#way too long explanation but when she’s afraid she doesn’t sit on any of her expensive orthopedic mattresses or the couches or beds or even

[vulcanette]

gonna try to sew something this weekend, I haven’t had the time and it’s been bumming me out

[pred1059]

Just A Chance Chapter Two

<- Previous Chapter | Current Chapter | Next Chapter -> Journal: Day one I forgot my old journal back at my old room, and I can’t go back unless something major happens during the assignment. Good thing Axel lent me one of his notebooks. I forgot what day I was on, so I guess I’ll start over. I don’t think it was too long anyway. Anyway. Castle Oblivion is even more boring than our old castle. The only thing it’s got is heartless. But there’s someone else here, a girl. Naminé. Marluxia and Larxene are kind of...threatening her? They say she’s dangerous and powerful, but I don’t know why that’s a reason to treat her like that. It just doesn’t seem right to push around someone who couldn’t fight back. She smiled after I talked to her though. Even if we’re both nobodies without feelings or hearts, I think it’s good for her to smile sometimes. And if that’s something I can make happen... Anyway, that’s why I want to see her again tomorrow.

His work in Castle Oblivion was the same as many of his other missions. Fight the heartless and report back. The only difference was that Marluxia was the one giving the orders. That and there wouldn’t be any ice cream when the mission was over. Axel seemed about as put off about the prospect as Roxas was. Namely, he had little incentive to hurry and finish. Still, Roxas did have some reason not to just take the whole day to fight off the heartless. He had a promise to keep. So while Axel went back to check on the rest of the team, he made his way to the doors he knew from his tour. Slowly, he turned the ivory door handle, and looked inside. Hearing a gasp from the corner of the room, Roxas saw a surprised Naminé sitting up straight and looking at him with wide eyes. “Roxas?” After she saw her visitor however, she relaxed and shook her head, “I’m sorry, everyone else just uses the portals.” “Sorry, I don’t really know how to use them. Didn’t mean to scare you.” She couldn’t be happy if she was afraid, right? “It’s alright,” Naminé answered with a slight smile. His concern allayed, Roxas walked over to Naminé, and he began to ask, “You said you had some kind of power you didn’t know was good or bad. What is it?” She looked down at the drawing in the notebook of a boy in red with spiky brown hair, and began to explain,“I can control the memories of a certain person, as well as the memories of other people who have met him.” Roxas nodded, rubbing his chin as he processed the explanation, “Sounds powerful, but I guess it depends on the people he’s met. What’s his name?” “His name is Sora.” … A beach. Xemnas’ words Still… “Can’t say I’ve heard of him,” Roxas shook his head, “Do the other organization members know him?” Naminé nodded, “They know of him. But they aren’t really connected to him.” “What about you?” Naminé looked down to the notepad in her hands with a frown, fingers tightening as she spoke, “I’ve never met him. But if the plan works. I might see him.” Roxas tilted his head curiously, “The plan?” She looked up in surprise, “Nobody told you?” He shrugged, “I just got here...yesterday, I think? Can’t tell the time.” Naminé looked back down at her notepad and answered,“If I can change his memories, we could have him work for the Organization.” Roxas crossed his arms, “Why would we want that?” “Because he can use this.“ She began to draw, first a blade of silver with teeth at the end, then a hilt of gold in Sora’s hands. “He’s used it to fight hordes of Heartless.” “The Keyblade?” Roxas held out his hand, and in a flash of light he held the weapon that Naminé had drawn. He shook his head, “I thought I was the only one who had it.” “You!?” Naminé stared at the weapon in his hands with wide eyes, then began to tremble, “No! You’re—” “All right, little witch! It’s showtime!” Larxene spoke from the dark portal that had appeared. Rubbing her hands as she looked at Naminé, “Sora’s just outside! You ready to get him under control?” Naminé began to shake her head frantically, “Larxene...That’s not a good idea!” At the rebuttal, Larxene’s eyes narrowed even though her smile did not waver, “I’m sorry, I’m sure you just said, ‘Sure thing Larxene, I’ll take the memories Sora has right away!’ Would you mind repeating that?” Roxas stepped forward, “Larxene, maybe you should—” “You keep out of this,” she growled at him, still grinning, “This has nothing to do with you.” “It has everything to do with him!” Naminé spoke up, “Sora’s memories are connected!” Larxene sighed and rolled her eyes, her smile giving way slightly, “Yes, we’ve been over this. Everyone else forgets so be a good witch and—” “To everyone! Even his other half! If I were to remove them now Roxas would collapse!” “Roxas?” The mention of Organization’s keyblade wielder finally broke Larxene’s false kindness. First with surprise as she began to make the connection, then finally anger. “Are you kidding!?!?”

Marluxia watched the trio who had defeated the dark seeker stare at him with weapons raised. “Heartless?!?” Yet he had no concern for his life. “I’ll try some magic!” For his plan had already been set in motion. Naminé had implanted the first thought. The faintest memory that their friends might be here. Now that they had taken the bait, her ministrations would remove their abilities. "Thunder!" And then Donald’s magic worked too well, as a bolt of lightning coursed through his frame. “But...how!?!” Sora charged forward with his keyblade at near sonic speed, “Guess you don’t know who you’re dealing with!” Marluxia barely had time to summon his weapon to parry the blow. The ring of metal against metal marked the impact. Very well, he could deal with this quickly. With a gesture, a gale of wind blasted past the castle entrance carrying petals that sliced. Acting quick, Goofy shielded the others from the Buffeting the trio.“Hold on!” Fortunately Marluxia only needed a moment to vanish into a dark portal and reappear behind them, calling out, “I see you have maintained your strength. That is rare.” Sora, Donald, and Goofy spun to face him as he spoke. “As you climb the rest of Castle Oblivion in search of your friends however, that may not remain the case.” A flourish of his hand, produced the memory card of Traverse Town, “For here, to lose is to find, and to find is to lose. As you ascend through these floors of memories, you may lose what is dear to you in mind and spirit.” Marluxia tossed the card over to Sora, who caught it while glaring back at him, “And why would we do that.” “Because it is the only way for you to save your friends.” Or rather, the friend he would provide him. The one who would break him so that Sora hung off her every word. Speaking of which...

Roxas could barely make out half of the words Larxene had yelled at him and Naminé. The girl could only hug her notepad to her chest at the diatribe. She relaxed a bit when Roxas tried to calm Larxene down, but Marluxia’s reappearance only caused Naminé to shrink into her chair smaller than before when he ground out two words. “What. Happened.” Larxene grabbed Roxas by the scruff of his hood and shook him, “Well apparently, our little gamble has got us stuck with dead weight! We wipe Sora's memories, he goes into a coma!” “H-hey! Let me—” Marluxia shook his head after a moment, sighing, "Ah. I almost forgot their connection. Still, we might find some use for the boy.” Larxene dropped Roxas to the floor, and smirked. “Not exactly my plan to turn him into bait, but it’ll work.” Roxas could only stare. They were just going to knock him out? Leave him to die?!? “True. Naminé, proceed.” No... “Well? Get a move on witch!” No! “But…I…Don’t...” NO!!! “Wait! Just...just wait!!!” The three stared at Roxas after his outburst, but eventually Larxene spoke up, “Oh? You've got a better idea?” Roxas tried to think about all the things he learned, and eventually ventured, ”You want someone with a Keyblade as strong as Sora, right? Someone who can fight off loads and loads of heartless?” Marluxia nodded before responding in the same terse voice, “In essence. Your point?” Roxas placed a hand on his chest as he explained, “Give me a chance to become as strong as him. I could be stronger!” The two members of the organization looked at each other, while Naminé’s eyes were on Roxas. Larxene crossed her arms, “Double down on our gamble?” She tapped her cheek, then began to smile, “If you're smart enough to come up with that idea. It's not too much of a stretch.” Marluxia’s eyes narrowed as he stepped towards Roxas, “How would you train? The heartless here are not as powerful with the door to darkness sealed.” “His memories,” Naminé spoke up, causing everyone to look at her, “I can copy the same cards that will let Roxas fight what Sora did.” Marluxia folded his arms “Will you be able to make additions to Sora's memories that will insert yourself in?” Naminé scrunched her eyes before finally nodding, “Yes. I should be able to do that without hurting Roxas.” Marluxia turned back to Roxas before answering, “Very Well. Show me you can surpass Sora before he arrives to this floor.” Larxene stepped forward and poked Roxas in the chest, “Just don’t be too slow! He’ll be moving pretty fast. So he’ll probably get up here in a few weeks.” And with the ultimatum, Marluxia and Larxene vanished into dark portals. Roxas looked at Naminé, asking “Memories. What do you mean, make memories?” In a flash of light Naminé held a blue card with a picture of a new world, “This card represents one of the worlds Sora visited. If you want to become as strong as he did, you probably want to follow in his footsteps.” Taking the card into his hands, Roxas nodded, “Do what Sora did to become as strong as he is. Yeah, I can do this. Thanks for helping me.” For the moment, the sea of questions his mind had become was quelled. Who Sora was, why Roxas was connected to him, why Naminé had that power in the first place. All that could wait. Right now, he needed to know what kind of challenge he was facing. Naminé reached out as he went to the door. “Just...try to come back. Okay?” Roxas looked at her and nodded, “Okay.” And after holding the card up to the door, he walked out towards whatever journey Sora’s memories had taken him on.

[phantomrose96]

Old Wounds

Danny’s secret is not a secret anymore.

The lines between Fenton and Phantom have long since blurred. And it’s a common occurrence for news reporters to trip over their tongue when flagging him down, mid-transformation, for a post-fight interview. “Phanton.” “Fentom.” So often that, to most now, he is just Danny.

When Danny wants upgrades to his gear, he comes to his mother. When Danny learns a quirky new element of Ghost Zone lore, he brings it to his father. When the Amity Park Ghost Alarm is raised, he’s first on the scene with the Fenton RV right on his non-corporeal heels.

When he’s injured, Danny comes only to his friends and sister.

Jazz notices the pattern. How it is only her, or only Sam, or only Tucker who receives the late-night knock at the window glass, with her brother on the other side, corny sheepish smile on display and arm or leg or shoulder held up in explanation.

Jazz notices how hushed Danny remains, day or night, when he comes to her for first aid. How he speaks in that same hesitant muted tone as he did when all of this was still a secret. How he quiets himself in the way injured prey animals do.

Jazz doesn’t feel it’s her place to ask. Not yet, at least. Eventually. But not yet.

The window is open. Honeysuckle-sweet gusts of late-spring air swirl through Jazz’s room and tease away the sheen of sweat that has collected on her brow. She cannot wipe it away herself, not with both hands meticulously occupied in tweezering out the singed fabric from her brother’s arm.

Danny winces, and hisses, and Jazz frees another thread from its embedded hold in Danny’s burn wound.

“It’s kind of like… summer vacation when we were kids and we’d get splinters visiting Aunt Alicia’s lake house,” Jazz remarks with another careful tug. “…If we can call it a lake house.”

“Lake shed,” Danny replies, grinning through the sweat shining on his pale face. “And I think every part of that dock was an OSHA violation.” He laughs through another wince.

“Dad was the king of tweezers. I think he got out every splinter that dock ever gave me.” Jazz pauses. “I wonder why that was. Think it’s the needlepoint?”

“It’s definitely the needlepoint,” Danny agrees.

Jazz hesitates on the question lingering behind her tongue. Just a little too long. Just a little too obviously.

“What?” Danny asks.

Jazz’s hand falters. She puts the tweezers down. “Danny, I will always always be happy to help you like this. Same goes for Sam, same goes for Tucker, I know. I’m positive. But I wonder why… not Mom or Dad?” Jazz eyes the tweezers, glinting in the moonlight. “I’m just… I’m thinking how much cleaner this might be if you got Dad to do it. And Mom’s got like, wilderness survival level first aid expertise. I can’t help thinking I’m hurting you more by it being… me, you know?”

Danny looks at her, and looks past her a moment. His grin slips a fraction into discomfort as his eyes leave hers. “Maybe I just like the excuse to invade your room.”

“Danny…” Jazz waits until he looks at her again. “Are you afraid they’ll make you stop if they realize you’re getting injured?”

Danny lets out a puff of air from behind his lips. “No, never. I mean, maybe if I got really really injured they’d say something. But just getting a little roughed up? I think it’s about on par with a kid coming home from football practice with a few scrapes, at least, in their eyes. They get more banged up than me these days. I’m not worried.”

Jazz reaches for the bottle of disinfectant. She unscrews the cap to a biting alcohol smell. “…So will you tell me why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you won’t ever go to them with injuries? Ever?”

Cotton swab, pure silver under the moonlight. Jazz douses it gently, a muted glug-glug from the bottle.

“…I’m that obvious about it, huh?”

“You’re obvious about most things. This’ll be cold.” Jazz applies the swab to the open wound, and Danny hisses in turn.

“Yeah. Cold. And stingy. Cold and stingy.” After a few seconds, the tension eases out of Danny’s body. He droops a little, shoulders slumped, and Jazz pulls the cotton swab away.

“Are you ashamed of your injuries?”

“No.”

“Are you worried Mom and Dad’ll make them worse?”

“Nah. You said it yourself, those two are weird, unconventional medical experts.”

“Then why not?”

A beat of silence follows. A moment of trepidation. Awash in moonlight, Danny looks up at her, and the glow in his green eyes has a life of its own. “I don’t want them to see the injuries that have already healed.”

“Why would that be a problem?” Jazz looks again. Danny’s suit covers most everything, save now for the one sleeve that’s been rolled back. She sees what she already knew was there – what isn’t obvious to the eye not searching – threads of white ridges, puckers of skin, a faded rashy texture of what had once been an ectoblast burn. Old injuries. Long healed. Faded and fading further. “Those are all healed now. Just some scars, right…?”

Danny hesitates.

“I don’t want them to figure out how many of those scars they caused.”

A gust of wind steals the antiseptic smell from the room. Jazz sits with the silence. She thinks, and she processes.

“Oh…”

Danny straightens. “They kind of… live in this world where hunting ghosts is all fun and games, you know? Like it’s a sport, like they can just get into go-mode and jump into the fun. I don’t think they’ve figured out yet that they can—could—did …cause damage.”

Danny adjusts himself on Jazz’s bed, one leg pulled up, body angled to face her directly. He doesn’t let his eye contact wander now. “They both apologized. Definitely. Like that definitely happened, back at the start of this. But it was kind of like ‘We must’ve given you so much trouble Danny! How’d you come home every day and not bite our heads off over that?’ Like. Again. Like it’s a game. Like they’d been knocking my chess pieces over for a year and not—”

Danny falters. He raises his uninjured arm and tucks the hair away from his face. “And I don’t… want it to click for them. What I have right now with Mom and Dad is so nice… It’s so much better than I even imagined. I want it to stay like this. Forever, if possible.”

“Danny…”

“And even that actually—maybe I’m actually wrong about that. Completely wrong. About their reaction, I mean. It’s possible maybe they’d see everything and just go,” Danny deepens his voice, “‘Wow! We did a number on you, huh? Man Danny I don’t know how you didn’t just smack us over the breakfast table every morning.’ you know? Like that. Like this was all just always a game. And they—and I-- …I like how relaxed ghost hunting is with them. I actually like that it feels like a game. I don’t ever want to go back to feeling how scared and afraid and unsafe and hurt I was that first year. ...But I’m afraid of how it would feel to know that maybe they’d see that, look at it all, everything they did and the scars like the actual proof and it—if it wouldn't ever be real to them. If they'd never get that it was like that. If they still wouldn’t realize—you know? That they—if they—I don’t uh…” Danny drops his eyes, and he shrinks in on himself. “I don’t know how to explain it…”

“No I—Danny I know what you’re saying. Don’t worry. Danny, I—”

“Either answer. Any answer. I don’t want to know… I don’t actually want to know.” Danny angles himself away again, feet dropped over the side of Jazz’s bed, staring down at the hands in his lap. “If it would horrify them, then I’d be ruining all the good things I have with them right now. And if it wouldn’t horrify them—” Danny falls quiet. The breeze has stilled. The room is colder now. “…then I think I just don’t ever want to know.”

Jazz nods, and nods harder.

“I get it. I get it. That’s a good enough answer for me, Danny, I promise. I’m your first aid person, okay? I won’t ask again. Thanks for… thanks for telling me, Danny.”

"Can always trust you to bring up the difficult conversations huh? Of course that's always been your thing. Talking to you is--well I'd say it's like pulling teeth, but maybe it's more like pulling ecto-demolished hazmat suit fabric out of a burn wound."

Danny offers a sheepish grin - it's an olive branch, a request to lighten the mood. Jazz meets it with her own small grin that does not touch her eyes.

"Yeah yeah, I'm your older sister. It's my job to be a pain. Now sit still, I need to be more of a pain if we're gonna de-hazmat suit your injury."

She picks the tweezers back up. The silence rings with an echo in her head now. Jazz focuses her attention back on her task, and she finds something she was wrong about before:

There is nothing faded about the scars that web up and down her little brother’s arm. They are stark streaks of lightning, glowing silver under the moonlight. And Jazz wonders how many others—how many that flaked away and melded back with healthy skin—how many of those might still be living, lingering, a permanent part of her little brother, buried well beneath the surface…

[sneales]

♥jjk’s characters falling in love and confessing + headcanons♥

Characters: Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Megumi, Nobara, Yuta, Sukuna, Toji, gender neutral reader Genre: romance Warnings: grammar mistakes, mention of sex in Sukuna and Toji’s parts. Notes: this is more like “who’s the most awkward person?” lmao

→Requests are open!

Gojo

He’s surprised when he realizes he’s in love with you.

He has had many partners but they weren’t serious relationships.

So he has no idea what to do with his feelings. 

He doesn’t really get nervous for anyone, but he gets so self-conscious when you are around him.

He tries to look cooler and moderate the messy parts of his personality.

He also starts inviting you to fancy places and buys you expensive things you never asked for.

He lowkey thinks looks and money are his best qualities, so he shows them off a lot.

He is slightly allusive too, so his shirt won’t be button up properly, or he’ll sit in a suggestive way etc.

When you ask him what the heck is wrong with him lately, he admits he has fallen for you.

Nanami

He has always thought you were interesting, so he wasn’t shocked when he realized he fell in love with you

He’s actually a bit insecure because he doesn’t know how much you like him.

He’ll begin some kind of light courtship, it’s not that evident, but nonetheless you notice he’s being kinder, warmer.

He’ll tell you “I was passing by that shop and I thought of you” and he gives you some sweets or snacks.

Yeah, he also buys flowers and other little cheesy things. 

Nothing too exaggerate though. He wants to let you understand he’s interested, but without making you uncomfortable.

He invites you to go out on a dinner and you can probably predict that is the day he’ll confess.

Itadori

He’s a bit clueless at first, but he’s not too slow either, he understands he likes you quite soon.

He’s the kind of person who laughs like an idiot and sees everything colorful and beautiful when he’s in love.

He won’t confess quickly, probably he’ll first try to understand if he has any chance with you.

But he doesn’t really try to get your attention or to show off his good qualities.

The only difference with normal Itadori is that he tries to spend more time with you and he always wear a big smile whenever he’s around you.

His confession is quite simple and easy-going, maybe while you’re drinking a juice in a bar.

Megumi

Like Gojo he is completely lost at first.

It’s not like he has never liked anyone before, but it doesn’t happen too often either and he thinks love is too hard and complex for him.

After that he gets used to his new feelings, but he still doesn’t feel like he has to do anything to get together, he doesn’t believe you like him back and anyway would it even work?

He won’t really confess unless he has evidence you like him too, or unless Itadori and Nobara push him to confess.

Itadori and Nobara will try to set you two up, it’s so clear to them you would make a great couple.

After a lot of persuasion, he accepts to tell you his feelings (maybe only to shut up those two).

He asks you to go for a walk and looks for the quietest place in the park to confess.

Nobara

She’ll be “let’s gooooo” when she understands she likes you.

A bit like Nanami, she tries to conquer your heart before confessing.

But hers is not a quiet courtship, it’s a messy way of trying to get your attention.

She’s probably the kid who pulled the hair of her crush, so expect anything from her.

You go to karaoke with your friends? Well she’ll take that microphone and never let it go, singing in such a loud and bad way you go back home with a headache.

You go to the beach to play some volley? She probably slapped several balls in your face, because she wanted to show you how strong her spikes are… they are hella strong.

Anyway she did manage to get your attention (probably not in a positive way) and you’re happy when she says she’s in love with you because you were starting to think she hated you.

Yuta

He gets super awkward at first, mostly because he doesn’t know if he’s a nuisance for you.

Once he realizes you don’t dislike him, he feels more relaxed.

He doesn’t have anything planned tbh, he just wants to know you better and spend time together.

When you build a solid friendship, he probably feels a bit ashamed because he feels like he’s hiding something important from you.

So he’ll confess, not really because he expects an answer, but only to be 100% honest with you.

He is definitely the incarnation of the “best friends to lovers” trope.

Sukuna

He definitely mistakes love for lust.

So forget Nanami’s courtship, the order is completely messed up.

You start as sex friends, but at some point he’ll realize something is weird.

He’s definitely not new to lust and sex, but for the first time he feels he has to tuck your body under the covers, or to place a glass of water next to you in case you’ll feel thirsty after you wake up, or clean you up after sex.

He’s usually careless and selfish, so he doesn’t really see any logical explanation for his behaviour.

He’s getting affectionate to you, but he won’t ever call that “love” because he thinks like his tongue would fall off if he ever says that word.

He’s very subtle so his confession won’t be vocal, but if he’s still close to you after such a long time you know the reason behind it.

Toji

I feel he would mistake love for lust too.

The order is kinda messed up here too, Toji won’t definitely fall for someone he doesn’t desire or with someone who doesn’t have a good sexual chemistry with him.

