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realcube · 3 years

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OVERHEARING SOMEONE TALK ABOUT THEIR S/O

characters ♡ baji, mikey & mitsuya

tw ♡ insults (in reference to the reader), violence & robbery

KEISUKE BAJI

♡ baji never mentioned that he was dating you to anyone in toman

♡ in fact, he hoped that none of them even knew about your existence, because that would only lead to trouble; and he was correct

♡ he was simply taking a puff on his stationary motorcycle, when members of the division started to filter into the parking lot that he was currently trying to relax in

♡ usually he’d try to ward off strangers so he could enjoy his time alone but he knew these guys from toman, so he allowed them to stay as long as they’d keep their voices down and not bother him

♡ most of his attention was on his own thoughts, but it was immediately redirected when he heard your name brought up in their conversation

♡ only your last name, so he wasn’t even certain whether they were talking about you, but still his interest was piqued

♡ “they are on shift friday night, the only one left at eleven,” one of the guys explained, gesturing to his bat with a wicked smirk, “we’ll break in then. i’ll drive getaway.”

♡ “what if they call someone? shouldn’t we wait until they’ve left?” another suggested but was quickly corrected.

♡ “once they lock up the security system activates and it’ll be impossible to get in without alerting the cops. so we may as well bust in, handle them, and then steal the bikes.”

♡ baji cringed, since he was certain that they were talking about you —since you happen to work at a motorcycle shop on friday nights — he hated to think about what they meant by ‘handle’.

♡ “now stop askin’ stupid questions.” the same guy scoffed, twirling around his bat, “i used to work there, idiot, obviously i know what i’m doing.”

♡ the group of six all laughed at the one poor guy who asked the question, and baji did too

♡ he laughed at the irony behind how they were calling each other idiots, when they were all the ones talking about auto theft in broad daylight, and discussing doing unspeakable things to a person, when their boyfriend was standing in ear-shot with a bat and a motorcycle ready

♡ he did give them the benefit of the doubt in the latter aspect though; how were they supposed to know that y’all were dating when you are never seen spending time with each other?

♡ baji suddenly felt bad; it dawned on him that perhaps he had been neglecting your relationship as of recently. of course, it wasn’t with poor intention, in fact he thought he was taking the moral course of action by avoiding a situation where you are harmed because of his ties with toman

♡ however, being in a gang was no excuse to be a bad boyfriend, he figured

♡ for now, the least he could do was take care of these guys to save you the trouble

♡ but perhaps that wasn’t his brightest idea, he realised as he stood amongst the dejected bodies scattered across the ground, “i know you are all alive, so consider this a warning.” baji chuckled at the grunt one produced as he kicked him aside to head back over to his motorcycle

♡ before he left the area, obviously he stole all the cash he could from those guys, which gave him enough to buy the thing he had been eyeing for you

♡ though it took him a while to get his hands on it, it left him with the perfect opportunity to give it to you

♡ “oi, open up!” baji hollered as he pounded on your door; if baji wasn’t such a bruiser, you would’ve thought he was dying

♡ “what!?” you hissed, throwing the door open to reveal your frantic state.

♡ you were half angry at how loud he was being, and the other half at how he has been ignoring you for the past two weeks and finally decides to show up just as you were about to leave for work, in fact, you were running late for your night shift

♡ “no need to rush.” baji said, an odd sense of sincerity in his voice as he motioned for you to stop putting your shoes on, “you’re not going to work today.”

♡ you simply laughed, ignoring him and gathering your stuff to leave, “and why is that?”

♡ “well,” baji started, rubbing his chin for effect, “these guys from toman plan on robbing the place tonight. i did give them a warning, but they might still do it. and you know i just want you to be safe.” he said with a mischievous grin, as you both knew there was no way your shop was getting robbed tonight, unless the dudes wanted to try it with both arms broken

♡ “so did you just come here to tell me that, or is there something else?” although you tried to hide it, baji could tell by your subtle flustered expression that you were thankful

♡ “i found this.” he lied, cupping your hand to lift it and drop in a gold bracelet, “one of the guys had it on him.”

♡ you gasped, taking the bracelet to examine the fine details, and noticed how it had a small crystal heart attached, “yeah, i’m sure a member of toman just so happened to be wearing a charm bracelet.”

♡ “i never said he was wearing it!” baji spat, swiftly snatching it from your hand and holding it above his head, “i can pawn it if you don’t want it.”

♡ “i like it, though!” you said, reaching up for it, only for him to grab your wrist and put it on you

♡ “then forgive me for not hanging with you.” he muttered, angrily clipping the bracelet through furrowed brows, while you leaned in to plant a kiss on his forehead

♡ “it’s fine. i forgive you.” you couldn’t help but snicker at his word choice of ‘hanging out’, which resulted in you getting a swift flick to the forehead

♡ but before you could whine, he quickly followed it up with a kiss <33

MIKEY

♡ one day he was visiting mizo to find takemichi and he happened to walk passed a group of guys talking about how one of them planned on asking out a person from a different school

♡ at first he didn’t pay much attention since it was none of his business after all, until he heard that the person’s name and description just so happened to match yours

♡ so like any good boyfriend would, he halted and told draken to grab takemichi while he listened in

♡ as he gained more insight into the situation, he learned that the person happened to go to the same academy as you and had the same bus schedule too

♡ it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the person they were talking about was you

♡ as it turns out, the guy who planned on asking you out had your bus times memorised so if he was able to run fast enough, he would be able to reach your stop before you got on the bus, which is when he will ask you out

♡ or at least, that is what he hoped would happen if everything went smoothly and there was no unexpected interference from a group of delinquents

♡ mikey had many options on how to deal with this situation

♡ he could ask you to take a different bus, he could do nothing (because he trusted that you’d reject the guy either way) or he could beat them up right now to save himself the hassle later

♡ however, he decided to go with a more peaceful approach

♡ he continued eaves-dropping until everyone besides the lover boy had left, so he could have an amicable one-on-one conversation with him — definitely no threats involved — and advise the guy to stay in his fucking lane and never go near you ever again, kindly.

♡ when the day of the proposal arrived, mikey paid you a surprise visit after school and offered to walk you to the bus-stop; not because he was afraid that the dude might confess, but rather since he had booked you both tickets to the movies!

♡ but once you both arrive at the stop, you were greeted by the guy standing there holding a measly bouquet of flowers, looking quite taken back by the fact you were with someone else; even though mikey had done him the courtesy of explicitly telling him to back off

♡ though he must’ve not got message despite the hand-holding, and he obviously didn’t recognise mikey, otherwise he probably wouldn’t have continued to confess, albeit with quivering limbs and a black eye

♡ but before he could even stutter out a greeting, mikey hissed at him, “what the are you doing?” yet the guy only replied with a shrug

♡ upon observing the interaction, your eyes widen as you turned to look at mikey, “do you know him?”

