposed to spend time together but I see you clearly prefer her company over mine.”

“There is no reason for you to be this angry, my love.”

“Maybe you’re too blinded by Miss Brains over there to notice. Have a good evening.”

You glared at the man one last time before storming out, more angry tears spilling from your eyes and blurring your vision as you walked out.

Back at your place, you had showered and changed into your sleepwear, all while glancing at the wall clock every now and then, waiting for Thor to get home and apologise.

Leaving you alone with your obsessive thoughts was never a good idea, Thor knew this. You’d always assume the worst and get self-critical.

You were making some chamomile tea to calm yourself before bed when Thor knocked on the open front door before stepping in.

He found you in the kitchen, hunched over the counter with your back facing him. He could tell you had been crying, your choice of pyjamas was always the same when you were upset, a loose-fitting T-shirt that once belonged to him and your comfy shorts.

“What? You didn’t drop Jane home?”

Thor was expecting you to be this upset, he didn’t see anything wrong with the decision before Steve pulled him aside and opened his eyes.

“Look (Y/N)—”

“Do you not want to be with me Thor?”

Your voice cracked in the end as you spoke, still not facing him.

“Why would you even think that, my love?”

“Oh I don’t know. When you walk hand-in-hand with your ex at a party meant just for the teammates, when you spend an entire evening laughing and chatting with her and her friends on what was supposed to be our date night? When you decide to go to Sweden with her to celebrate her achievements?”

Thor stared at his feet before cautiously walking closer to you.

“I realised I was wrong, if you’ll forgive me—”

“Maybe you should get back with her.”

Your statement made him stop in his tracks, his heart shattering as you finally turned around to face him.

“What?”

“Clearly you prefer her over me. Who am I next to the great Jane Foster? I don’t get nominated for Nobel Prizes, I don’t have all those fancy degrees..”

You said bitterly, crossing your arms over your chest while Thor remained silent.

“I realise I’ve upset you, my l—”

“I think you should leave.”

You murmured, turning your back to him once more.

“Please don’t do this.” He begged.

“You should go with her, Thor. I think we have a lot to think about when you get back.”

We need these two to fall in love again. Help!

#thor odinson x reader #thor odinson angst #thor odinson one shot #thor odinson imagine #thor x you #thor odinson fanfiction #thor fanfiction #thor angst

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stressisakiller · 4 years ago

Text

As You Wish

Steve Rogers x Reader Soulmate AU

(As you wish Part 2)

Summary: What happens when after moving into Stark Tower you run into a certain Captain

Warnings: None really, fluff, like one cussword a little bit of spice

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Fluffy chapter yay! Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future chapters! Thank yall for reading!’

<< Previous Next >>

Life working side by side with Tony was dangerous. When Killian attacked Tony it was you not Pepper who was taken and subjected to the Extremis serum. This caused you to heal crazy fast and gave you super strength, which was pretty cool but not very useful for someone who spent most of their time in a robotics lab trying not to crush something when it wasn't working.

You later discovered that Killian mistakenly believed that you were in fact Tony's soulmate, while you had always thought that it was Pepper. She quickly refuted your claim when you told her, pulling the back of her jeans down enough to show the smiley face that graced her butt cheek. Turns out that her soulmate was none other than Happy the head of security.

About six months after the battle of new york, after Tony and the whole Killian/Mandarin situation, Tony asked very nicely if you would move into the Avengers tower with him. He needed to get the Avengers tower going, and after everything that happened and his panic attacks, he really didn't want to live there alone. He was also hoping that if you lived in the tower that the avengers would be more willing to as well. By this point you had met and become friends with most of them save for Captain America, he hasn’t been around much. He was trying to find his place in this new world and taking as many missions as Shield will give him in order to feel needed

The tower was much different this time than the last time you had been there. There was less plastic film and dust everywhere and all of the construction work was done. Most notably, the wall on Stark's living room floor was no longer a gaping hole.

The top eight levels of the tower were for the avengers. The penthouse was where Tony stayed, no surprise there. The level directly below was his lab space which was restricted access for the most part and then there was the common level under that. The common level was composed of a large kitchen and dining area, as well as a massive living room with the biggest tv you had ever seen. This floor also houses a theater, and an arcade room equipped with pool tables and any other game you could think of. Tony is such a child sometimes, not that you were complaining you loved to play pool. The next three floors are where you and the rest of the Avengers would live. You would each get your own suite that you could arrange and decorate however you saw fit. Each suite includes a kitchenette, and small living room that was separate from the bedroom, and a massive ensuite bath. The lowest two levels were dedicated to the training room and medical ward, as well as a giant pool and sauna area, these floors allowed for outside access as long as they were vetted.

Six months later, life in the tower was going well. You, Tony and Bruce, were the main people living there. You could understand that though, Nat and Clint were constantly out on missions for shield and mainly stayed on base in DC. Tony told you that Steve was currently living in an apartment in DC. He didn't want to live on base but he was running missions for Shield on and off. Thor was off-world with Loki so life was pretty quiet.

Then there was a mission that the Captain went on that didn’t go the way he thought. He was wounded and brought back a captive. You were in the common area when the door was thrown open and a bloody Steve Rogers burst through carrying a soaking wet girl over his shoulder.

“The Medical wing, where is it?” He questioned voice hard from pain or fatigue or both.

“This way.” you hurried off, not looking behind you, you knew that he would follow.

When you arrived, you called for Dr. Cho and Steve told her what was going on and placed the girl on a stretcher. The nurses pushed her to a room to monitor her until she woke up. He was then shown to a separate room to be looked over and have the bullet removed.

That night Tony pulled you into the living room to watch your favorite movie, the princess bride. It was about halfway through when an exhausted Steve came through the door and flopped down on the couch beside the one that you and Tony were currently lounging on. It was coming to your favorite part, Buttercup was currently yelling at the Dread Pirate Roberts and about to push him down the hill.

“Oooh,” you said hitting Tony’s shoulder, “I love this part,” you spoke along with Wesley as he rolled down the hill, “As you Wiiiisssshhhh.” you clapped your hands together, “that will forever be the best reveal ever.”

You didn’t notice Steve’s stare as you said those words. Holy Shit he thought his tattoo finally made sense, and yet the girl that fate said was perfect for him had her legs thrown over Tony’s lap and was leaning against him while watching the movie. He stood quickly and stomped out of the room, today was just not his day.

You look over at Tony confused when Steve left.

“What the hell do you think that was about?” you asked, growing more confused as you noticed the smirk on Tony’s lips.

“Why are you smiling like that?” You had to stop yourself from slapping him when he started to laugh.

“What the hell, Stark, tell me what's going on?”

“I think that Capsicle just realized that you're his soulmate.” He said through chuckles.

“What the fuck do you mean he realized that I’m his soulmate?” you asked your whole body going still as you waited for him to elaborate.

“I thought you had realized this earlier,” he said looked genuinely confused, “The captain is your soulmate, I’ve known since we had that movie night after finding him in the ice. Your tattoo is his dog tags with the flower of his birth month and a phrase that I’ve heard him say multiple times while next to him in a fight.”

You just sat there frozen trying to comprehend what exactly the man sitting in front of you was saying.

“You know, he may be a little jealous that his soulmate was cuddling someone else since he probably doesn’t realize that you're like a sister to me. You should probably go after him.” His words seemed to break you from your trance as you threw yourself very clumsily from the couch to follow after him.

“Jarvis, where did Rogers go?”

“He is in the training room miss.”

“Thanks, J”

You ran all the way down, opening the door you were met by the scene of Steve hitting a punching bag so hard that it broke and flew off of its chain.

“You know, I’m not sure that those are made to withstand the punch of a super soldier, maybe I should design one that can,” you said leaning against the wall and trying not to show the fact that your heart was beating a million miles a minute.

“And why would you feel the need to do that, I’m sure Stark has plenty of things that he needs you to design that are more important than a Steve-proof punching bag.” You could tell that he was gritting his teeth as he spoke, reaching for another bag. You step towards him slowly, making sure not to walk too quickly from fear of him leaving.

“Well I’m sure that the great Tony Stark can take care of himself, and anyways, I think creating something to make my soulmate's life easier is more important.”

He slowly pulled his eyes from the punching bag that he was hanging onto the hook to look at you, pain obvious in his eyes.

“Really? Cause you seemed pretty comfortable with him.” you could see the vulnerability in his eyes as he spoke, he had gone through so much already.

“Yes really, Tony is more like an annoying older brother than anything. I’ve been working around him for the past five or so years, trust me when I say that I have no desire to date him. You on the other hand.” You made sure that your voice turned teasing on the last words, you wanted to make him smile, you hadn’t gotten to see that yet.

“Well good, cause I think I may have to kick his ass if you did.” You could hear the teasing lilt in his voice and the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. But as quickly as it came it was gone.

“How long have you known?” his voice cracked a little as he spoke. You let out a small huff of a laugh.

“Would you believe me if I told you that Tony had to tell me when I was confused as to why you left the room?” His eyes snapped to yours.

“Really? You didn’t know?”

“After not meeting my soulmate by the time I turned 25 I just pushed it to the back of my mind, I stopped trying to figure out what my tattoo meant and I focused on my work. Plus there were a couple of life-threatening instances that distracted me." You joked. You weren't 100% sure how to handle this situation, your main friend group consisted of a playboy philanthropist and a science nerd that turned into a giant green guy when angry, not really the best people to show you how to be vulnerable.

“I understand that," he said pausing before continuing, "part of my problem was that my tattoo didn’t show up until after I came out of the ice.” he looked down at his hands and you noticed that they were fidgeting, he must be just as nervous as you.

“I didn’t know that,” you murmured, deciding to ask the question that was begging to be asked.

“What is your tattoo, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He shook his head, “Not at all.” he stepped towards you and pulled up his sleeve, and turned out his arm so you could see the flesh just under his armpit. As soon as you saw the tattoo you burst out laughing.

“Of course that’s what my mark is, man I’m such a nerd.” You clutched your stomach as you laughed, tears coming to your eyes from the range of emotions that you are currently going through.

“Can I ask why I have this tattooed on me?” He questioned, clearly curious to the reasoning as to why he had a movie quote on his arm forever. You were finally able to pull yourself together and sober up from the surprise of his tattoo.

“That movie came out the year after I was born and it was my mom’s favorite movie to watch with me, we watched it at least 4 times a year. But we always made sure to watch it on my birthday as a family, it became an integral part of my life, plus it’s just sooo quotable.” you said with a smile, “Do you want to look at my tattoo?” you asked motioning at your arm with your head. He slowly nodded, not able to find the words.

You slowly pulled your sleeve up, showing him the inside of your forearm and the dog tags that graced your skin. He stepped forward gently taking your arm in his hand so that he could study the markings on your skin. Tracing the outline and the words that he could see before smiling.

“What does it mean?” you asked softly looking at him through your lashes.

“It’s um,” he cleared his throat, “it’s my dog tags or at least the lower one is, it says my name, then Captain America and the city I was born in, Brooklyn. The top one however is something that I always seem to say when I’m getting beat up in a fight in order to remind myself that I could do it. And the flower… I think it’s the flower from my birth month? I was born in July so I think it’s a reference to that.” You nodded at his explanation, his fingers still gently tracing over your skin, causing goosebumps to pop up from the feeling.

“So, would you like to watch the movie with me? We can start it over so that you won’t be lost. I know that you struggle with pop culture, old man.” You smirked at him as you spoke, he just rolled his eyes.

“Be careful, this old man could still show you a thing or two.”

You laughed out loud at that, your laugh changed to a squeal when you felt him wrap his arms around your legs and throw you over his shoulder.

“Ahh, let me down!!” you beat at his shoulders trying to get him to release you but he wouldn’t budge, he just continued to carry you until you ended back in the living room and he threw you down onto the couch. He wasn’t even breathing hard after carrying you up 2 flights of stairs, jerk.

Tony was nowhere to been seen as you restarted the movie. You ran and grabbed some more popcorn to share, pouring in some M&Ms before plopping back down next to Steve and pulling on your couch blanket. It didn't take long for you to cuddle into his side and for your eyes to droop.

Steve smiled at you when he realized that you had passed out before you even got to the part he had walked in on earlier. He didn't mind though, he just got comfortable and pulled you in closer before allowing himself to relax and fall asleep.

Tagged Users: @writerwrites

#steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #soulmate #soulmate au #soulmate tattoo #captain america imagine #captain america #captain america x reader

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beneathstarryskies · 4 years ago

Note

Izuna anon here(aka Uchiha anon). Those last headcanons were 🔥🔥🔥🔥 you are an amazing writer! I was just wondering if you'd indulge me and write Izuna Uchiha NSFW alphabet? 🔥 thank you

Thank you so much for the request!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Izuna is a little bit clueless about what aftercare even is. He knows he shouldn’t just pull out then immediately roll over and go to sleep. So, he just kind of wings it most of the time. He’ll bring you a glass of water and offer to cook you something if you’re hungry. He will discover he really enjoys cuddling and pillow talk. It’s so nice to have you pulled against his chest while you both babble nonsense.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Izuna takes great pride in his eyes. His visual prowess is very strong, and makes him a formidable opponent. They also allow him to commit key moments with you to his memory, so in a way he’s always carrying you with him when has to leave.

Izuna is weak for a nice, kind smile. Even more so, he loves a nice laugh. The kind where your eyes close and your cheeks get tinged pink with delight. He’d do anything to make you laugh.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefers to cum inside of you, if you’re comfortable with that. It’s not just because all Uchiha have a breeding kink (I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL) but he also just enjoys the intimacy of being close to you. You hold him so close, and he loves to kiss you harshly when he’s cumming. Cumming in your mouth is a pretty close second because he just loves having you on your knees so eager to please him.