But unlike Sukuna, he’s a bit more emotionally intelligent (?) so he recognises his feelings and he isn’t afraid to admit them.

He confesses after a night of sex, while you two are resting. He randomly spoke while there was silence and you were almost falling asleep, for one second you even believe it was a dream.

He’s a bit abrasive and hard to deal with, but I think he gets a lot tamer whenever he is with his lover.

To your surprise, he’s a person who takes very seriously love relationships, it almost feels as if you straight up went from f*ck buddies to married couple.

[wallflowerimagines]

I love your writing so much, it's very great! Anyways, can you make one with the lords with a s/o who can see ghosts, but everytime they see one they tensed up ? Thanks alot! <3 <3 <3

In a horror game???? With a horror villain s/o?????

Anon, you are so brave 😔✊ let's get spooky.

Alcina Dimitrescu

There are SO many ghosts in Castle Dimitrescu. And they're all so LOUD.

The majority seem to be victims of House Dimitrescu. All of them drift through the air, drained and skeletal, eyes sightless, and they just wail non stop. The wailing itself is actually kind of a lower volume, but because there are so many ghosts around, the sound layers and echoes through the space until you can barely hear yourself think.

They remind you of jellyfish in a way. They just aimlessly drift through the air, clothes billowing around them, sliding through the walls. Constantly screaming.

You actually prefer the ghosts of the victims of the Cadou experiments. They might be horrible, shuffling abominations of flesh and oozing blood, but at least they're quiet.

Alcina notices you flinch without any kind of visible stimulus, and immediately gets suspicious. She pulls you into a room and demands an explanation of your behavior.

If there is a problem, she's going to fix it.

When you tell her about the ghosts, her lips press into a fine line. You mean to tell her that these worthless wastes of space are crowding her halls, polluting her home even after their death?

They dare to not only crowd the noble house of Dimitrescu under her nose for years, but they're bothering you while they do it?

Yeah, Alcina is Furious.

She gets a couple exorcists on Retainer. Every month or so, priests of various religions are paraded through the house and cleanse the place from top to bottom. She has you follow them around and check their work, too. If any of them happen to be charlatans, they'll just join the horde of ghosts. No skin off her nose.

It is a little annoying that she has to hire even more people to clean up the mess in her Castle, but Alcina is a highborn lady. Any kind of clutter (living or dead) is unacceptable. Her home should be pristine.

Besides, her favorite reward is seeing you fall asleep in her arms, entirely peaceful. You had been so obviously stressed by the situation. It's such a relief to have you relaxed and calm once again.

Donna Beneviento

When Donna finds out you can see ghosts, she gets a bit ...manic.

This is a woman who lost her entire family, and is unable to deal with grief in a healthy way. She's constantly in mourning garb, and her veil rarely comes off. Hell, her grief was the catalyst for her current hobby-- which is what turned it into a hyperfixation.

I'm not going to lie to you, this revelation puts your relationship on pause. She's going to use you to get what she wants, and she wants her family back.

Donna pulls out all the family photo albums and portraits. She coaches you on her mother's laugh, her father's focused expression. She gets the projector and plays you home movies to show you how they walk and talk. Anything she can show you to help identify the ghosts of her family, she does it.

If you tense up, Donna gets so excited. Is it someone she knew? Her sister, maybe?

Unfortunately, most of the ghosts around are Donna's victims. They huddle in the corners of her home, rocking back and forth in terror, clawing at the walls in a futile attempt to escape whatever horror they've been eternally trapped in.

Sometimes, at night, you hear soft whimpers and scratches at your door...

If there is a ghost that isn't a member of her family around, Donna gets frustrated with it. She will banish any ghost that isn't a member of her family, or a member of the previous staff that could help them in the afterlife.

Eventually you need to sit her down and have a serious conversation with her. You're not something she can use to connect to her family. You might be willing to help, but all she's done lately is treat you like an object, not a partner. It has to stop.

It's the wake up call Donna needs. You both hold each other and cry for a long time, because the last thing she ever wanted to do is hurt you, but... She misses them. So much.

You still look for their ghosts for her, still tense in the hallway, but Donna stops asking you to describe them to her. She trusts you to tell her if they look familiar now. She can be patient.

Salvatore Moreau

Fish man might have been a doctor once, but he is a Small Town Doctor from a small fishing Hamlet. I don't care how much "logic" and "reason" you might think he has. This man is SUPER-fucking-STICIOUS.

Salt over your shoulder, four leaf clover carrying, fear of curse having man DOES NOT LIKE the idea of being haunted.

The ghosts of the reservoir are extra spooky too. Some of them are mid-mutation from the failed Cadou experiments...But the drowning victims are more common.

There aren't many ghosts around, but when they do appear, they're bloated, skin slipping off their bones, clothes dissolving around them as they glide through the air. They move much slower than other ghosts too, like the fact that they died in the water has permanently trapped them in that state.

If you tense up out of nowhere, Moreau does too.

What did you see?? Are they close?? Do they look bound to an object??

Salvatore will turn into his giant fish form and yeet anything that you might feel to be haunted over the mountain range. He takes no chances with that shit.

You two both are regular customers of the Duke's specifically for new exorcism methods. The Duke doesn't scam you guys either-- he provides candles, scriptures, holy water, perfumes, all of it works to keep the spirits at bay.

You and Moreau will walk around the reservoir, on guard for any hauntings, and clean up any area that might possibly have a ghost attached to it. It's a incredibly weird and very niche bonding experience.

By the end of the day, the reservoir is the least haunted place in the whole Village. Just how you and Salvatore like it.

Karl Heisenberg

Eat my ass, spirits

Heisenberg is not afraid of ghosts. He actually makes fun of you a little bit for even believing in them, until he sees you tense up out of the blue.

He trusts you enough to know you're not lying to him, so he knows that you are seeing something. He just doesn't know if they're really ghosts.

There aren't as many ghosts in the factory as there are at the Castle, but there is still quite a few.

A lot of them are missing limbs, unsurprisingly. They gasp and scramble around, eyes (if they are even there) bulging out of rotting faces as they scan the surrounding area for their missing pieces. They scuttle around like spiders up and through the walls, poking their heads into random rooms and constantly searching for something, anything to make them whole.

The worst thing about them is that they ALL scream when they see Heisenberg. It's not even a wail like from a normal ghost-- this is a full on shriek of rage and grief. They know who he is. They know what he's done. And they can't do anything about it.

Is it any wonder that you tense up all the time?

After you describe the ghosts in more detail to your partner, Heisenberg sets his jaw, gets pissed, and finds a way to exorcise the lot of them. While he can't see them, you can, and they might make you think less of him. He can't have that.

Plus, they're obviously bothering you. Karl does not tolerate some dumb spirits harassing his partner. If he has to nail a couple crucifixes to the wall and get a spray bottle of holy water, he will.

He also sees if he can kill his victims in an isolated section of the factory. Maybe having one specific room might limit the range on these things? It also makes for easier clean up.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Deep End  -  Six

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers X Reader

Summary: He’s back. After all your best efforts at getting away, he’s found you again. And this time, he’s not letting you go so easily. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you to be his. Forever.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Language, Angst, Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 4.6K

A/n: Okie dokie! I’ve got an epilogue planned but I like this. The epilogue will explain shit better but I've known that this would be the end since pretty much the beginning LMAO

Deep End Masterlist

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

~*~

When Steve hears you stop struggling, stop fighting and stop crying, he’s nervous.

It’s been a while since he locked you up there, and he really should check on you soon, if only to make sure the baby’s okay after that stunt you pulled.

He pushes the door to the bedroom open, eyeing your figure carefully.

You look like you’re asleep. If he wasn't so attuned to your body, your heart and your breathing, he wouldn’t have noticed something’s wrong.

Your heart is beating rapidly, far faster than normal. And it’s weaker than usual.

Your breathing is shallow and strained, and your face is lacking its usual healthy glow.

He rushes to your side, tearing the rope from your wrists and touching your face carefully.

Your skin is hot to the touch, and he feels fear settle in his gut.

He doesn’t know what to do, how to help. He’s never really had to help you like this, the doctor’s always been nearby.

He grabs his phone, calling the doctor and pacing nervously.

“Sh-she’s burning up and her breathing is shallow.”

Steve's stomach drops as he listens to the doctor’s instructions, answers his questions and comes to the realization of why you’re like this.

He rolls you onto your left side, tears welling up in his eyes at how unresponsive you are.

The doctor hangs up after telling the super soldier that he’ll be there soon.

His heart is in his throat as he tries to undo the damage of his punishment, putting the evidence back in the box and kicking the rope under the bed.

You’re still unresponsive, heart weak, but your breath sounds a little less strained.

Monster. That’s what you called him. What Natasha called him and what Bucky’s asset called him.

Maybe you’re right.

But he wants you. He needs you. Giving you up would be giving up a piece of his soul and he’s not ready to do that yet.

~*~

The doctor informs him that both you and the baby are okay, but being on your back for so long was compressing a major vein supplying your baby with oxygenated blood. If he’d gotten there any later it might’ve been too late.

With strict instructions to keep you on your left side and make sure you stay hydrated, the doctor takes his leave.

He stays by your side, holding your hand tightly in both of his as he really comes to terms with the fact that it was entirely his fault. He almost killed you and your baby to prove a stupid point. To discourage you from doing the very same thing.

His heart is heavy in his chest as he listens to your heartbeat get stronger, to the baby’s heartbeat continue fluttering like a hummingbird’s.

Those two sounds bring him peace, if only temporarily.

Shattering his peace is the sound of the front door opening, followed by tiny little footsteps clomping up the stairs.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

Sarah.

Steve shoves himself to his feet and quickly leaves the room just as his daughter tries to enter.

“Sarah, mommy’s sleeping.” She frowns up at him and shakes her little blonde head.

“I need to talk to mommy!”

She walks around his legs only for him to scoop her up in his arms.

“She’s sleeping right now, honey.”

Sarah shakes her head angrily, beating her tiny fists against his shoulders.

“Let me go! I want mommy! Mommy!! Put me down!” She starts shrieking. Full-on screaming bloody murder right in his ear, and he loses his grip on the wriggling child.

She slides out of his arms and runs into the bedroom, climbing onto the bed and shaking your shoulder.

“Mommy?” She’s got little tears on her face, and they don’t cease when you don’t wake up.

“Why won’t mommy wake up?!” She looks up at Steve with terror written on her face and it shatters his heart in his chest.

“Sarah, mommy’s sick, okay? I had the doctor come over and he said that she needs to rest and when she wakes up we’re gonna need to make sure she’s got plenty of water, okay?”

Sarah’s big blue eyes are filled with tears and she shakes her head.

“I want mommy!”

She clings to your torso, crying against your shoulder in fear.

“Sarah, honey, mommy’s gonna be okay. You just gotta give her some space, okay? How about I set up a movie for you?” Sarah sniffles and slowly pulls away from you, looking at her father and shaking her head again.

“I want mommy! I hate you!”

Steve then realizes just how crucial you are. How important you are, not only to him but to his daughter as well.

Losing you would hurt so many people.

“Honey, you gotta give mommy and I some space, okay?”

He picks up the five-year-old, despite her quite literally kicking and screaming, and sets her down outside the bedroom.

He shuts the door quickly and locks it even faster.

Sarah stands outside, wailing her head off and pounding on the door with her tiny little fists.

She cries for you, over and over again, and it breaks Steve’s heart.

He’s brought back to what you said about him. About how this isn’t love.

He sits down at your side again, trying desperately to drown out the sound of his daughter crying outside as his thoughts overwhelm him.

He hasn’t been the nicest to you, that he’ll openly admit, and he makes mistakes probably more often than he doesn’t. But he loves you. He needs you.

Tears well up in his eyes and he lets out a shuddering breath.

He’ll make this right. He has to. Sarah deserves a mother, so does your unborn baby. And -though he may not deserve you- he needs you. The monster will be hard to fight, but losing you will be harder.

The damage he’s done might be irreversible, but he’s gonna do what he can to make things right, to give you a better life.

You don’t wake up for a few hours, but when you do you’re confused.

Your back aches and you feel a little dizzy as you remember what happened, how you got here.

Steve watches as you regain consciousness, confusion pulling your brows together before you slowly open your eyes.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks softly, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles soothingly.

You look up at him then drop your gaze to your belly, bringing your free hand down to rub it gently.

“Am I... are we okay?” He nods gently, tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n). I was... I don’t know, trying to teach you a lesson. And all that did was hurt you. Hurt the baby. I wanted to show you that trying to hurt yourself and hurt the baby wouldn’t fly, but I ended up doing far more damage.”

You swallow hard and struggle to push yourself into a seated position, wincing at the throb in your head.

“The doctor said that you shouldn’t move too much, and try to stay on your left side when you sleep. I-I didn't know that sleeping on your back was bad.”

You take a deep breath and look up at him, waiting for the anger to take hold in his eyes but it never does.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. For scaring you and not trusting you. I... I lost you for so many years and now I have you back and... I don’t wanna lose you again. But everything I do to try and keep you close, make you mine... all it does is push you further away and I’m sorry.”

His apology takes you by surprise, and you eye him skeptically.

How are you supposed to know if he’s telling the truth?

He drags one of his hands down his face and for a moment you can truly see just how old Steve Rogers is.

The exhaustion of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders finally shows in the lines near his eyes, the bags beneath them. But what really displays his age is his eyes. They’re so full of trauma and pain and weariness.

For the first time since waking up from the ice, Steve Rogers looks his age.

“I-I’m sorry, too,” you whisper, surprising him.

“I didn’t... I wasn’t thinking. I just... I wanted to punish you for what happened to Natasha. What you did. I wanted you to hurt but I just ended up hurting myself in the process.” You look down at your hands, trying to figure out how you want to phrase what you have to say.

“People argue, Steve. But what you do... it’s beyond that. We’re not... there are so many things wrong with what’s happening between us, what’s happened already, but I can’t leave. Sarah’s too attached and all I want for my little girl is to have a happy life. To have the happiness that was torn from me.”

Guilt settles on his chest, but he lets you continue speaking.

“I want my daughter to have a good life. I don’t want her to be afraid of-of people. The way I am. She loves you, and I know... I think you love her. You haven’t hurt her yet, and I hope it stays that way because at the rate we’re going, I'm not sure how much longer I’ll be able to do this.”

The pure fatigue on your face is more than enough explanation, but the idea of losing you is too much for him to bear.

“No, don’t say that. I’m gonna get better, okay? We-we were happy once. And we can do it again. I’ll be gentle and patient. I just... I need you, (Y/n). I need you a lot and the fact that you have such a tight hold over my every thought makes me angry. But I’m not gonna take it out on you anymore, okay?”

You let out a deep breath and eye him carefully.

“You’ve said that before.”

He thinks back to the time you spent in that cabin in the woods, where you turned his friends against him.

He has said that before, and look at where he is now.

“This time it’ll be different.”

You don’t have the energy to fight him. So if he’s gonna try, fine.

“Where’s Sarah?” You ask, hoping she’s still safely out with Morgan.

Steve’s face falls again and he stands up and opens the door to your bedroom.

Sarah sits crumpled in a ball, her cheeks covered in tears.

“Mommy!” She all but screams the word, launching to her feet.

Steve tries to take her hand but she yanks it away from him, shooting him a glare then running to the bed and climbing up beside you.

Your heart breaks when you see how sad she looks, and you hug her to your chest.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay.” She sniffles and climbs onto your lap, climbing to you like her life depends on it.

You wonder what happened while you were unconscious, what Steve did to upset her so much, and your mind immediately goes to the worst.

You look at the man, your thoughts written plainly across your face, but he quickly shakes his head.

“No. I just told her she couldn’t come in. Not ‘till you woke up. She uh... she stayed right outside the door.”

You soothe your daughter, rocking her as much as you can manage with the pain rolling down your spine.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You hold her close to you, trying to calm her down while Steve looks on helplessly.

Although his daughter loves him, loves being here with him, nothing can compare to the bond that the two of you have.

The monster in him hates it. Hates that he’s not as close to his own daughter, blames you for it. But he pushes that part of himself down.

He made a promise. And this time he’s not gonna break it.

~

"Are you sure you’re okay with it?” He asks for the thousandth time.

You only shrug, fixing your hair in the mirror as the doorbell rings.

“It’s a little too late now, Steve. Besides, I don’t really care. Sarah’s gonna have fun and that’s all that matters.”

Your daughter took a few days to warm up to Steve again, but now that she has he’s not gonna risk anything changing that.

He takes one last look at you, at how pretty you look in your blue sundress, then leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“I love you, (Y/n). I can send them away.”

You take a deep breath and shake your head.

“Sarah’s excited. Besides, I wanna know what we’re having.”

You plaster on a forced smile and it breaks his heart, but he turns and heads downstairs to greet the guests.

Ever since you got hurt, he’s been nicer. Far gentler than he's ever been with you, and you’re not complaining.

Steve has the potential to be a good person, that much is obvious, but he chooses not to.

He hasn’t hurt you again, or even yelled at you. No, he’s been patient and understanding and it’s such a sharp contrast from who he was before.

You can hear him greeting the guests warmly, chatting on and on about this and that and whatever else.

Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you leave the faux safety of the bedroom and head down the stairs, smiling at your guests.

People that you’ve never seen before are in your house. Well, that’s not true. You’ve seen them on TV.

The Avengers are in your living room and kitchen, talking softly amongst themselves.

In the presence of these superheroes, you feel small. Weak. And you can’t fight the urge to find Steve as anxiety crawls up your spine.

He’s in the kitchen, talking animatedly with Tony Stark and Sam Wilson. Iron Man and Falcon.

He looks so at ease, his face split open with a laidback grin.

Sam’s eyes find yours and he says something to Steve, making the blond turn to you with a soft smile.

He waves you over and you obey, one hand resting delicately on your bump.

“Sam, Tony, this is my (Y/n). (Y/n), Sam and Tony.” You nod politely at them, sliding your clammy hand into Steve's nervously.

You haven’t been around this many people in a very long time.

“It’s nice to finally meet the woman who’s got Captain America so hooked! All he does is talk about you,” Sam says, a grin on his face.

You smile at him, looking up at Steve.

He nods encouragingly, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles to try and ease your anxiety.

“It’s nice to meet you, too. I, uh, I’ve heard a lot about you. About both of you.” Tony smiles looking down as someone tugs on his pant leg.

“Can I have a sleepover at Sarah’s house?!” Morgan asks excitedly, her little face full of glee.

“You’re gonna need to go ask your mother. You know she makes all the decisions.”

Tony’s gaze lifts to yours when his daughter runs to find her mom.

“Is it alright if she sleeps over tonight?”

Steve nods then looks at you.

“You alright with that?”

You’re not sure if it’s a real choice or a test, but you don’t want to find out.

“Of course. She’s always welcome here.”

Tony nods with a smile, then resumes whatever conversation they were having before you showed up.

You tune out what they’re saying, carefully rubbing over your stomach and poking at your baby whenever they decide to kick you.

“(Y/n)? Did you wanna help me set the food up outside?” Pepper’s voice breaks you from your trance, her hand coming to rest softly on your shoulder.

You look up at Steve, silently asking for permission, but he just leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips and lets go of your hand.

You follow Pepper, setting up the table in the backyard silently for a while before she clears her throat.

“How are you feeling, (Y/n)? Sarah told us you were sick.”

You swallow hard and give her a tight smile.

“I’m feeling better. Tired all the time but this little devil is to blame for that.” You poke your belly only to be met with another kick.

Pepper nods, smiling at you.

“Are you excited?”

That question throws you for a loop.

Are you? Are you excited to have another baby?

You’re excited for Sarah to have a sibling. Excited to get to hold your baby and love your baby. But the reason why you’re having the baby in the first place? The father of your baby? No.

“Yeah, I am. A little nervous, too.”

She sits down by your garden, patting the seat next to her.

“You look tired, (Y/n). More tired than a mother should be. You’re wearing yourself thin.” You keep your lips sealed, not wanting to say anything that might make Steve mad.

She sighs and sets a gentle hand on your knee.

“I don’t know what your... relationship is with Steve, but I know you’re unhappy. He’s a good guy, deep down. But you need to take care of yourself, okay? Don’t work yourself to the breaking point because it’ll be even harder to build yourself back up. Especially with a brand new baby.”

You let out a shuddering breath and nod.

“It’s just hard. I’m trying but... it’s hard.”

As you talk softly with Pepper, Steve observes the two of you.

You look so sad, so defeated. He hates that he made you look like that.

“She’s unhappy, Steve.”

He turns to the voice, eyebrows raising.

“Wanda. I didn’t know if you’d make it.” He pulls her into a hug. “I heard about what happened in Westview... Wanda, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She sighs, pulling away with a sad smile.

“No. But I will be.” Her eyes travel back over to you for a moment, feeling the pain and the sorrow in your soul.

“Do you think she’ll ever be happy here? With me?” Wanda sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and closing her eyes, feeling your thoughts, your energy.

“It’s hard to tell. Right now she’s so... numb. Nothing but sadness and... hopelessness. Her spirit is crushed, Steve.” She reopens her eyes and turns to the blond.

“You can’t keep her here like this. It’s only a matter of time before she gets fed up and tries to do something drastic. Again.”

Steve knows. He fucking knows that. But he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do to lift your spirits.

He's given you more freedom, let you make more decisions for yourself. He’s been gentler with you, hasn't forced himself on you.

Not forcing himself on you isn’t something to gloat about, but given the history between the two of you, it’s something fairly major.

He just wants to keep you in his life. He needs to keep you in his life.

He turns to the young woman beside him, a thought bubbling into his mind.

“Could you... do something to make her happy? Make her enjoy her life here? Make her love me again?”

Wanda’s mouth curves down as she looks at you, watches you play with your daughter and Morgan.

“Steve, it’s not right.”