♡ “never seen him before in my life, dear.” he smiled sweetly, but it was ineffective; you already knew he was lying as soon as he called you ‘dear’.

♡ “(y/n)!” the guy yelled, trying to catch your attention, but only shaking even more as your gaze fell on him, “i was going to ask you, if—”

♡ mikey let out an exaggerated yawn, widely outstretching his arms to distract both of you, “this has been fun, but we’re running late for the movie.”

♡ “but i’m not fin—” the poor boy was once again interrupted by mikey waving him goodbye, grabbing your hand and swiftly guiding you around him, back on the route to the cinema

♡ before he even got the chance to cry another plea, you had both already disappeared around the corner

♡ once mikey had dragged you both far enough away from the bus-stop, you began your interrogation, “seriously, who was that? and what was he trying to say? did you give him the black eye?” you had to stop to take a deep breath, “also, you said the movie would start in the evening!”

♡ mikey brought your hand up —which he had a tight grip on — and kissed the back of it gently, “my bad,” he chuckled slightly, a mischievous grin playing on his lips, “i forgot to mention him. i met him a few days ago and he was planning to ask you out so i politely informed him that you were taken.”

♡ “for some reason, i don’t believe that last part.”

♡ he snickered, “and yeah, the movie starts in the evening so we’re not running late. but he wasn’t taking the hint!” he whined while clinging to your arm, as if you were going to run away from him at any second, “forgive me?”

♡ “sure, whatever.” you sighed, rolling your eyes as you watched his expression light up, “but next time, mind your own business! i could’ve just said no, instead of you beating him up, or whatever you did.”

♡ “noted.”

MITSUYA TAKASHI

♡ during his time as the second division leader of toman, he’s overheard all kinds of stuff that he probably wasn’t supposed to; awkward small talk, plans to commit felonies, deep conversations, weed brownie recipes, discussions about health issues — the list goes on forever!

♡ however, one topic he has never heard any one ever have the audacity to speak about (within a ten mile radius of him), is you. even though, your relationship was public to toman.

♡ your name was often kept out of people’s mouth since you rarely interacted with any of the gang members when you visited, hence they didn’t really have anything bad (or good) to say about you. none of them knew you besides the title ‘boss’ partner’.

♡ so, that’s why mitsuya had to do a double take when he heard someone in his division mutter to the guy beside him, “why does his friend keep visitin’? it’s annoying. plus, they just sit and don’t talk to anyone besides ‘im. they must think they’re better than us or something.” right after mitsuya mentioned that you were visiting toman.

♡ he couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow; did that guy really think that he was being sly and quiet? by the look on his face, he seemed pretty self-assured.

♡ “um, i heard you, idiot.” he hissed, pinching his nose and shaking his head as he watched the knucklehead stare at him dumbfounded, as if the whole room hadn’t heard him too.

♡ “don’t say shit like that. they don’t think they’re better than anyone.” he scorned, balling his fist and almost twitching with anger, fighting the urge to pummel that guy for the sake of his own reputation in toman

♡ and that impulse almost immediately dissipated as soon as you entered the room; his hand loosened and opened to cup your cheek

♡ he was as sweet as can be for the rest of the night, of course, and he still managed to send that dude daggers whenever he got the chance.

#baji x y/n #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #mikey x reader #mitsuya x you #baji x reader #baji x you #baji fluff #mitsuya takashi x reader #mitsuya x y/n #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya fluff #mikey fluff #mikey x you #mikey x y/n

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greatlydelirious · 2 years

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𝐍𝐨 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐝

Vincent Sinclair x F!Reader

wordcount: 1.6k words

warnings: soft smut, fluff, injuries, (flashes back and forth from memory to present moment)

You stare at the wall blankly. The rhythmic strokes of the brush passing through your hair puts you in a trance. Blood was caked on your skin still; a mix of yours and someone else’s. It was vile, the images that spliced together in your mind. When you closed your eyes the only thing you could hear were those fucking screams. A gentle hand replaces the brush. Soft skin stroking the locks with gentle pulls. The door slamming upstairs makes your outstretched legs flinch into the ones caging your own. Weight is added to your shoulder when a face pushes its way into your space. You could feel the roughness of his scarred skin nudging against your own. The room glows a dull yellow sometimes going dark when the candles flicker. Laying your body against the stronger one behind you, you let yourself cry. Arms wrap around your waist. Small circles are rubbed against your hips by the thumbs that rest there. That was what was so beautiful about your relationship with Vincent. No words were needed. All you needed was each other’s touch to stay grounded.

The gash on your cheek starts to burn when tears run across the swollen line. You got hurt badly tonight. Never did you think you would have to fight a man three times your size all by yourself. Your body involuntarily jerks at the memory of the man taking you to the ground. He jammed the knife blindly; doing anything in his power to plant it anywhere. A kiss is placed on your jaw. Vincent’s hands tense around your hips. His hand gently turns your head to look at him. Two pairs of eyes stare at each other searching for some type of question and answer. Fingers ghost over the dried blood on your arm and you nod. Vincent scoops you into his arm and walks up the basement stairs. You bury your head in his neck and try not to look around. They were the same stairs you fell down trying to get to your boyfriend.

Somehow during your attack, you managed to get ahold of the knife. Quickly you pushed it into the man’s neck. With a choked gurgle he rolled off of you. Vincent sets you down on the bathroom toilet, so he can run a bath. You watch the water flow out of the rusted facet. Your legs gave out on you when you tried to get up from the bottom of the stairs. Instead, you had to use your arms to crawl into the room. A hand rests on your shoulder and you finally look up. He looked so beautiful to you. Compassion was evident on his maskless face as he points over to the full tub. When he turns to give you privacy your hand shoots out to grab his wrist, “Stay. Please.” Your voice is coarse from all the events you had to endure tonight. Vincent simply plants a kiss on your head and helps you stand up. When you go to lift your shirt, you wince. The damage you sustained left bruises and cuts all over your sore body. Without needing direction, the man before you helps strip you from your filthy clothes. They were beyond repair which only hurt your heart more since you use to really like that shirt.