Izuna will make you cum so much. Sometimes he can overstimulate you without even meaning to. He just loves getting you off and hearing you beg for him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Izuna has definitely used his Sharingan to memorize how you look riding his cock, and always uses the image to get himself off when he’s jerking off.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s pretty experienced. Izuna is very charming and handsome, so it was never exactly difficult for him to have flings whenever he wanted. He knows how to please you with ease, and he takes direction very well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Izuna is very fond of positions where you’re on top of him, because it’s such a good view. He could watch you ride his cock for hours. Your tits bouncing in his face and your face contorted in pleasure is a wonderful sight for his eyes. He’s never lazy with it though. He’ll often be holding onto your hips and slamming into you.

His second favorite position is easily 69. It’s the best balance in his opinion of giving and taking. He’s so good with his mouth, you’ll cum all over his face. Izuna will always be eager to lick you clean.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Izuna tends to be pretty playful during sex. His life is filled with violence and extremely tense situations. Sex is his escape from all that. In those stolen moments with you, he feels so free and light he won’t be able to resist making a dirty joke here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has a thin line of dark hair leading into his pants. He keeps his dark pubic hair well groomed for you, but when he’s been gone to battle for a long time it gets a bit out of hand. Of course, he’ll clean up for you as soon as possible if you want him to.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Izuna tends to be more playful and lighthearted, never getting too serious. Sometimes though, he needs to feel comforted. He’ll hold you close to him and press soft kisses to you as he slowly rocks his hips against you. He’ll whisper how much he needs you, and he’ll be quietly pleading although you’re not always sure what he’s begging for.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Izuna masturbates pretty often, especially if he’s away from you for a while. It’s a very good way to relieve stress.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink, blindfolds and bondage, lingerie, and definitely a praise kink. Cockwarming is a big thing for him too, especially when he’s feeling particularly needy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His own bed is his favorite place, because it’s like you’re in your own little world together. However, he does enjoy the excitement of the occasional semi-public rendezvous.

Also, he’s definitely fucked you in Madara’s room when his older brother was getting on his nerves. It’s like his own little private revenge. Madara is very intuitive and knows something he doesn’t like happened in his bed, but he’s not able to put a finger on it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much to get Izuna going. Usually if you just put your hand on his thigh, and he sees that suggestive smirk on your face he’s ready to go. More innocently, if you praise him while watching him train or fight he’s ready to take you right then and there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Izuna really wouldn’t want to do anything involving violence. He doesn’t want to hurt you in any way. He’d also not be into sharing you with anyone.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Izuna already is good with his mouth, and he’s excellent at taking direction. He will eat you out very eagerly, and is naturally a giver. He wants you to cum over and over.

Oh, he is a total mess when you go down on him. He’ll have his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you to take him deeper. He won’t be able to stop himself from thrusting his hips. If you pull away with a stern look and tell him he has to be good for you, he will be putty in your hands.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually he’s a bit fast and rough. He’s very eager to fuck you, and he lasts a while so he doesn’t have to pace himself to make it last longer. In his mind he’s always kind of competing with himself to see how many times he can make you cum before he cums as well.

There are times when he just wants to feel close to you. He’s been known to spend hours with his cock buried in you while holding you against him, kissing you all over your face. Then when he does finally fuck you, it’s just so slow and desperate.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Izuna likes quickies a lot, because he has a pretty high sex drive. He’ll engage in them pretty often if you’re down.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

It really depends on the risk.

You getting hurt or feeling uncomfortable? Absolutely not.

Both of you potentially discovering something fun? Absolutely.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Izuna lasts a while, really he can edge himself as long as he wants. He can also usually go for at least 2 or 3 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Izuna doesn’t own anything besides some silk scarves he uses as blindfolds and restraints. He is always down to try new things, and he would really enjoy it if you used toys on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Izuna loves teasing so much, but he doesn’t keep it up very long. When you begin begging him softly to fuck you, he just can’t resist you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Izuna isn’t very loud. He likes to talk a bit during sex, usually making a crude joke or saying something extremely naughty. He’s the loudest right when he’s cumming, because he always without fail will grunt and then cry out, “Oh fuck.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Izuna has definitely bragged to Madara about his sexual conquests. In his mind it’s the one area where he has surpassed his older brother, and he can’t help but gloat.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Izuna is long, about 11 inches. He’s a bit above average in girth, enough to be a slight stretch. His cock has a wonderful curve to it, that helps him hit all the right spots inside of you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Izuna has a very high sex drive. He would just fuck you all the time if the world wasn’t so fucked up and constantly calling him away from you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He tries not to fall asleep before you, but sometimes he fails. He wears himself out with sex.

#izuna uchiha x reader #izuna uchiha x you #izuna uchiha #headcanons #lovely anon #ask and you shall recieve

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z-1-wolfe · 3 years ago

Text

Parhelion Headcanons (sir this is all for you) @greenbeany

Putting 'em under the cut because they got very long O.O

I- the gnome is Neon I take no criticism. They are often good-natured souls with a more mischievous side, and if that doesn’t describe Neon I’m not sure what does. Playful, funny, good intentions, that my good Bean is our lovable cat personified. Okay Parhelion dnd au with gnome Neon please /j.

I AM SMACKING THE GUN OUT OF YOUR HANDS [runs into a glass wall] dammit,, guess I gotta talk now

I- oh no,, time to fail the exam I guess (turns all your head canons upside down)

Okay they do sleep yes they do. Actually that’s a lie only Ciel sleeps, the other two are insomniacs. Ciel has all of her day to day life planned out to the minute, so she heads to bed at a certain time and wakes up at a certain time, the other two are more of a “we’ll sleep when we’re tired” kinda duo. Unfortunately due to Ilia’s night terrors and Neon’s ADHD they almost never rest. No they do not sleep in a SANE bed, ha why would they have a bed? They sleep in a hammock all tangled up with each other. It’s hard to tell what order they sleep in when they kinda curl into each other. They do not use a duvet, why have a duvet when Neon is a space heater? There are no pillows on the hammock X). OKAY THEIR ROOM, THIS I GOT, it’s a funky mess that is somehow organized thanks to Ciel. Ilia doesn’t own a lot in general but it was her life’s dream to paint her bedroom rainbow so guess what they have now. The other two are too soft and they supported her efforts and they love her despite her poor design sense XD.

I- why closet ASDFG I mean— No they do not share a closet they all have completely different fashion sense and if that was all in one place people would be genuinely terrified. But since they’re broke they had to make do with one walk in closet that they partitioned off into sections. YES THEY DO HAVE MATCHING OUTFITS THEY ARE SO CUTE LIKE THAT. They tend to be like those cute couple outfits with a few variations to match their own personal style. But their favorite matching outfit are these duck hoodies they own courtesy of once again Ilia living out her childhood dreams. No they don’t own many outfits because like I mentioned earlier they are broke x). Hmm thinking about each other’s styles… Ilia think both of her girlfriends have great taste, she loves the well, neon of Neon, and the prim and properness of Ciel. Neon just doesn’t care XD. And Ciel is just, she’s just standing there wishing she could help their fashion sense, but she holds back because “It does suit them in an odd way.” Ciel gets the most compliments on her style hands down, she looks organized and you can bet she saves money to buy outfits that actually accentuate her cuteness. They don’t wear makeup no time for that (in which you learn Z has little to no knowledge in how to apply makeup and doesn’t know how to answer that question)

OH OKAY I LOVE VIDDY GAMES. Ciel likes real-time strategy games because she’s insane and that’s literally all she knows in life thanks to being raised in an upper class family in Atlas. Neon likes open world games, something something she likes the chance for adventure and determining one’s fate for themself. Ilia has never once played a video game until after she defected from the White Fang but I can see her playing something light like Stardew Valley, low stakes kinda games. Hmm, they might play Animal Crossing together? Since it has aspects they all enjoy. They each have an individual switch (Ilia has a coral switch lite) and one shared PC. Okay game with most hours, maybe Minecraft? They still haven’t beat the enderdragon because Neon keeps getting distracted XD. Neon is the bomb at party games though, you can bet she has a perfect score on all the songs in Just Dance. Ciel is a sharpshooter, god knows who taught her how to shoot like that. The biggest splatoon fan is unfortunately not Neon it is Ilia, she loves all the colors in the game ^^. But she and Neon have wracked up quite a few hours in co-op.

Uhhh books!! Ilia likes fanfics :) it’s unfortunately one of the only ways for her to see positive representation of herself. Neon for some reason reads Epics?? Like her favorite is the Epic of Gilgamesh what is up with that?? Ciel reads webtoons :), she reads enough serious stuff for school work and such, she likes to just kick back and relax after all that. Yes they have schedules reading time courtesy of Ciel :). Uhh, they relax by baking together. None of them had many chances to indulge in sweets while growing up so they make full use of their time now. ?? SPOON?? Cuddle hours happen on a whim, the one thing that Ciel can never schedule because she never knows when it’ll occur. They relax the most in the kitchen x) because that’s where they bake, it’s not unusual to find Neon asleep on the counter while she waits for their sweets to rise. They read in the light, Neon is afraid that by reading in the dark that they’ll all ruin their eyesight. Ciel likes the sunrise because she’s up the earliest and is the only one to see it, the other two prefer sunset because that’s usually when their day is about to begin XD.

Favorite spot for dates! The park ^^, they like to go on picnic dates with all their baked goods. There is no plan, usually one of them will randomly pull the other two out of the house because they haven’t touched grass in a while XD. There are no ideas, they share one braincell and they spend too much time doting on each other to use it. Uhm favorite movie genre,,, they like comedy movies :). Their favorite place to eat is this tiny store on the corner of their street that makes mean gyros, they heccin’ love them. Coping with horror, Ilia is desensitized to horror because of the things she’s seen in life, Neon treats it like a game because she knows it’s not real, Ciel, is okay with it, but she gets shook more easily than the other two and they often have to reassure her. No they do not like theme parks, there are too many people around for Ilia and Ciel and Neon respects their boundaries so they tend to go to more quiet places. Uhm heights, Ciel is used to heights because she’s friends with Penny and woah can that girl toss her in the air like she’s a couple of grapes. Ilia doesn’t mind heights but she would prefer to have her feet on the ground. Neon loves the ground so damn much if it leaves her she will cry because man she can’t roller-skate in the air can she, what will she do if the ground is suddenly gone? They like evening dates because it’s normally the only time all three of them are awake enough for it XD. They end a night by sleeping I am not quite sure if there are other ways to end it lmao. They absolutely despise Neon’s roller skating dates but they love how excited she gets about them so they end up becoming as good as professional roller skaters because the smile on Neon’s face when they join her is dazzling.

I am slowly going insane. Yes each girl has a hobby I sure hope they do. Ilia knits, Ciel paints, and Neon writes. I would like to imagine that Ciel would try to schedule time for their hobbies she ends up giving up because all their sleep schedules are wack. Designated chef is Neon (probably made food for FNKI back in atlas), designated driver is Ilia (I mean I like to imagine she stole cars and stuff in the White Fang XD), designated decorator for stuff is normally Ciel though Neon does try to hijack a few of her plans occasionally, designated shopper is Ciel because the other two have no concept of Saving money, and they all work together to clean :). They don’t work together, they believe in keeping their work life and home life separate to prevent their feelings from getting in the way. They do not have pets, none of them have the energy or responsibility to do that, but Ilia did once bring a moose home one day for some reason.

I am nomming on your arm sir. Ilia and Neon get along with Penny surprisingly well, though I do think Ilia would get along with Weiss better? Ruby and Weiss look at Ciel and see a beacon arc Weiss and more or less adopt her despite Ciel being older than the two of them. They might like.. play board games together? Like some of those more team based board games I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, may the best polycule win. I cannot see them in a cuddle puddle to be honest ajcnjsanjs I am so sorry— hmm Ruby and Neon do not know the meaning of formal, as far as they are concerned these are their girlfriend’s friends and that means that by extension these are their friends. Weiss would like nothing to do with Neon after Neon insults Yang during the Vytal festival but she begrudgingly goes on outings with her and hey, now they’re make up buddies for some reason. The parhelion gals take the fs gals to the gyro place they like :). Parhelion gang Is a lot more vocal on their dates because their love language happens to be words of affirmation while the fs gang’s happen to be physical touch. Both polycules are very very affectionate though I will die on this hill.

DARN IT TUMBLR ONLY LETS ME HAVE 10 IMAGES PER POST THIS IS FINE IT WAS JUST ONE MORE PROMPT DARN IT

(Parhelion angst! How do Neon and Ciel react to the news about the dust mine? How do they find out about Ilia getting expelled? Do they find out about the white fang? Is there any faunus stigma afterwards? How does Ciel react to people bullying her Faunus GFS? Does Neon talk to Ciel much after? Do they ever reunite? Does Neon attempt to help Ciel while she grieves Penny? Where the fuck is Ciel now? Is Neon still alive? Does Ilia ever think about them? Does Blake know about them from Ilia?)