The blond lets out a pained breath, shaking his head desperately.

“I just want happiness, Wanda. Don’t I deserve it? Haven’t I suffered enough to deserve a happy ending?”

Wanda’s eyes glow red with sorrow as she’s reminded of her own happy ending that she had to give up.

She takes his hand and gives it a squeeze, dropping her gaze for a moment before looking over at his desperate blue eyes.

“We don’t always get what we deserve. It’s hard and it hurts, but we can't control everything. And at some point, we need to let go. No matter how hard it is or how much it hurts. We can’t hurt other people because of what we think we deserve.”

They both look back over to you, your own eyes already on the pair, but dropping as soon as you see them turn to you.

“I’m sorry, Steve. I can’t do that.”

Tears stab at his eyes and he huffs out a breath through his nose, turning on his heel and walking away from the party, from his friends.

His abrupt departure catches the attention of a few people, yourself included. Before you can get up and see what’s going on, Bucky’s on his feet and heading into the house.

The woman Steve was talking to makes her way over to you, smiling gently.

“Hi (Y/n). I’m Wanda.” You smile at her, eyes darting towards where Steve disappeared from then back to her.

Bucky re-emerges only a few moments later, shaking his head at Natasha when she gives him a quizzical look.

You turn to Wanda with a strained smile.

“Could you just watch Sarah for a minute? And make sure she has something to eat? The foods ready.” She nods, watching with sad eyes as you walk back into the house to see what’s wrong with Steve.

“Steve?” You call softly, looking around for him only to find him sitting on the couch in the living room, his face in his hands.

“Why can’t I have what I want?” His question catches you off guard and you move to stand in front of him.

He shakes his head sadly, pulling his hands off of his face to grab yours, holding them tightly.

His lips brush over your knuckles gently, before he presses the back of your hands against his forehead, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“This isn’t right.”

Your heart races in your chest, stomach tying in knots as you try to figure out what he’s talking about.

“What are you talking about? Is everything okay? Did... did I do something wrong?” Maybe you shouldn’t have talked to Pepper earlier. Maybe you should’ve just stayed quiet and smiled.

“I can’t keep you here.”

One sentence. Five words. Sixteen letters.

That’s all it takes to have your heart stuttering.

“What... what do you mean you can’t keep me here?” You try your hardest not to let your hopes get too high. Maybe he’s going to kill you. Maybe that’s what it is. It’s certainly something more up his alley than... the alternative.

He slowly raises his head, teary red eyes staring up into yours. 

“You know what I mean.”

You shake your head, needing to hear him say it himself.

“What are you saying, Steve?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and closes his eyes, the words hurting him but he needs to say them.

“You're free to go. You and Sarah.”

The breath gets knocked from your lungs, eyes wide as tears start to blossom. This is a trap. A test. It has to be. There’s no way...

“You’re letting us go?” You ask softly.

He sighs again, nodding as tears find their way down his cheeks.

“Yeah... I guess I am.”

You’re silent, staring at him and waiting for him to tell you it’s a joke, to punish you. But he doesn’t. No, instead he lets go of one of your hands and stands up, his chest almost brushing yours.

“You said I don’t love you... but I do. I love you. Or maybe I love the idea of you, I don’t know. But either way... I hate how sad you are. How sad and afraid I make you. You're free to go wherever you want.”

You’re practically hyperventilating.

After all this time, you never truly thought he’d ever let you go. That he’d have even a shred of decency left inside him.

He cups your hands together and carefully places something inside them, then turns and walks to the front door, grabbing his keys and leaving the house.

You stand silently, staring at the object in your hands until standing becomes too hard and you think you may throw up.

Then you sit down, silent tears trekking down your cheeks.

“(Y/n)?” You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting on the couch, staring at your hands, but Natasha’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“(Y/n), are you okay? Where’s Steve?”

You stare up at her then look back down at the tiny, life-changing object in your hands.

“He let us go,” you whisper, your glossy eyes raising to hers again.

She looks half as shocked as you feel.

“What?”

You sniffle then wipe the tears off of your cheeks.

“He’s letting us go,” you repeat, pushing yourself to your feet and holding your bump.

“Really?” You nod, eyes finding the backyard through the kitchen window.

Sarah and Morgan are playing outside with Sam and Wanda.

“What are you gonna do?”

Your heart is so full of confusion, full of pain and hurt.

“I’m gonna go cut the cake, then have a talk with Sarah.” She nods, a small smile on her face.

She heads back outside and you take a few deep breaths, trying to calm down before you go out and face Steve’s friends.

You toy with the dainty thing he dropped in your hands before nodding to yourself.

This is what’s right. It’s the right choice for both of you.

You entertain his guests for a few more hours, not wanting to clue them into anything in case they disagree with your decision, with Steve’s.

Only after the presents are given and the cake is almost completely devoured do they finally start to leave.

Wanda helps you tidy up the backyard, writing her phone number down with a soft smile and a whispered ‘if you ever need a friend’.

Everyone bids you goodbye until only Bucky and Nat are left, the metal-armed soldier staring intently at your left hand before a smile spreads across his face.

He surprises you, pulling you into a gentle hug and nodding his head.

“Congratulations, (Y/n).” You’re not sure what he’s talking about, but for some reason, you don’t think it has anything to do with the baby shower.

They leave too, and then you’re virtually alone, Sarah and Morgan asleep upstairs.

After cleaning up every last inch of the house, you head upstairs to go to sleep.

Steve isn’t home until after midnight, long after he lets his tears run dry and his heart stop shattering. It just aches now. Hurts.

He let you go. He really did it.

Deep down he knew this would be the outcome. Either this or your death, but he never wanted to accept it. Refused to admit it to himself.

But seeing Wanda... after all that she’s been through... and she’s still standing strong.

He takes his shoes off and drops his keys on the kitchen counter, freezing in his tracks when he sees the covered plate of cake with his name written on it.

The batter is blue.

A boy.

He’s gonna have a son.

A son that he’ll never get to meet. He’s given you freedom, and he doubts you’ll let him be a part of your child’s life after all that he’s put you through.

He slowly makes his way upstairs, his heart hurting when he sees no sign of your things in the pristine house.

When he pushes open the bedroom door he freezes in his tracks.

There you are, sleeping in his bed. No bags are packed, nothing is out of place, and the dainty diamond ring sits on your finger.

You’ve made your choice, he realizes, his heart jumping for joy in his chest.

He sheds his clothes then climbs into bed with you, wrapping you up in his arms and sighing heavily.

Maybe Wanda was wrong.

Maybe he’ll get his happy ending after all.

[kkusuka]

Body of Glass <3

Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader 

genre: smut 

words: 1.8k

synopsis: hajime treats you like glass and all you want to do is get fucked. 

a/n: this was hella fun to write LMAO, let me know what you think <3 

 based on this request: Iwa, Maroon 5 - One More Night. He’s afraid he’ll hurt you. Sometimes he doesn’t know his own strength so he holds himself back but y/n can tell so they grip his hair hard making him look at them “Hajime stop tiptoeing around me” they bring their lips closer to his “wreck me, I want bruises, hand prints, bite marks. I want you to man handle me I want you to leave your mark on me so everyone knows who I belong to, I’m not a piece of glass baby boy” they bite and suck on his bottom lip “go ahead, break me” -✨Puppy🤩

Cw: Fem anatomy, degradation, hard dom iwa-chan, Daddy kink

In a way, you regret not listening to your friends sooner.

Of course, any advice they had given you was after a lengthy explanation of how sexually frustrated you were. Of course, it was mostly of your own fault.

Hajime was great -- he always was -- he made you cum and you both felt satisfied by the end of the night. He was wonderful, sweet, and treated you like a queen-- it was every girl's dream for a guy to treat them like that so what was your problem?

He was sweet, wonderful, and kind, that was your problem.

And you felt more guilt about it. He couldn’t be a better boyfriend and it wasn't like he never satisfied you. Bot, in turn, was it so bad for you to want him to throw you onto a mattress and put you in your place?

“No, it most certainly is not! Y/n, you have to talk to him, it will never get better if you just sit and sulk about this!” your friend yelled, gaining more than a few heads thrown in your direction. And you're sure if it happens one more time the manager will be having a word with you.

It's been like this for the past 45 minutes as you waited for Hajimes practice game to start. Which, instead of standing in the gym for an hour, your friends decided to head to a small cafe to pass time.

“Think about it, when was the last time you were completely satisfied with sex?”

That's the problem, you always are satisfied, in the orgasmic sense that is. Hajime is talented, that’s not the issue, you're sick of being treated like a doll. You aren't made of glass, you can handle a bit of roughness from your boyfriend.

Of course, you love the soft kisses on your jaw, and Hajime telling you how amazing you are and how you fit perfectly against him. It’s very hard to hate, you love how soft his eyes look as he makes you cum around him.

Apparently, you had taken too long to answer your friend's question as she starts shouting ‘i told you so’ ‘s and telling you to either dump him or fix this because she’s sick of seeing you miserable. (which you are not)

“I am not going to break up with him, I’ll talk to him, ok? That should be good enough.” you resolved, and your friends expressed her happiness at the idea, rushing to get back to your school as the game would start in ten minutes.

Walking into the gym you could see the warmups still taking place. As you looked over the team, Hajime caught your gaze sending a small smile your way as he went up for a spike, hitting it with unimaginable force.

As you sat, letting your mind wander was a challenge. His hands, the veins in arms, the strength he had. Your ass sting just thinking about what his palm could do if he just let it, replaying it in your head sending waves of warmth to your core.

A bad thought to have right before a game where your boyfriend, the ace who gets most of the balls sent to him, would be playing almost the whole time.

A thought proven by the wave of heat to your clit every time he spiked that ball, amplified by the concentrated look on his face every time he jumped for a spike. This was probably the most honed in you've ever been at one of his games, and it was just because you were getting off.

It was no surprise the Aoba Johsai team won, and that meant a happy Iwa-chan. Which also meant that you could spend all of tonight with him. As your friend put it, “a perfect night for you to get railed the way you want!”

The problem? There was apparently no good way to start this conversation. You were having a good time with Hajime, you don't want to potentially ruin it while eating dinner, or watching a movie, or when he started to rub your thigh.

It was only when he began to softly kiss up to your jaw like he had done hundreds of times before, that you just blurted something out.

“You’re always too soft!” It was a moment that you wanted to slap a hand over your mouth and never speak again, especially when Iwaizumi froze and pulled his head from your neck.

“What?” he seemed to be in shock, staring eyes wide in confusion. Now there was no possible turning back, you had to tell him. Letting out a sigh, you sat back and let him do the same.

“You're so soft with me, I’m not made of glass love. You can be a bit rough, I want- I want you to be rough with me! You treat me like glass and, and I- it’s just too soft sometimes!” you spoke, it was like your shoulders were ten pounds lighter, until you opened your eyes to his face.

“You don't like it? I’m sorr-” he sounded so hurt and you felt ten times worse about this.

“No, No! I love it, it’s great- you’re great Haj!-” you turned to grab his cheeks forcing him to look at you, “But sometimes I want you to bend me over and tell me my place! Oh god! I want you to spank me and fuck me ‘till I can’t walk for a week! Edge me until I'm a mumbling mess. Treat me like a bitch- your bitch! I adore making love to you, but Goddamit I want you to fuck me like a whore!”

By the time you finished Hajime’s mouth gaped and he looked as if you punched him. Then in a second, he was hovering over your body, a hand on your throat pinning you to the couch.

He straddled your hips, keeping you in place as he used a hand to shed his sweatshirt, leaving him in a pair of grey sweats, your favorite pair nonetheless.

“You wanna be fucked like a street whore, huh? You want to be used like a hole for my amusement, don't you? Go on, tell me what you want.” he growled working his other hand to the buttons of your shorts. “Say it, Slut.”

You were about to cum and he hasn't even touched you yet, you had no idea how quickly he would change and you had no idea just how much it would turn you on.

“You beg to be my whore but can follow direction? I should just stop here.” he took the handoff of your neck and made a move to get off your body.

“No! Want to be your whore” use me like a slut! Please, I'll be good for you!”  Your begging made him resume his position. Not before throwing away your shirt.

“Alright, knees now. Let’s see how good you can be.” pulling you up by your neck, he sat back, spreading his legs to let you settle between them. It was either shock or you went brain dead, but all you could do was stare at the growing bulge in his pants.

“Are you going to start or do I have to do everything?” his voice shakes you out of your trance as you reach past his waistband. Only a second later your hand ran over something hard and sweltering.

From the small hiss Iwaizumi let out, you knew what that was. Pulling his cock out of its refines, you watched a bead of precum drip down the tip, following it across the veins of his hardening dick.

“Get on with it.”

Taking his tip into your mouth, you circled your tongue collecting the salty wetness. Pulling off, licked your way down to the base of his cock, letting it harden even further. Taking your head back you took a breath before putting as much of his dick in your mouth as you could.

Softly bobbing on him, you tried to take more of him taking whatever you couldn’t into your hand. You went until Hajime grabbed the back of your head, holding you on his cock. Before he shoved his entire length down your throat, grunting at your gag.

“Let’s get this out of the way, first, you call me Daddy or Sir, that’s it. Anything else and you don't get to cum for a week. Second, you do what I tell you, Third, no talking back. Both get you the same place, no cumming. Understand?” he didn't ask you to comply, he demanded you follow him.

He released your head, allowing you to come up for air, “yes, I understand.”

“I understand……?”  Oh!

“I understand, Daddy.”

“Good baby, now stand up.” he stood after you, pulling his sweats down as you stripped yourself of your clothes. “Hands and knees”

Pressing against you, his tip lined up with your dripping cunt as he latched a thumb to your clit, “I haven't touched you and you're dripping, you really are a whore.”

You couldn’t take his teasing, his tip running along your folds lubing his cock at a maddening pace. Removing his hand from your clit, he pressed against your back forcing your chest to the fabric of the couch and pushing your ass higher in the air.

Without warning, he thrusted his entire length into your walls. Feeling your walls pulse around him, Hajime let out a groan of your name.

Not giving you a chance to adjust, he pulled out to the tip before slamming back into your depths, sending you ford onto the couch.

“Feel good, slut?” he growled out, grabbing a handful of hair to pull your eyes towards him. Using your body as leverage to fuck you harder.

“I- Yes i-” you struggled to get out, as he barked out a laugh, thrusts never faltering as he pounded your g-spot.

“I haven’t even been fucking you for five minutes and you’re already all fucked out? A few harsh words and you become a bimbo? You really are just a street whore.”

Not giving you a chance to think as he sped his thrusts, fingers coming to circle your clit aiding in the growing sensation in your abdomen. Humping back to try and desperately meet his pounding.

A harsh thrust to your cervix had you seeing stars, collapsing into the couch as Hajime continued to use you like a hole until you zoned back into reality.

Pulling your back to his chest, your second orgasm already growing, “You better suck it up, I'm nowhere near done, Whore.”

[ddarker-dreams]

Epiphany. Yan Albedo x Reader

Warnings: General yandere themes, implied unhappy previous relationship, and spoilers for Albedo’s story. Word count: 2k.

It wasn’t fair. 

A snowstorm, unlike anything you’ve ever seen rages outside, shards of lustrous ice falling from the sky with the intent to kill. The Dragonspine’s traditionally somber ambiance contorts into something far more sinister. Numerous hues of grays and dark blues blur together, obscuring your view of the mountainous region. It’s difficult to see anything outside Albedo’s workshop save for the storm. 

“Your shaking won’t stop unless you sit by the fire.” 

His matter-of-fact declaration startles you. Albedo hadn’t spoken in some time, his attention devoted to a specimen he had discovered prior to the storm. You would’ve shared in his enthusiasm if not for the overall situation and company. Sighing reluctantly, you stand from your spot, hugging yourself to stave off the biting cold. It’s impossible to settle on which is worse: staring at the blizzard or staring at him. 

Albedo’s fair skin glows from the light of the crackling fire, sandy blonde hair tousled around his face without care. As he studies the new specimen, his lips purse, eyes focusing on nothing but the work before him, like nothing else mattered. This is how you’ve always known him to be. Even if the world was falling apart around him, Albedo would never falter from what catches his interest until he felt sated. 

Sensing how you’re fixating on him, his attention flickers briefly to you, an unidentifiable emotion gleaming in his eyes. You’re the one to avert your gaze first. Sucrose is going to owe you majorly for this one, why did you even accept her request in the first place? Thinking about it now and cursing your past self does nothing yet you still occupy the time by doing just that. She had come to you panicked, pleading that you take this letter to Albedo in the Dragonspine, claiming it’s urgent. In the heat of the moment, your judgment lapsed and you caved. She spoke of needing to continue her research in Mondstadt or else she would’ve done it herself.

Look where your goodwill has gotten you now, you think. She owes me a week’s worth of dinner. 

You lament giving credence to his advice, but your stubbornness concedes, the cold too miserable to withstand any longer. The fire is right by his side to add insult to injury. Did he do that on purpose to spite you? It’s unlikely, yet your mind wanders to the worst-case scenario. If any other citizen of Mondstadt were privy to your suspicious thoughts, they’d think you unreasonable, as Albedo has established his reputation well. He’s a known eccentric, sure, but a genius one. A few quirks on his behalf that anyone else could overlook. 

Quirks that you used to overlook yourself.

“Would you please grab my bag,” he doesn’t look away from his prized sample but motions to the general area it’s in. “I need to write down my observations.” 

You follow through with what he asks. There was a time you’d have been over the moon to participate in his process, you used to practically trip over yourself to do anything he needed. That enthusiasm has long died off and been replaced by apathy. It’s when he reaches out to take the bag from you that you snap from your trance-like reverie. Whatever remnants of obedience that lingered in your subconscious are brushed away, as you decide to finally challenge him.

Inhaling sharply, you hold the bag just out of his reach, finally earning his recognition for more than a millisecond. 

“I’m not your assistant anymore.” Among other things, you think. 

The words come out more childish than you intended. What you had meant to communicate was your new, critical view on him — he’s a person just the same as anyone else — who held no authority over you. You hold your breath awaiting his response. Albedo doesn’t have an intimidating presence, not in the traditional sense. It’s his mind that you’re wary of. There’s no guessing what sentiments run through his head, yet that’s never stopped you from trying to unravel the mystery that is his thought process.

He gives you a long, hard stare. “I’m aware of that.” 

Where were you going with this again? Albedo doesn’t need to point out your needlessly spiteful behavior with words, his mildly irate facial expression says it just fine. His thin eyebrows threaten to furrow together and the corners of his lips curl down into a frown. You’re unsure of what bothers him more. What you pointed out, or that his work is being interrupted for even the slightest moment. 

The budding confidence you had is all but crushed beneath the weight of his unblinking gaze. Clearing your throat, you decide to take a new approach, straightening your posture in an attempt to be taken more seriously.

“Then tell me, why do you still act like I am?” Your question comes from a genuine place of confusion. Ever since your arrival, you’ve begrudgingly done the odds and ends he’s asked of you, almost like clockwork. You had fallen back into the rhythm that was your life up until a month ago. There was just something about the silent authority he carries that makes it impossible to say no. 

That is, until now. You’re determined to clear up the problems that have plagued your mind. Albedo’s had his time to be nonchalant like nothing happened between you two, but you’re not having it anymore. 

“Force of habit,” he nods his head towards your hand that holds his possessions captive. “Now, would you please…?” 

Your grip tightens and you shake your head defiantly. “No. Or at least, not until you give me a better explanation. Not just about that. How you act in general… none of it makes sense to me.” 

It wouldn’t take much effort from his half to wrangle his bag from you, you’ve seen him in action before after all, so it comes as a surprise when he instead gives in. You blink, gaping when he takes a seat by the roaring fire, and motions for you to do the same. An opportunity like this is hard to come by. The past few weeks, it’s been your code of conduct to avoid any interaction with Albedo, but your frustration can no longer be repressed. 

You take a seat by his side but intentionally leave some distance. 

There’s so much you want to say. Insults, questions, demands, anything. Anything that could give just a hint of closure that he refused to offer himself. It doesn’t help that this familiar area brings memories with it — good and bad alike — painful nostalgia eating away at your heart from the inside out. While you battle with your inner thoughts, he observes you in silence. For a time you hear nothing but the crackling of the fire and wind howling outside.

Finding the courage to speak up, your throat tightens as you force a question out. “Did I… mean so little to you?” 

It’s rare that Albedo ever looks taken aback, but your inquiry managed to do just that. His eyes widen ever so slightly, confusion etching onto his face before he manages to compose himself. Lots of intimate discussions had gone this way. You’d spend hours prepping yourself, meticulously going over what it was you wanted to say, only for the words to die on your tongue when you saw him. 

“I don’t understand what you mean.” He appears genuinely perplexed and you can’t help but feel silly. It may have served you better to think long about this, you realize, but now it’s too late. You rush to explain yourself in hopes of making better sense. 

“When I said I wanted to, er, part ways,” you can’t help but cringe at not knowing the proper label for ending whatever was going on between you two, “You just seemed, I don’t know, indifferent…?” 

In your head, this went down in such a different way. 

Your cheeks are set ablaze by the humiliation his silence brings. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this exact way when bringing up your feelings to Albedo, yet it’s just as awful. Archons, does he always have to look at you like you have three heads? 

When he finally gives you an answer, you wish you had never asked. 

“I knew you would come back to me eventually.” 

Now it’s your turn to give him an incredulous look. He says it without an ounce of hesitation, never once breaking eye contact, his resolve holding firm. Sensing a need to clarify, he attempts to do just that. 

“I considered a variety of variables,” he raises his hand and brushes his knuckles over your face, the unexpected tenderness making you shiver. “I know how your mind works very well. When you told me that’s what you wanted, your physical mannerisms didn’t line up with what you were saying.”

Your heart drops but he doesn’t stop there. 