He offers you his hand as you lower yourself into the warm bath. A content sigh leaves your lips at the feeling of the water licking at your wounds. Vincent starts to undress. You can’t even remember the last time you took a bath together. It broke your heart to think of how insecure Vincent could get around you. Tonight, was different though; your need for the other outweighed anything else. The toned man slipped behind you causing some water to slosh out of the tub. Neither of you cared, not now. Vincent bends his knee, so you can rest your back on his front. The smell of your lavender soap fills the small space. Talented fingers lather the soap into your hair. A moan escapes you and you close your eyes. Vincent loved to care for you whenever possible. That’s why his heart stopped when he saw you crawling towards him covered in blood. In a way, he felt like he had failed you. The mute man dissolved into incoherent cries when he picked up your body. He held you like a porcelain doll; so afraid that you would crumble in his hands. When the soap is out of your hair, he grabs body wash and rubs it between his hands.

Vincent rests his hands on your shoulder, waiting for permission. You open your eyes and turn your head to leave kisses on his exposed neck. Understanding, he slowly rubs the soap into your skin. His large hands travel down to cup your breasts, softly squeezing the mounds. Two fingers gently tug at your already taut nipple. You hum and move your hands to grip each of his thighs. The muscles beneath your hands tense when you rub the skin up and down. One hand stays at your breast while another makes its descent towards your core. You muffle a moan into Vincent’s neck when a finger ghosts over your clit. Hot breath fans across your face as a finger is inserted into you. “Perfect Vincent,” you are almost breathless as you encourage him. His one hand continues to tease your nipple, pinching and rolling the perky nub. The man grunts when you push your ass into him. You can feel his erection press into your back; his cock was already rock hard. A cry leaves you when his finger pumps into your tight pussy at a steady pace, his thumb rubbing against your sensitive clit. The water in the tub moves like waves in the ocean. You nip at Vincent’s neck; the sensations overwhelming you. “I want to be wrapped around you so bad Vincent.” The rough sound that comes from his throat causes you to clench around his wide finger

You whimper when his hands leave you, only to move to your hips to turn you around. Now that you’re facing Vincent you can see how flushed he has become. His cock twitches under the water at your attention. You carefully lift yourself just above his cock. Your legs fall around his waist and you place your hands on his shoulders for leverage. Vincent places a hand on your hip and pushes you down on his long cock. You moan in tandem as the water helps ease the friction. The stroke is deliciously slow; you can almost feel each pulsing vein on his cock as he fills you to the hilt. Everything is quiet as Vincent lets you adjust around him. You cup his face in your hands and stare into his eyes. All you see in the depths of those dark eyes are total love and devotion. You slide your lips along his, “I need you now more than ever. Please move.” A whine comes out of your lover before he does as you ask. Vincent would go to hell and back if that meant pleasing you.

He ruts up, hands staying at your hips so can maneuver you on his cock. Your hands move to the base of his neck; looking for something to keep you steady. The feeling of your pussy fluttering around Vincent’s cock makes him go feral. Grunts pour from the normally quiet man as he pushes you down faster and faster. “Fuck Vincent! You feel so good, baby. God, you make me feel so fucking good!” Water splashes everywhere at your rapid movements, but neither of you paid attention to it. A tentative thumb makes its way back to your clit making you cry out. You gently squeeze Vincent’s neck as a dull ache flashes through your body. It only hurts for a second before the pleasure of Vincent’s punishing cock and stimulated clit out way anything else.

His face is the perfect picture of pure ecstasy; eyes screwed shut, mouth hung open, and chest heaving. Your mind stutters when his cock hits that special spot deep inside you that he only ever seemed to reach, “Yes baby right there! Please don’t stop!” You can feel yourself reaching your orgasm. Tears fill your eyes due to how desperately you need him. With your grip on his neck, you pull him forward so your mouths can meet in a sloppy kiss. Vincent’s hips start to stutter; signaling that he is just as close as you are. You pull back to look at each other, a string of saliva still connecting your hot mouths. Your hips meet each thrust into your tight pussy. Vincent moves a hand to caress your face and that pushes you over the edge. You lock eyes as you chant his name like a prayer. Your thighs shake around him, the pleasure hitting your body like a ton of bricks. Vincent yells out his own release. With one more lift, he slams you down on his cock and fills you with his cum.

The man is a mess, pulling you flat against his chest and groaning into your ear. Your pussy is practically milking him for all he is worth. It falls silent again as you both try to catch your breath. Two hands stroke your head, combing the hair with gentle fingers just like before. You hug your body around him and cling on to him with all the strength left in your body. No other words are exchanged between the two of you; it wasn’t needed. Your hearts beating rapidly against each other was all the confirmation you needed to know that Vincent loved you more than anything.

Any and all interactions are greatly appreciated.

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #house of wax #house of wax x reader #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #vincent sinclair x you #delirious masterlist

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minsyal · 3 years

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The Fugitive: Finding Home, Pt. 2

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

The Fugitive: Finding Home Masterlist

Part 1 - The Beginning

“Mother Miranda, I’ve been requesting new maids for at least six months to this day.”

“That’s because you keep eating your other ones.”

You were shaken awake.

“I think that my castle would be best suited for her.”

“Oh, so you can bleed ‘er dry? You think that would really be the best use of anyone’s time?” A familiar voice retorted.

“Good morning!” A shrill voice squeaked as what felt like wood kicked at your face. “She’s up! She’s up! She’s up!” It exclaimed excitedly with a bounce, the voice became softer as the skittering of feet scrambled away.

“Ah,” the unfamiliar smooth woman’s voice cooed as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. There were what looked to be six figures in the room. Miranda stood before you, perched upon a stage-like area that once housed what you could only imagine was a priest or preacher. To the left sat a cloaked woman with a blob of white resting in her lap. Another woman, also adorned in a white garb, sat towering over the rest, the light constant trickle of smoke danced upward from her vintage cigarette holder. On your right sat a familiar face, the man from the village who had saved you only a few hours prior. You’d come to know him as Lord Heisenberg. He maintained the large woman’s gaze, but the look held no love or any remote sense of familial belonging. Instead, his eyes were set ablaze, even behind the shaded rims of his glasses. Lastly, a shorter creature with a large hunched back moved ungracefully around. Its long gangly arms accompanied by its deformed face only aided in the growing unease.

The dull ache of your shoulder only distracted you from the bindings of your wrists for a moment. Your attention was quickly drawn to the rough ropes that dug their thorny threads into the soft skin of your wrists. Everything ached, mentally and physically.

“I do think she would be best suited with me.” The tall woman repeated herself. “There’s no doubt Moreau wouldn’t be able to handle her, and likely not the rest of you either.”

The hunched creature whirled back, throwing a forlornly glare in the woman’s direction. You supposed that was Moreau.

“You think I couldn’t handle her?” Heisenberg shot back, bent forward to rest his weight on his heels. His relationship with the large woman was clearly tumultuous given his outburst and her subsequent reaction.