BUDDY I CAME TO THE LAST ASK AND NOW ONLY DID I REALIZE YOU MEANT PARHELION BACK WHEN THEY WHERE IN BEACON THIS WHOLE TIME I’M CRYING. (This ask is answered under the assumption that they are already dating back in Atlas Academy) Ciel is fiercely protective of her girlfriends, though people only know that Neon is a Faunus because Ilia masks her traits during her time at the academy. Neon and Ciel are horrified about the news about the dust mines. They know that Ilia is a Faunus and that her parents were working there so they rush to see her as soon as possible. But they’re too late,,, Ilia’s already been expelled for attacking her fellow students. They don’t hear from Ilia for a few years after that and the two slowly drift apart, each blaming the other for not getting to Ilia soon enough. They don’t find out about the White Fang until they reunite with Ilia unfortunately, but they feel sad that Ilia had felt that they only way for her to get revenge for her parents was by joining a militant group (I’m working under the assumption that Sienna only took control of the White Fang shortly before Ilia joined). When Neon learns that Penny didn’t make it after the Fall of Beacon she hesitantly reaches out to Ciel for the first time in a year, and she does try to help. But for Ciel it’s blow after heccin’ blow and she pushes Neon away in a rage. Ciel leaves the Academy after that and goes rogue, working as a huntsman without a license for the poorer parts of remnant. Ilia is unaware of all this drama during the Beacon arc. The next time she hears of any news is during the Fall of Atlas, and she’s scared, scared because she’s still recovering and she just heard Ruby announce to the world that Remnant is under attack, and oh my gosh her ex girlfriends live in Atlas. Neon makes it out alive, though not entirely in one piece, she now has a prosthetic leg. Ilia is the first person to see her, it’s a tearful reunion and they haven’t fully made up yet, but hey it’s a work in progress, now they just have to find out where Ciel is, but when they do they’ll BOTH be there to greet her. Blake has no idea who the fuck Ciel and Neon are lmao, Ilia never told her anything about her past romances when she was in the White Fang.

Oh gosh I think that's it-- And that is it thank you for listening to me ramble about Parhelion you get a juice box for making it this far. Sir I am sincerely sorry for turning your ship upside down please forgive me.

#parhelion #ilia amitola #ciel soleil #neon katt #I have been typing for an eternity n' a half...#I swear I have essays for school that are a fraction of this post #2172 words of pure headcanon you are welcome sir #I hope you'll enjoy it when ya wake up sjancjkack #[runs]#zenta writes

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hiscyarika · 4 years ago

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Landslide: Chapter Three

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: Reader revisits the life that she and Javier once shared together. Javier seeks to escape his father’s haunting words.

Warning(s): Angst, Alcohol Use/Drunkenness

A/N: So it’s only been three days since I posted Ch2, but here you go anyways. I put my heart and soul into this chapter, and I just hope that you guys are really able to connect with it and feel something when you read it. It’s a lot of angst, but this is a really important chapter, and a bit of a turning point for Javier and Reader. Thank you all so, so much for the lovely responses that I have gotten for this series. It really means the world to me. I reread the comments all the time because I just can’t believe that you all are enjoying this so much. So from the bottom of my heart, thank you 💙 And a special thank you to both @aerynwrites and @bestintheparsec for reading this chapter over before I published it. The amount of stupid mistakes you guys caught for me is astounding. Thank heavens I’ve got you or this would be some serious clownery 😂❤️ I love you both endlessly!

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Chapter One, Chapter Two

(Gif by @pascvl, originally from this post) Please let me know if you’d rather me not use the gif. I’ll remove it immediately! No questions asked.

You shake your head as your mother brings over another box of old junk to sort through. “Mom, promise me you’ll never hoard things like this again,” you tease, chuckling softly and rolling your eyes. You then take a seat next to her on the floor of the attic, ready to help her sort through the items.

“Now you just listen,” she starts, “Some of this stuff can make us a few bucks in the community yard sale.”

“You’re gonna need your own entire estate sale to get rid of all this,” you reply, pulling out the heavy case at the top of the box. It immediately catches your eye, and you laugh as you realize what it is. “I think everything in here is mine,” you tell her, beginning to unzip the aged leather case.

Your mother searches the surface of the cardboard box, looking up at you again when she finds what she’s looking for. “Ah, yes!,” she confirms, “This is some of the stuff we boxed up after you left for San Antonio, when you were working as a secretary for that law firm.”

You open the case, smiling when you see the old typewriter it holds. Dust covers every inch of the little machine, and you giggle softly as you press down on a few of the keys, causing the strikers to shoot up, though there’s no paper for them to mark. “I remember when I got this. It was the first one I had for myself. Dad was so happy I wasn’t using his all the time.” You zip up the case and set it aside. The task of cleaning things out for the yard sale has been forgotten.

“Oh, yes. He would gripe at me all the time, telling me you needed to quit using all of his paper and ink,” your mother tells you, laughing right along with you. She reaches into the box next, pulling out a rather large photo album. She puts it on the floor between you, and you feel a light blush come to your cheeks as she starts to go through all of the pictures she has from your childhood. You remember well that she always had her camera out. She never wanted to miss the opportunity to capture a memory, no matter how silly it might have seemed in the moment.

The two of you go on that way for some time, flipping through the pages of the album. You listen to her as she tells you the stories behind many of the pictures, from times that you were too young to remember. It’s nice, being able to indulge in more lighthearted nostalgia–certainly a welcome change from the more painful memories that you’ve been forced to relive in the last couple of weeks.

Once you’ve gone through the photo album, you continue to pull random things from the box. More long-forgotten trinkets from your teen and college years. It’s nearly an hour later that you make it to the bottom, where you find one last treasure. It’s a shoebox, though as you lift it, you’re not sure what it contains. It’s only when you bring it closer to you that you can read the words on the lid.

Javier - Mi Corazón

You stare at those three words for what feels like a lifetime. They’re written in your elegant handwriting with a thick black marker. You lightly trace the flourished “J” of his name with your finger. You remember the day you put it all together, and you know already a bit of what you’ll find when you open the box.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and at your silence your mother leans closer. She frowns when she too reads what’s on the box. “Give that here, love. I’ll put it away. I’m sorry. I forgot I packed it away in here with everything else,” she says quickly, her tone soft and sorrowful. But you only tighten your hold on the box as she tries to take it from you.

“No,” you tell her, “I want to look at it.” Logically, you know that you’ll only cause yourself more pain by looking through the memories of what your life used to look like with Javier, but you can’t stop yourself. You’ve spent ten years keeping any memory of him locked away. And now that he’s back, there’s nothing you can do to stop the flood as that once young, hopeful life comes rushing back to you.

“Well,” your mother sighs softly, “if you’re sure.” You can tell that she doesn’t like the idea. Since the day Javier left, she and your father have been a little more detached than you ever were. They’ve never blamed the Peñas or sought to shame them. But where you’ve only grown closer to the family, your parents have drifted apart.

You nod. “I am,” you murmur.

—

The shoebox feels much heavier than it truly is as you step into your apartment with it. After dropping your keys on the coffee table in the living room, you go straight back to your bedroom. You close the door behind you, though you know that there won’t be anyone to walk in on you as you willingly subject yourself to more pain.

You gingerly place the box on your desk, staring at it for a few moments as you second guess yourself. It would be so much easier to tuck it somewhere deep into your closet where you won’t find it again, not unless you really want to. You could bury those memories, ones that should be sweet but have been soured by time and circumstance. You could bury your love. You could bury the painful reminders of the man you would have followed to the ends of the earth.

You sit down in the chair and make your choice.

You open the box.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as you look inside, and immediately you feel your chest swell with an emotion that sits somewhere between nostalgia and regret. You can’t place it exactly. Taking a deep breath, you gently lift the first thing from the box. Dried petals crinkle between your fingers as you hold up your corsage from senior prom.

Your mother laughs softly as she walks over to you and Javier. He’s tried his best, but he just can’t get the ribbon tied around your wrist the right way. You giggle as your mother gently takes over, though as she ties the ribbon, your eyes never stray from Javi’s. You can see a light blush creeping up his neck, and you shake your head minutely. “It’s alright,” you mouth to him.

When your mother finally steps away, Javi takes your hand again, pulling you closer to him so that more pictures can be taken. You both hate the fussing, but know that it’s better to just endure it for the sake of your parents. Your mothers, especially, are excited to see the two of you off to the dance.

“Alright. Alright. That’s enough pestering the two of them. Let them go and enjoy their night,” Chucho finally says, and you let out a soft laugh. You can always trust him to come to the rescue.

“Thanks, Pops,” you say. Javier releases you then, giving you a moment to say a quick goodbye to your parents. Once you’ve given your mother a hug and your father a quick kiss on the cheek, you wave to Javi’s parents, then take his hand again. He leads you over to his father’s truck, which he’d so graciously agreed to let you borrow for the night.

Javi walks over to the passenger side with you, helping you up into the cab and making sure that your dress doesn’t get caught as the door is shut. He joins you inside of the truck shortly after, and you move a little closer to him on the bench seat.

“Sorry I couldn’t get the stupid corsage on,” he says, chuckling softly at himself. He lifts your arm, looking at the ribbon that your mother tied and shaking his head. After a moment though, his eyes meet yours again, his gaze soft. Without breaking eye contact, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You look beautiful tonight, querida,” he murmurs shyly.

You smile softly at him, reaching out to straighten his bow tie. “You’re looking pretty dashing yourself, Javi,” you reply.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m glad you think so. I think this looks ridiculous. There’s a reason I don’t dress like this unless I have to,” he says, though he’s grinning as he speaks.

You press a quick kiss to his lips. “It’s just one night,” you tell him, “Now let’s go before we’re late.”

You let out a soft breath as you think about the rest of that night. The two of you hadn’t spent very long at the dance at all, opting instead to jump back into Chucho’s truck and drive somewhere more quiet. Rather than trying to enjoy yourselves in a dark, sweaty gymnasium filled with your classmates, Javier had driven to the top of a hill not far outside of town. With a perfect view of the softly illuminated town below you, the two of you slow danced for hours to one of the cassette tapes you’d found in the glovebox.

With a mirthless laugh, you wonder if the cassette tape is still there.

Setting the corsage aside, you look back into the box, pulling out a stolen menu from the diner just a couple of blocks from your childhood home. It was a place that you and Javier had frequented, especially during the late hours of the night when you didn’t have anything better to do than drink cheap milkshakes and steal french fries from each other’s plates.

You curse under your breath as Javier foils your plans again, scribbling a quick “X” into the top right corner of the grid, keeping you from winning what was easily the eighth game of tic-tac-toe you’d played in the last twenty minutes. “Damn you, Javi,” you say, tossing the pencil at him, though there’s a grin on your lips as you look across the booth at him.

“Lo siento, querida. But you know you’re not allowed to win,” he replies, catching the pencil against his chest and placing it back on the table. His smile is bright as ever as his eyes meet yours again.

You roll your eyes, picking up the pencil and pulling the menu closer to you. You write out a short note on it, then turn it around so Javi can read it.

You’re a pain in the ass, but I still love you.

Javi lets out a soft laugh, reaching over and taking the pencil from you. He writes something underneath your words, but shields it from your view with his forearm. Only when he’s done does he let you see.

The feeling is mutual, querida. There’s a little heart doodled next to it.

Your expression softens, and you feel your heart swell in your chest. You place both hands on the table, using them to brace yourself as you lean over the table. There’s a knowing look in Javi’s eyes, and he does the same, meeting you in the middle for a tender kiss. “Te quiero tanto, mi corazón,” he murmurs against your lips.

You close your eyes, leaning back further in the chair with the menu held firmly against your chest, close to your heart. A few moments pass where you don’t move, giving yourself some time to compose yourself before you keep going. That hadn’t been the first time he’d called you “mi corazón,” but to hear those words fall from his lips had always caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. That’s why the same words had been scribed next to his name. He was your heart, too.

Shaking your head to yourself, you sit up again. The next thing you pull out is a dozen or so Polaroid pictures, all with varying dates and locations penned on the back. Most of them had been taken by your mother. She’d always insisted on taking pictures of the two of you whenever she could, and it only got worse after you’d gotten engaged. She’d told you that one day you’d be grateful that so many of these moments were documented. You’d believed her then, though now there’s a part of you that wishes there weren’t so many pictures to remind you of just how deeply integrated into your life that Javier had once been.

There’s one photo, however, that catches your eye as you flip through the small stack. Unlike the others, which are more staged, this one is candid. You’re standing in Javier’s dorm room at Texas A&I, and you immediately recognize it as the day that you and your mother had gone to help him move in. Though really, she’d only gone because you didn’t trust yourself to be able to drive back to Laredo on your own. You would only be a couple of hours away from Javier once you moved into your own dorm in San Antonio, but two hours seemed like days when you’d grown up right down the road from him.

“That’s the last box,” Chucho declares, folding down the cardboard to make it easier to dispose of. You take in a deep breath as it hits you. You’re about to go back home without Javier. You’d already spent the last few nights alone with him, saying your more official goodbyes, but they hadn’t felt real. Now you’re really leaving him.

You feel Javi snake his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, and the gentle contact causes tears to spring into your eyes. You hold on tightly to his arms, not wanting to let him go.

Then there’s a flash, and you look up to see your mother with the camera pointed at the two of you, the photo sliding out the bottom just a moment later. You shake your head at her. “Mama, please,” you chastise her, to which she shrugs, but smiles apologetically. You know she doesn’t mean any harm.

“We’ll give you two a few minutes,” Javier’s mother says. Alicia then takes her husband’s hand, and the two of them file out the door with your mother close behind them.

Javi chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to the juncture of your neck and your shoulder now that the two of you aren’t being so closely watched. “You’re gonna be alright,” he whispers.

“I should have just applied here,” you murmur, frowning deeper. As an English major, you could have chosen to go to school just about anywhere.

“No. You liked visiting San Antonio. You’ll have fun there. I promise,” he tries to convince you. “And we’ll both be home for holidays and spring break,” he pauses to kiss your temple, “though I think a spring break trip with just the two of us sounds like a good time.”

You grin at the idea. “That would be nice,” you reply softly.

Javi loosens his grip on you, but only enough to turn you so that you face him. He brushes a few strands of hair from your face, tucking them back behind your ear. As your eyes meet his, they fill with tears, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them as they begin to slide down your cheeks.