“Biological responses never lie. It wasn’t anxiety that kept you from looking me in the eye then, it was reasonable doubt. You know it as well as I do. There’s something about me that you can’t place, and the natural human response to the unknown is caution.”

He stops caressing your cheek. “So, tell me [First], and maybe then you’ll reach the conclusion you’ve been searching for. Why are you afraid of me?”

Everything feels wrong. How he’s whispering such horrifying ideas into your mind, leading the conversation with expertise. Is it charisma? You don’t think that’s the proper word. No, it’s how damn certain he is, how he never once leaves room for argument. 

Albedo appraises your silence coldly. 

“See? You’re not sure yourself. Thus why I knew you’d return to me,” he retracts his hand and leans back, but the ghost of his touch leaves your face tingling. “When you don’t understand something, you study it. That’s who you are. It’s why I picked you to be my assistant, that quality of exhausting curiosity, much like the one I have myself.”

He’s hypnotizing you with his words, his even tone, his silent authority. You’re drawn in like a moth to a flame and trapped in a verbal standoff. Whether it was a result of your Vision flickering subconsciously resulting in the fire diminishing or some other cause, you realize what little warmth in the cave is disappearing, your breath materializing in front of you as a result. 

But it’s only yours. 

That’s when it clicks deep inside the recesses of your mind. Apart of what always bothered you about Albedo was this sense of uncanniness. Whenever you thought you were understanding him better, new mysteries would arise, leaving you worse off than when you started. This combined with his workload and the emotional distance you felt between the two of you is what led to your separation. 

Albedo’s face is but a few inches away from yours. He’s patiently awaiting a response or anything you could muster to challenge him with, though both of you are aware that no such thing exists. 

You manage to surprise him again by asking another question. “Why… why are you not breathing?”

And how could you never have noticed until now?

His long eyelashes flutter shut. “Relationships truly are troublesome. There are unspoken rules and expectations, both of which take effort to satisfy. I hadn’t mind trying to do so to keep you happy, but that approach didn’t work as intended.” 

Had it not been for the hammering of your heart and how lighthearted you feel, you’d challenge him on his definition of trying. Instead, you watch without so much as moving an inch, too in awe to utter a single word. 

“You always asked me to be more romantic, but I guess the phrase you take my breath away won’t suffice here,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll tell you, but once you know… well, I don’t think I can ever let you leave my side.”

“I hope you won’t mind keeping me company a bit longer than you intended to.” 

[archived-kin]

diluc ragnvindr and the secret spouse

note from kin: i was running around dawn winery looking for any chests i might have missed when this idea suddenly popped into my head. honestly i was tempted to do this similarly to the obey me solomon piece i did a while back and give diluc a husband but then i figured i should probably keep it gender neutral for both the girls and the gays

this is super short but i’ve had writer’s block for AGES so at least i got something out! i hope this isn’t so awful it burns your eyes out :,) i tried my best okay

fandom: genshin impact

character(s): gn!reader, diluc, aether, paimon

pairing(s): diluc/reader

warning(s): none

genre: fluff!!

You wake to the distant buzz of household conversation and a distinct absence of the usual presence beside you. Slightly disoriented, you sit up, rubbing at your eyes as the morning light peeking around the edge of your heavy velvet curtains casts the creases of the sheets around you into sharp definition.

A still-steaming mug sits on the bedside table, indicating that it hasn’t been long since your dear husband got up and made you your usual morning cup of tea. There’s a little red flower sitting on the saucer - a Windwheel Aster, which, if the flower language the two of you have developed over time still stands true, means that he’s still at home. He’d have left a Snapdragon if he was going out, a Calla Lily if he’d be gone for the day, or a Cecilia if he’d be away for an extended period of time. Of course, he tells you these things in person when he gets the chance, but, well - duty calls, and duty certainly doesn’t wait for a sensible wake-up time.

You throw your arms up and stretch, limbs trembling slightly as all the knots and cramps that have built up throughout the night finally straighten out. Windwheel Asters usually herald a good day in your household - though with Diluc, they can become Snapdragons and then Calla Lilies in the blink of an eye - and you’re looking forward to spending some time with your husband. It’s been a busy week for the both of you, what with an unexpected increase in the number of Abyss Order attacks cropping up around Mondstadt as well as several sudden unexplained deaths of hunters from Springfield, and you’d really like to have twenty four hours to just relax.

Diluc’s usual coat is still draped over the chair beside the desk, so, after a moment’s thought, you pull it on over your nightclothes. You have the weekend off, anyway - all your pending cases have been essentially solved and are ready to go - so you don’t see any need for donning your usual detective garb, though you do feel tempted to put on your trademark scarf to ward off the morning chill.

You take a few minutes to make the bed and open the curtains before you sit down in the armchair by the window to enjoy your tea. You can see several of the usual workers milling about between the grapevines, as well as what looks like a carrier balloon being docked just by the road. That’s new - deliveries to Dawn Winery usually come by carriage, but then again, the fact that the balloon also appears to be smoking extensively and is being accompanied by a very dishevelled-looking man who looks close to tears indicates that this probably isn’t a delivery,

On further inspection, you realise that your husband is standing nearby the smoking balloon, conversing with a young man with long golden hair tied back in a braid that you’re not particularly familiar with. You’re sure you recognise him from somewhere, though - in the same way that you might recognise the general composition of a painting you’ve seen in passing.

You don’t have time to continue contemplating the boy’s identity, though, because next thing you know, Diluc is leading him inside. You drain the remainder of your tea to the dregs with one gulp and pull yourself to your feet, resolving to go down to greet the two.

While you don’t bother with changing into something more formal, you do take a moment to wash your face and freshen up your breath with some of the mint-water Diluc keeps in the bathroom. You’re not fussed about keeping up a ‘respectable’ image, but you do at least want to be presentable.

Diluc is sitting with his back to you when you slip into the front room, still dressed in just your nightclothes and his overcoat, now with your feet tucked into a comfortable pair of slippers as well. The boy he’d invited in is the first to notice you, looking up from the map in his hands and face steeling slightly as he registers your presence.

An odd little fairy of some kind is bobbing about behind him, chewing on what looks like a large slice of cake. Her eyes widen to the size of saucers as she spots you, exclaiming so loudly that she sprays crumbs all over her unsuspecting golden-haired companion.

“Who’s this?!” she shrieks, alarmed in an almost comically exaggerated way. Her shock sends her even higher into the air, and she threatens to hit the ceiling head-on. “Y-you don’t look like a maid!”

You raise an eyebrow, mildly amused. “That would be because I’m not a maid.”

Diluc finally turns around, eyes lighting up slightly when he sees your choice of attire. A small smile curls at the corners of his lips as he moves to the side, leaving enough room on his seat for you to settle down beside him.

His young friend’s eyes dart between the two of you rapidly as Diluc continues droning on about something to do with transport balloons and the influx of monster activity in the area without a word as to your sudden appearance. He’s certainly quick-witted, you’ll give him that - he seems to deduce your relationship almost immediately.

Still, he asks about it in a polite and roundabout way - bless the boy. You can imagine that he’s a little afraid of making assumptions, especially about a man like Diluc.

“Is that your coat, Master Diluc?”

Diluc pauses in the middle of his explanation, eyebrows lifting slightly. You don’t know why he seems so surprised by the boy’s question - after all, the impression of the prideful Darknight Hero he has probably doesn’t incline him to think of him as a relationship-y sort of man.

“...yes.” He says finally. You don’t miss the way he steals a glance at you through the messy fringe of his red hair.

“Why so surprised?” You chime in, smiling at the boy as he straightens up slightly at the sound of your voice. “Surely you’ve deduced our relation already?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Are you two… partners?”

You laugh. “Well, you could certainly put it like that.”

“You’re so clueless, Aether!” complains the boy’s fairy companion. “They’re obviously dating or something!”

Aether shoots her an unimpressed look. “That’s what I meant, Paimon.”

“Your name’s Aether, then?” You note. He nods. “Good name, Aether. You seem like a smart boy.”

“Hey!” The fairy glares at you, but it doesn’t really have much effect when she’s got the face of a baby lamb and crumbs still decorating her lower face to boot. “Don’t forget about Paimon!”

“Paimon’s a lovely name too,” You comply with a smile. “Very trustworthy.”

She looks appeased by the compliment, crossing her arms with a smug grin aimed at her taller companion. “See? Paimon’s trustworthy.”

“I heard them, Paimon,” sighs Aether, wearing the kind of expression that tells you he has to put up with this sort of thing a lot.

“What are you doing up so early?” Diluc asks you, and you start slightly at his sudden question. “Normally you sleep til noon on Sundays.”

You shrug and give his thigh a firm pat, taking great enjoyment in the way his ears flame up slightly at the gesture. “Guess I just missed your lovely face.”

The red of his ears darkens. “...you’re ridiculous.”

“You’re cute,” you counter with a smile, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose. He chuckles in spite of himself, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a smile that he rarely lets anyone but you see.

“You’re both gross,” Paimon decides with a pout, and the two of you suddenly remember the presence of the two other people in the room. Aether is pointedly staring at a painting on the wall, but at Paimon’s words, he hurriedly turns back.

“No, no, it’s fine,” You laugh, waving off Aether’s apologies for his fairy friend’s comment. “The maids often say the same thing.”

“The maids wouldn’t say such things if you didn’t insist on being so affectionate everywhere,” Diluc comments, though the smile still tugging at his lips tells you that he definitely doesn’t consider that a bad thing. “If you don’t want them to talk, perhaps you should take it down a notch or two.”

“Who said I didn’t want them to talk?” You counter, inching closer to him again. You'll refrain from kissing him right in front of Aether and Paimon, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tease him a little. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You’re the one always hanging off my shoulders whenever you get the chance.”

Diluc, however, doesn’t seem to have the same qualms as you about abstaining from affection in front of guests. His smile widening almost playfully, he gently lifts a hand to your chin. “Oh? Are you complaining?”

“Who said that?” is your response, and you lean in and kiss him.

It isn’t until the two of you pull away that you realise that Paimon has started making gagging noises as Aether frantically tries to shush her, all the while determinedly refusing to look in your direction. You almost feel bad for the kid - he clearly isn’t the best with affectionate couples.

“Sorry, sorry,” You say airily, moving away from Diluc, though you keep a hand resting on his knee.

“Is this what all married couples are like?” Paimon says, still wrinkling her nose in disgust. “If so, Paimon doesn’t want to get married, ever!”

Aether, still avoiding direct eye contact with both you and your husband, mutters an exasperated, “Bold of you to assume anyone would want to marry you.”

She immediately kicks him in the head, nearly knocking the poor guy right off the sofa. “Paimon heard that!”

“What a rowdy pair,” You comment cheerfully as Aether retaliates by flicking Paimon hard in the head, sending her spiralling halfway across the room with an indignant yelp. “You really do make strange friends, Diluc.”

He makes an odd chuffing sound in response to your words. “They aren’t any stranger than you.”

You shake your head. “You still married this strange detective, didn’t you?”

“I suppose I did,” He smiles softly again, setting his right hand over the one you have on his knee. “I wonder if I made the right decision?”

You give his knee a reproachful pinch and he gives short, sharp laugh in response - something that you don’t hear nearly enough from him. “Of course you did!”

You move to jab him in the sides, knowing exactly where all of his sensitive spots are, but he stops you quickly, seizing both your hands in his and firmly refusing to let go. You struggle for about a second before giving up and slumping against him with a dramatic huff.

“You’re too strong,” You complain, though your affectionate nuzzle into the side of his neck directly contradicts your pseudo-annoyed words. “I don’t like it.”

Diluc chuckles, knowing full well that you love the fact that he can lift entire tables without breaking a sweat. “Whatever you say, darling.”

The look that you give him as you raise your head nearly knocks all of the breath out of him. The adoring grin on your face doesn’t relent as you lift a hand and brush his cheek, your touch feather-light and sending shivers down his spine.

He finds himself leaning in again, overwhelmed by your presence. You smile knowingly and reach up to meet him - only to be interrupted with a start.

Paimon complains, half-disgusted and half-resigned, “They’re doing it again!”

[comfortwriting]

Best friends Brother - G.W

Part 1 of my slow burn mini-series, inspired by and dedicated to @amourtentiaa , want to be tagged? Let me know!

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompts

Part 2

George Weasley x Fem Reader 

About: The Reader is falling for her best mates older brother, she confines in Ron who is already afraid of losing his best friend to the brothers he’s so pressured to be like.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, mention of food and eating, but of angst, George punching a creep.

Walking away from Hagrid’s hut towards the castle, thoughts about the more quiet Weasley twin filled your hazy head - you were planning on shooting your shot, but first you needed some advice and the only person who could do that right now is your best friend Ron - currently chewing your ear off about Hermione and the house elves. 

“She doesn’t know when to stop does she? All the S.P.E.W nonsense, if she brings it up one more time-”

“Hey, do you think George likes anyone?” you asked as cool as possible, trying to contain your nervousness and excitement. 

Although you and George had only spoken few words to one another, he was all you could think about, all you ever thought about, day in day out. You would share sweet glances and looks across the common room in the evening, the beautiful amber glare coming from the flames projecting onto George’s face, making him look like an angel. 

As much as you liked him, you were terrified that he wouldn’t feel the same, that he only saw you as his little brothers best friend - you hated it. 

Ron slowed down from his brisk walk and he continued to stare at the ground “George? As in.. my brother?” 

“yeah” you smiled shyly, swallowing hard. 

Ron could feel his heart flutter, the idea of another person - his best friend - favouring one of his legendary twin brothers over him made him sick to his stomach, he couldn’t lose anyone else, he wouldn’t let it.

He pondered his thoughts, perhaps you were asking for someone else, someone Ron didn’t care about - the desperation in his stomach kept churning to find out. 

“I don’t know” he replied in a huff “we don’t really talk much, why you asking anyway?” 

You went quiet, suddenly finding interest in the scenery as the two of you edged closer to the castle. 

“uh, no reason” you lied, running your hand through your hair. 

For all of Ron’s flaws, he could tell when his best friend was lying - he never failed calling you out for it in the past, you learnt not to play any card games with him - especially when galleons were on the table. 

The two of you entered the loud castle, pushing past students in the hall, making your way to the Gryffindor common room.

“you like him, don’t you?” Ron muttered under his breath, making sure everyone else around you couldn’t hear.

You sighed and made eye contact with Ron, his facial expression even more sour than when he puked up slugs in first year. 

You walked up the stairs and held on to the rail, looking around for the Fat Lady “I suppose I do, I was thinking of asking him to-”

Ron could feel the sweat form in his palms and under his arms, images of you and George being together all the time instead of him flashed before him.

“I don’t know, Y/N, you’re two years younger than him, you haven’t spoken more than ten words to each other.” 

Your heart pained for a moment, your spirits crushing like the ingredients in one of Snape’s potions.

“I just don’t think he’ll like you that much, I don’t want you to get hurt.” he finished, the two of you finally reaching the portrait. 

“I guess so” you mumbled “you know him better than I do.”

Over the next few days you couldn’t stomach being around George, each time you looked into his gorgeous eyes and seeing him smile, caused your heart pain, a lump forming in your throat, and hot tears filling your eyes. 

At first George didn’t notice but when he would wave and smile - only to be ignored, he couldn’t help but overthink; wondering if he had done something wrong. 

It wasn’t just George who you ignored, you kept away from your best friend Ron too - Ron felt like shit but you were away from George and that gave him enough of a clear conscience to sleep at night. 

You couldn’t sleep, you missed your best friend even when he hurt your feelings, you also felt hopeless, the only person you ever showed an interest in wouldn’t even give you a chance.  

“What’s been up with Y/N lately? George asked his younger brother, buttering his toast, causing Ron to almost choke on his. 

“What you on about?” 

George rolled his eyes and swallowed his food, “unbelievable you are, she’s been avoiding you like the plague and she won’t even look at me.”  

“So, did you make up your mind yet?” 

You swore silently under your breath, recognising the voice who called out to you - an attractive and charming Hufflepuff student in George’s year with short black hair kept asking you over and over to go on a date with him in Hogsmeade, each time you said no had failed to satisfy his desire. 

“Uh” you were trying to figure out the best way to tell him to fuck off, but then again, what did you have to lose? “yeah, I’ll be there” you faked a smile. 

Ron watched in the distance and felt relieved, from his perspective, the possibility of you and George seemed incredibly slim to none. He walked over towards you as soon as the lad split, a smile creeping up on his face. 

“Y/N, alright?” he smiled, his hands in his pockets. 

You stared at him, yes you were hurt, but you missed him - he could do much worse to cause a much bigger fall out between the two of you. 

“I suppose” you sighed “walk with me to Transfiguration class?” 

Ron smiled “can do”

“and took your bloody shirt in!” you scolded him, bumping into him playfully. 

As much as you enjoyed visiting Hogsmeade, you couldn’t help but want to go back home and climb back into your warm bed, hiding away from the world - but your habit of trying to see the best in people lead you here - waiting outside Honey Dukes for your date to arrive. 

“Look at you!” he called out, walking over and kissing your hand “ready for the best day of your life?” he grinned.

Best day of my life? with you? I should’ve stayed in bed.

“Sure” you replied, plastering a fake smile on your face. 

The best day of your life wasn’t too bad, you had someone new to talk to, to try and get your mind off things - but your heart couldn’t help but yearn for George. You looked around the shops thinking of the products he liked, disliked, and what he bought for Ron at Christmas. 

Your date had more to blab about himself than get to know you, he held your hand and bought you a much needed Butterbeer - but he talked so much that he didn’t even get round to drinking his own. The more he had to say, the more he tried to impress you, the more you disliked him, making you fall for George even more. 

Finally breaking out from the busy and overwhelming pub and out into the cold, your date stood in front of you with a strange expression on his face. 

“So?” he shrugged

“so, what?” you stared at him, your patience wearing thin. 

The shared laughter between George and Ron came to a halt when George spotted you with his classmate, he knitted his brows together. 

“Why’s Y/N around that plonker?” he asked his younger brother. 

Ron looked at you then back to George “she’s on a date”

George shook his head “he’s an absolute creep” 

The two of them stared, the student took a hold of your hand and tried to pull you in for a kiss, you pulled away and glared at him, trying to not make a scene. 

“Fucking pervert!” George hissed, storming over towards the two of you “Hey!”

George clenched his jaw, his nostrils flared and his glaring gaze settled on on the lad, he bunched his right hand into a fist and swung, everything went in slow motion as George punched him in the face. 

You were speechless, you didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare and watch the fight unfold. 

“Stay away from her or my foot will rip you a new one!” George threatened him, he turned to you, his facial expression instantly turning soft.

“th-thank you” 

“you don’t need to thank me love, are you alright?” George searching your eyes with his, full of care and concern. 

Your heart fluttered, his voice, him speaking to you sounded like the most fascinating birds chirping, and his caring face caused fireworks in your stomach to erupt into the sky. 

You wanted to take your chance, ask him out and start over but before you could do any of that, let alone reply, Ron hurried over and interrupted; putting you back in your place and making you remember how his brother felt about you. 

“Proper shiner he’ll have in the morning” Ron laughed “sort your knuckles out George, if anyone sees they’ll send a letter home.” 

The fluttering in your heart died down, the chirping of the birds instantly turning into the most dreadful squawks, and the fireworks in your stomach burning out, starving the embers before they could relight.  

“Thanks again” you murmured quietly, flashing George one last smile before walking away, wanting to retreat to your bed and hide away. 

George had to admit, he felt quite hurt that you went back to ignoring him after he had your back the other week - he knew that you didn’t owe him anything, not even an explanation - but he couldn’t understand why even after making up with Ron, you still refused to look at him.

Sitting on the sofa in the common room in your pyjamas, you flicked through your Quidditch magazine and blinked over and over whilst you looked across the page, sleep trying to pull you in. 

“Georgie, I’ve already said-” 

“Shhh!”

Jolting awake, you looked behind you and stared at the twins, long roles of parchment in one hand and a map in the other, you yawned and rubbed your eyes, closing your magazine. 

“It’s okay boys, I’m going to bed anyway.” you yawned again, slowly getting off the sofa. 

Fred and George shared a look, the older twin nodding his head towards you “go on then, mate, I’ll be upstairs.”

Fred walked past you, he whispered a “goodnight!” and went off to his dorm, leaving you alone with the person you wanted more than anyone in the world. 

George pursed his lips, standing around awkwardly before approaching you “Y/N, can we talk?” he asked softly. 

You nodded slowly, the nerves piping up in your tummy. 

“What’s up?”

“You’ve been ignoring me, love” he said softly “have I done something wrong?” 

This was your moment, not to ask him out - but to tell him the truth. 

You pushed your stray hairs out of your face and sighed, the lad of your dreams standing beside you, looking down on you. 

“I have feelings for you George” you admitted, your mouth going dry “and that’s why I have to stay away from you, because I know you’re never going to feel the same.” 

George went quiet, the embers from the fire spreading and making it set alight, the amber tones coming from the flames resting on his face. He smiled for a moment and licked his lips, looking into your eyes.

“Tomorrow night” he whispered softly in your ear “where we first met”

Tag list: @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl  

[ncssian]

A Favor: Bonus Scene Two (Gwynriel)

Masterlist

a/n: this picks up right after nesta leaves gwyn’s apartment in Part 24. warning for discussions of sex, obviously.

***

As soon as the apartment door shuts after Nesta, Gwyn releases a breath and turns to Azriel with a wide gaze. “Do I really have to teach you guitar?” she says.

“Of course not.” He rolls his eyes. It was a throwaway line meant to get Nesta off his back, and even she didn’t entirely believe it. He moves toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, still shaken from Nesta storming into Gwyn’s bedroom like that. Not that she interrupted much. Gwyn still has a long way to go before she can handle anyone touching her between her legs, Azriel thinks.