“You always get them.” The shrill voice called. It was the doll; the fucking doll was talking... not that this should surprise you at this point. “She should come with us! We need more friends.”

“You’re not included in this conversation.” The tall woman mocked with a fierce glare shot violently at the doll as its mouth hung slack.

“Can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Thus far, nobody had managed to answer your simple question. The lot turned toward you, the majority with piercing stares. “Guess not.” You muttered, becoming quite fed up with the range of emotions you had been experiencing over the past day. If it kept going in this direction, you’d surely have to be treated for whiplash.

“She’s already proven to be a considerable pain in my neck.” Miranda loudly projected. Her steps were a clear juxtaposition to her tone, falling light on the church floor as she approached. “One villager is unable to walk, another dead.”

“Dead?” The words fell before you could stop yourself. She didn’t answer.

“Please,” Heisenberg leaned back once more, his hand moving to the interior of his jacket, “the dumb thing practically laid down when she was attacked by a lycan.” His fingers fumbled around the darkened paper of a cigar. Yellow, blonde streaks flashed upon his face as the distinguishable clink of a metal lighter was flicked. “I wouldn’t call that too capable.”

“My friend pushed me.” You argued, once again mentally reeling for the outburst.

Heisenberg let out a huff of smoke, intentionally blowing it in the tall woman’s direction, “sounds like a piss poor friend.”

“Enough.” Miranda had taken to her spot at the front near the alter once more. “The girl shall go to Alcina.”

A wicked smile crossed the tall woman’s face. “Thank you, Mother Miranda. It is so good to have you back.”

“Where are you from?” One of the girls ushered you through the depths of the castle. She wore a simple gown with stitches at the bottom, holding together the frail fabric that looked to be decades old.

“America.”

The girl cocked her head to the side like a newborn. “I don’t know of that town.”

Upon arrival you were escorted down to what was described as the maids’ chambers. In a small stone room, you were assigned a cot, given a chest, and told to change into uniform. Your arm ached and spasmed as you lifted the lid of the trunk open. Somewhere between being shot by the villagers and being transported to Castle Dimitrescu, the bullet was removed from your shoulder and replaced with gauze that limited the mobility of your arm. The distinct oily feeling of grease caused friction between the bandages and your clothes; the ache of alcohol still stung, causing a sore numbness.

The Lady insisted all maids conform to the strict code of dress. Long, unflattering dresses, short heels, and sometimes a headscarf if hair wasn’t pulled tautly into a bun at the base of one’s neck were a few things to name the least. You always wore the headscarf, which was a thin piece of grey lace that attached at the peak of your hairline, cascading over your shoulders to land at waist-length.

The rest of the day passed slowly. You learned the ins and outs of the castle, became acquainted with the sparse staff that only consisted of women, and met Alcina’s daughters from a distance. The next two weeks passed the same way.

Wake up, clean the castle, serve Lady and her daughters, go to bed. That was your routine. Though, the sounds that seeped from the halls at night prompted unwavering curiosity. Heisenberg had mentioned the ill-fated maids that had the luxury of serving the Dimitrescu women back in that church. Nothing at this point had you doubting that was the case. But you assured yourself daily that you would not accept the castle’s fate; you would get out of here one way or another.

You had only been at the mercy of Lady Dimitrescu once to this day. A small spat broke out between maids and the arrival of the head of house had the women squealing lies of how you were the one to start it.

“She stole our rations!” The girl with the wide nose accused her chubby finger outstretched in your direction.

“I didn’t steal anything, you dirty fucking liar.”

“She did. We were squabbling over how she should be punished.” The other girl replied, tucking a shaking hand behind her back as she straightened her poor posture.

“A thief,” Alcina regarded you, “that’s a shame.” Knives skid across the thin skin of your forearm. “Another outburst like this and there will be harsher consequences.” Red stained her tongue as she ran the claw through her cherry-red lips.

As she sauntered down the hall and out of sight, you uncurled your arm from your chest, wincing at the large crimson stain it left on your dress.

“Fresh face.” The words ricocheted off the wall in front of you. Footsteps steadfastly approached from behind. He walked with an effortless swagger, legs slightly bowed with each lyrical step. You’d gone for the quiet route after the situation, finding that silence often pleased those that ruled over the castle. “Here I was thinkin’ it would take you a little longer to lose that fight.” He stepped closer; the unmissable smell of tobacco seeped from his lips. “Looks like I was wrong.”

Instead of words, you held his gaze through unimpressed eyes. Hues of yellows, greys, and greens met yours from beneath his rounded glasses. You could see more of him from here. A large scar ran from the right of his face to the left, the lifted skin healing over leaving memories of whatever had happened. In fact, the majority of his face was plagued with scars. One ran from the bottom of his lip down to his chin, disappearing beneath the stubble of his beard. You wondered if his disdain toward Alcina was founded by those wretched claws of hers. His hair was wirey with shades of brown and peppered grey streaking through the ends. Quite honestly, he was an attractive man.

“I’ve got a name, you know?”

“I don’t think I cared to ask.”

“Then I suppose you aren’t deserving of one either.”

“Well,” he tapped at your chest with a gloved finger, “I think you’ve got a little spunk left in you, sweetheart.”

“Call me Y/n.”

“No last name?” He deadpanned.

“L/n.”

He nodded, but you felt as though your words had passed through him like a ghost.

“Karl.” He gave a lazy bow, tilting the rim of his hat. “But I think you probably already knew that.”

“Gossip and information don’t come easily from the maids here. Sorry,” you pressed your lips together, “I didn’t know.”

Karl gave a shrug.

“Do you know what happened to my friend?” The thought had been playing on your mind for the past few weeks.

He raised an inquisitive brow and turned his head to peer out the shaded window. “The so-called friend that left you to become lycan chow?” A hearty tut left his chest. “I think she’s assimilated into the town.”

“Dumb bitch.” You breathed.

“There’s that spark.” He stood tall with an artificial sense of pride. It had been a long time since somebody in the village was willing to use such crude language in front of any of the Lords, let alone Miranda. It almost astonished him that they’d let you live after the killing of Adelina’s brother. The gun misfired; it wasn’t really your fault.

Another week of growing suspicions and two newly missing maids, you finally attempted to seek out the dungeons that everyone spoke of but warned to stray from. You had to know what was going on here.

“Lost?” Heisenberg’s voice appeared at your right side. His chin almost rested upon your shoulder; the stubble of his beard scratched at your neck. “This isn’t a place I’d get lost in if I were you. In fact, it’s not even a place you should be exploring.”

“Are you going to run to Alcina if I do?” You didn’t face him, why would you? The hallway was cramped, restricting of any sort of movement other than in the direction you were going.