“Don’t cry, querida. Please,” he whispers, cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest. For his sake, you take a few deep breaths, pulling yourself back together.

Once your tears are mostly dry, you look up at him again. “Alright. Alright. I’m done,” you say, cracking the slightest smile.

Javi smiles back down at you, leaning in for another kiss. He stops just before his lips can capture yours. “It doesn’t matter how far away we are. It doesn’t change anything,” he murmurs.

“I love you, Javi,” you whisper, taking his face gently in your hands and closing the remaining distance between the two of you.

“I love you too, mi corazón.”

A single tear escapes you as you relive the tender moment, though you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. For just a moment, you think about shutting the box and leaving it alone–at least for the night. But you’ve already gotten yourself sucked in the current. The only thing you can do now is ride it out.

You continue looking through all the old memories, reliving the moments almost as vividly as the day they happened. There’s a keychain from the spring break trip that you and Javier did actually take. You find a cheesy birthday card, the cork from the bottle of wine he’d brought you the night he proposed. There’s even a couple of letters that he’d written to you during those college years filled with lofty promises about what your lives would look like once you graduated and got your careers started.

It’s as you read the letters that your emotions get the better of you, and your single tear gives way to a wave. More than once he’d described the day that the two of you would finally be married, and it tears you apart to know that he’d painted that picture so vividly in your mind, only to be the one to so cruelly destroy it at the last moment.

Just as you think you’ve made it to the end of memory lane, you find two more things left in the box, buried at the bottom. The first is a piece of cardstock. Time has yellowed the original white color, and when you turn it over, you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

It’s your wedding invitation.

They were a formality that your grandmother had insisted on, even though you and Javier had both agreed that it wasn’t necessary. The wedding was supposed to be a smaller, family affair, much in the way that Danny’s had been. There were a lot of the traditional details that you just hadn’t been worried about. The ceremony wasn’t your priority. It was being able to call Javier your husband that mattered the most. As long as you were able to say “I do” with Javier, you’d be the happiest woman in the world.

The last thing in the box is a small drawstring pouch. You can hear something metallic jingling inside. You pull the drawstring open and shake the contents into your waiting palm. Immediately, your fist closes around the three rings: your engagement ring, and the wedding bands meant for you and Javier.

A choked sob forces itself from your lips, and you hold your closed fist close to your chest, right over your heart. You don’t know why they were in the box or who put them there. You haven’t even seen the wedding bands since they were handed over for safekeeping before the wedding.

However, your last memory of your engagement ring is all too vivid.

You stand in the back room of the church, your mother standing with you. You’re both waiting for Chucho to tell you that Javier is ready, and that it’s time for you to walk down the aisle. Anxiety has taken up residence in your chest, and while you try to convince yourself that it’s only wedding jitters, you can’t help but feel like there’s something very wrong.

“Mama, what time is it?,” you ask quietly. It’s the only way you can keep your voice from shaking. It feels like there’s barbed wire wrapped around your throat. Speak any louder and you know you’ll be fighting off panicked tears.

She looks at the watch on her wrist, sighing softly. “It’s a quarter after three, honey,” she admits. The wedding was supposed to start at three. “Let me go see what’s going on, sweetheart. I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just a lost boutonnière or a button that needs sewn back on. Take a deep breath. You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she tells you. You nod, taking a set on one of the benches.

As you wait, you start twisting your engagement ring around on your finger. It’s been a nervous tic since the day Javi put it on your finger, and even as the edges of the metal rub your skin raw, you can’t bring yourself to stop. Even as you try to breathe deeply, nothing helps assuage the panic that you feel. Surely someone would have given a warning if it were a simple issue. Surely they wouldn’t leave you so worried for something so trivial.

The passage of time is lost on you. There’s no clock in the room and in your panic, you can’t be sure how long your mother has been gone. But when you hear the knob on the door turn, you’re immediately on your feet, nearly tripping over your dress as you move across the room to whoever is coming in.

Tears blur your vision when you see the somber look on Chucho’s face, his eyes tinged red with tears of his own.

“What happened? Where is he?,” you ask desperately. Without waiting for an answer, you try to make your way past the older man, set on going to the other dressing room yourself to find Javier. But Chucho wraps his arms around you, preventing you from moving any farther.

He shakes his head. “He’s gone, mijita. I’m sorry.”

And just like that, your whole world comes crashing down on top of you. Burying you and the life you’d wanted to live so fiercely.

The first sob that claws its way from your throat sounds more like a scream, and you bury your face in Chucho’s shoulder, letting him take most of your weight as you all but collapse in his arms. “Where is he?,” you beg, “Pops, where did he go?”

Chucho is quiet, his voice thick with emotion as he speaks. “I don’t know, mijita. He left without telling anyone. No one saw where he went,” he tells you. He sniffs softly, tightening his hold on you.

“Why?,” you whimper, raising your head just enough to look Chucho in the eye. But seeing the look on his face only makes your chest throb. Your breaths come in sharp gasps as you wait for an answer, though you know that he doesn’t have one.

He just shakes his head.

“God, what did I do? What did I do,” you weep, your fists curling tightly around the edges of his suit jacket, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. You can just barely hear him trying to shush you, to soothe you in any way that he can. You’re shaking violently with every cry that escapes you, and though you know you’re breaking Chucho’s heart, you can’t bring yourself to stop. You’ve never felt grief like this, so forceful and agonizing and real. You feel like you’ve been pulled underwater and your lungs are burning for air that they’ll never get. You know that they won’t

Javier was the air you breathed, and now he’s gone, leaving you to suffocate alone.

You sit there at your desk, unending waves of tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re not in the same fit of hysterics that you were on that day, but you still feel the same anguish, the same throbbing in your chest. It burns, a reminder that you haven’t truly lived or breathed since the day Javier left. Slowly, you uncurl your fingers from around the rings, wincing at the indentations in your palm from where you’d held them so tightly. You drop them onto your desk, not at all bothering with the pouch you’d found them in.

You stand from the chair, forcing your tears away as you stalk out of your room and towards the front door. You grab your jacket and your car keys, and then you’re gone.

There’s only one way to drown out the pain you feel.

—

Towards the edge of town, out past the railroad tracks, there’s a run down bar that Javier used to frequent when he was younger, before he took off for Columbia. As he pulls into the crowded parking lot, he’s not surprised to see that the building hasn’t changed a bit. The paint is still worn. The roof still needs patched, and even the busted window hasn’t been replaced, just patched over with plywood boards.

Before he even gets out of his dad’s truck, he can hear the roaring conversations of people trying to be heard over the rest of the background noise. He sighs, running his hand over his face before he gets out. This isn’t the most ideal situation. Javier would much prefer to be drinking in the comfort of his own home, but he knows that his father is getting suspicious about the amount of alcohol he’s been consuming for the past couple of weeks. He can deal with the noise for a few hours if it means he doesn’t have to sit through another one of Chucho’s heart-to-heart talks. There have been a few too many since he came back from Colombia.

He just hopes that no one bothers him. The last thing he needs is to have all of Laredo down his throat asking him about Colombia. He never wanted to be a hero. He doesn’t think of himself that way. How can he? After everything he’s done, all of the destruction he’s caused, how could he ever be considered a hero? If only they knew what kind of man Colombia had turned him into.

Javier opens the door, stepping out of the cab. He shuts and locks the door before walking into the bar. It’s hard to see through the thick haze of smoke that fills the room, and it doesn't help that the only dim lighting comes from the television and the neon lights on the walls. All that matters to him right now though, is that he’s able to drown out the echo of his father’s words in his head.

If it’s even possible, Javier’s sleeping habits have worsened. Where he once dreamed of the hurt in your eyes when he’d seen you in the market, he now only sees you being held in his father’s arms the moment you learned he’d run off. He can’t shake the haunted look in his father’s eyes as he’d finally revealed the details of that day. And all Javier feels is guilt. He’s being crushed under the weight of knowing just how deeply he’d hurt you.

He doesn’t even want to explain himself anymore. He knows that nothing he says will ever rid you of the scars he’s left on your heart. It’s something that he’ll never forgive himself for.

Javier takes a seat at the bar, and he’s surprised that there’s even a seat open, given just how crowded the room is. He remembers though, even when he was younger, the bar never really seemed to hit any sort of capacity. People kept coming, and somehow it all worked out. Like somehow the finite space of the building became infinite when lonely, broken people came seeking refuge.

Thankfully, there’s a glass of whiskey in front of him just moments later. Javier takes a sip of the dark amber liquid, closing his eyes as he feels the warm burn down his throat and into his chest. He’s glad to feel something there that isn’t the suffocating sense of grief and guilt he’s felt since the night of Danny’s wedding.

But he knows his father was right. About all of it. Even if he doesn’t want it to be true, Javier knows that he’s screwed up, and that he’s running back to Colombia just so he doesn’t have to face it. But it would be so much easier to just go back to work, back to dismantling cartels and incarcerating drug lords. He could bury himself in his work, in booze, in women.

Women that are not you.

And as he drains the first glass of whiskey and starts on the second, Javier realizes that there’s one more thing his father was right about: he’s not the man that he used to be.

He closes his eyes again, thinking about the simple way that life used to be before he took off. Before Escobar, everything was linear. He met you, fell in love with you, planned to marry you. You’d both gone to school and started your careers, ones that would take you far away from Laredo if that was what you’d wanted.

And God, did he want that. It was one thing that he had always talked about with you. You’d both grown up feeling caged in by the small-town atmosphere. College had been the most freeing experience. The feeling of independence and anonymity was so intoxicating that neither of you could get enough of it. You’d been so on board with his idea of escaping Laredo, no matter where the two of you ended up. “I’ll follow you anywhere, Javi,” you’d told him once.

You would have. He knows that beyond any doubt in his mind. Even to Colombia.

He opens his eyes again, discovering that his glass is empty again. His eyes search the room for the bartender, but something else catches his attention. Through the haze of smoke and sea of moving bodies, it’s hard for him to know for sure, but as he looks a little longer, he finds that he does indeed see what he thinks he sees.

You’re sitting at a small table in the back of the bar, nursing a glass of something he can’t quite make out in the inadequate lighting. But then you stop, like you can sense his eyes on you. You turn, your head toward the bar, your gaze moving slowly as you try to find the source of your unease.

Your eyes lock onto his, and in the low neon lights he can see that they’re glistening with unshed tears.

Javier feels his heart leap into his throat, and he watches as your entire body tenses. He drops his gaze, looking back down at the empty glass in front of him. Immediately his father’s words come back to him. He’s done seeking you out and forcing you into conversations that you don’t want to have.

But he looks up again when he sees quick, unsteady movement in your general direction. Javier doesn’t know how much you’ve had to drink, but one look at you as you walk to pay your tab tells him that you’re in no shape to drive yourself home. He stays still, waiting to see what the bartender does. If he’s any good at his job, he’ll make sure that you don’t walk out of the bar without a safe way to get home.

You walk away without a word from the bartender. And though there are plenty of other people around you, none of them seem to feel the need to stop you either.

“Fuck,” Javier mutters, knowing that he has to do something.

After slapping a few bills onto the counter, he stands from his barstool, nearly knocking it over with the force of his rapid movement. He then follows you out of the bar, calling out your name before you can reach your car. You stop, frozen in your tracks.

“What do you want, Javier? Haven’t you figured it out yet? I want nothing to do with you!,” you shout back at him, turning on your heels to face him. Your eyes are dark with anger, and he knows immediately that this isn’t going to go as smoothly as he might have dared to hope.

Javier takes a tentative step in your direction, swallowing thickly. He holds his palms up in mock surrender. “You’re not driving yourself home. I’m just making sure you get there safely. That’s all,” he tells you. You straighten up then, and he can practically see the gears turning in your head as you study him closely. In your anger, he can see that you’ve sobered up considerably, but he’s still not taking any chances, not with your well being and quite possibly your life.

You scoff, shaking your head. “Fuck off, Javier. I’m fine. I live right down the road,” you spit back.

“No. I’m not gonna fuck off. I don’t care if it means I have to call your mom myself. You’re not driving home,” he insists.

You take a step closer to him. “Why do you even care, hmm? You didn’t give a shit about what happened to me for ten fucking years, and now all of a sudden you wanna play the good guy who’s just looking out for me? Well that’s bullshit, Peña,” you bite.

“I–”

“No. Actually, you wanna talk about what happened so badly? Let’s do it. Right here,” you start. And even from a distance he can see you trembling. Whether it’s from the cool night air or the heat of your fury, he can’t tell for sure.

“We’re not doing this while you’re drunk,” he states firmly, crossing his arms over his chest.

You take another step forward. You’re only about ten feet from him now. “Oh no. Everything I think about you is crystal clear in my mind, Javier Peña,” you shoot back.

He takes a deep breath, knowing that there’s no escape from whatever you’re about to lay on him. But he knows that he deserves to hear every horrible thing you’ve thought about him in the last ten years. And even then, it won’t compare to what he’s done to you.

“What did I ever do to you?,” you shout at him. “What did I do to make you leave me like that? Didn’t you ever think that maybe I deserved an explanation? And I mean before you left, not ten years after the fact.” Javier stands there in silence, and he just hopes that the people inside the bar can’t hear you over the music and the chatter and the television. The last thing he needs is for this to turn into a spectacle.

“I didn’t know what to tell you,” he admits. It’s not enough.

“You left me without a word, Javier. No warning. Nothing. If it weren’t for your dad, I wouldn’t have ever known what happened to you. For so long I have tried to figure out what happened. Tried to figure out what I did,” you stop for a moment as your voice finally breaks. Javier feels a pang in his chest as your eyes well up with tears. He wonders how many you’ve shed because of him. How much pain will he cause you before this is all over?