He never asked Gwyn what a twenty-seven year old woman was so afraid of sex for when she first suggested her proposal to him. She looked so scared that he would question her that he couldn’t bring himself to poke even a little bit. Not that he needs to poke. He’s not a fucking idiot, and Gwyn’s thighs had been trembling in involuntary fear under his hands earlier. She’s been hurt.

For her sake, he pretends to remain ignorant and incurious, but right now his grip on the glass in his hand is so tight it might shatter. His face remains cool as he pours himself water.

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Gwyn hops up onto the kitchen counter and swings her freakishly long legs. “About what you get out of our deal?”

“I don’t expect you to teach me sex for free, obviously,” Gwyn blabbered the day after they got back from the ski lodge. “You can ask for something from me, too. Even money, if that’s your thing.”

Prostitution was not Azriel’s thing, though he wouldn’t knock it. The truth was that his brain had started turning as soon as Gwyn told him about her idea, and now it couldn’t stop. Oddly enough, this opportunity was perfect.

“Tell Nesta that I’m using you as a rebound?” Azriel nearly snorts on his water. “Did you miss the part where she almost cut my dick off and choked me with it?”

Gwyn hums noncommittally. “Being a distraction from your ex is better for me than it is for you. It’s insurance that you won’t get any funny ideas.” She narrows her teal eyes at him. “If you find yourself moving on from Nesta’s hot sister, you better tell me right away. I’ll end this whole thing quickly and cleanly.”

“Why?” He thought moving on from Elain was the goal, one he was unlikely to achieve.

“You know.” She crosses her arms in an X over her chest like she’s warding him off. “You might catch—feelings for me.”

This time Azriel really does snort on his water, hard. His laughter turns into coughing when it slips down the wrong pipe, and liquid dribbles onto his shirt. Gwyn just sits there and stares at him in vague disgust.

When he’s done choking, he wipes his mouth with the hem of his tee and gasps, “Even without Elain, you wouldn’t need to worry about that. Trust me.”

Gwyn wrinkles her freckled nose in distaste. “I would be offended if I wasn’t so relieved.”

He’s still chuckling when Gwyn says cautiously, “By the way…” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Did you really ghost Elain?”

Azriel is no longer amused.

“When you said you broke up with her, I thought you actually broke up with her,” Gwyn continues. “I didn’t know you were one of those guys.”

Shame tinged with embarrassment floods Azriel, and he doesn’t have the slightest idea why. Why does it matter what Gwyn of all people thinks of him, especially when she doesn’t have all the details?

He thought he was making things easier for Elain by leaving without a word. He thought she would let him slip out of her mind after a couple of weeks just like he slipped out of her life, and that it would be better than having to hear him dump his insecurities on her.

He knows now that he was only making things easier for himself. Knows that if he had stayed and talked things out with Elain, she would have convinced him to stay. If he had called her at all in the past two months, he would have gone running back to Velaris like a sailor answering a siren’s song.

She’s always been a siren—which is why he can’t regret doing what would have happened eventually anyway. Even without that Vanserra bastard or some other man, Elain could never have been a permanent fixture in Azriel’s life. Little details sprinkled throughout their time together confirm that for him now.

That doesn’t mean Elain deserved it, or deserves it now. Azriel knows that.

But all he can think of to say to Gwyn is, “Yeah, maybe I am one of those guys.” He puts his glass in the sink. “You still want me as your teacher?”

Gwyn shrugs, looking away. “It’s not like I’ve got any other choice.”

Azriel would disagree. He says what he’s been thinking since they got back from Cassian’s birthday trip. “Wouldn’t you rather do this with someone you love and trust?”

“God no,” Gwyn snorts, providing no further explanation.

Azriel can understand being hesitant to admit sexual inexperience to a crush, but it doesn’t stop him from judging Gwyn’s new man. If this coworker of hers is so great, wouldn’t she be able to trust him unabashedly with her insecurities? Wouldn’t he readily accept her for all that she is?

Ugh, he’s been dipping into Nesta’s reading collection too much lately. “Alright, then.” He leans against the counter opposite Gwyn. “Let’s talk about learning. You clammed up in bed back there after ignoring my suggestions and shoving my head between your legs.”

“I clammed up because of my best friend barging into my room and catching us together,” Gwyn defends.

“Your pussy was dry as bread before that,” he retorts. Ooh, now he wants toast.

Gwyn turns a furious shade of red while Azriel starts looking around for bread. He finds it sitting by the toaster. “Can you not say that?” she hisses at him.

“What?” He looks up from dropping bread into the toaster.

“You know…” She glances around cautiously as if someone might overhear. “Pussy.”

“Pussy,” he says again, just to be annoying. Gwyn’s shoulders turn inward in embarrassment, and he has to hold back a grin. Yeah, she’s definitely not ready for oral.

He finds a butter knife and some peanut butter. “I told you to start easy and you ignored me. You tried jumping into the deep end without learning how to tread water.”

Gwyn scoffs. “And what does ‘treading water’ entail again?”

Azriel shrugs, plucking up his finished toast. “Making out, heavy petting, freshman-year-of-high-school kind of stuff.”

“I’ve done that before,” she mutters indignantly. “Maybe not in my freshman year, but I’ve done it.”

He wonders how long ago that was, or if it was before she was—hurt.

“Besides,” Gwyn goes on before he can push the matter further, “I’m not budging on kissing. I want to save that for the man I actually like.”

“You don’t like me?” Azriel raises a brow, slathering peanut butter over his toast. “You definitely don’t act the same with me as you do with other men.” Or at least that’s what he assumes. Up until a short while ago, he never would’ve been able to imagine timid Gwyn having the guts to ask anyone for sex ed. That’s got to make him special, right?

But then Gwyn waves him off and says, “That’s ‘cause you’re not a real man. I knew you before puberty.”

Azriel nearly drops his toast. “Wow, the nerve of this woman,” he mutters with wide eyes. If she keeps this up, he’s going to start regretting ever going to the same school as her. “That’s not what you said when you were going on about how attracted you are to me.”

“I said you were attractive, not that I was attracted.” Gwyn’s blush is more from irritation than shyness now. “You do the job, but you’re no Max.” She giggles at saying his name. Actually giggles. “I’ll only kiss Max.”

“What kind of stupid ass name is Max?” Azriel grumbles through a mouthful of peanut butter.

“It’s short for Maximillian.”

He chokes. “Jesus, that’s even worse.” He’s doing all this work for some guy named Maximillian. Maybe he should just go home and let Nesta give him the beating he deserves.

Except thinking about Nesta only reminds Azriel of what a coward he is, because he fears facing her again almost as much as he fears facing Elain. “By the way, could I…” he starts hesitantly.

Gwyn gives him a judgmental sneer. “You don’t want to go back to the cabin, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“You can’t stay here,” she responds, crushing his hopes. “I have plans tonight, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you be such a wimp.” She hops off the counter and comes over to him, surprising him by grabbing both of his shoulders. “Azriel,” she says somberly.

He swallows his toast roughly.

“You have to grow some balls,” she continues. “Not just for your sake, but for the sake of every poor woman in your life. Also, all this drama is personally a turn-off for me, which is detrimental to my sex education.” She wrinkles her nose. “Do better and all that, you know?”

Damn, okay.

Instead of standing there like an idiot, Azriel manages to say, “Fine, I’ll go.” He shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth and dusts off his hands, heading for the living room.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave right now—” Gwyn follows after him. Azriel is already on the couch, pulling a stray notepad and pen on the coffee table closer to himself.

He clicks the pen. “When’s that library guy planning to take you out?” he asks, starting to write.

Gwyn hovers near him, watching the notepad over his shoulder in confusion. “Um, this Saturday. Just a casual coffee shop thing.”

“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” He scribbles down some bullet points and labels the page LESSON PLAN. “Until then, think about a way to enjoy foreplay without kissing. Here are some suggestions so you can practice.” He tears the lined paper out of the notepad and hands it to Gwyn.

Her eyes skim over the page, brows rising with each point she reads. “Is all this really necessary?”

Azriel remembers how he barely brushed his lips against Gwyn’s core before having to pull away and kiss her quivering thigh instead. He can’t have sex with an unaroused woman, and he definitely can’t do it with a terrified woman. “Foreplay is absolutely necessary,” he says, getting up from the couch and stretching to his full height. Where Elain used to only reach his chest, Gwyn’s head almost reaches his nose. It amuses him for some reason.

“Do you like movies?” he adds. “I’ll take you to the movies on Friday.” Preferably something boring and played out, so the theater will be empty and she won’t be paying attention.

Gwyn’s eyes widen. “Is going on dates also part of foreplay?”

“It can be,” Azriel shrugs. It will be when he does it. He drops a hand onto Gwyn’s head and ruffles her hair. “I’d love to stay and help you study, but I have to go and grow some balls.” He mock-frowns at her as he heads for his shoes and keys. “See you later, Gwyneth.”

***

a/n: wait why do i wanna write the movie theater scene now… pls help me im just trying to finish this damn fic im getting too old for this

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook a favor: @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99

[onyxoverride]

I wonder how Zeke would react to you being pregnant, would he be absolutely delighted or would just go IM FINNA WHIP DIS HOE 🏃🏃🏎🏎💨💨

Baby - Zeke Jaeger x Reader

warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy sickness, I don’t know the ins and outs of pregnancy but google is my friend- just know I’m unreliable. Angsty, fluffy, SMUT Minors DNI. Pubes? Oversenstivity, creampie. Zeke is sweet. 

word count: 4k

note: OMGG HAHAH I can see this going a few ways tbh. also accidentally wrote a fic again :) hehe. It’s Zeke, I cant help it. this started informally so its like a drabble fic hybrid baby which is fitting hehe

He’ll either be like “Well I did say I’d stuff you with my babies so...” and he’ll accept his fate as a father. Will be unusually good especially if it’s a little girl because if he has a son he’ll afraid he’ll be like his father. 

Or he’ll give you a look of horror, if you two were protected and this was completely unexpected he’ll be like “...I don’t know if I can do this...” He might run away, but again he doesn’t want to be like his father, eventually, he’ll come back, probably when you start showing because it’s then that he realizes that you’re pregnant with his kid, for real. Will get on his knees and apologize if needed. Give him a wake-up call, “I told you I was pregnant, and you left me alone. You left me alone for almost three months. I had no one and you left.”

You need to accept him a bit, for your sake and for your baby's sake, but that doesn’t mean you won't be mean to him a bit as revenge. Plus, he needs to earn your trust back. 

You let him live in the guest bedroom, whatever routine and life you had before, it’s completely different now. It’s awkward. He’s missed so much, he’s missed the worse of your morning sickness and dizziness (which you still have occasionally just not as bad), and he’s missed getting you weird food combos, he’s missed you, he misses your warmth, he misses talking to you in slow cold mornings, he misses rubbing his beard on your neck and you complaining that it tickles, he should have never set a foot out the door, he knows that now. 

“This is my baby. Not yours, not ours, not unless you prove yourself.” And boy does he. It doesn’t matter if it’s the dead of night and you want food, he’ll get it with sleepy eyes and pajama pants if he needs to. One day he’s venturing out of his bedroom to see your bathroom light on, and he’s going to check, of course he is, because he is worried. You’re leaning over the toilet with your eyes closed, head propped against the wall, a cold rag resting on your thigh to get your temperature down and try to keep you grounded as you throw up. 

You can see how this looks like a bad situation to someone who hasn’t been there for months. Why do they even call it morning sickness when it doesn’t just stick to mornings. So when he slides next to you on the floor with a panicked look in his eyes asking ‘are you okay? is the baby okay? should we go to the hospital?’ it’s a bit irritating but it warms your heart nonetheless. Your head is pounding, you desperately want to sleep but every time you move it makes you a little more nauseous so you can’t even make it to the bed. His hand is on your thigh, it's warm but not uncomfortably warm like your body, and his calloused hands bring you back to reality. “It’s normal,” is the best explanation you can utter out right now. 

He wants to ask what he can do to help, but your eyebrows are scrunched in pain and he doesn’t want to deepen that so he’ll at least try to help. He brings you a pillow to rest your hips on, even though you groan when you move you appreciate it because the tiles began digging into your skin, your pajama shorts do nothing to help you with that but the cold tiles feel nice to an extent. All of Zeke’s knowledge from college and how he took care of his hungover or sick friends is jumbled up because can any of those tips apply here? Whenever your stomach didn’t feel good you’d ask him to fix you peppermint tea and that seemed to help but will the smell bother you? This is the first time he’s felt true panic since- well since you told him you were pregnant, and when he came back to beg for forgiveness. 

You’re still sitting beside the toilet, it’s much more comfortable now with the pillow, and Zeke brought you a fresh wet rag because the old one was starting to warm up to you. There’s shuffling from the kitchen that’s muffled by the walls and he comes back with an armful of things -- it’s almost comical. Your favorite water bottle refilled with bits of ice clinking around, a blue Gatorade bottle, a handful of plain crackers from the back of your cabinet that he must’ve scrambled to find. He runs back one more time to bring a warm mug- which he now realizes probably is the opposite of what you want because it’s warm and it seems like you want to be cold. He looks awkward as he sits on the other side of the toilet, leaning against the tub, like he’s being graded for his performance. He’s just close enough to reach you, just in case, hand caressing your ankle which is more to comfort him than you.

Now you look a little more relaxed. “Uhm...” he clears his throat as he speaks softly, “... I brought you tea, and crackers, water too. And cookies just in case. And Gatorade.” He looks younger now somehow, like when you and him met in college when he first asked you out on a date, nervous and scratching his ear. 

This is the first time you have looked at him so softly since he came back. He does deserve the harshness, he thinks, but seeing the opposite after so long is almost gratifying. “Water sounds nice,” so he hands you the bottle quickly. 

Sitting there almost another hour, you still don’t want to try to get up but Zeke stays and hands you everything you need. Pushes back any hair in the way when you lean to retch into the toilet. The times between each retch get longer, and after forcing yourself to eat a few crackers you feel like you have finally come down to earth, the rag and tiles too cold, the warmth of your bed filled with fluffy blankets tempt you. 

“I think I’m okay now,” you aren’t, but just okay enough to go to bed and try to sleep. Zeke works you up to your feet, slow and steady, staying firm for you to lean on. You catch a glance at yourself in the mirror and it’s almost like a horror movie jumpscare. Red eyes, half-lidded and tired, eye bags more defined and lips chapped. The thought of toothpaste makes you want to throw up again but you have mouthwash that gentle so that’ll do, and the coconut lip balm you rely on has never bothered you. Zeke keeps at least one hand on your hips the whole time, you figure you do look like you are about to fall apart any moment. 

He waddles you to your bed. It looks way different than when he saw it last. More pillows than before, lining the side closest to your bedroom door, his side. Or it was his side. There are more blankets too and a heating pad with a little remote dangling off the bed. He feels like he needs to retch now, guilt chasing up his spine. You’ve dealt with this alone, without him. How many times were you not able to get up off the floor because no one was there to help? The pillows that you lined his side with are taunting him, ‘we had to fill the void you left.’ But it’s just his own voice scolding him. 

There are few things in life he is able to regret, but leaving you was one of the worst mistakes he could have ever made. 

When you finally get comfortable, one leg thrown over the pillow and at least 3 fluffy blankets that he’s tucked over you, the temptation to ask to stay in your room scratches at the back of his head. He won’t ask, not tonight, not right now. He presses a closed-lip kiss to your shoulder that’s barely felt over the blankets. “Holler if you need me, okay?” He can see your breathing is steady and lets out a short laugh, you must have been exhausted. He’ll pour out the tea you didn’t drink, and make sure to get some more crackers on the grocery list.

/ / : 

Slowly, he’s earning your trust. It’s been a month since he’s come back and now the atmosphere is more comfortable. Not romanticly domestic like he so desperately wants it to be again, but he can’t complain about progress. 

He hasn’t been allowed to touch your belly, or even see it really because you are wearing the biggest clothes you can find. This is a rare moment where he gets to see you in tighter clothing because you feel too warm, and he gets to see your belly. It’s a cute bump, stretching out the tanktop you are wearing, he can see the dip/pop of your belly button through it, and you’ve refused to wear bras ever since your breasts started to feel too sensitive. Zeke didn’t expect to find this so... to put it in simple terms, hot. 

Your nipples are poking through, breasts heavy, and the realization that he pumped you full with his kid and claimed you completely runs straight to his cock. He shouldn’t be this horny right now, especially when you are complaining about being too hot while laying on the couch with your feet propped up, shorts doing nothing to cover you, especially when he can see that you are not wearing underwear and slightly wet. Can you really blame him? You are hot, he loves you, and he’s been pent up ever since he came back and even before because his hand doesn’t cut it. 

When he leans to give you a cup of ice water he knows you can see his hard-on through his pajama pants, it’s not like he’s trying to hide it. “Are you seriously horny right now?” You don’t really mean to say it like you are offended, you’re just surprised, and curious, because what the hell is going through his head right now? He’s a little startled because of your straightforwardness but he is nothing if not shameless when it comes to this type of scenario. How do you think you got pregnant in the first place? 

“Yes, because a beautiful woman is laying right there with her legs propped up so I can see her cunt -- which is wet by the way -- and her tits, well, she might as well be shirtless and-” He takes his hand to run up your knee, “-she has my cute kid sitting in her belly right now. You are kind of irresistible you know?” 

That’s really embarrassing, sure it felt airy but you didn’t know he could see. You can feel your cunt gush -- curse pregnancy horniness -- as you look up to him from where your head is resting against a pillow. You could risk it... You can satisfy yourself sure, the few toys you have resting under the bathroom sink but you know that the best experience, the most satisfying one, would be with Zeke. At least you tell yourself that's the reason, really you miss him, you miss him loving on you like you’re the only person in the universe and his warm touches, you miss him fucking you brainless. You don’t think he’ll leave again at this point, he’s too far in, going to doctor's appointments with you and living with you, and if he tried you might just break one of his legs. So why not? It’s not like he could get you pregnant again-

“If I’m so irresistible, why aren’t you doing anything?” You see him quirk a brow at you, knowing this will change the relationship he’s slowly been earning back. He just meant to embarrass you a bit, see you warm up with his lewd words but actually initiating something is the best outcome. So the hand that’s been lingering on your knee goes down to the juncture of your thigh, brushing up against the bump of your belly. It has you sucking in a breath, you are so sensitive, and he loves how responsive you are. 

“As you wish.” He settles himself between your legs on the couch, they spread to accommodate him and he can see more of your cunt peaking out through the shorts. Unless he is mistaken, you have gotten wetter since he last saw it which is sending his blood rushing. Working off your shorts is easy, throwing them somewhere behind him, and he observes for a moment. He hasn’t seen you naked in a long time so he is soaking up every moment like it will be his last. You nudge your ankle to his side, “Don’t stare,” you say in an airy voice he hasn’t heard in a long time. There’s a patch of hair contouring your cunt, being dampened by your slick. You don’t care if he doesn’t like hair or not, you are pregnant and he should be thankful he’s even between your legs right now. Still, a nagging in the back of your head is making you a little self-conscious, but that is slowly being overridden by desire. He takes your offending ankle and rubs circles in it, it’s to keep you in place, a sense of dominance with a soft undertone. His other hand goes to take a few fingers to spread open your cunt, “I’m sorry, I like to stare at things that are beautiful, it’s how I was made.” That doesn’t even sound like an apology, too light-hearted and snaked with lust. Scolding him sounds like a good option but you can’t bring yourself to. You are just too sensitive, his hand isn’t even rubbing at your sweet spots but it still feels so good. 

His stare on your nethers finally lets up, bringing both of his hands to trail up your belly, rubbing the bump of your growing baby. His baby, that he put in you. He bends over your belly to kiss it through your top, slowly riding it up so he can kiss the skin. It’s too soft, too comforting. You want to cry because this is what you have wanted this whole time since you found out you were pregnant. You wanted him to be sweet, fawn over you, and kiss your belly, and love your kid as much as he claimed to love you. There are so many things left unspoken, so many things to talk over that you both haven’t gotten to. You card fingers through his blonde hair, it’s just as soft as you last felt it, though you know he’s been using stupid low-quality shampoo because he can’t steal yours anymore. He looks up at you, giving you a much too sweet smile before settling his glasses on the coffee table.

He whips off his shirt to stay at least equal exposed as you, you’ve always complained about how it’s unfair. What’s really unfair, he thinks, is how hot you look laid out for him. The roughness of his hands contrasts the softness of your skin, the pudge of your thighs, the slowly appearing stretch marks on your belly, the softness of the edge of your breast he can feel teasing the edge of his hand as he adventures your body. Even your little moans are soft like silk running across his skin every time you breathe one out from his touches. Pulling your tank top over your breasts, he stares again. He really has missed a lot, your breasts look a little different, just a bit bigger, and your nipples swollen a bit with sensitivity, perked and begging for his attention. 

So he caves, pressing his fingertips into the flesh of your breasts making you gasp because of the tenderness. The pads of his thumb circling around your areola before thumbing roughly over your nipple. They’re so cute, so responsive, Zeke loves it. He kisses your belly one more time and adjusts himself closer to you, pajama pants brushing against the swell of your ass, and leans so he can lap at your chest. His tongue feels almost prickly like a cat because of how sensitive you are, it hurts but it doesn’t hurt at the same as he tongues your nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, teeth teasing your nipple just a bit. It causes you to jolt and moan, digging your fingers into his hair as he continues to press kisses into your chest. You can feel his chest vibrate with a salacious giggle, his sadistic tendencies tend to slip out like this, and seeing you jolt and knowing your cunt must be absolutely drenched makes him all too prideful.

“Zeke, that’s enough-” He’s sucking the skin of your breasts hard so it'll leave bruises when he’s done. One of his hands presses gently into your belly, “Soon I won’t be able to do this as much. Let me have my fun.” All the implications send your blood rushing to your head as you throw it back into the pillow. He sucks a few more bruising hickeys to the underside of your breasts before pulling back, leaving a bite at your nipple. 