“Me?” He leaned backward to stand at full height. Your body cursed silently, wishing nothing more than to have him close again. How he wasn’t hitting his head on the rafter just inches above floored you. “I hate that bitch. You do what you want, but I won’t bail you out when you get caught.”

“Good thing I don’t plan on being caught then.” You descended the metal ladder, only looking upward for a moment to catch a glimpse of Heisenberg leaning over the opening. An eerie smile was plastered on his lips, it was almost smug.

The dungeons were as you imagined. Cold water trickled down some of the walls, likely due to cracks in the castle’s foundation accompanied by the ever melting of the outside snow. It smelled of mothballs and garlic, something musty was clinging to the air. You noted a few turns here and there, attempting to memorize the path you had taken in case you needed to make a swift escape. What didn’t help was the skid of your maid’s clothes along the rigid floor.

Muffled cries put you further onto the edge. The narrow hall gave way to a large room filled with arched stonework. Metal bars shot from floor to ceiling, hinges creaked as the sound of hands banging against them filled your eardrums. You didn’t want to go further, scared of any repercussions should any of the jailed women recognize and rat you out.

Turning to head to the ladder, you collided with a chest. “Leaving so soon?” Heisenberg again.

“Shh!” You slapped at his chest with a closed fist, only realizing what you had done when the action was completed. He looked rightfully amused. Everything that you had learned of these “Lords” up to now told you to act less casually with him, to put on an air of respect at the very least. But there was something surprisingly human about him. Something that told you it was okay despite it potentially not being so. At this point, you were only prolonging the inevitable.

“What?” He started, swiftly being cut off by approaching footsteps. Firm hands grasped at your arms, pulling your face forward into his chest. “Open your mouth and I’ll feed you to whatever’s coming.” He said through his teeth, trapping your arms between your two bodies.

The room grew dim, the wall behind your back became close even though you had not moved at all. Heisenberg’s grip was strong on your forearms, causing you to inaudibly hiss as his thumb dug into the slash Alcina had left weeks prior. The footsteps were accompanied by the soft cries of a woman, gasping pleas of being let go falling silent on the ears of her assailant. A minute passed; the dungeon fell soundless.

“You can breathe now.” His lips lingered close to your ear, once again sending a rush of chills crawling down your skin. He knew what he was doing.

“I’ve been breathing.” You breathily retorted sounding as if you had just run a marathon.

“Whatever you say, doll.”

The wall behind you gave way, moving on its own. You turned; the materials that had been pressed to your back laid themselves on the ground. Heisenberg’s smile was unmissable. “Go ahead.” His voice was gravely, gruff, a slight melancholy dismay underlying. Heisenberg desired for you to implore what just happened, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You refused to see him as anything but normal, for if you did give in to the village’s mental games, you’d likely find yourself going mad. He was a man, you told yourself, nothing more.

“I thought you weren’t going to bail me out?”

“I wasn’t.” He tightened his grip on your arms. “But I figured it’d be a shame to lose such a pretty face so soon.”

“I, I’m sure you say that to all the girls here.” You couldn’t hold his gaze at this distance. Perhaps Adelina was right, you were rather frumpy and unexperienced.

A huff came as he exhaled, a thoughtful tug of his lips upward accompanied it. He didn’t answer, a reoccurring event with those who inhabited this town.

Heisenberg had been keeping his trips to and from the castle a secret. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he felt so inclined to bother with the outsider woman who appeared in the village one fateful evening. Perhaps he was growing bored of his daily routine with no results to show. Maybe he was enticed by the well of knowledge you held of the outside world. Maybe it was something else, something human. The Lord’s weren’t allowed to stray far from the village. The other three lived delightfully oblivious, completely okay with never exploring the unknown. Heisenberg, on the other hand, was not. Your friend, Jess as he recalled you calling her, was far from interesting to him. It didn’t take a genius to tell how low her I.Q. had to be. She conformed easily to the village and by all accounts had been down talking you to the others she met. She quickly fell into the same brainwashed daze of worship.

It had been another turbulent week of utter chaos around every corner. Nobody knew of your adventure into the depths of Castle Dimitrescu and you had no intentions of spreading any gossip among the maids. They all seemed to have it out for you anyway. You were the “outsider,” as one described it. It was so blatantly evident to them that you were not going to conform to their ways. And that disturbed them.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t your fair share of punishment to this point. In actuality, you had received a significantly greater amount of beratements and surface wounds from Alcina and her daughters. You thought to Heisenberg often, continually wondering how your life would differ had Miranda bestowed you upon him. He was irresistibly charming in his own twisted sense. Every word that escaped his mouth heavily contradicted his actions. You received a good number of swats to the hand stemming from woeful daydreaming of the man you hardly knew.

He could be dangerous, you’d tell yourself before slipping into yet another sequence of fervent and unrelenting thoughts stemming from the mysterious man. He was a Lord, one placed in a top position according to the village’s hierarchy. You just weren’t sure why.

There had been countless times the man had sauntered into the castle, “accidentally” run into you, and held brief conversation.

The other maids were assholes. Though you had concluded this swiftly upon entering the castle, their recent actions only solidified your feelings.

It had been only a day since Heisenberg’s last visit. He strolled into the castle, easing his way past the maids as they hurriedly passed by. They paid him no mind. The evening sun had begun to set in the sky. Lady Dimitrescu had gone out for the night, instructing her girls to hold down the castle while she was away. The three of them had descended into the dungeons, not to be seen again until morning. This left the halls free and roamable for the savvy Lord.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Your voice caught his attention. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Marybeth.”

Shrill voices argued back and forth behind the kitchen doors. The sound of muffled giggles fell on his ears; it was an unusual sound within the castle walls. The girls must be relaxed knowing they’re safe from punishment tonight. At least, that’s what they thought.

In a second, the hinges of the door burst off, sending the heavy frame crashing down to the tiled floor. Shrieks came quickly and died on their lips as soon as the girls realized who was there.

“Lord Heisenberg.” One woman bowed her head, concealing something within her hands as she placed them in her lap, clasped tightly together. “Lady Dimitrescu has left for the evening.”

“I know.” His brow raised at the scene set before him. You stood to the rear of the kitchen, clearly irate at something the woman who regarded him had done. Five other women were huddled with the one who spoke, following her lead and averting their gazes. No aroma of cuisine drifted from the empty cauldron, only the stale scent of curing meats clung to the air.

“What’s going on in here?” He looked directly at you from beneath the lid of his hat.

“We were cleaning the kitchen.” The maid spoke through shaking breaths.

After a pensive moment, he waved his hand. “You’re dismissed. Except,” he held his hand at your chest as you attempted to pass, “you.”