“I loved you, Javi. I thought you loved me too, but–”

“I do love you, querida.” He says the words before he can stop himself. He can take your verbal lashing. He can listen to you tell him about all the terrible things he’s done and the consequences of those actions. But he can’t take this. Never this. Even if it makes sense for you to think he doesn’t love you, that he ever stopped, it’s not true.

“Don’t call me that,” is your only response to his words. “You don’t get to fucking call me that anymore. Because you let me believe that we were gonna spend the rest of our lives together. Our story was gonna be the one that I could tell, and then you were just gone,” you weep.

Javier takes a couple of tentative steps forward, so that you’re just within his reach. He wants nothing more than to be able to take you into his arms, to hold you close and comfort you the way that he used to. Every fiber of his being vibrates with the need to wipe your tears away and stay with you until you smile again. But he can’t. The only thing he can do is stand there and watch as you break right in front of him. He’s absolutely helpless.

“You were the love of my life. I gave you everything. I would have followed you anywhere, Javi. But you left me here,” you tell him, your breath coming in short gasps now.

He sighs softly. “I know. I’m so sorry,” he breathes.

You look up into his eyes with a new resolve, despite the effort you’ve already expended. “I hate you,” you declare resolutely.

Javier nods. “You should. That’s the least I deserve for what I’ve done,” he replies, and though his exterior appears unshaken by your words, his heart is breaking in his chest. To hear you say the words makes it all too real.

“I hate you,” you say again, a new wave of tears overtaking you. And then you close the remaining gap between the two of you, shoving at his chest as hard as you can, though in your current state it’s not enough to really move him. “I hate you, Javier,” you repeat, stumbling into him. He doesn’t hesitate to catch you, keeping you upright as your legs give out from under you.

And you keep repeating it, sobbing the words into his collarbone. Every declaration is punctuated by a weakly thrown punch to his chest and torso. He lets you. A sick, twisted part of him wishes that you had the strength to hurt him that way.

“I hate you,” you wail one last time, “but I don’t know how to love anyone else…”

Your hands fall uselessly to his shoulders, gripping onto the lapel of his leather jacket as you continue to cry into his chest. Something inside of Javier breaks as he feels you trembling in his arms. He can feel every bit of the pain that radiates from your body. It brings tears to his eyes and cuts off his breathing. He’s never felt agony this way, not even in Colombia.

Suddenly, Javier understands what his father felt like the day he left.

—

Javier carries you from the truck into your apartment, using the keys he found in your jacket pocket. You’re sleeping restlessly in his arms, soft choked cries escaping you every few minutes, but he’s just glad that he was able to get you home.

He wanders down the hall with you, finding the bedroom relatively easily given the small size of your apartment. He then lays you gently on your bed, frowning at the way your brows are knit together, deep worry lines marring your forehead. Javier has to resist the urge to smooth them out with his thumb. He knows better than to touch you right now, when you’re far less than aware of what’s going on.

Instead, he takes a seat next to you, making quick work of removing your shoes and your socks. He’ll leave you to sleep in your clothes, not wanting to wake you. Sighing, he pushes himself up, feeling exhaustion settling in on his shoulders. It’s been a long night even without considering his inability to sleep.

But as he stands, you stir, one hand blindly reaching at him. Javier looks to see that your eyes are just barely open as you finally manage to wrap your fingers loosely around his wrist.

“Don’t leave me, Javi. Please. Not again,” you whimper.

He knows that you don’t mean it, that they’re just words fueled by alcohol and exhaustion. But the plea still hits him square in the chest. If only he knew you wouldn’t want different when you woke up in the morning, he’d stay right next to you for the rest of the night.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. If you hear it, he can’t tell. Your eyes are closed again, your hand slowly slipping away from him.

Javier turns to leave, but as he moves to turn off your desk light, he sees the various things spread out on the wood surface. His chest constricts as he realizes what it is and where it came from. All of these memories of what your lives looked like before stare back at him. He lets out a shaky breath, hardly able to believe that you still have the keepsakes.

He gathers it all back up, placing it gently back in the box, and he carries it with him out to the living room, where he too can take the painful trip down memory lane. Javier sits heavily on your couch, placing the box on the coffee table and beginning to reminisce.

By the time he’s done, he understands why you’d ended up at the bar. If he weren’t so exhausted, he’d need another drink too.

As the clock on your wall gently chimes at three in the morning, Javier lays his head down on the arm of your couch. He aches so badly for sleep, that he can’t help but pass out right there.

It’s restless, but sleep nonetheless

—

You wake with a start as the first rays of light filter their way through your bedroom curtains. You look down at yourself, finding that you’re still in your clothes from the previous night. But you don’t know how you got home from the bar. You don’t know how you made it to your bed. You don’t know how your socks and shoes managed to lie neatly on the floor next to you. All you remember is–

Javi.

You stumble out of your bed, moving as fast as your aching, fatigued body can manage even though it makes your head throb. When you make it to the living room, the first place you look is the couch. He never liked leaving you alone on the nights you got drunk.

But he’s not there.

The only sign that Javier has been in the living room is the mess on the coffee table. He’d found the box on your desk. He’d gone through it and relived the same memories you had. You sink down on the couch, resting your elbows on your knees and pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes. Your words come flooding back to you and you let out a shaky sigh. You don’t know where to go from here.

You sit up straight again, noting the early hour, and decide to just crash on the couch for a few more hours. As you settle yourself onto the cushions, you feel something hard press into your back. You reach behind you, your fingers wrapping around the offending object. A groan escapes you as you bring your hand back into your eyeshot.

Javi’s aviators.

You place them on the table. You don’t have the strength to consider the idea of taking them back to him just yet. Instead, you close your eyes, letting the pull of exhaustion put you back under.

The last thing you’re consciously aware of before you fall asleep again is the faint scent of Javier’s cologne under your nose. A soft smile graces your lips, and in your sleep your burrow further into the cushion.

Spanish Translations

Mi Corazón - My Heart (Nickname)

“Lo siento, querida.” - “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Te quiero tanto, mi corazón.” - “I love you, my heart.”

Mijita - My Daughter (Nickname)

Chapter Four

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#javier peña #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos #narcos colombia #landslide series

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 4 years ago

Text

simply logical

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas; Logan-centric Rating: Teen & up (for just a smidgen of Remus being Remus) Relationships: None Warnings: Unhappy ending, angst, hurt no comfort, Remus being Remus Word count: 4936

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My writing masterpost

Summary: Logan's fear of being ignored meets my Logan-in-a-skater-skirt agenda. Angst ensues. Notes: Before anyone comes for me about the pencil skirt: it is an excellent skirt and an excellent outfit! And I'm super glad Thomas clearly loves it, because his opinion is actually the only one that matters about what he wears. Heck, I even love it. This fic is absolutely not me saying that Thomas made a bad choice about the clothes to put on his body, because that is actually something that is impossible to do. I just really wanted to see Logan in a skater skirt and also happened to be having a bad day when the skirt pics dropped, so I decided to project onto Logan since he's my fave and write some cathartic angst about it. However, all that being said: Logan deserves a skater skirt to twirl in; he also deserves to not feel like he has to be serious all the time in order to be valued and loved by c!Thomas; these two concepts are loosely related in that the first is one example of an expression of the second; I love Logan very much and think he deserves the world and also a skater skirt; and I will die on this hill, thank you very much.

It was simply logical.

That was… true. It was true. Logan would know. It was a perfectly logical decision; it fit his persona and most of the fans had been practically begging for it. Neat. Sharp. Tidy. Serious. Logical.

***

When Thomas had decided to start the series Sides in Skirts, Patton had gone first, of course; they’d all crowded around a laptop while he scrolled through endless pastel, A-line options, gasping and cooing over the designs, until he stopped and pointed and said with utmost certainty, “It’s purr-fect!” Virgil elbowed Logan lightly in the side when he sighed at the pun.

Roman gushed over the skirt, Virgil mumbled a shy affirmation; Janus glanced Patton up and down and said in an unfathomable tone that it was “...definitely you.” Remus said something, but nobody quite knew what, because Virgil suddenly regained his courage and began complimenting the skirt choice very loudly to drown Remus out.

And then everyone had been looking at Logan, and he’d still felt off-balance from Virgil’s gentle reprimand a minute ago. He hadn’t meant to be quiet so long. But now they were looking at him, expectantly, and his throat closed up with the thought that he must have done something wrong.

“It certainly fits your aesthetic. I’m sure it’s an adequate choice, though I hardly see why you require my input in such a subjective matter,” he’d managed, thoughts racing, not knowing what he should say—had the brief silence before he’d spoken been judgmental? Should he have cut in after Janus to say something? Had he hurt Patton’s feelings? Patton had so many of them, after all, and they were so soft and damageable. No matter how many lists Logan made of ways to be thoughtful towards Patton, he seemed to always do something wrong sooner or later.

“I think it’s a fantastic choice, Patton!” Thomas had said cheerfully, drawing everyone’s attention away from Logan as he added the skirt to his cart. “For the rest of you all, maybe start thinking about what kind of looks you’ll want to go for? We’ll probably do the next one in a couple of weeks.”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the group.

“I’m thinking a—” Remus was cut off by his own hand and gave Janus a very dirty look. Wresting his hand away from his mouth, “Really, Jan?” he demanded. “Why’d you add the J to your name if you’re just going to be an anus every time I—”

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m just the worst and you hate that I think of Patton’s comfort levels now.” Janus waved a hand dismissively, a bored look on his face. “I’m going to hazard a guess that whatever you were about to propose wouldn’t be something Thomas could post online anyway.”

“But boob windows are a thing!” Remus protested. “Why not—”

“Aaaand that’s all the detail I think we need to go into along this train of thought right now!” Thomas interrupted. “What about something glittery, Remus?” He glanced over Remus’s shoulder to Janus.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “Glittery?” he inquired suspiciously.

“Think of all the places it could get. Glitter for weeks. Months. Years, even,” Janus picked up smoothly.

Remus perked up. “It could get in our eyes! Remember that news story a few years back about the lady with a couple dozen contact lenses stuck in her eye because she kept forgetting to take them out?”

“Charming. Let’s be off, now.” Janus took Remus by the elbow and they began to sink out.

“I, too, shall depart! I must begin brainstorming ideas at once,” Roman gushed. “There are so many options! Knee length! Ballgown style! Mermaid! Side slit! Petticoats! Frills! Pleats! Panels! Oh, however will I choose? I can’t wait!” He twirled around and around, and Logan didn’t even realize he’d begun sinking out until he was halfway gone.

***

After that, the rest of them had dispersed fairly quickly; Patton and Virgil had headed to the Mind Palace’s kitchen to bake cookies together, but Logan had politely declined the invitation to join them. He still felt bad about the earlier interactions and couldn’t shake the feeling that both of them were probably upset with him. Besides, the skirts idea was—intriguing. He had an academic interest in conducting preliminary research. Purely professional, of course. It was simply logical. No feelings involved.

But he was only able to fimply tamp down and quash and ignore the undeniable feeling of excitement in his chest for so long.

Logan started with simple research on what the different types of skirt options were. He walked to the blank space on the wall and held his hand up, palm flat, hovering about an inch away from the wall, until a glowing blue keypad faded into existence. He let it scan his hand—this was only something it did when he was alone, since it wasn’t strictly necessary; it just looked so cool—and keyed in his passcode.

The wall melted away, revealing his Archives. Every single one of Thomas’s memories, even the ones he couldn’t consciously recall, all neatly filed in a tremendous, ever-expanding library according to a system Logan had developed over the course of his life. Logan swiftly navigated the room; it was kept dark, fading into pitch-black in the distance, but the carpet had a pattern of constellations that glowed white, and the floating bookshelves emitted a light in a sci-fi-inspired shade of blue, and the light was more than enough to see by. Besides, Logan knew his way around.

His system was a lot more similar to the Dewey Decimal system now than it had been before Thomas was, oh, about fifteen; when he’d been a child, Logan had organized his library according to whatever whims made sense at the time. The system had gradually evolved into something a little more conventional over the years, but idiosyncrasies remained. The memories of oranges were still filed next to lions because of the color of the stuffed animal Thomas had been so attached to in kindergarten. The memories of triangles were on the top shelf, because the points looked cool that way. And so on. Little details like that had survived. Purely for non-sentimental reasons, of course. It was more efficient to keep them in a system he was used to; he could find them quicker this way.

He stopped at the skirts aisle. Another glowing blue touchpad materialized when he held up his hand expectantly; he tapped and swiped to select the whole shelf. The system obligingly compressed the memories he’d indicated into a much smaller, more portable stack—the compressed memories now resembled SD cards blown up to about the size of Logan’s palm. They were much easier to carry than the little holograms he defaulted to for memories displaying on the shelves, and while the thick leather-bound books he opted for at other times were a little easier to handle than holograms, compression was still the best way to take multiple memories at a time out of the system to review.

Logan scooped up the stack of cards and made his way back to his room, the hidden door to the library sliding shut behind him as if it had never been there in the first place. He’d settled into an armchair with a mug of hot chocolate, wrapped up in a blanket, with the stack of memories easily accessible next to the laptop on the side table at his elbow.

He popped the memories open one at a time, shifting them into book format to read them and then pressing them back into the smaller card shape when he was done. At some point, Logan snapped his fingers and changed into his unicorn onesie; he was getting comfortable. When he finished reviewing the material Thomas already knew, he switched over to the laptop.

He started by googling a few of the terms he remembered Roman tossing out, as well as a few more that had caught his interest, and then looked up some general guides to terms used to describe skirts.

He had rather assumed he’d go for a pencil skirt. Fairly traditional. Sleek. Easy. It seemed the perfect, logical option. He’d found several that he liked well enough and would be amenable to wearing, and had even thought of a couple of outfit pieces that would pair well with them.