He’s too needy to even work his pants off completely, doesn’t even bother with his socks. He was right, your cunt is drenched and leaking slick so much, sticking to the hair that's there, it’s almost running to your ass. “Fuck, you’re so fucking-” he can’t even find the words to describe you right now. Beautiful, divine, ethereal, are a few words that come close to describing you. So he just presses a kiss into your knee before settling his cock near your clenching hole. 

“You’re okay with this?” There’s so much kindness in his voice, seeping into your skin. You know this is your chance to pull back, to continue the steady incline of your relationship with him instead of this jump. You don’t know if it’s your horny brain taking over or your logical side agreeing with it but, you want this.

“Zeke, if you don’t fuck me I’ll probably cry.” Maybe that wasn’t the best response to this situation, you realize, but you’ve long passed the point of being embarrassed for this. He lets out a rough laugh at your response, pressing his thumbs into the juncture of your thigh and hips. Before he does anything he wrestles a pillow from beneath the couch to sit under your hips, making you wiggle until you are comfy. 

“We can’t have that, now can we?” It’s mocking but filled with affection. He glides his cock over your slick cunt to wet it a bit before prodding at your hole, sliding ina bit slowly to let you adjust. “Shit-” It feels completely different -- puffy, your insides are swollen and plush, caging his cock in an enticing vice. 

His fingers are digging into your thighs as he holds his cock, pushing in until he reaches the base. Your nails are clasped to his bicep and you swear your eyes roll back from the pressure of his cock inside you. Stretches your walls to the max, pushing against all the soft ridges of your cunt. 

“‘S too much-” He’s barely even moved since he’s been inside you and you’re already complaining? With your slurred words? Cute. 

“You can handle it, can’t you?” He shouldn’t be mean, but this isn’t really mean, is it? Rocking his hips into yours, making sure the pillow propping up your hips stays in place, there are tears rimming your lashes from pleasure and little whines being pushed out of you from the force of his thrusts. You can’t even respond with words, he’s too deep and it feels too good and it’s been too long since experiencing this. You barely even use the dildos you have but he’s bigger, thick around the middle and the tip of his cock hammering into your soft patches that you can never reach, that send you closer to the edge sooner than you think. 

The creaking of the couch echoes off the walls but the slaps of his thighs meeting yours feel much louder, it almost makes you dizzy. Zeke is glad your belly hasn’t gotten bigger otherwise he wouldn’t be able to situate himself on top of you anymore, elbows caging you in, his full-bodied warmth comforting you. You whisper curses into his mouth as he kisses you, still rocking into you, your legs wrapped around the back of his thighs to pull him ever deeper into you. Moans trapped by his lips and his own raspy groans by yours. Arms wrapped around his midsection with you nails digging into his back, your nipples brushing against his chest which is pleasurable in it’s own torturous way.

He can feel your plush cunt clench around him sporadically and your thighs tighten around him. The feeling deep in your belly is about to snap, the tears clinging to your lashes roll down the sides of your face and Zeke makes them disappear with wet kisses and a rough thumb, pushing your chin down to capture your lips with his again. “Gonna cum for me?” There he is again with a cock lilt to his voice that has your cunt quivering around his cock, but you have no room to complain right now. You are sure you’re leaving red streaks down his back now because it feels like every muscle in your body is tightening as you cream around his cock, leaving a translucent ring for him to mess up with a few more well placed thrusts that have him reaching closer to his own orgasm. “Cummin’ so pretty for me- fuck.” You hold him close and continue to constrict your cunt walls around him, his head placed near your neck for him to bite at as he fills you up, a deep rock into you and he stills, plugging his cum inside you. 

Zeke wishes he could lay here forever, your belly between him and you, and him inside you. It’s a comfort in it’s own right, seeing you filled with him, claimed with his kid inside you, ontop of you in borderline possessiveness. There’s things you both need to speak about but right now he can predict you saying you are either hungry or needing a bath, or both. 

After you both catch your breath he leans back, slipping his cock out in the process. It’s picturesque, seeing his seed slip from your cunt and down your ass, sticking in the curls around your cunt in the process, and seeing the previous fruits of his seed growing inside you. He didn’t expect to like it this much but fuck. You look godly, basking in the aftermath of a wonderful orgasm, truly glowing. 

/ / :

“After you have this kid I’m fucking marrying you.” He doesn’t mean to say it but it’s too late to turn back now. Post-ciotal bliss must be fogging up his head.

You give him a wild deshevled look as you prop yourself up on an elbow. “Wha- Zeke what the fuck? Is this your way of trying to propose to me?” 

It hurts that you sound offended but he does deserve that. “No, not yet, we have a lot to do before proposing.” His hands rub over your naked belly as he looks down at you. 

“What does that even mean?” 

“It means I have a lot of time between now and when you have them and I’m taking advantage of every second.” 

You cough out a laugh, “You’re ridiculous. Our baby won’t be able to stand you, I bet.”

You don’t even notice the slip-up but he does -- ours, not my. “Of course, they won’t be able to stand, they’re a baby, they can’t even hold their heads up on their own.” 

The pillow that was behind your head hits his face and he is laughing deep within his chest. You’re complaining about he’s going to evolve into worse and worse dad jokes but ah, if you are godly this must be heaven.

𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ♡ 

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

[andreafmn]

Choices - Part 2

Word Count: 4,259

Requested: by me; inspired by a TikTok POV

Story Description: After the snap (Y/N) and Steve decided to shift their friendship into a romantic relationship. After the Battle of Earth, and Thanos’s ultimate defeat, Steve had to travel back in time to return the stones, but what (Y/N) doesn’t know is he’s not returning. The man leaves to his best friend the hard task to break the news to his lover. But what will happen if Steve returns in an unexpected manner?

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Part: 2/3

Warnings: SMUT (18+ only), female receiving, unprotected sex,

A/N: I know I said it would be two parts but I got carried away and now it's three , I think 😅

Follow Me!

<- Previous | Next ->

***

Another week had gone by and (Y/N) was starting to go back to her usual self. She had gone back to training and had started spending more time with the rest of the group, her energies lifting after a month and a half.

Until an unexpected visit had her falling in a downward spiral.

Wanda, Sam, Bruce, Bucky, and (Y/N) were all sitting around the couch, enjoying a bit of downtime, when a struck of blonde came barreling out of the night sky.

“THOR!” (Y/N) jumped up from the seat and went to give the god a hug.

“Lady (Y/N), how I’ve missed you.” He picked her up easily and spun her around.

The rest of the group smiled seeing the usual (Y/N) again. Thor put the girl down and went to say hi to the rest of his friends. It had been a while since they all had caught up with each other and were glad to see the god once again.

“So, Lady (Y/N), where is your captain?” (Y/N)’s breath hitched in her throat. The group present had done a good job of not mentioning his name in front of her, and it had been a long time since she had heard it. She couldn’t muster up any words, and she felt like the whole room started spinning. Thor grew worried and was thinking back to what he said, he had gotten a variety of reactions to the things he said but this had been extreme.

“Woah, (Y/N) stay with me,” Bucky tried to keep her attention. “You gotta breathe, darling. Come on, in and out.”

(Y/N) followed the breathing exercises Bucky was modeling in front of her. Inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. The tears came quickly, quicker than Bucky could dry them. Bucky decided that the best thing he could do was remove (Y/N) from the situation and tuck her in for the night, leaving Thor with a dumbfounded look on his face. He had been away for a while and had no idea what had happened.

“Lady Wanda, I’m afraid I may have overstepped in a certain topic, but I do not understand how. I thought Lady (Y/N) and Steve Rogers were an item.”

“They were, but Steve went back in time to have a life with Peggy,” she answered. Realization washing over Thor’s face. “It’s been a long time since she’s heard his name and it’s taken a lot for her to get back to normal.”

“So, the captain is in the past, having another life?”

“Well, technically, he should already be in our current time as an old man, but we haven’t found him anywhere,” Bruce interjected. “We’ve had some leads but nothing too concrete. He’s been flying under the radar.”

“If I understood correctly, Rogers traveled back in time to have a full life with a past love, without telling his current one what he was doing. He’s out there as an old man, leaving no trace of where he is. Lady (Y/N) is saddened because he left with no explanation and left her to mend her heart by herself.” Wanda nodded. “Whenever you find Captain America, let me know. Old man or not, (Y/N) does not deserve to suffer in the way she has. He has to pay.”

“As much as I agree with you, Thunder, there’s not much we can do,” Sam sighed. “All we have been able to do is just be there for (Y/N). It’s been a hard month.”

In the dark room, Bucky soothed a sobbing (Y/N) as warm tears streamed from her eyes. After two weeks without a major breakdown, she felt all her progress had crumbled down.

“I’m sorry, Buck. I’m sure you’re tired of me crying over the same thing.” She spoke, her voice trembling as she struggled to inhale correctly.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, darling. This is just a little setback, you’re stronger than you think. You’re gonna have days when this happens and that’s okay, I’ll always be here to pick you back up, okay?”

The girl nodded her head and laid her head back on Bucky’s chest as he rocked them back and forth.

Knock, knock

The sound coming from the door made both of their heads perk up. After a "come in" was heard from inside, Thor opened the door. An evident sorry look on his face.

“I hope I am not interrupting anything, Lady (Y/N).”

“Of course not, Thor. Come in.”

“I just wanted to apologize for what I triggered back there. I was just filled in with what happened a month ago, and I just want to say I am on your side. 100%.”

She chuckled. “Thank you, Thor. And it’s okay, you didn’t know. Surprisingly enough, this has been the lightest one I’ve had.”

“Unfortunately, my stay is a brief one, I have to join the Guardians again. But I am just a call away. I’ll be here for whatever you need, Lady (Y/N).”

“Thank you, Thor,” she got up to hug the man. “Hopefully, you visit soon.”

“I will be sure to do so. It was good to see you, Bucky.”

“You too, Thor. Safe trip back,” he said. The blond man nodded and left the room. “You ready for sleep?”

The girl nodded and settled back on the bed, her head lying on Bucky’s chest and him humming a lullaby while rubbing her back.

(Y/N) was in a gala in the middle of the dance floor looking around. She was surrounded by people she didn’t know, and she felt alone. Her dress swished as she turned round and round looking for just one familiar face. The music stressed her out and the figures around her kept bumping into her.

Then she felt hands on her waist, spinning her to look at them.

Steve.

She smiled up at the man she loved and stared into his baby blue eyes. They both swayed to the music, feeling like no time had passed between them.

“You look radiant tonight, baby doll,” he smiled.

“You clean up nicely yourself, Captain.” He leaned down and gave her a kiss. “I’ve missed you, Steve.”

“What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“You left me, Steve. You left to be with Peggy.”

“Oh, (Y/N),” he said devilishly, running his hand across her face. The scene around us changing. We were now standing in an endless, dark void. “Of course, I would leave you for Peggy. You have always been destined to be alone. All alone.”

His voice started fading as his figure dissipated. (Y/N) tried to reach out to him, but his figure had completely vanished by now. All she could do was scream his name, even if nothing came out.

Bucky woke up to (Y/N) thrashing around, clearly experiencing a nightmare. He started shaking her awake when the screams started. He gently shook the girl awake and encircled her in his arms as she woke up gasping for air and crying. Bucky shushed the girl and rubbed her back.

“Listen to my heartbeat, darling. Focus on that,” he shushed. “Just focus on my heart.”

This technique seemed to ease the startled girl and she quickly settled back down in Bucky’s arms. Seeing her hurt maimed his heart in a way he never thought possible. Bucky had a good handle on distancing himself from his emotions to cope with everyday life, but the hold this girl had on him made it difficult for him to not feel her pain.

In the morning, (Y/N) awoke to an empty bed. Bucky had training today and had left earlier, leaving her to sleep in and recuperate her energy. He left a kiss on her head and the hope that she woke up in a better mood. But (Y/N) did not, she woke up with the lingering memory of the man she had the opportunity to love and be loved by for five consecutive years. She craved his touch even if just for one last time; to be in his arms where she felt the safest. And she had an idea of how to do it.

“FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Miss (Y/N)?” The AI powered up in her room.

“Could you tell Wanda to come to my room?”

“Of course, Miss (Y/N). She’ll be here shortly.”

In a few moments, Wanda walked through the door into the dark room. “(Y/N), you called?”

“I want to do it, Wanda.”

“Do what, (Y/N)?”

“I want to do the spell. I want to see him again.” The redhead stood still, a cold shiver running through her body. She had offered to do this spell a month ago, a way for her to get closure, but now it seemed like a step in the wrong direction. “Please, Wanda. Just one last time.”

Wanda couldn’t help but feel for the girl. She understood the loss of your partner, she had grieved her own. And as her friend, she wanted to do her best to help (Y/N) with what she needed. The girl was asking for a strong love spell, a trance-like vision that would project only the image of the person’s love. (Y/N) described it as a way to do exposure therapy, confront the fear or person in order to heal by yourself.

“Alright, (Y/N). Just this time,” she sighed. “But please remember, he’s not really here. He’s just a projection of your avid imagination, nothing more.”

“I know, Wanda. I know he’s gone.” The witch provided a pity smile and stood behind the girl.

“Okay, I’ll be starting now.”

Wanda moved her fingers close to (Y/N)’s head as a red streak of light emerged from her hands. (Y/N)’s body relaxed, and her eyes turned red, a comforting image playing in her head.

(Y/N) was standing in the middle of their room, the song “It’s Been a Long, Long Time” playing from the sound system. Her body was clad in a short, flowy red dress still barefoot, waiting until the last minute to put her shoes on. She was staring at herself in the mirror, applying the finishing touches on her makeup, a dark red lip to bring the whole look together.

“You’ve always looked gorgeous in red, baby doll.” (Y/N) raised her view from her lips and smiled at the figure behind her.

Steve was dressed in an all-black attire, a black leather jacket sitting atop the dress shirt and his dog tags shined in his chest. His face was adorned with his renowned bright smile. His body moved towards her, his big arms encircling her waist, leaving kisses on the exposed skin of her shoulder. (Y/N) smiled at the closeness of his body, leaning into the warmth of his touch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve danced, you know?” She commented.

“Then why are we standing around?” He took her hand in his and turned her to face him. “I have always loved dancing with you.”

Her head was pressed to his chest, her hand circled around his neck and his on her waist. The sound of the trumpets, a comforting welcome of his past life. Their bodies swayed from left to right, enjoying a simple turn occasionally. This was a pastime they would enjoy at night, after a long mission, or when one of them was feeling down.

“I wish we could stay like this forever, Steve” she whispered against him. “I want to always be with you.”

“I would love that more than anything, baby doll.” His hand rested on her chin and lifted her head. His lips pressed against hers, laced with love and passion.

“Then, why did you leave?” Water started pooling in the corner of her eyes, and Steve raised his hand to wipe the tears away before they fell.

“What do you mean, darling? I’m right here.”

“No, you went back in time to be with Peggy. You left me here with no explanation.”

“Oh, baby doll. That wasn’t me, I would never leave you.’’ His hand stroked her cheek, a touch she leaned into. “I’m always here with you. Always.”

He leaned down once more to have their lips make contact, until…

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Bucky stormed in. (Y/N) jumped back, startled by the sudden entrance. “Stop it, Wanda!’’

“Wanda? What are you talking about, Bucky?” Steve asked but got no response from Bucky.

“Buck, please. What’s going on?” She questioned.

Suddenly, the scene around her started disappearing, like a fine mist had settled in her vision.

“No, what’s going on?” She freaked. “Steve don’t go. No… NO!”

The image finally dispersed, and she was back in her dark room, no Steve in sight. (Y/N) broke down and fell to the ground, fat tears flowing down her cheeks. Her beautiful memory had stayed just that, a memory. The witch was stood flabbergasted at the fact that (Y/N) was able to see Bucky inside of her vision.

Wanda kneeled and tried to comfort her friend with a hug, but Bucky did not allow it. “Don’t you think you have done enough?”

“I’m sorry, Bucky, I thought I was helping her. She…”

“Clearly you weren’t. Look at her now.” He looked down at her figure, curled up in his arms. “Just go.”

“I’m sorry, I really am.” Without another word, Wanda left the room wiping away a few stray tears.

“Why did you do this, darling?” He stroked her hair.

“I wanted to see him one more time, Buck.” Her voice trembled as she tried to speak between sobs. “I miss him so much.”

“I know you do, but mental manipulation is not the way to do this. Darling, you deserve so much better.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t know what I was thinking, I just…”

“I know, darling. I know.” He kissed the top of her head and held her closer.

“But you didn’t have to go off on Wanda. She didn’t deserve that, I practically forced her to do this. She didn’t want to.”

“I will,” he sighed. She looked up at him, knowing he wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t now. “Fine, I’ll be right back.”

He knew he had blown everything out of proportion and that the witch didn’t deserve his misplaced anger. He cared deeply for (Y/N) and seeing her in that delusion struck him hard. Bucky found Wanda sitting at the kitchen island, her head in her hands.

“Hey, Wanda.”

“Look, Bucky, I’m really sorry I allowed her to do this. I was against it at first, but she kept begging and I…”

“I know. I came to apologize for blowing up. (Y/N) explained everything to me and you didn’t deserve how I came down on you.”

“Thank you, Bucky, and I understand. But there’s something I think you should know.” The man furrowed his eyebrows. “The love spell I was doing only allows the person to see the person they love, like truly love. You shouldn’t have been allowed to show through the vision.”

“What are you saying?”

“That I think you and (Y/N) have to have a talk.”

Bucky walked back to (Y/N)’s room, Wanda’s words heavy on his heart. Could it be that (Y/N) felt the same way he did?

In the room, (Y/N) had exited the bathroom wearing fresh clothes and a towel on her head.

“Want me to brush it?” Bucky asked. It had become a comforting action for the man to brush her hair after she showered, his braids had improved greatly.

She nodded and sat on the stool in front of her vanity. Bucky sat behind her, hairbrush on his left hand and his right to smooth it down. Unknowingly, (Y/N) had started humming alongside Bucky the Russian lullaby he’d use to lull her in moments like these. As much as he was enjoying the moment, the man needed to confess now.

“(Y/N), I need to talk to you about something.” He stopped brushing and turned her around.

“What is it, Buck?” Worry filled her eyes quickly. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Wanda was telling me about the love spell she was doing.”

“Yeah, you get a corporeal recreation of the person you love.”

“Yes, and you can only see the people you truly love.” The confusion was evident in her face, not understanding what his point was. “You saw me through the vision.”

Realization fell on (Y/N). She had seen Bucky through the vision, it even interacted with him. She hadn’t had time to analyze the shift in her emotions had started. She had always loved Bucky as a friend, but the spell didn’t apply to friendships. Her sentiments towards Bucky ran deeper than that. “I did.”

“I need to tell you something, (Y/N), and I don’t want you to feel forced to do anything about it.” He took her hands in his and stared deeply into her eyes. “I have been in love with you since we were on the run from the Avengers because of the Accords. You turned your back on your family for someone you barely knew; you accepted me for everything that I was and am, and I am forever grateful to have you in my life. You looked past my flaws and embraced me for what the rest couldn’t see. And I don’t know if you even feel a sliver of the same, maybe you don’t and the vision was just a slip up; maybe that’s why you saw me, and maybe…”

(Y/N) crashed her lips into him, in part to stop his rambling. But really because she felt the same way. He had seen her at the lowest point in her life and stood by her no questions asked; he had taught her to smile again. “I feel the same way, Buck. Not for the same time, but I do.”

Bucky smiled at her and closed his arms around her waist, spinning her around in a hug. She looked down at him and grabbed his face to bind their lips together once more. This time the kiss they shared was deep and filled with passion. They both smiled into the kiss, Bucky slowly settling her down. Their forehead’s rested against each other as they caught their breath.

“What does this mean for us now?”

“We take it one day at a time, Buck.”

He smiled once more a kissed her lips, happy that he was finally able to do so. He peppered her whole face with small kisses, having (Y/N) laughing at the show of affection. His rough persona quickly melting away.

Bucky’s lips left her face and landed on her neck, nipping at her most sensitive spots. Her hands flew to his hair, gripping at the base earning a low growl from the man. His hands pulled her closer by the waist, latching onto her, afraid it was all in his head. He was getting hungry, but he wasn’t sure it was the right time.

“Wait, (Y/N), wait.” He pulled her back.

“What’s wrong, Buck?”

“We don’t have to do this if it’s too much, too fast.”

“Bucky, it’s okay. I want this. I want you, now.”

A fire was lit inside of him, animal energy emanating from within. Bucky closed the distance between (Y/N) and him, attacking her lips ferociously. Their hands discovering places in their bodies they had not touched before. Bucky wrapped his left arm around her and softly laid her down on the bed, never breaking the kiss. (Y/N) pulled at Bucky’s shirt, needing to feel him closer.

***********SMUT(18+ ONLY)***********

He broke the kiss to remove his t-shirt, (Y/N) taking advantage of the moment to remove hers, exposing her bare chest. Bucky came down once more and devoured the newly exposed skin, earning a soft moan from the girl. A sound that told Bucky he was doing something right.

His right hand distracted himself with a breast, while he took the other in his mouth. Bucky feasted on her body leaving wet kisses on her skin after feeling satisfied with the work he had done on the now perked mounds. When he reached the waistband of the pants she was wearing, he looked up at the squirming girl for permission to take it further. (Y/N) bit her lips in anticipation and nodded at the man between her legs.