The girls stumbled over the door, making quick work of getting back to their quarters and away from the Lord. You listened as the audience of feet trampled away. None of the girls here knew how to walk in heels causing for a rather elephant-like clomping of shoes wherever they went.

“What really happened?”

“Do you care?”

“Not particularly, but color me curious.”

“Don’t get them in trouble.” You demanded through gritted teeth. “I don’t want to deal with the aftermath.”

He chortled. “You seem more afraid of them than you are of me.”

“You’ve not given me a reason to be scared.”

Your back pressed to the wall, a glass chalice fell, shattering against the floor. The lapels of his jacket and dog tags pushed to your chest were still cold from the frosted night air. “Do I need to give you a reason?”

“I just,” embarrassment rose in your cheeks, “would you stop doing this?” There was no budging the man. His strength far outweighed yours, easily acting as if your pushing against his chest was nothing but a soft breeze.

“Doing what?” A smirk grew on his lips. God, he loved this.

“This!” Your clenched fist banged on his chest, not rattling him in the slightest. Droplets of claret liquid ran from your palm to your elbow. “Dammit, Karl. Move.”

The use of his first name was new. A solid hand closed around your wrist, bringing it up to eye level. He tilted back, adjusting his vision. The raise of his brow signaled that he wanted you to open your hand. Complying, you cringed as the reddened skin screamed for relief.

“They did this?”

“It’s no different from the other injuries I’ve gotten here.”

“It’s deep.” He reached into the pocket of his trench coat. “Don’t let anyone know you’ve got this.” A silver tin slipped from his hand to yours, you pried at its ridges with your nail.

Heisenberg disappeared after that, taking off with a dramatic throw of the castle doors as he disappeared into the dense forest. He had given you a tin of salve and a bandage.

“Lady Dimitrescu has requested your presence.”

The Fugitive: Finding Home Part 3 - Foreign Thoughts

I'm so excited for where this fic is going...

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#karl heisenberg #heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg #re8 #re8 heisenberg #Resident Evil Village #resident evil heisenberg #lord heisenberg #resident evil 8 #re8 imagines

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

Text

Signed in blood

Yandere!Zhongli x Yaksha!gn!reader

Wordcount: 2541

CW: Yandere themes, mentioned violence and death, unhealthy power dynamics

Long before Liyue’s borders had been established and the harbor bloomed into the prosperous city that it is today, the Geo Lord, Rex Lapis gathered all lesser deities and spirits dwelling in the current nation’s territory and concluded a contract with most of them, ensuring the protection of his country and people. Some of them signed a contract out of fear before archon’s power, some did it for mutual benefit and some out of gratitude and deep reverence. You are in the latter category, a simple forest spirit that was saved from the distorted monsters left after the archon war by his grace and power alone.

It was a simple day when you felt an enormously malicious energy surrounding your green abode, and soon they showed up, killing intent and will of dead archons seeping out of them. You were fast and agile enough to dodge creatures' hits, which couldn't be said about the others. Your fellow spirits and animals with whom you were sharing this forest soon fell victim to the perpetrators' attacks. Dark energy entered and desecrated the lands, poisoned the waters and even possessed the bodies of your old friends.

You were running away, fatigue finally catching up to you, despite the inhuman nature and you soon fell to the ground. There were a myriad of thoughts and feelings reeling inside of you - grief for your now dead friends and home, anger at the monsters and most importantly frustration with yourself. You aren’t human, not a single part of you is, so why were you so weak and helpless, unable to do anything as you left your loved ones for slaughter and massacre?

Guilt and shame washed over you, as you allowed tears to burst free - you were bad, you were disgusting for not doing anything, not helping anyone. Monstrous roars and growls got closer, a promise and a threat of what will happen to you. You closed your eyes, accepting the imminent end and bracing for the upcoming pain. And then the most unexpected thing happened - the earth underneath you vibrated, tremors knocking the beasts off their feet, as a tall basalt pillar rose from the ground.

Soon the stranger appeared, ending the monsters in one swift and elegant slash of his spear. He donned an otherwise simple white attire adorned with golden threads, with a long ponytail showing from the hood, but the most eye-catching details were piercing amber eyes and the glowing patterns all over his body of the same colour. You forgot how to breathe for a second as you watched your unexpected savior - he was beyond handsome, possessing the kind of beauty that would have mortals blushing and stuttering.

He then looked around, finally noticing your sprawled form. “Are you all right?”he asked, his tranquil and calm voice tinted by the shadow of concern and lending his hand. “I am”, you sputtered out and took an outstretched limb, feeling infinitely clumsy and ugly, face heating up from embarrassment. “That is good”, his voice despite still possessing the same serenity took a warmer tone.

As you learned later, you were saved by one of the seven remaining archons, a lord of geo. Filled with shame for your dishonorable escape and gratitude for your unforeseen salvation you signed the tightest contract with Rex Lapis - a blood written pact.

Unlike the contracts mortals establish, a contract between two immortal beings lacks the parchment or ink or a signature, they use magic and techniques that echo directly into their soul, preventing even the possibility of the terms' violation. Blood written pact binds to the vital essences of one, an ancient magic flaring up once the contractor intends to break the agreement, stopping and warning them of what's to come once they do breach it.

Your blood sizzled and boiled as you pledged your life to Liyue, magic singing in your veins and resonating with your soul - Rex Lapis saw the potential in you to be a great warrior and designated you to serve him as one of the yakshas, so you obeyed, training your body and spirit to withstand the endless calamities you no doubt will have to face. One day, after a grueling training you almost gave up, but forced yourself past your limits. I must redeem myself and repay Rex Lapis, you thought, gritting your teeth and taking a battle stance again, and then a miracle happened: a blue glowing orb materialized in the air - a vision bestowed by the hydro archon.

Sometimes you still reminisce about this moment and recite the oath you gave back then - I pledge my life to the protection of the Liyue nation and the will of Geo Archon, Rex Lapis for all the centuries to come.

Soon, you ended your training and started to protect Liyue just like other four adeptis all of whom were also saved by the Geo Lord. For centuries you five defended the nation as it bloomed and grew into something that you couldn't even imagine. And even after centuries of slaughter as your karmic debt started to slowly eat you from inside, slowly, but surely devouring your sanity by the smallest pieces you always found strength to move forward by recalling your first meeting with Rex Lapis, reverence before your God and guilt before the dead driving you further and further.

With time a dull, yet constant pain made its way into your bones. Sometimes it would make your eyes fill with unshed tears, sometimes wake you up in those rare times you slept without nightmares, sometimes it made your hands tremble, almost dropping the weapon in the middle of the battle. You couldn’t suppress and endure it like Xiao does, letting out a pained whimper here and there, yet you still upheld your duty to the Liyue. It almost felt like routine, until two awful events happened: the death and defection.