But.

The images of pleated skirts, especially the very wide pleats, had caught his attention. He’d been a little surprised by it—by the light, eager feeling bubbling up in his chest and filling his throat with anticipation and want. It would swish nicely as he walked, and it would twirl. It would twirl perfectly. He wanted it.

Fingers eagerly drumming on the sidetable, he began searching more specifically, looking for skirts in the different tones of the color palette he usually wore. He scrolled past one in a plain navy blue, then a blue that was too light—encroaching on Patton’s color—and a purple plaid that nevertheless made his lips twitch in a small smile as he thought of Virgil’s hoodie.

The scrolling grew almost rhythmic after a moment or two; scroll, scan the images. Scroll, scan the images. Scroll, scan. Scroll, scan. Scroll—

He stopped. Scrolled back up. Leaned closer to the screen, eyes widening, hand pressing to his mouth in a little oh. That—that was a skirt he could get behind.

He opened the skirt in a new tab and quickly edited his search term.

Galaxy pleated skirt, he typed, and hit enter.

He couldn’t hold back a soft gasp as the results page loaded. It was perfect. Space theme; his color scheme; and that soft, twirly shape. His chest was buzzing with happiness and excitement as he clicked open a few options, fingers trembling.

One skirt particularly stood out to him; a knee-length skater skirt with wide, sharp pleats, the galaxy pattern on the fabric a blue-and-purple affair that matched Logan’s aesthetic so well. He could probably find a galaxy-patterned bowtie to match, and then a simple black button-down, perhaps with white stitching, and oh, wouldn’t that look nice? He copied the link and opened the “FamILY” groupchat with the other Sides.

It was perfect, it was so perfect and he wanted it so badly, this was going to be amazing—

There were unread messages in the groupchat. Quite a lot of them. Logan pasted the link to the skirt, but scrolled up to read the messages before sending it.

Roman had sent about a dozen images of skirts, in varying shades of red and levels of drama, accompanied by emojis that were probably supposed to communicate how he felt about the skirts. Patton had reacted to every single one with a heart.

DAD: Those look so good, Roman!

Prince Roman: ❤️💙✨💞❤️💙❤️💞💞💞💙💓❤️💙❤️ Thank you!!!!!!!!!!!

emonightmare: nice, princey.

JeckyllandLied: Ah yes, I love putting my phone down for less than a minute and coming back to 17 unread messages that have nothing to do with me. Please keep it up.

JeckyllandLied: Obviously I can’t endorse any of those, btw

Prince Roman: Wait is that a lie or?

Prince Roman: Thank you, Virgil!!!!!!!! ❤️✨💞💞💜💕✨✨💞💓💞✨💗💖💘✨

emonightmare: jfc calm down pls

JeckyllandLied: Would an /s make you happy? @Prince Roman

Prince Roman: Yes!

JeckyllandLied: Hm. Pity.

Prince Roman: >:’((( !!!!

emonightmare: oh fuck off and leave him alone janus, he’s excited

JeckyllandLied: Ah yes, I forgot that being excited requires spamming *my* phone. How silly of me.

dUkEyYyyyYYyY: i still think it’s unfair Daddy and Anus-Jay blocked me from sending pictures in this chat

JeckyllandLied: 3 strikes rule. Second chance rule. Third chance rule. You had opportunities to earn those privileges back, and you squandered them.

DAD: Sorry, kiddo :(

dUkEyYyyyYYyY: no ur not lmao

dUkEyYyyyYYyY: anyway i found this eyescorchingly neon green tutu what do yall think of that

dUkEyYyyyYYyY: janus send the pic send the pic send the pic i want them to seeeeee

JeckyllandLied: [Image attachment]

Prince Roman: Okay that actually looks decent?????

emonightmare: i mean it’s very u, can’t deny that

dUkEyYyyyYYyY: :}3

DAD: Oh! That’s cute! Like a ballerina!

JeckyllandLied: Ballerino

Prince Roman: Ballerino!!

DAD: Oh my goodness, you both need to say “Jinx” now!

Prince Roman: Jinx!

JeckyllandLied: I don’t want to.

DAD: :(

DAD: Ok, well does anyone else have any ideas yet?

emonightmare: no

DAD: Virgil, please? It looks so good!

emonightmare: im not showing anyone else yet

DAD: Ok, well that’s your choice, but it looks very great and you should totally show everyone! When you want to.

JeckyllandLied: I’ve had a few ideas, but I will reveal them to none.

dUkEyYyyyYYyY: sexy sexy thigh slit?? 🤪🤤

JeckyllandLied: So you have suggested. Multiple times.

DAD: What about you, Logan? I bet you’ve found some cool skirts!

Prince Roman: LOL, as IF.

emonightmare: yikes. little harsh there. but he’s not wrong.

DAD: What do you mean?

emonightmare: i mean. it doesn’t seem like something that’d be super up his alley. yk?

Prince Roman: Listen, the nerd is great, but his fashion sense? Not it. He’s probably going to pick something conventional in navy blue or black just to get this over with.

emonightmare: i reiterate: harsh but u have a point. don’t pressure him about it, pat. we don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

Prince Roman: Omg can you imagine if Logan DID wear something fancy for the skirt photoshoot though? Weird, right???

emonightmare: yeah sounds fake, probably janus in disguise lmao

JeckyllandLied: Oh come on, just because you’ve caught me a couple of times doesn’t mean I’m bad at disguises. I wouldn’t make a mistake as basic as THAT.

That was the last message; it had been sent twenty-seven minutes ago.

Logan blinked hard several times until the suspicious dampness at the corner of his eyes receded. He pressed the backspace button and held it down until the link to the skirt he’d found was fully erased. The bubble of excitement in his chest had thoroughly popped and was settling into a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Logan bit his lip and began typing.

Logan: Can we please talk about something else?

He switched off his phone and tossed it across the room to land on his bed where he couldn’t hear the notifications buzz. He pulled his knees up close to his chest and hugged them with one arm, his other hand cradling the nearly-empty mug of hot chocolate.

“AS IF”

“It doesn’t sound like something that’d be super up his alley”

“His fashion sense? Not it”

“Weird”

“Sounds fake”

Logan took a deep, shuddery breath and gulped down the last of the hot chocolate. He snapped his fingers and switched out of the onesie into his usual outfit, then gathered up the stack of memories and went to reshelve them, surreptitiously wiping at the corners of his eyes as he went.

***

Logan managed to push the issue of skirts to the back of his mind for a few days. Then Patton’s skirt arrived in the mail, and all anyone did for the rest of the day was gush over it; the next day, they did the photoshoot.

Patton looked very good in the skirt; it fit his personality and left him grinning and bouncing on the balls of his feet and doing little twirls all day. Roman demanded the next turn, and everybody agreed to it. Thomas said they could order the next skirt later in the week.

Seeing how Patton was absolutely glowing with excitement and happiness made a similar feeling stir in Logan’s chest, and he thought again of the galaxy skirt. Maybe—maybe he had overreacted.

When he had a chance, he excused himself and headed to his room. They could summon things for themselves, after all. Thomas wanted to order the skirts for real so that he could have them all for himself too, but there was no reason Logan couldn’t just try it and see.

Standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror he’d transformed his usually-smaller mirror into, Logan took a deep breath. The skirt, or the whole outfit he was imagining?

…Better to start with just the skirt. He closed his eyes and tugged at the strings of the Mind Palace.

A soft material brushed against his leg. His knees felt suddenly chilly. His heart began to pound.

Logan opened his eyes and gasped, both hands flying to his mouth.

It was every bit as wonderful as he’d imagined. He couldn’t help but change the rest of his outfit right away—crisp black shirt with white stitches on the seams; galaxy bowtie to match the skirt; white knee-high socks and black mary-janes.

And then he just stared. He looked—different. He was smiling, smiling so hard he couldn’t control it. The skater skirt hit just above his knee, the pleats folded tight in a way that made it fall in a lovely shape. The galaxy print was perfect; it tied his colors in without being too obvious or in-your-face about it.

He cautiously twirled just slightly back and forth, and an actual giggle escaped his lips when the skirt twirled around his knees before unfurling and settling to rest again.

This was—he searched for a comparison. It wasn’t quite as good as getting his own flavor of Crofters. But it was close. It was very close.

It was as good as when Thomas had gotten an A in a class he’d worked really hard on in college. That was a good comparison. The fluttering glee in his chest was the same then as now. This skirt certainly deserved an A grade.

Logan tentatively walked around his room, glancing down at the skirt as he went and then back to the mirror. The skirt swished just like he’d imagined it would, fabric brushing against his legs. It was—adequate. More than adequate, if he was being honest with himself. He made his way back to the mirror and simply stared for a few minutes, trying out different poses.

Maybe he could show the others. Maybe it would be fine. Maybe Thomas would order the skirt and they could do the photoshoot and maybe it would be amazing.

Logan was tempted to try it. He was on the verge of walking out the door into the Mind Palace commons. He had his hand on the doorknob.

But he hesitated for a second too long.

“I’m not a joke!” he’d snapped once. He’d lost his normal white-knuckled control over himself for just a second, so close to tears or screaming or who knows what, because he couldn’t be a joke, he couldn’t, not to them, not to Thomas, because if he was a joke, what was he even worth?

“No one wants to be a joke, but a life free of jokes is incomplete!” they’d all sung in the song only moments later. Even Thomas. They’d clearly meant it to be reassuring.

Logan felt he could perhaps be forgiven if confirmation that they did indeed view him as a joke wasn’t all that reassuring.

What would they think of him like this?

What would Thomas think of him like this?

Well. Roman had made it pretty clear in the stupid groupchat what he’d think of Logan’s choice in skirts. Virgil had agreed, and so had Janus. Remus and Patton hadn’t weighed in—and Patton’s silence, especially, spoke volumes.

…He didn’t really want to think about what Thomas might think of seeing him in this skirt, but he couldn’t help it. It could undo all his efforts to be taken seriously, all the times he had fought to be listened to, all the times he’d striven to show Thomas that his viewpoint was worthy of being heard and not ignored in favor of what any of the others said. That he had value outside of the facts he provided them—that his opinions had value as well. He was a joke to them, evidently, so he’d gotten rid of the things he enjoyed that always got played for laughs. He only wore his onesie when he was certain he was alone; he tried not to talk about Crofters to the others. He tried not to smile. Logan couldn’t let those sacrifices be for nothing. Not when they’d hurt so much.

No. Thomas couldn’t see this. None of them could. It was too important that he be taken seriously, and they already hardly cared for what he had to say half the time. He had to pick his battles. An outfit wasn’t worth giving up a chance at being listened to. He hardly cared about the skirt, anyway. It was silly. It didn’t matter.

Logan took his hand off the doorknob and went back to his desk, snapping his regular outfit back on. He ignored the pang in his heart at the skirt’s vanishment and the prickling at the corner of his eyes. He had work to do anyway. It was simply logical.

***

“Okay, everybody, I think it’s about time we ordered the next skirt outfit! Roman, I think you said you wanted to go next?” Thomas said.

Roman cast himself dramatically onto the couch, draping a hand across his forehead like he’d swooned. “I can’t decide! Such pressure! I’m debating between so many skirts and I’ve only gotten to the semifinals of eliminating options, I need more time, Thomas!”

“Okay!” Thomas said. “So do you want someone else to go, or do you want us to wait?”

“Someone else can go, it’s fine,” Roman said, heaving a sigh.

“Okay, well, how about you, Logan? Are you ready to choose?” Thomas suggested.

“Of course,” Logan said automatically, heart sinking.

“Great! Come show me what you want.” Thomas patted the seat on the couch next to him.

“Pff. I doubt he even wants to participate. He’s the one who always says my ideas are stupid,” Roman commented from the other end of the couch.

“If I did not want to participate, I would say so, Roman. I am merely… indifferent. I’m afraid I haven’t put much thought into the matter of what skirt I would like,” Logan said lightly as he sat beside Thomas, proud of the way his voice didn’t shake at all, ignoring the sick feeling in his throat and stomach at Roman’s words.

Janus raised a single eyebrow at him, clearly detecting the obvious lie. Logan shook his head slightly, and Janus twitched one shoulder in a shrug, letting it slide.

Nobody else seemed to have noticed the silent exchange. “That’s alright,” Thomas said. “Have you got an idea of what you’re looking for?”

Logan shrugged. “Something conventional, I suppose. Not too flashy.”

Thomas looked thoughtful, staring at the laptop with a furrowed brow.

“Ooh!” Patton put in, leaning on the back of the sofa. “What about a pencil skirt?”

Virgil made an approving noise. “Dude, you’d look fantastic in one of those. It’s totally right up your alley.”

“The fans have actually been suggesting that!” Roman put in.

Not trusting himself to speak, Logan nodded. After a pause that was brief enough it seemed to slide by unnoticed, he said, “That sounds fine.”

“I love that idea!” Thomas approved, typing into the search bar.

It took surprisingly little input from Logan to get his own skirt selected; a simple navy blue affair. One of the ones he’d originally looked at, actually. Exactly what would be expected from him. It was simply logical.

“We should style your outfit now!” Thomas suggested.

Logan allowed himself to give some input on the style, especially the vest and glasses—the paisley texture on the satin fabric did look quite appealing, he had to admit, and the cat-eye shape of the glasses was something he’d been eyeing for a while—but mostly, he made neutral noises of assent and let the group do the deciding for him. Thomas gave him a funny look after a few minutes of this, but Logan pretended not to notice.

“Do these all look good?” Thomas asked after they were done, showing Logan the cart.

Logan scrolled through, even though he already knew everything they’d just put in it.