It had been a long time since she had partaken in this game of limbs, enjoying the ecstasy that came from every move that was made. Bucky pulled her pants down, alongside her underwear, throwing them to a corner of the room. He worshiped her legs with kisses until he landed on her wetness. His breath teased the next movements he would engage in. A breathless moan left her lips when Bucky pressed his tongue flat and licked upright her entrance. Her back arched when his mouth landed on her clit, closing over it and using his tongue to draw an 8 figure on it. (Y/N)’s hands flew down to Bucky’s hair, pulling every time she felt the nerve endings responding to his touch. And the more she pulled, the more he moaned, the more the feeling reverberated through her body starting the cycle all over.

“Oh, baby, don’t stop,” (Y/N) moaned out. She could feel Bucky smiling, pressed to her skin. Then he inserted a finger into her dripping entrance. “Oh, fuck.”

Bucky was proud of the work he was doing. (Y/N) was a whimpering mess and that excited the man even more, the erection he had painfully squashed in the pants he was wearing. After pumping a single digit, he decided to introduce another, earning a gleeful groan from the girl.

(Y/N)’s breathing was becoming more staggered as Bucky continued pumping his fingers. “Fuck, baby, I’m close.”

“Go ahead, darling. I want you to come for me.” Said Bucky, before sucking on the swollen mound that he had been enjoying. His fingers started moving at a quicker pace, and so did the moans that escaped from (Y/N)’s mouth. With a few more pumps and a scream, the girl let go and enjoyed the peak of her climax. “You did so good, baby.”

He joined her on the bed and kissed her once more. She could taste herself on his tongue, and that only excited her more. She looked deeply into his striking blue eyes and told him all that he needed to hear. “I need you, Bucky. All of you.”

He unbuttoned his pants, finally unleashing his punished length. (Y/N) stared at him, hungry to feel him inside of her. Bucky aligned himself with her body, the head teasing the opening. “Are you ready, darling?”

“Yes, Buck!” And he entered her in one quick swoop, a loud grown leaving both bodies involved.

At first, his thrusts were slow and accommodating to allow (Y/N) to get used to having him in her. But once she acclimated to his above-average size, he thrust into her at a punishing pace. The sound of skin-on-skin contact was drowned out by the arousing sounds that came from (Y/N) and the animalistic groans that emanated from Bucky’s throat. (Y/N) felt her head going hazy from pleasure and couldn’t imagine feeling any more, until Bucky changed positions.

Somehow, he shifted their bodies to a stance that allowed him to go deeper and harder, hitting all the right spots. Bucky was seated on the edge of the bed, his left arm grabbing her waist to assist in her movements, as (Y/N) was bobbing up and down on his lap, their foreheads pressed together. Both of their breathing had become staggered, exhaling at the same time (Y/N) fell upon his lap, taking him completely in. Bucky stared in adoration at the woman in front of him; if this was a dream he did not want to wake up.

They were both reaching peak euphoria, the sound they were producing a testament to it. Bucky’s tempo picked up as (Y/N) clenched around him, climax knocking at their door.

“I’m so close, baby.” Bucky whimpered.

“Me too, Buck. So close,” (Y/N) breathed into the crook of his neck. His grip on her waist tightened as he got seconds away to release. A few more strokes and they were both yelling out each other’s names.

***********SMUT END***********

While they worked to regain their normal breathing rhythm, Bucky wrapped (Y/N) into a tight hug. The warmth of their bodies becoming a comfort blanket for each other. Their chests rising and falling at the same time; they were connected in more ways than one.

The man couldn’t help but smile at the figure lying next to him. He propped himself up by his elbow and basked in the view before him.

“What are you looking at?” She chuckled. She looked radiant to the man under the light of the sunset that slipped through the window.

“I just can’t believe this is actually happening.” He grinned. “I never thought I was the kind of person to get a happy ever after, as cliché as it sounds.”

(Y/N)’s gaze softened as she heard that. She stroked Bucky’s cheek, and she melted as his eyes closed to lean into her touch, committing to memory the feeling.

“You are deserving of that and much more, James Barnes.” She kissed his lips as a promise of her statement. “Now, I’m gonna go take another shower. Someone got me all riled up.”

“Maybe I’ll join you,” Bucky teased.

“Maybe you should,” she winked. Bucky smiled and threw her over his shoulder, (Y/N) growing out of breath from laughing too much. She could get used to this feeling, especially if it was with him.

Tag list: @marvelfansworld @coldhvrt16 @bluemoon-icecream

[neonlights92]

RUN: Chapter V

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for.  He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants.  So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly.  And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook.   So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos.  How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and smut

A/N: ENJOOOOY!

You hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in almost two days. 

The moment you’d seen him with Violetta any illusion you had of possibly making your marriage work, had been shattered. 

Jungkook had tried to speak to you.  After he’d followed you back to your room he’d pleaded with you to open the door, to let him explain, but you just couldn’t do it.

Perhaps it was because you were so hurt.

Or perhaps it was because you didn’t want to hear it. 

Or perhaps it was because deep down inside, you’d always known this was bound to happen.

He had promised you a loveless marriage.  But he had also promised to stay faithful to you.

The image of them kissing was imprinted into your retina - it was all you could think about whenever there was a moment of peace. .

So what had you done?  You’d run away.  Snuck out in the middle of the night, whilst Jungkook slept in the guest room. 

You knew it made you a coward. 

But you couldn’t help it.  He’d hurt you.  You were broken.

You couldn’t handle the thought of facing him.  Not right now, anyway.

Nayeon had allowed you to move into hers temporarily - sick to death with worry when you showed up on her doorstep crying your eyes out.  You still hadn’t been able to explain what had happened, but you knew eventually, you would have to. 

You stared at the phone sat on the bedside table of the guest room Nayeon had put you in.  You’d texted Jungkook briefly the moment you arrived, to let him know where you were - but since then it had sat, switched off, staring at you.

Mocking you, almost.

In your heart of hearts you knew that perhaps  you were acting childishly. 

That you needed to face your husband head on - confront everything that had happened that day. 

But you couldn’t.  You were too afraid. 

You felt the tears jump to your throat again and you sighed shakily, fighting against them.

“Y/N?” The door to the bedroom creaked open and Nayeon was stood on the other side, holding a tray with what looked like tea and toast. 

“You’ve barely eaten,” She said, coming towards you carefully, “You need to eat something.  Please.”

You nodded, dazed, and let her set the tray down between your legs.  She sat on the edge of the bed, dark eyes roving your face.

After a long moment of silence, she sighed heavily.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” 

The words fell on you like concrete.  You felt tears burn your eyes again. 

“I don’t - I can’t…” 

Your heart was beating in your throat. 

“Eat, Y/N.”  She pushed the food towards you and ran a hand through her hair, “Jungkook’s been calling me like crazy since you arrived.  He hasn’t stormed in here because I told him it would just make things worse.”

The thought of your husband terrified you.  What were you going to do?  

How could you ever face him again?

Would you leave him?  Could you? 

The tears fell now, unbidden, and you bit into the dry toast.  You didn’t even bother pushing the tears away. 

“He sent… He sent Namjoon.”  Your best friend’s eyes were sympathetic, “I can kick him out, if you want.  But Jungkook thought maybe Namjoon could help.”

You looked beyond her and noticed, for the first time, a tall figure stood in the doorway.  It was Namjoon.

How long had he been stood there?

“I can go, if that’s what you want.”  He frowned gently, “But he’s desperate, Y/N.  He really wants to speak to you.”

You felt your chest clench.  You shouldn’t have cared what Jungkook was feeling.

He’d caused all of this in the first place.  But as always, your feelings for him took priority. 

You scoffed at yourself.  How pathetic.

Nayeon grabbed your hand and squeezed softly, forcing you to look at her.

“Y/N…. Please.”  She looked desperate, “Talk to me.” 

You took a long, deep breath, and tried to calm yourself.  She was right.  You had to talk to her.  This was getting you nowhere. 

You cleared your throat. 

“We - we … We slept together.”

Naeyon’s eyes widened, “What?” 

“A few days ago.  I …. I don’t know.  The last few weeks things changed between us.  I thought - I thought maybe Jungkook had feelings for me,” The thought tore your heart open all over again, “But… The morning after.  The morning after we slept together - I found him in his study with another woman.  She kissed him.” Nayeon’s eyes darkened.

“What?” She seethed, “Who?” You felt your throat go dry.  Your mind hadn’t stopped replaying what you’d seen in Jungkook’s study.

Again and again and again. 

It was all you could think about. 

“Violetta,” You whispered, tears falling again, “Her name is Violetta.  But I’ve never seen her before.” 

Namjoon cleared his throat.  You looked at him and watched as he shuffled towards you, dark brows pulled into a low frown. 

“Did you say Violetta?” You nodded gently, swiping at the tears that had escaped.  He shook his head. 

“Y/N….” 

You waited for it.

For Namjoon to tell you that Violetta was the love of Jungkook’s life.  That you would never even hold a candle to what your husband felt for her. 

Don’t you love me? She’d asked him. 

Your stomach twisted again and you felt sick.  

“Violetta is the daughter of a very important politician,” Namjoon seemed to be choosing his words carefully.  He came to sit on the edge of the bed, “A few years ago… Jungkook was messing around with her, to try and obtain information.” 

You felt your heart thundering against your ribcage. 

“It was a shitty move, probably, but he only did it to try and move things around in our favour.”  He clicked his tongue and ran a hand across his brow, “When her father found out, he sent her away to America.  We haven’t seen her in almost four years.” 

You froze.  What did all of this mean? 

“I know Jungkook hasn’t been the best husband,” Namjoon continued, eyes searching your own carefully, “But he cares about you, alot.  He loves you.” 

The words felt like they were tearing you apart and putting you back together again, all at the same time. 

“He kissed her.”

But the words held no venom.  The truth was… She had kissed him.  And he’d pulled away so quickly. 

In your mind, it was the only thing you saw again and again and again… 

You knew.  You knew she’d been the one to make the first move. 

“He made a mistake,” Namjoon seemed to be approaching the situation like you were a caged animal - like he wasn’t sure what your reaction would be, “He made a mistake by letting her inside your house.  But I know Jungkook.  And I know how he feels about you, Y/N.  Even if he doesn’t quite know it himself yet.  Violetta is a dangerous girl.  He needs to be careful.” 

Nayeon cleared her throat, seeming to mull over the situation herself. 

“Why wouldn’t he tell you about it?” She asked, voice careful, “If Violetta is so dangerous - why wouldn’t he tell you about it?” She was directing her question at Namjoon, who swiped his tongue across his bottom lip slowly and sighed.

“Jungkook likes to deal with things like this on his own.”  He grunted, “Doesn’t like bringing the rest of us into it.  And knowing Violetta - she probably came back without a warning.” 

Everything was too much.

Too much and too little. 

You’d known about Jungkook’s past before you married him - had known how many women he’d slept with even as you fell deeper in love with him.

And yet, something like this scared you. 

How many disgruntled former lovers had your husband left behind? 

Still.  Your heart had somehow sped up at Namjoon’s explanation - at the revelation that maybe your husband hadn’t betrayed you. 

You cleared your throat after a moment of silence.  Nayeon and Namjoon were observing you with gentle eyes - probably afraid of what theatrics you might pull next. 

You took a moment to collect yourself.

“He should have told me about her.”  You decided, “He should have told me if she was a threat.” 

Namjoon’s eyes were kind, “He’s still a dickhead, Y/N.”  His smile was almost painful, “He’s just a dickhead who loves you.”

The words lit up your chest. 

“I don’t - I’m not.  I don’t know if that’s true.”  You wanted to believe Namjoon.  More than anything.

But you couldn’t allow yourself that vulnerability.

Not  yet. 

Not after how completely the thought of him with someone else had broken you. 

“You should speak to him,” Nayeon said decidedly, squeezing your hand again, “Make him explain himself, for once.”

The thought scared you, but you knew she was right. 

Part of you was terrified he would actually rebuke everything Namjoon had told you.  That he would say he really was in love with Violetta - and planning to run away with her.  Or take her as a mistress. 

Those thoughts clenched your chest. 

And part of you hoped - maybe foolishly - that your husband would quell your fears.  That he would tell you, just as Namjoon had, that he loved you.  That he wanted to be with you now - for real, not for duty or anything like that - but because he cared for you.

“You’re right,” You nodded, reaching for your phone, “I’m going to call him.”

Nayeon stood at the same time as Namjoon.

“We’ll both be just outside, okay?  If you need us.”  Your best friend’s smile was gentle, but warm, “I know you can do this, Y/N.” 

She pressed a kiss to your temple, and then led the way outside, Namjoon trailing after her quietly.  He turned back just before shutting the door, and smiled at you too.

“You’ve got this, kid.” 

You smiled back, shakily, “Thanks, Joon.”

The door clicked shut and you were alone with your thoughts once again.

The image of Violetta and Jungkook had blurred now - maybe from Namjoon’s words - and it didn’t burn so brightly. 

You felt like you could breathe, like the idea of talking to your husband didn’t frighten the shit out of you. 

You could do this.

With shaking fingers you switched your phone off and watched as notification after notification lit up your screen.

They were all from Jungkook.

Thirteen missed calls.

Twenty seven texts. 

You opened the texts. 

I need to talk to you, Y/N.

Please.  Pick up the phone.  I know you’re mad, but we need to talk.

Where are you?  Why did you leave like that? 

Y/N please.  I’m worried about you.

They went on like that for the next twenty or so, until eventually you landed on the last one.  The one that made your heart skip.

I fucked up, okay?  I fucked up and I need to make this right.  You mean so much to me.

Your heart felt like it was beating out of your mouth.  You mean so much to me. 

Your fingers hovered over the call button and for a moment it felt like all the air had left the room. 

This was what you had always wanted. 

Jeon Jungkook for your own.

You considered how you’d felt about him before your marriage.  You couldn’t deny you’d loved him but now… Now there was something deeper, wasn’t there?

He’d marked you.

Not just your skin but your heart - your soul.

You took a deep breath and made the call, bringing the phone up to your ear. 

It rang once, twice. 

And then Jungkook was there. 

“Y/N?  Is that you?” 

You felt your chest tighten at the relief in his voice. 

“Yes.”  Your own voice was small, in comparison. 

“Are you okay?” He sounded desperate, “God.  Nayeon said you were okay but I didn’t - shit.  I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

You cleared your throat, tears rushing to your eyes again. 

“I spoke to Namjoon.” 

There was a long pause.  Your husband waited, and you thanked him for not interrupting.  You pushed past the tears. 

“He told me the truth about…” Your voice trailed off, but you forced yourself to finish, “Violetta.” 

“She doesn’t mean anything to me, Y/N.  I don’t - I don’t love her.  I never did.”  

You took another deep breath in.  

“Are you sure?” 

The question was the last show of vulnerability you were willing to freely give.  If Jungkook changed his mind - if he hurt you, after this - that would be it.

You couldn’t forgive him. 

“One thousand percent,” He was firm, “She’s just a spoilt princess who always gets what she wants.  I don’t - I’ve never felt for her what she claims to feel for me.” 

You wanted him to finish that sentence with - what I feel for you.  You were dying for it. 

You deserved that much, at least, didn’t you?

You sighed heavily - like the weight of the world was on your shoulders.  And maybe it really was. 

“What about me?”  The question was quiet, unassuming. 

Your husband made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh.  

“God Y/N.”  He answered, his voice raw, “I don’t want to lose you.  Not ever.  I - God - I don’t deserve you.  I’ve been an asshole.  Shit.  This isn’t how it was meant to go.” 

The words caused a small laugh to bubble out of you.

Your husband - your Jungkook - usually so confident and self-assured seemed… Unsure.  

It was enough to send your head spinning. 

“I haven’t treated you like I should,” He sounded almost like he was in pain, “I should have never promised you a loveless marriage.  But I - I suppose I was trying to keep us both safe.  You’ve always… You’ve always looked at me with stars in your eyes.  And I hated that… I hated that I liked it.  I hated that… I liked you.”

The words encompassed you - like cotton wool.  You blinked.

“What?”

He sighed gently, “I was never sure of my feelings for you, Y/N.  I wanted to protect you - and keep you safe.  And now… Now it’s something else, isn’t it?  I just.  Don’t totally understand it.  It scared me.  So I pushed you away.”

You felt tears crawl up your throat, “Jungkook…”

“I’m sorry for that.”  He sounded close to tears himself, “You’ve always - you’ve always treated me so well, Y/N.  So well.  I didn’t deserve it - I still don’t.”

His words patched up all the ugly, sharp tears in your heart.  It was like he was soothing them, healing them - and you felt yourself unravelling.

You made your decision.

It was simple.  Barely needed to think about it twice.

“I’ll come home.” You said softly, “Tonight.  Okay?” 

He exhaled something long and hard - like he’d been holding the breath in for ages, “Thank God.  Okay Angel.  I’ll tell Namjoon to take you home, okay?  I hated that you were alone.  God.  Felt so useless.” 

His words sent a fire bubbling in your veins.

He cared so much - seemed so desperate for you to be safe.  It was scary and new, but you welcome it with open arms. 

This was what you’d always wanted. 

“Alright.”  There was another beat of silence and then, “I love you, Jungkook.” 

The word fell between the two of you - heavy and weighted. 

He breathed in sharply. 

Then, “Hurry home Angel.”

You smiled to yourself.

“I will.”

//

The ride back home was silent, save for the murmuring of the radio.  Namjoon didn’t say much after you’d asked him to take you back, and Nayeon had all but cried when you explained that things seemed to have worked themselves out. 

You stared out of the car window, eyes following the skyline outside. 

Seoul could be so beautiful in the Spring. 

The trees turned from bare and snow-laden to full of lush, green life.  The dark blue sky glittering with tiny little stars - all of them blinking at you, like they were waving.

It filled your heart with something warm and happy - and despite the pain you’d endured recently - you found yourself content, finally.

You knew it had to do with Jungkook - didn’t everything? - but you couldn’t bring yourself to care too much.

Wasn’t it only natural that you wanted him to love you back?

After so many years of unreciprocated feelings… It only made sense. 

Namjoon made a self-satisfied sound and you turned to look at him, brow raised. 

“Did you have something to say?” You asked, half jokingly. 

He spared you a look.

“You two are going to drive me to an early grave I swear.”  

You laughed at that, and though he rolled his eyes, Namjoon smiled. 

“What are you talking about?” You giggled at the look on his face. 

He opened his mouth to answer you - just as something loud and angry and abrasive cracked across the air.  Before you could even blink, the car screeched to an angry stop, and your head whacked back against the seat, blood suddenly gushing from your nose. 

When had you hit your nose? 

The airbags had diffused and you felt stifled - like you couldn’t breath. 

“Namjoon.”  You croaked, turning your head to the side to find your friend’s eyes closed, “Oh shit.  Namjoon.”

He was breathing - you could tell - but he had a nasty gash across his forehead, and his cheek was pressed up against the surface of the airbag. 

Your body ached as you tried to shift - tried to help Namjoon out of his current position.

What had happened? 

Had a tyre blown?  Surely something like that couldn’t cause all this…. 

And then, suddenly, your car door was wrenched open. 

You felt yourself being pulled out painfully - almost brutally - and when your eyes blinked sluggishly up at who was holding you, you didn’t recognise the dark blue eyes staring back at you. 

“Who is this?” The voice was gruff, angry. 

He was talking to someone on the other side of the car - someone holding Namjoon. 

Oh god.  What was happening? Your chest clenched - fear turning your blood to ice. 

“That’s Jungkook’s wife,” The man holding Namjoon answered, “Shit.  C’mon.  Let’s go before someone sees us.” 

The man holding onto you was squeezing your forearm tightly, and you felt like the world was spinning off its axis. 

“Should we take her too?” He asked, pulling you to your feet when your legs started to wobble.

You kept opening your mouth - trying to ask him who he was, what they wanted - but nothing came out.  Instead all you could do was groan.

“Yeah.  Come on.  Let’s go.”

Take you where?  Your heart was racing as you were dragged to a dark, black van.  Namjoon was still unconscious, his body sweeping across the floor as the second assailant moved him to the van, as well.

Your eyes blinked, and you felt like your mouth was full of cotton - did you have a concussion?  Were you going to die? Why was everything suddenly moving in slow motion?

You looked down at the pinch in your arm, and realised you’d been drugged. 

The man holding you sneered, his eyes dark and cold and cruel.

“Sweet dreams princess.”  He growled, and you tried to claw at his chest, to no avail.

And then, it all went black.

//

[kiribaku-queen]

Heyyyy. So i was thinking a out mafia au fic like where kuroo is a mafia leader and youre his gf. Somehow, while his group were in a war, u got kidnapped which made him furious ofc and whiel saving u and trying to escape, u saw someone trying to shoot hima nd u go ahead and sheild him which made u got shoot. Its a angst but a hppy ending. Ill let u do what kind of ending u want 😁 anyway congrats and hv a great day!

Beginnings of a War

Angst

Kuroo x reader

Word Count: 3.5K

TRIGGER WARNING: violence, gun mentioned, blood

A/N: I had so much fun writing this piece and I literally couldn't wait to start this one! I thought of this Bokuto when writing this piece because I can't get enough of him

Happy reading and I'd love to know your thoughts!

The tension in the room was uneasy as the two leaders from opposite gangs stared each other down, neither saying a word. There was no easy conclusion to their mess but the longer they sat there, the more impatient both parties got. Yet, Kuroo was never one to give up easily. He was persistent and determined. Meanwhile, the two-toned haired man who goes by Bokuto was notorious for always getting his way. Right now, they were both stuck in the middle. Kuroo leans back on the black, leather couch, resting both arms behind the back.

“That’s my final bet. Take it or leave it. You either release him and take the money, or we’re gonna have some trouble,” Kuroo finally spoke up. Bokuto slants his eyes at him, clearly not persuaded by his offer.

“You’re a good comedian if you think I’m going to release one of your men for that small amount. After what he did to ten of my men?” Bokuto was trying to place the blame on the other leader but that only made Kuroo’s eyebrow twitch in annoyance.