The fear and hatred of all those who fell victims to your weapons were slowly seeping in your minds, driving you mad with bloodlust. It all happened so quickly: you were watching out for other demons as Bonanus and Pervases were patching up Alatus after the intense battle, while Bosacius looked at the other front, weapons ready, and then Bonanus lashed out, aiming for Xiao's neck. The anemo yaksha quickly darted to the side, but the weapon still grazed the copper bird's neck, his blood forming a quickly growing pool underneath. You had to put the bloodlusted yaksha yourself, something inside of you breaking as you did so - it was one thing to stand against hordes of demons and monsters and it was another to kill your friend.

You couldn’t talk or look into the eyes of the other two after that, despising yourself for yet another failure - first your forest, then your friends, you were helpless to save anyone. And then Bosacius left, you had no idea where he vanished, but these two events prompted Rex Lapis to visit both you and Xiao, as yakshas shrinked in numbers from five to two in less than a week.

You kneel before the Geo archon when you notice his tall figure between the ancient trees - unlike Xiao, you prefer to live in the woods, the familiarity of nature reminiscent of a home you once lost. Your Lord ushers you to stand up, his face solemn and grim.

“[First]”, he starts, exhaustion evident in each syllable: "For centuries you protected my Harbor, and despite turbulent times passing you still uphold your duty. I find that admirable".

Your eyes go wide and you turn your head, unable to receive such high praise from your God, you feel your cheeks heat up at the compliment, acknowledgement of your hard work, and even constant pain or the death and disappearance of your colleagues became less serious of the issue for a mere moment.

"I am not worthy of such praise, my lord, I am only doing my job, fulfilling the contract", you deflect, looking at him again. Archon's eyes crease a little and a small frown appears as you say "contract", yet he quickly wills his face into an impassive mask.

"I suppose I made a mistake when I asked you to be my yaksha back then, I have misjudged your worth ", he continues, voice becoming distant and strangely tense, as he reminisces about the days long past, amber eyes looking both at and through you.

"My lord, I…", you start and then stumble over the words, unsure what to say next. Is this his way of telling you that you're bad at your job? You cast your head down, eyes lowered in shame, hands that spilled adeptus' blood trembling and burning. "I am deeply sorry for letting you down in that way, I will do my best to redeem myself from now on” .

A warm hand touches your shoulder, squeezing it slightly in a comforting manner. His palm is warm and firm, comforting in its steadiness like a tall cliff standing proudly against the raging tides, indestructible and reliable.

"You have no reason to apologize for this. Something like this would inevitably happen sooner or later, you have no fault in the events that occured. I suppose karmic debt would drive one of you insane eventually".

He sounds calming, reassuring, like a parent soothing a child. You still don’t lift your head to meet his gaze - you’re too guilty and unworthy to do that. There are no words you can speak now, not when you have been so thoroughly destroyed by your lord’s kindness - how can he look at you and see someone innocent?

“No, I meant that all those centuries ago, when I first met you I didn’t discern the gem hidden in the crude ore” he adopts reminiscent tone again, his hand now moving on your shoulder in slow and steady rhythm: “I knew I wanted you to be by my side, I didn’t know who I wanted you to be though. I needed time to understand my own feelings and the way I viewed you, and then I needed some more time to accept those sentiments”.

“What sentiments, my lord?”, you ask, finally looking up to him, brows slightly frowned in confusion and curiosity - it’s rare to see the Geo archon talk about his inner workings so openly, as he usually prefers to keep a cordial distance or masterfully redirects the conversation into a completely different direction.

“Over the years, as you protected my nation and my people, I finally understood it”, his hand shifts from your shoulder and now he cups your own two palms in a firm yet gentle hold: “I cherish you, [First]”.

The sudden declaration leaves you stunned and speechless for a good minute: you look at your god with wide eyes, mouth opening several times like a fish out of water. A myriad of thoughts and feelings go through you: confusion, disbelief, inferiority.

“I… That is very sudden for me to… learn about your affections”, you finally utter, forgetting to add respectful “my lord” at the end. Your voice comes off as small and hesitant as you say so. Rex Lapis doesn’t seem to mind your confusion as he takes a second to collect his own thoughts.

“The yaksha title I have burdened you with takes a toll both on your mind and your body. I severely miscalculated, so I want to redeem this mistake”, he sounds regretful now, one hand moving to caress and cup your face. You go stiff, still overwhelmed by the whole conversation. “I can free you from your contract if you decide to become my life companion”.

“But, my lord, it’s so sudden I can’t just..”

“Hush, I won’t pressure you into an intimate relationship right away. No, we will wait and learn about each other and once you will be comfortable enough to let me enter your life and your heart we will marry, uniting our fates with a contract that shall never end”.

You lower your head again, but this time in contemplation instead of guilt and shame. What do you feel for Rex Lapis? Admiration - he is a powerful deity, capable enough to flatten mountains and raise new ones with a single slash of his spear. Gratitude - he was the one that saved you and sheltered you, until you grew strong enough, he gave you a reason to live when you had none. Respect - he is a capable leader, smart enough to build a foundation and guide people of the most magnificent nation in Teyvat.

You feel no love for him, not the kind of love he wants anyway. You know about his patience and how affections sometimes take years to finally mature and bloom, but the thought of spending decades, maybe even centuries in hopes that one day you will reciprocate is nauseating to you.

How do you feel about it? A part of you wants it - it’s an easy way out to get rid of the pain, of the fear and bloodshed, of the death that clings to you at every waking moment. You remember how you spend most of your nights sleepless, drowsiness leaving you the same second you dream of blood and carnage and massacre. You remember your whole body throbbing and burning on especially bad days, when even Remedium Tertiorum can’t do its job. You remember crying and gasping for air after the weight of the slaughtered gets too heavy for you to handle.

You almost say yes, out of these reasons alone, but you stop yourself - you think of Xiao, of how lonely he will become once you leave. You think of heartfelt smiles that mortals gift you with on those rare occasions you have to save them. You think of the slaughtered spirits before whom you still have to atone to.

“I am sorry, my lord” You look him straight in the eyes, bracing yourself for the words you are about to say: “I can’t match your feelings, nor can I accept your offer, not now at least”.

Amber eyes lose their warmth in the instance, the comforting aura he was exuding earlier replaced by the weird tension between you two. Looking at this image, you suddenly remember how ruthless Rex Lapis can be on the battlefield as for a fraction of the second he looks at you as you’re an enemy.