He had to admit, this was a nice outfit. He liked it, as a general thing. The librarian look had been one of his own ideas. He would wear it even aside from a photoshoot.

But it still wasn’t the one he would have picked for this occasion if anyone had actually listened.

“That is adequate,” he said quietly, handing the computer back to Thomas.

“Sounds fantastic, buddy!” Thomas placed the order. “How are you feeling about this?” he asked after the others had dispersed somewhat across the apartment and most were no longer within direct earshot.

Logan blinked at him. “Feeling? Thomas, we’ve talked about this,” he said, avoiding the question and aiming for levity. “You know I don’t deal in things as messy as feelings. Anyway, I’m fine. This will be a not-unpleasant exercise.”

Thomas frowned, but nodded. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Yes, I need you to go to sleep on time,” Logan responded automatically.

“Never,” Thomas said playfully. He grinned. “You’re great, Logan.”

Logan half smiled. “Thank you.” He sank out.

***

The skirt arrived a week later. Logan had to admit, it looked good on him. The other Sides heaped praise upon him, of course; Roman even told him he looked “fierce.” Logan rather liked that, and it somewhat eased the sting of… all the other things Roman had said about Logan and skirts over the past couple of weeks. Somewhat.

He tried to channel that “fierce” look in the photoshoot. Held himself tense and unimpressed, raising his eyebrows as he posed with a pencil or a book or his hands on his hips. It was fun. It was! He should by all means be enjoying this, and he was, kind of. But the bitter knowledge of what he was missing out on overshadowed the enjoyment and made it so hard to feel good. He knew he should refocus, let missed opportunities be bygones and work with what he had, but every time he tried to be satisfied with this, he thought again of the galaxy skirt and the crawling uncomfortable feeling in his chest got worse. By the end of the photoshoot, Logan wasn’t sure how he was holding himself together at all. Nevertheless, the others praised him, told him he’d done a great job, and Thomas echoed their sentiments. He nodded, thanked them appropriately, and excused himself as soon as possible.

He locked the door to his room behind himself, snapping his fingers to transform his outfit into the galaxy skirt one. He stared at himself in the wide mirror across the room. Slowly he wrapped his arms around himself, the lump in his throat painful and large.

Hot tears spilled down his cheeks, startling him; they didn’t stop welling up, the flow of scalding tears only increasing as his nose began to stuff up. He quietly sank to the ground, pulling his knees up against his chest and hugging them as he began to cry. The silent tears quickly turned into sobs that he couldn’t suppress, couldn’t make small and quiet no matter how he tried; sobs that shook his body and left his throat hoarse and scratchy and his lungs gasping for breath. He wiped at his eyes and nose over and over again, gasping gulps of air between sobs, but it was futile; any dampness he cleaned away was only replaced twice over.

He’d heard that crying was supposed to be cathartic. That you were supposed to feel better afterwards. But no matter how much he cried, the painful lump of shame and regret in his chest didn’t get smaller.

Maybe, he thought bitterly as his sobs began to lessen and his racing jumbled thoughts began to slow and the ache in his chest still didn’t feel any better, maybe it was because he wasn’t supposed to have all these stupid feelings. He wasn’t supposed to care about a skirt that swished against his knees. He was Logic, he was only supposed to care about important things. Things that were important for Thomas. A pleated galaxy skirt was not one of them. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. It was just a piece of fabric, like any other. It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. This shouldn’t be a big deal to him, and if it was, then it was his own fault that he felt so bad about it.

Logan wiped his eyes. He transformed his outfit back into his regular clothes and snapped away the mess of tears and snot on his face, then crossed to the mirror and straightened his tie, ignoring the slight tremble in his hands, before shrinking the mirror down to its usual, more practical size. With a mere thought, he could feel his library of memories rearranging itself, sending all Thomas’s memories about skater skirts away from the other skirt memories to a shelf in the outermost regions of the library, where it would be hardest to get to. Which was good. Since those memories were irrelevant now. He didn’t need them at all. This whole idea had been a mistake. He should have let the others be in charge of this from the start; they had more expertise than him on the subject, after all. If he hadn’t gotten emotionally invested in the first place, he wouldn’t have a problem. This was his own fault. And he didn’t care, anyway.

It was simply logical.

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trashmenofmarvel · 4 years ago

Text

Branded - Chapter 27

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The Soldier wakes up in Hell.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Memory loss, PTSD

AO3

The Soldier gasped, followed by immediate coughing and gagging as if his lungs were being seared from the inside-out. The air was so hot it burned and he wheezed as the dryness of it irritated each breath he took.

Opening his eyes did absolutely nothing to clue him in as to where he was, or assuage his growing panic. The sky was dusty and red along the horizon, but straight above him was a strange nightscape. There were two moons or small planets, close enough that their circumferences were hidden past the horizon.

It was the spattering of stars that made him go still with shock. The Soldier didn’t recognize a single constellation, nor could he tell where the light around him was coming from. Only that there was a circle of darkness that blocked out the stars, as if the sun itself was a void.

He carefully sat up and looked down at himself, finding his uniform was tattered, singed with burn marks and spattered with bullet holes. Even now he could hear the echo of close-range gunfire and the impact of his body being riddled with Soviet slugs. The Soldier lifted his tac vest and traced his hand along his stomach. The skin was smooth and clean, no trace of wounds or blood.

He raised his head to take in his surroundings, confirming what his training told him. He was dead, and this was Hell. A sandy landscape, dotted with jagged outcroppings of rocks, went as far as the eye could see. In the distance was a range of craggy mountains, but he had no way of knowing how far it was or how high the peaks truly rose.

What was most disturbing was the color of this world. From the claylike soil to the volcanic rock, everything was a various shade of red. Rose, crimson, dusky, blood. Even the stars above him seemed to be tinged with the harsh color.

The Soldier coughed again, wincing as the hot wind wiped at his face and stung his eyes with sand. As he rose to his feet he expected to feel sore at best, in agony at worse. Instead, he was… full. Sated with energy in a way he only felt the hours after a feeding. After the healing he’d just done, he should have gone into a severe heat almost immediately.

Instead, he felt… he felt… good. Strong. At least, the parts of him that were truly demonic. The weak human parts, the parts that belonged to the HYDRA soldier who had donated his body to the cause, those parts of him were not meant to survive in a place like this.

You’re in the demon realm.

The Soldier jerked up his head but couldn’t identify the source of the voice. It had been… internal. Coming from within. It wasn’t a voice he recognized.

Sometimes, when the Soldier grew confused, he would sense… an other within himself. His master (he couldn’t remember which, he’d had so many) would grow angry if the Soldier spoke of it.

But this was not the same voice that had spoken. This one was different. Unfamiliar.

You have to move. Find shelter. It isn’t safe here.

The Soldier didn’t know the purpose or agenda of the voice, but it spoke the truth in this instance. He couldn’t sit here in the sand until it covered all trace of him. The Soldier knew how to survive in hostile, unknown terrain.

Step one: find the highest vantage point.

Step two: Establish shelter within walking distance of water.

Step three: Secure the shelter so enemies can be spotted before being alerted to the Soldier’s presence.

Shelter. Water. Safety.

Food was the last priority. He didn’t need to worry about staying in one place for an extraction. No one was coming for the Soldier. Perhaps considering what he had done, that was for the best.

What was it like to kill him? The great Howard Stark?

His fists curled at his side, nostrils flaring as anger flooded his body.

That’s over now, the voice said. Not the low voice of his master. This was the new voice, the one he didn’t know. They can’t hurt you anymore. But things here can. Please, be careful.

The voice was kind. Gentle. Did the Soldier know kindness, once?

You will. One day, I promise, you will.

The Soldier didn’t trust the voice, but chose to ignore it for now. After he had secured a shelter and established a parameter, then he would investigate the source of the strange other.

Expanding his wings, the Soldier flexed them experimentally and found them likewise whole and strong. He gave several test strokes before leaping, taking to the air as naturally as any bird. The wind buffeted him but he easily adjusted, and he couldn’t help but revel in the feeling. The last time he’d gotten to free-fly was to claw out the tire of Stark’s vehicle—

The Soldier shook away the disturbing thoughts. His last mission to retrieve the briefcase and assassinate the Starks had filled him with so many confusing emotions. His fury at the Colonel seemingly came from nowhere, and he decided it was best to put the entire matter out of his mind.

The Soldier spent the better part of an hour flying, scanning the horizon for a location that would provide shelter, and he found it. A large series of hills and boulders that hid an opening, and inside he found a system of caves where he could take refuse from the relentless, dry wind. Once he landed, he explored the weaving tunnels, lit either by openings to the surface or by glowing fungus. Where there was fungus, he knew there was moisture, and he soon found that too.

Underground rivers. The Soldier expected the water to kill him, but it didn’t, and he found he wasn’t very thirsty. The fungus was sustaining, and further in the cave system he found strange shoots that resembled bamboo. The fleshy fibers inside made him believe it was an animal rather than a plant, but it didn’t matter. He ate it raw, and that didn’t kill him either.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he could die. Or if he did, where would he go, then? Shivering, he pushed out the thought before it could take hold.

Satisfied with a source of food and water, he found a hollow that was hidden from the river but dotted with small holes along the ceiling to let in light. Having nothing but the ragged clothes on his back, he laid down to rest.

Against his will, he dozed off. He didn’t remember sleeping before. Just the cryo-chamber. When the Soldier awoke, still plagued by strange and horrible images of what he knew were nightmares, he decided he didn’t like sleep.

Over the next few days of adjusting to his new life, the Soldier began to remember the missions more clearly now that the Machine no longer burned away his thoughts. With nothing else to do, he reflected on these missions, and especially on the one that changed everything. He still didn’t understand why the name Howard Stark had filled him with such raw agony. Even now, it hurt to recall the memory of killing the human and his mate, staging their death to resemble an alcohol-induced crash.

The Soldier survived. And he waited. He didn’t know what for. He never did find the owner of the voice. It spoke to him often, telling him to be careful, to not give up hope. He ignored it, sometimes to the point where it was only a buzzing in his ear, like an annoying insect.

Eventually, he realized it had stopped talking to him. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last heard it speak, and something about that filled him with unease.

“Are you…” He cleared his throat, raw with disuse. “Are you… still there?”

The minutes, according to his internal clock, ticked by. It was six minutes and seven seconds before he got a response.

Yes. I’m here.

“You sound…” He struggled with the word. “Tired.”

I am, it replied with that same soft quietness. It hadn’t been so quiet before. Distant. We’ve been here a while. I’m starting to forget things.

“Things?” The voice said nothing. The Soldier grew frustrated. “What—who are you?”

I can’t tell you that.

The Soldier leaned back against the wall, frowning down at the cave floor as if he could make the voice appear. It did not.

But I can tell you who you are.

The Soldier scoffed, scratching an itch along the back of his neck. It had been a few days since he’d bathed in the river. He’d have to do it again soon.

“I’m a demon. Summoned to serve my masters.”

That’s a lie.

He tilted his head, interest piqued. Not at the words, but at the sudden flare of anger he sensed.

You weren’t always a demon, and HYDRA didn’t summon you. You were born human.

“Now who speaks lies?”

He sensed the wave of anger again, and something about it made his tail flex and his lips twitch upwards. He was… smiling?

Your name, the voice proclaimed, is James Buchanan Barnes.

“What a ridiculous name.”

Blame your mother, not me.

The Soldier snorted and rolled his eyes, but the ghost of a smile remained on his lips.

“If you know so much, then how do I leave this place?”

He could feel its hesitation. It seemed the longer he spoke to the voice, the stronger it became. It was beginning to feel like an actual presence rather than just words in his head.

I don’t… know.

“Then you are useless to me.”

The Soldier stood and walked to its hollow entrance, already stripping off what was left of his uniform to bathe.

Wait! You will escape, eventually, but I just need to figure it out!

The Soldier ignored the voice. He knew if he ignored it for long enough, it would go away again. It seemed to realize this too from the sudden desperation in its tone.

I can prove that you were human! Howard Stark!

The Soldier froze in his tracks, his wings ruffling as the plates on his arm shifted.

You… you knew him. Back during the war. He helped rescue you from HYDRA the first time they captured you. You admired him, idolized him. You even went to the Stark Expo to see him with Steve Rogers—

Pain ripped through his chest and he growled as he bent forward. That name, something about that name. It held power, or it had once. Now, it just hurt.

“Witch,” he hissed, teeth bared. “Sorcerer! Leave me alone!”

No, no, I’m not! Please, listen! the voice in his head cried. HYDRA captured you. Tormented you. Did unspeakable things to you! It’s their fault; they did all of this to you!

He gripped his head, claws digging into his scalp hard enough to sting. His tail lashed and his wings flapped open in a panic, knocking chips off the cave wall.

“Shut up!”

His scream rang hollow against the cave walls, echoing back until fading into silence.

The silence stayed. The voice was gone, and it didn’t return for a very long time. It might have been days, weeks, or months. Time didn’t mean much on this world where the day cycle lasted for eternity.

Or it seemed to. One day, the strange sunless light vanished, and the Soldier was left in the dark to wonder if he would see it again.

The Soldier had been scratching tally marks on the wall, trained to mark the passage of time. He sensed he’d done something similar before, but he didn’t know where. According to his marks, night had finally fallen after the tenth week. He hoped the night didn’t last as long as the day. It was beginning to grow cold.

The Soldier hated the cold.

It was in a moment of weakness, as he lied shivering on the bare floor, that he finally spoke.

“Are you there?”

The voice didn’t answer. He didn’t expect it to. It had been so long since he’d screamed at it to go away. He regretted that now.

“Please…” He gave a harsh shiver and wrapped his wings tighter around his miserable body. “…Please, come back.”

He had nearly accepted that the voice was truly gone, when he heard a faint, I’m here.