“Your men attacked his family and his girl, leaving her in a hospital. If anything, your men deserved everything coming to them,” Kuroo set him straight. Even though Bokuto knew that, he knew that his men were in the wrong, he still had to protect them. So his comment visibly upset him as he slammed his fists down on the glass table in front of him, almost causing it to break if he hit any harder.

“I don’t give a shit what my boys did. All I care about is what your men did to mine,” he stated clearly. By now, Kuroo was getting a headache.

“Then what do you want? You don’t want the money, you don’t want anything else I offered. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want!” he grew impatient and raised his voice. Before Bokuto had a chance to open his mouth, the double doors behind him flew wide open and in you came, eyes only on your boyfriend as you walk towards him. Sexy and sultry-like, you come to greet your boyfriend after a long day of shopping, not paying attention to his special guest. But he was paying close attention to you.

The click of your heels meeting the floor caught the attention of all the men in the room. You loved it when all the attention was on you because you knew. You knew you were attractive. You had the confidence, the walk, the clothes, the attitude. Everything a girl boss should have. Even though eyes were on you at all times of the day, only one man caught your attention and you would do anything for him.

Striding towards the mafia boss who was clearly in the middle of an important meeting, you made your way into his lap. You made yourself comfortable, touching the back of his hair before pulling him in for a steamy kiss. The kiss was slow and deliberate. You made sure to taste every part of him, your tongue gliding against his, purposely biting his lips ever so slightly. You kissed him like there was no one else in the room. But little did you know, Bokuto was looking you up and down, clear interest written all over his face.

You pulled away with a soft hum, satisfied to be with your boyfriend again. Kuroo, who was annoyed, is now smitten with you. He has, and always will have, a soft spot for you and isn’t afraid to show it.

“I’m a little busy, sweetheart,” Kuroo mumbled against your lips, lost in your eyes, your taste, your smell, your everything.

“I just missed you, daddy,” you cooed with a pout.

“Alright, I’m almost done,” he promises. He puts a protective hand over your waist and you wait in his lap like the good girl you were until he was done with his meeting. Kuroo focuses his attention back to his guest, acting like that whole interaction didn’t happen.

“What do you want?” Kuroo asks again. This time, Bokuto locks eyes with you and you just give him an innocent look that makes Bokuto obsessed.

“Her.” He points to you. That shocks both you and your boyfriend. You didn’t know what was going on, maybe because you just forced your way into their conversation, but you could tell that Kuroo wasn’t very fond of his answer. His hand tightens on your waist.

“She’s off limits,” he almost growls. Now that’s a voice you haven’t heard in a hot minute.

“Then the deals off,” Bokuto says simply, leaning back while shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. Kuroo slants his eyes and gives you a few soft taps to your butt.

“Go upstairs,” he demands. You know by the tone of his voice that he was upset and you knew not to talk back. Last time you did that, you couldn’t walk for two weeks. And that was… so long ago that you can’t even remember. So you immediately got up and walked out of there, but Bokuto still had his eyes on you.

When you left the room and completely out of sight, Kuroo sits back and crosses his legs. He lets out a deep sigh and glides his tongue across the inside of his cheek in annoyance. He didn’t understand why Bokuto wanted you all of a sudden, out of all people, but there was no way in hell he was giving you away.

“I’ll give you anything you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you. You want the money? Fine. Take it. You want a woman? I’ll find you one who can’t resist you. Name your price, but she’s my woman,” Kuroo made things clear with the man across from him.

“I’m not leaving until I get her,” Bokuto was set on having you, taking you and making you his. Kuroo uncrosses his legs and leans forward on his knees.

“Oi. Can you fucking hear? I said she was off limits.” Bokuto copies his movements.

“Does it look like I give two fucks? If you want one of your men back, give me the girl,” he compromises. Kuroo clenches his jaw and leans back.

“Then there’s nothing to discuss. Leave.” Kuroo glares at him. And that was asking him nicely. But Bokuto lets out a loud chuckle.

“You’re gonna let a bitch get in the way of your men?” the mafia boss taunted. And boy, did it work.

“Do you want to die?” Kuroo asked through gritted teeth, a vein clearly visible on his forehead from how much anger he was trying to hold in.

“Is that a threat?” Bokuto turned serious, all jokes out the window.

“No. but this is,” he says, standing up and pulling a gun out of the inside of his jacket pocket and points in straight in his opponent’s face. With his fast reflexes, Bokuto saw it coming and also took his gun out. So now both men had guns pointed in their faces, neither of them moving. Just glares being exchanged.

“Tsk, tsk. Now is that how you persuade an old friend?” Bokuto shook his head in disappointment.

“Friend? More like business partner,” Kuroo corrected him. They had a silent face off. Pointing dangerous weapons at each other but neither wanting to pull the trigger first. Bokuto thought this was exciting. He laughs, spins his gun with his finger and places it back in his pocket. He turns around, looking unfazed by the whole situation and simply leaves. Somewhat relieved, Kuroo also puts away his gun and cautiously watches the other boss leave. Bokuto stops right as he’s about to step through the door to give Kuroo a wary warning.

“You better be careful. I always get what I want,” he said before making his disappearance.

You were waiting patiently in your shared bedroom, swinging your feet around with a pout on your face. You didn’t know what you walked in to, but it didn’t seem good from the looks of it. Kuroo looked so serious down there, you thought to yourself. But your mind wandered to naughty thoughts because you loved seeing him like that, even though the situation doesn’t call for it. He just looks so sexy what he’s serious.

Kuroo opens the door to the bedroom and before you could say anything to him or greet him, he smashes your lips together without any explanation. You were surprised by his actions but you kiss him back nonetheless. From the way his lips move against yours, you could tell that he was in a bad mood. Your lips were too smushed and teeth were rubbing against each other, so much that he was starting to hurt you. Kuroo moves on to attack your neck and then you were finally able to breath.

“Kuroo,” you whined, still short of breath. He ignores you and instead starts to suck on your supple skin, creating bruises of all kinds of sizes on your neck. He grabs your face again, smashing your lips together and he pushes you back so that the back of your knees hit the bed, causing you to fall backwards, Kuroo falling on top of you. His legs were on either side of you as he dominated the kiss.

“You’re mine. All mine,” he growls, hands wandering to grope your body harshly. He licks from the top of your breasts all the way up your neck and captures your lips again. Your hands go to tangle his raven locks and wrap your legs around him.

“I’m all yours,” you whisper against his lips. Kuroo smirks, quickly removing his jacket then undoing his tie before he goes to unbuckle his belt. Excitement started to rise in you. Angry sex? Fuck yes. You were in for a hell of a night and let’s be honest, one hell of a week.

You were kept inside for a time being because Kuroo was wary of what Bokuto said to him at that meeting. He wasn’t going to take any chances, but you understood where he was coming from. It was boring not being able to leave the fancy mansion you lived in, but you made your boyfriend make it up by letting him by you all sorts of gifts to apologize.

But after a while of nothing happening, your boyfriend lets you go on a shopping spree to make up for your boredom and loss of time. But you couldn’t leave until you brought extra bodyguards to look out for you. Annoying as it was, you obliged. There was no use in arguing because if you did, he probably wouldn’t have let you out. The whole threatening fiasco didn’t bother you one bit. You couldn’t count how many times people have said that to him and nothing has ever happened to you. You believed that nothing was going to happen this time around.

You were walking down the empty street after a successful day of shopping, having every single one of your bodyguards hold bags of clothes, accessories, shoes, food, things that you couldn’t resist buying. You skipped along the sidewalk, feeling happy and free, the warmth of the setting sun and the blow of the oncoming evening wind was making you feel content with life. You wonder if your bodyguards were feeling the same. Speaking of bodyguards, they were being awfully quiet. Spinning around, you realized that you were alone.

You paused, stunned frozen.

Where were your bodyguards? All of a sudden, several men appeared out of the shadows of the alleys. You sighed in relief, realizing that it was just your bodyguards pulling a prank on you.

“You scared me! How could you leave me alone like that!” you jokingly scolded them. But they were indeed not your bodyguards. The smile that was on your face was quick to drop upon realization. You took a few steps back, trying to get away from these men who were getting closer and closer to you. But you were stopped, running into someone’s chest. You looked up to see who it was and all of a sudden, everything turned black.

When you woke up, you found yourself sitting on a chair, arms wrapped together and duct tape covered your mouth. It didn’t take long to realize that you’ve been kidnapped. The classic empty warehouse and burning fire in a can was proof of that. You checked your surroundings and was surprised to see that your legs weren’t tied together. You weren’t blindfolded either, but you were tied down to the chair. It wasn’t long after you woke up that Bokuto makes his appearance, sitting backwards in a chair right in front of you. He looked happy to see you but you couldn’t say the same. You slanted your eyes at him, disinterested in whatever he wants to say or do. You tried to keep your composure by being still and keeping a poker face, because if you didn’t, you don’t know what he’ll do to you.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Bokuto greeted you. “You’re probably wondering why you’re not tied up.” He starts, then rips the duct tape off your mouth and cuts the ropes around your arms. Then he leans down to your level and smirks.

“Because I know you’re not going to run away. Look at you shaking,” he says and looks you up and down then going back to his chair. It was true. You were shaking. You’ve never been in this situation before. You’ve always imagined it: being nonchalant and bored of all the empty threats and your savior of a boyfriend would come save you from all the madness. But now you were second guessing yourself, now being caught in this situation. You were shaking, but you were still going to stand up for yourself. That’s what Kuroo taught you to do.

“You’re not going to get away with this. Kuroo is going to save me and you’ll regret ever doing this to me,” you ran your mouth. But Bokuto doesn’t respond. So you go on. “Kuroo is the strongest fighter I know. He could kick your ass in his sleep. You don’t even look like a fighter. I bet you’d do down so easy!” You said that anything that came to mind. Yet, Bokuto continued to stare at you with a bored expression. And that made you nervous.

“I would never date you. You’re ugly, mean, and-and… you suck!” you couldn’t come up with any good comebacks. But for some reason, that set him off. He stands up so fast that it knocks the chair over and that shuts you up real quick. He walks over to you, duct taping your mouth again.

“Noisy bitch. Maybe this’ll shut you up,” he says and tightly seals your lips shut with the silver tape. He then grabs your chin to look up at him. You glare up at him, already tired of how rough he was handling you. He tilts your face from side to side, getting a good look at you.

“See, you’re prettier when your silent,” he comments. He looks down at the tape and frowns. He tapped the tape that was over your mouth over and over again, like there was something missing. Bokuto opens the palm of his hand and one of his guys puts a bright red lipstick in his hand. With a swift action, he pulls the cap off with his teeth and applies the lipstick on the duct tape that outlines your lips. He spits the lid on the floor and smirks.

“There, that’s better,” he says. He grabs your chin again and pulls you in for a kiss. You struggle to get out of his grip but he was stronger than he looked. When Bokuto pulled away, the lipstick was smeared across his lips, but didn’t seem to care. He was about to say something until he heard screaming and grunts of pain. He turns around just in time to see your boyfriend getting thrown on the floor, all bloodied and beaten up. You gasp, tears beginning to form at the sight.

This was wrong. That couldn’t be your boyfriend. There was no way. Your boyfriend was strong. He beat up and sometimes even killed when anybody got in his way. How could this have happened?

Kuroo was thrown on the floor and a handful of men continued to beat him up, kicking him in all places. You shook your head in denial, not even wanting to watch but couldn’t look away. Bokuto was loving everything. Your expression. Kuroo’s sounds of pain. He was getting a kick that things were turning out how he had planned.

“Look who decided to show up,” Bokuto kneels down to his level, grabbing a handful of hair and picking him up to show his face. Blood was dripped down the sides of his face, from his nose and mouth, his cheeks were bruised and he looked like he was about to pass out.

“Let her go,” Kuroo barely manages to let out. Bokuto clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“I told you, didn’t I? I want her. Anything you want to say to your little girlfriend for the last time?” Bokuto allows him to say some final words. But Kuroo was too out of it to comprehend what he was saying.

“What about girlfriend over here!” he exclaims, presenting you perfectly fine and free from any scratches. Bokuto rips the duct tape off and cries ripped from your throat.

“Kuroo Tetsurou! You better get up! Stand up please! Fight back!” you cry but that just causes Kuroo to get more kick and punches to his body. Large tears escaped your eyes and you couldn’t stop the sounds of agony coming from your mouth.

“You’re the best fighter around, right? Fight back please!” you begged him. Getting beat up, okay. But not even trying to fight back? That’s not the Kuroo you know. What was wrong with him? Why was he allowing them to do this to him? Kuroo looks up and faces you with a smile.

“I can’t let you get hurt, baby girl,” he professes. And that just breaks your heart. More sobs escaped your mouth but the sounds of skin hitting skin was louder. Kuroo was being tossed around, kicked, punched, spit at. Blood was stained everywhere, and you didn’t know what to do. Even though he was getting beat up so badly, he was still standing. And that seemed to annoy Bokuto. Time was ticking and he was getting impatient. If he was doing to die like that, then he was going to have to do it himself. Bokuto pulls the gun out of his pocket, aiming for Kuroo. You see it just in time and as if your feet were moving on it’s own, you run to shield him before he gets shot. The moment you touched him, you heard the gun shot and everything went black

The feeling of soft sheets under your fingers woke you up. You jolted awake, sitting up in the bed that was all too familiar to you. You were at home, but how did you get here? You checked your body all over but there were no signs of pain or even wound marks. There was no bullet, no bruises, no scarring. So, what the hell happened? Then your mind went to your boyfriend. Getting right out of bed, you ran to his room and he was resting in bed, bandages covering his shoulder.

“Kuroo,” you called out to him, running to his side and grabbing his hand. He shifts in his position, sighing deeply. Then he brings your hand to his lips, placing a small but meaningful kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re up, my dear,” he says as a fact, eyes barely open. Concern washed over you and so many questions came to mind. You didn’t know what to ask first.

“How-what-but I… I took the gun shot for you,” you tried to recall what happened. Kuroo knocks your forehead and you pout.

“You think you’re so slick. I saw what you were trying to do. I flipped you over just in time. Now I have this to remember,” and then points to his shoulder with the bandage. He took the bullet for you. You pout again, feeling bad. Not only did he get beaten up pretty badly, but he also got shot that night? That was supposed to be your job.

“If I didn’t get shot, then why did I pass out?” you questioned, more to yourself.

“I think you passed out from the shock, baby,” he comforted you. It made sense… but when you looked at your boyfriend in this condition, it made you upset. You started to burst into tears and hit him in the chest.

“You idiot!” you yell, accidentally hitting the place he got shot and he jumps up in pain. But you cuddle right up to him to make up for it. But you thought he deserved it.

“What about Bokuto?” you shot up and looked at Kuroo was worry written all over your face. He softly smiles at you and pets your hair.

“We all retreated. For now. But it’s not over,” he tells you. Oh, it is far from over. This is actually just the beginning.

[parkers-gal]

can you do a part 2 to the one where y/n gets diagnosed with a brain tumor & tom stays with her and tries his best to help her through the side effects of chemo (like hair loss, fatigue, insomnia)?

yours

i know this is a peter gif but a bby is sad :(

wc | 1.4k

pairing | tom holland x reader

as mentioned above, there are (somewhat) in-depth mentions of vomiting, fatigue, hair loss, chemotherapy, and general diseases. this is your trigger warning

p.s. didn’t proofread so beware

—

“So… she’s decided already?”

Tom sighs, running a hand through his hair while nodding at his brother’s question. “Yeah… I let her decide on her own.”

“That’s good of you.”

“It’s all I can do,” he deadpans. “I’m so… useless.”

“Tom, you’re here. You’re supporting her. That’s the greatest gift in the world.”

Tom doesn’t waver. “Well it doesn’t feel like a gift.”

The conversation doesn’t go on for much longer. Tom excuses himself and you wake from your afternoon nap, having felt drained from your fourth chemo session already. You’re a lot weaker now, a lot more tired and even more upset — at yourself, the world, and sometimes even Tom. It’s not your fault, though. It never was.

“How’re you feeling, baby?”

“Tired,” you rub your eyes awake. “Hungry.”

“Do you feel like eating?”

You shrug, shoulders sagging while you glance at your fiddling fingers. Tom wills himself not to cry, sighing unsteadily while he places himself next to you on the mattress.

“We’re gonna get through this, y’know.” His arm wraps around your shoulder, bringing you into his embrace. You’re already losing weight and it’s only been a month. He pushes through, though, because you’re pushing too. “We’re gonna make it and- and you’re gonna be okay.”

You nod, wiping away a few fallen tears. “Yeah.”

You spend the rest of the night watching a few of your favorite movies and eating what you can. You laugh, wholeheartedly and genuinely, for the first time in awhile, and it makes Tom’s heart warm from the comfort and familiarity of it all. Peace is present throughout the house as the two of you settle down to sleep. Tom feels at home, with you in his arms, for the first time in a long time.

The peace doesn’t last long, however. You’re awake in the middle of the night, rushing out from under the covers and into the bathroom just in time to let the bile come up and out. It’s another side effect, another symptom, another fucking issue to deal with in this sea of madness. Tom’s by your side in a matter of seconds, rubbing your back and holding your hair while assuring you it’ll be okay. He’s speaking in a hushed tone, doing his best not to overwhelm you. And though you want to cry, you decide that you don’t have the mental capacity to do anything but allow everything to happen. It’s the least you can do.

After drinking some water and brushing your teeth, you settle back under the covers, each of you taking your previous positions. It’s not the same, though, because you both know how this night is going to go.

You’re blinking up at the bare ceiling, tracing the edges of the wall, finding the crevices where the wall meets the ceiling. It’s unbearable, counting for sheep or the stars to bore you to sleep. You don’t want to risk drinking milk or something cliche, and you certainly don’t want to trouble Tom when he deserves a night’s rest after taking care of you. It’s like his career, now, instead of his usual place in front of the camera. You want to feel guilty, but you’re too tired to protest anything. You’re so drained and constantly hungry, yet you’re never able to keep anything down. It’s a trick by god, you’re convinced. It’s so fucked that it feels unreal.

You exhale, almost too loudly, and Tom mirrors your actions. You both know you’re awake.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Tom sighs, frowning even in the dark. “Because you’re not asleep.”

“We’ve been over this,” You don’t bother turning towards him, continuing to stare up at the ceiling in dissatisfaction. “I’m not gonna get much sleep. You know this; you need to get used to sleeping without me.”

“I can’t get used to that,” He reaches out to you but you shoot up, shoving the covers off of you while your feet dangle off the edge of the bed. You’re back-faced to Tom and he sighs again. A hand rubs at your forehead while the other rubs your eyes, trying to fight off the will to cry.

“Y/N…” He scoots over to you, leaning up with his elbow while his nimble fingers run up your forearm all the way to your shoulder. “Talk to me, baby.” You let out a wet breath, an obvious sign that you’re crying. Tom feels his heart break and suddenly he’s reverted to over a month ago, when he’d first lost his grip on you in the fighting sea of heartbreak.

“I’m… a liability, Tom. If I don’t make it, you’re gonna have to get used to doing everything without me. I just want to prepare you fo-”

“No,” he cuts you off with a click of his tongue. “We’re not talking about that. You’re gonna make it, Y/N. I’m not losing you.”

“But what if you do?!” You look at him with such despair in your eyes that Tom can’t help but let a tear fall.

“Then I go with you.”

You laugh dryly, humorlessly. “You and I both know that’s not happening. You need to live past me.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t know that!” You don’t mean to raise your voice, but it slips out because you’re just so goddamn frustrated. You can’t help but blame yourself — you wanted to be that steady thing in Tom’s life, but you don’t know if you can be that now.

“Y/N/N…” He pulls himself up, sitting next to you on the mattress, covers abandoned. His hair is an arranged mess, voice deep and fresh from sleep. You can see his silhouette, his most defined features through the light of the moon. He drags an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He’s pulling you close because he doesn’t want to let go; he doesn’t want to lose you.

“You’re going to make it. And,” he sucks in a breath, biting his lip while he tries not to cry. “And we’re gonna get our happy ending. We’re gonna grow old together,” another sniffle, “and be an old married couple that plays bingo and enjoys trivia nights.” He pulls you impossibly closer until you’re forced to rearrange onto his lap. He leans his forehead on the skin beside your shoulder and neck, sniffling and sucking in a sob. “I don’t know what made you think otherwise, but you’re the strongest person I know. You’re-” he hiccups, “You’re gonna fucking make it. We’re gonna make it through this.”

“I pulled out my hair the other day,” You whisper finally, breaking your silence with the beginning of your explanation. “They said it- it’d be a possibility but I didn’t think it’d happen so soon and it did and it-” you inhale shakily. “It made me feel like I’m already dying.”

Tom inhales sharply, caught off guard, and you let a tear fall down your cheek and into his mop of curls that lay below your chin, leaning on your body.

“It made me feel like I’m already… leaving you.”

He remains quiet for a few beats, eyebrows furrowing while he thinks of what to say next. He doesn’t want to face the possibility of losing you. Especially not when the treatment process has just progressed — he hopes you get better results. He hopes for the best because he knows you deserve the best. He doesn’t want to wait for the day where you don’t get what you deserve, because he’s afraid he might lose you then.

“I’m not leaving you. Not through this, not through any sickness or disease. I’m here to stay. I’m yours.”

Your arms wrap around him in a haste to bring him closer. He picks his head up, holding your face in both his palms while you nuzzle further into his hand. He’s so gentle, looking into your eyes as if you could slip from his grip right in this very moment. It shakes you to your core.

Your bottom lip trembles while his thumb traces over it calmly, lovingly. He’s memorizing the details of your face with his touch. He’s regripping his hold on you.

“Yours,” You repeat in a whisper, the cold of the night stopping just for two lovers. “I’m yours.”