The Soldier shuddered in relief. He wasn’t alone.

No, you’re not alone.

Had he said that out loud? He couldn’t remember.

You didn’t. But sometimes, I can hear you anyway. The voice made a noise of amusement, but it was sad too. I don’t think I could leave, even if I wanted to.

It sighed, still sounding too weak. He didn’t like that it sounded that way.

And I don’t want to leave. Not without you.

The Soldier curled his fingers tighter around his wing, seeking warmth and comfort where there was none. He’d never needed it before. What was wrong with him? He was a loyal soldier, an obedient slave, the very Fist of HYDRA. He wasn’t this weak, quivering thing. Huddled on the floor like a beaten mongrel.

And yet, he couldn’t stop talking to the voice once he’d started.

“Why?” he rasped. “Why are you here? Who are you? Where did you come from?”

The voice made the amused sound again. This time, it wasn’t as sorrowful.

So many questions. I’m happy they didn’t kill your curiosity. The voice grew serious. I think I got lost. Or trapped. Or… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter where I came from. Just that I’m not going anywhere without you. Okay?

The voice was growing stronger again. There was warmth there, life. A person?

Yes, it answered.

“What’s your name?”

Can’t say.

The Soldier released a sharp snort, and for a reason he couldn’t identify, the voice laughed. He didn’t remember it ever laughing before.

If everything happens as it should, you’ll find out soon enough, Bucky.

“Bucky?” he asked, brows furrowed. “Who the hell is Bucky?”

Instead of a verbal answer, warmth filled his limbs, effectively chasing away the chill and the shivering wretchedness that had owned him since the light had died.

It felt as if… someone where embracing him, enveloping him in their body heat, but when he opened his eyes he was still alone. He found he no longer minded, and the fear had vanished along with the chill.

That’s you, the voice hummed. You’re Bucky.

It sounded happy. The Soldier was glad for that, he thought. Perhaps the voice could be an ally, a way for him to survive. Whether it spoke the truth about who, and what, he was, that remained to be seen.

But the voice also sounded tired, as if the conversation had been draining, and he could certainly feel it had less energy than it had had before.

The Soldier knew, deep down in a place he dared not look at for too long, that he wouldn’t send away the voice again.

“I’m… Bucky,” he repeated, unsure.

Yes.

The voice said nothing more for the remainder of the night, though with the warm comfort wrapped around his limbs, the Soldier knew it was still with him. By the time the sun rose a few hours later, he had fallen into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.

Next Chapter

#bucky barnes x reader #demon!bucky barnes #demon!bucky barnes x reader #demon!bucky x reader #branded #my writing #my fanfiction

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ailec-12 · 3 years ago

Note

Ahhhhhhh congrats to reaching 100!!! It‘s super deserved! Could I request something for House Potter, please? Like, maybe something with Sev and Sirius along the lines of hurt/comfort? But no pressure, if that is too much or would be too fast-forward into the story! :) thanks!!

Thank you so much, Anon, you're so sweet! I'm sorry you've had to wait so long to see this prompt done —I hope you'll actually see it!—, especially since it was the first one I started to write back in October. I just got a little stuck with it halfway through, but I loved it and hope you'll enjoy it, too.

I decided to take today off to rest and, though I know I probably shouldn't have, I couldn't help sitting down and finally finishing this prompt. I don't have the energy to edit it, but I wanted to post it anyway.

So, this is set in the future, but let's imagine Sev and Sirius have made no progress whatsoever in the meantime. Also, the Potters have either moved out or gone on holiday.

Also on AO3.

No Harm Done

He told himself, as he took James’s broom without breathing a word of it to anyone, that it was okay. James did let him have it, so it was none of Sirius’s business what Severus did with it. A voice in his head begged to differ, but he ignored it and ploughed on.

He was nervous and excited, although, in all honesty, it was hard to distinguish one feeling from the other. After all, the clench in his stomach and the tingling in his fingers seemed to fit well together. It was the first time he would be flying alone and his mouth had become completely dry long before he had sneaked out the broom. Still, he had no doubts about wanting to carry on with his plan and Sirius, who had come to watch over them and was currently sleeping on the sofa with Harry, did not ever need to know.

The day was clear, if a little windy. Severus mounted and kicked the ground once, firmly. The broom took off at once and he gripped the handle tightly before relaxing his grip ever so slightly.

Flying felt great, exhilarating. Any fears he may have harboured stayed well below him.

He was not confident enough yet to try some of the stunts that James performed as easily as breathing. However, he enjoying riding higher than any of the adults would likely have allowed as well as going round and round in progressively smaller circles. He was enjoying himself so much that, when he started to descend, he miscalculated the higher speed he had achieved. When he saw the ground come closer far too fast, he pulled up the handle abruptly and the broom responded with a sharp jump. Startled, Severus saw his own fall in slow motion: the way his hands failed to regain hold of the wood, how his body flew a bit higher than the broom and how the ground greeting him face first. The world around him went deadly silent.

The impact left no air in his lungs. He tried to take a breath and succeeded after a few desperate attempts. The pain came afterwards. Gingerly, he sat up to examine the damage. Although the grass had surely softened his fall, one of his arms hurt from the wrist to the elbow. His jumper was covered with green stains, as were his jeans. Luckily, he had not ripped anything off, but his knees hurt when he stood up.

All these thoughts were forgotten once he spotted the broom. James’s racing broom, the once he had used for matches at Hogwarts. Severus’s blood ran cold. If he had broken the damn thing…

His hands were shaking uncontrollably when he took it, but his heart began to beat again as he observed no major damage. There were some sticks that stuck out of place and a few scratches on the handle that would not look amiss in a well-worn broom —that is, if James did not keep his in prime condition. He was bound to notice, Severus knew, fearing the moment. He might be lucky enough that James may just think he forgot to fix it before putting it away the last time he rode it. Severus was aware that he was not half bad at lying and, although it left a bitter taste on his tongue sometimes, he was too much of a coward to take the blame if he could avoid it.

And yet, his thoughts were useless, for he never had the chance to do any of it. Halfway through the house, the back door slammed open and revealed Sirius, thus freezing Severus on the spot.

“Where the—” Sirius started to yell. Then, he saw Severus and strode in his direction. The boy gripped the broom, but did not move. “What the fuck, Snape? You were flying?”

His hands were trembling again as he offered the broom. He had been caught, so there was nothing to do but manage the damage.

“I didn’t break it, it’s fine,” he said mulishly, as if that could cover up the fact that he was unable to look up, instead keeping his eyes focused on Sirius’s tight fists.

“What the hell happened to you, though? Did you roll down a hill? Wait, did you fall while you were flying?” Sirius did not snatch the broom while berating him, as Severus had expected. “Fuck, you’re hurt.”

His tone became strangely flat when delivering the last sentence and the boy was unsure how he should interpret it. What could Sirius plan to do with that information?

“I’m fine,” he snapped, just in case.

Sirius’s fists relaxed a little.

“Really? So blood just comes out of your knee on occasion?”

His black eyes snapped down and he saw a darker stain than the ones from grass and dirt. His cheeks became warmer and he faced Sirius’s smirk, offering a scowl of his own.

“I’m fine. May I go to clean up?”

His heart was beating very fast. What if Sirius said ‘no’? Severus did not understand why that was so frightening. The most the man could do was not let him get out of his dirty clothes, maybe force him to stand in a corner all day until Lily and James got home past his bedtime. Sirius could not hurt him, they would not allow it —they had promised. And yet, Severus waited with bated breath for the answer.

“Let me check first. I don’t need anyone come down on me ‘cause I neglected you.”

For some reason, that did it. Severus dropped the broom and made a dash for the door that led inside the house. ‘Stupid,’ he would think a second later, when he realised he should have run in the opposite direction, even if the open field did not feel any safer when the other was a grown wizard with a wand.

Before he was aware of what was happening, there was something encircling his waist and trapping him.

“L– Let me go!” He could not help the way his voice sounded high pitched and scared. He did not want anyone to know he was scared.

He hit Sirius’s arm and tried to kick him, too. He struggled for a while and did not stop to see whether he was doing any real damage. He felt numb and detached and maybe fear was still there despite his best efforts.

“Ow, ow! Snape, stop! Bollocks, you twat, I was j– Okay, that’s it!”

And then, the ground under his feet disappeared. He may have let out a pathetic shrill until he got hold of himself, shut his eyes very tightly and kept still. His breathes were the only sound for a short second. Then, a likely livid Sirius carried him inside the house, stomping all the while. He took him to the living room and put him down in front of the couch. Nearby, Harry was playing with his moving animal toys.

“Sit down,” Sirius growled and Severus obeyed.

At the same time, Harry stumbled over them and demanded,

“Sev, play!”

The older boy only shook his head, leaving Sirius to explain just in how much trouble he was at the moment.

“Harry, I’ve got an important mission for you,” Sirius said, solemnly but still warmer than he ever addressed Severus. The toddler looked up. “You watch that Snape stays put till I come back, all right?”

Harry nodded, reciprocating the solemnity, and turning back around, repeated his request to play together. Severus refused in silence, letting his hair fall on his face and focusing on not letting fall the tears that had started to gather in his eyes.

He had mucked it up really badly that time. He had panicked and attacked an adult —a man that James considered his own brother. The world was a blur and his ragged breaths flooded his ears.

“Snape.”

An impatient voice broke his train of thought. Minutes could have passed, or perhaps hours. He looked up and saw a very irritated Sirius holding up a familiar blue bottle in one hand and his wand in another.

“Calmer now, aren’t you?” the man huffed. “Roll up your trouser leg, let me see what we’re dealing with.”

Severus shook his head vehemently. He did not understand what was going on, but his eyes were still fixed on the wand. His breathing was still making that horrible sound.

“Hurt?” pipped up Harry somewhere next to him.

“Yeah, mate, Snape’s hurt and too ruddy stubborn to let me help.”

Help? What did Sirius understand for help when it came down to a brat like him?

“No ‘Nape, Sev!” Harry corrected all of a sudden, drawing Severus’s attention to the pair.

There was a small chubby finger pointed at him and, when he looked at Sirius —his face, not his wand—, the man had a bemused expression.

“Right,” he said after a moment, turning his terrible grey eyes towards Severus. “Well, Sev, will you please roll up your trouser leg so I can heal your knee?”

Sirius dragged the short nickname with all the smugness he was able to muster and the boy found he did not like it any better than hearing his surname.

“I’m fine,” he tried once again, but his voice sounded small and frightened as his anger failed to rise.

Sirius let out a weary sigh and handed him the blue bottle. After looking between the children, he decided to put his wand between his teeth. Then, with no hurry, he proceeded to pull up Severus’s damaged trousers himself.

The bottle trembled in his grasp. The boy bit his lip and tightened his fingers around it. Staying still was his only task now.

Sirius was excruciatingly slow until he finally revealed the cut on his knee. It had stopped bleeding and clearly did not merit so much care, but there was no comment on it or the mess it had made. In fact, for once, Sirius forwent his habitual cutting remarks and kept mostly quiet, only speaking to assure Harry that everything was okay.

Severus was pretty sure he stopped breathing when the wand came near him. Yet, he did not move. He felt something warm and, when he looked down, the cut had disappeared. A cold feeling ensued as Sirius washed the dry blood away with a cloth under Severus’s fascinated gaze. The bottle was taken from his hands as Sirius began to apply it on his knee, even though the bruise had not appeared yet.

Next, the man rolled up his other trouser leg.

“Does it hurt here, too?”

Severus was about to shake his head again, but Sirius was staring at him intently and the boy knew his lie would be caught.

“Just a little,” he mumbled, looking back down.

Some balm was applied on that area as well without another word. Severus pondered whether he could ask for some for his wrist and elbow, but Sirius proceeded to examine his arms himself. The boy could not help a sharp intake of breath when Sirius took hold of his wrist.

“This has swollen.”

“It’s not broken,” Severus hurried to assure.

Sirius frowned at him, although he did not look angry.

“No, it’s not, but let me…”

And he moved his wand in a different pattern until both the redness and swelling had faded away. Still, he applied some balm there and on his elbow. Severus had no idea whether he should be more surprised that Sirius was healing him or that he apparently knew where to look for injuries.

At long last, they were done and Sirius obliged Harry by sitting him on his lap. A dense silence settled between him and Severus, who tried to still his fingers by burying them in the hem of his jumper. Eventually, the boy was the one to break the quiet.

“The broom…” he started, peeking at the open door, in the direction where the magical object remained lying on the grass.

“Accio Prongs’s broom.”

Harry was very excited to see his father’s broom flying towards them and Sirius let him grab the end of the handle while he examined it. Severus could not relax completely, but at least the man’s face was not giving him any more reason to panic.

“We’ve all fallen on our arses while riding; more than once, actually,” Sirius remarked, almost offhandedly. Then, he looked up, straight into Severus’s black eyes. “There’s no harm done, so I suppose no one needs to know… as long as you’re careful next time and let someone know before flying off.”

The unexpected reprieve from Sirius of all people took a moment to register in Severus’s brain. He hurried to wipe the shock off his face and nodded with all his might.

“I will, I swear!”

The man looked at him for a bit longer, until he turned to his godson with a big smirk.

“Harry, you up for beating Severus at Exploding Snap?”

#Harry Potter fanfiction #Severus Snape #Sirius Black #House Potter for Children in Need #A Hotchpotch of Feelings #HP #My fics #Prompt #100 Followers Celebration #*#I could swear I wrote Severus had bitten Sirius!#I think it's hilarious I've spent months thinking that happened but then I reread the thing and that image was nowhere to be found #It happened tho #Sev just didn't register he had bitten Sirius #Ask Ail #anonymous

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