A horrible pain shoots right through your body, and your short scream follows. You fall on the floor, gasping for air, deaf and blind from the overwhelming pain. Geo archon quickly takes your form, carrying you to your sleeping place, as you try your best to breathe and not cry.

“It must be a blood pact acting up, the magic must have taken your refusal as disobedience to the contract”, he says once the agony lightens, enough for you to focus on the conversation, “you did pledge your life to my will”.

You try to half sit on your elbow, to look him in the eyes and say something other than the pained groans and whimpers, as his next words instill a sense of quiet dread in you:

“I hope you will rethink and take back your words out of your own volition, [First]. I would hate to order you to”.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere zhongli #Yandere #Yandere zhongli x reader #yandere x reader #Yandere genshin x reader #Yandere genshin impact x reader #my writing

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dimigex · 2 years

Text

Locked Doors and Baby Steps (Healing Hands, Chapter 14, YamaSaku)

Art by @tammi25

Fanfiction, A03

If you enjoy this story and are interested in commissioning me, information can be found here. You can also find me on Ko-fi! (chapter below cut)

"This is the last one," Sakura warned, dropping the halved pill into Tenzo's outstretched palm. The man nodded, looking considerably better than she'd anticipated after a week-long detox. It had been miserable, even with the combination of blockers and medical ninjutsu to soften the blow. Tenzo had experienced fever, chills, nausea, headaches, anxiety, and hallucinations of varying degrees over the past few days. The symptoms had become more manageable as his body started to regulate itself again, but they still showed up from time to time.

Throwing his head back, Tenzo swallowed the medicine with a gulp of water from the bottle on the table between them. He exhaled, nervousness flitting across his face. "How bad am I going to feel in eight hours?"

"Probably not much worse than you do right now." Sakura shrugged. While she'd read studies on withdrawal, she had never watched someone live through it, until now. It was fascinating, though she doubted that Tenzo would appreciate her viewing it that way. "As far as I understand it, your body should be starting to adjust to not having alcohol now. The worst of the physical stuff should be over."

Tenzo took another long drink of water, then leveled Sakura with a stare. "But," he prompted.

Sighing, Sakura gentled her voice and dipped her head. "But, we need to talk about the next steps. You have to get into therapy at T&I to deal with whatever caused the issues in the first place."

Even though they'd had this conversation multiple times, Tenzo frowned like it was a new idea. Sakura had been encouraging him to think about what life would look like after detox. It was easy to get wrapped up in the victory of the moment, but Tenzo's job required him to be at his peak, both mentally and physically. Sakura had made it abundantly clear that she had no intention of bending the rules; Tenzo would need to pass the mental evaluation before she would sign his reinstatement paperwork.

"If you want to get it over with, I could pull some strings and get you in today," Sakura suggested. She had no idea if that was true, but she couldn't imagine Ino turning the man away if Sakura asked her to take him in.

Tenzo ran shaky fingers through his dark hair and sighed. "Or, I could just talk to you about things and call it close enough."

As much as Sakura wished that things could be that simple, they weren't. She couldn't help but wonder what demons haunted Tenzo. A dozen theories had presented themselves over the past few days: it had to do with someone he'd killed or watched die. Maybe a close friend had perished because of Tenzo's decision, or he had chosen mercy when he should have executed someone and it led to greater suffering. Even if Sakura knew which of those things bothered Tenzo, she wasn't qualified to decide if he was mentally fit for duty.

"You can talk to me about anything, but I can't clear your psych eval." Sakura resisted the urge to reach across the table and touch Tenzo's hand. Though they'd grown closer over the past couple of weeks, it was still an awkward balancing act between being friends and being too familiar.

Tenzo offered a half grin that only lifted the left side of his mouth. "Or, you could leave that part out of my file, and nobody has to know."

The hopefulness in the man's voice tugged at Sakura's heartstrings, but she shook her head. "The fact that you don't want to go only convinces me that you need to go. Ino is the best at this sort of thing; she can help get it all sorted out."

If the words hurt Tenzo, he gave no indication. After a moment, he nodded toward the fridge. "Are you hungry?"

Over the course of his detox, Tenzo had swung between ravenous and sickened by the smell of food. Even so, he'd been surprised and grateful that Sakura made enough meals for them to have leftovers whenever the mood struck. Her basic grocery shopping had only lasted them for a couple of days, but she'd made a second trip during the middle of the week. Most of the dishes that Sakura had cooked were simple things that could easily be reheated, but it had done the trick of getting them through the worst of it.

Shaking her head to indicate that she wasn't hungry, Sakura rose from the table. She moved toward the living room, leaving Tenzo to scrounge around in the cabinets and fridge. Yawning, Sakura flopped onto the couch. The past couple of weeks had been interesting, exhausting and eye-opening all at once. She glanced at Tenzo from the corner of her eye as he warmed some leftovers in the microwave. Thinking of him as Tenzo instead of Yamato was easier now, but it still came as a shock whenever she stopped long enough to dwell on it.

Sakura had known Tenzo for the better part of five years, but the persona that he showed the rest of the world had fallen away over the past week. She'd gotten used to seeing him in sweatpants and t-shirts with his brown hair sticking up in every direction from not having his head protector to hold it back. Tenzo spoke softer, as well. The commanding tone of his voice had disappeared, morphing into something gentler that made Sakura wonder what he'd been like before Anbu.

Despite the changes that she'd seen, Sakura couldn't help but feel that Tenzo still wore a mask with her. Sometimes, she wondered if he remembered how to take it off, but they had gotten to know each other better. Whenever Tenzo felt well enough, he and Sakura spent hours talking about everything under the sun, though she had a feeling that most of the conversations only brushed the surface of his true thoughts. They also watched television, read, played cards, and did anything they could to keep his mind off of the discomfort in his body.

Most of the time, Sakura had watched and helped out where she could. She had half a dozen new theories on how chakra could aid detox and recovery, but she needed time to finish developing them. There had been space to make a few notes here and there, but the days had mostly passed in a blur.

Tenzo came to the living room with a bowl in hand and settled on the couch next to Sakura. "You should probably head home if you're going. It's getting late," he observed, voice carefully neutral.

Raising a hand to cover the yawn that she couldn't stop, Sakura managed a nervous laugh. "Are you sure you're going to be okay?"

"Yup." Tenzo flashed a self conscious smile. "We both know I'm going to fall asleep soon anyway."

The medication always made Tenzo drowsy, usually dragging him under within an hour or so of taking it. They had timed the final dose for after dinner so that Tenzo would be able to go to bed not long after, and hopefully get a full night's sleep. Then, in the morning, he could start navigating his new normal without the pills. Though the timing should work out perfectly, Sakura couldn't help but feel like it all sounded too easy.

Sakura fought down another yawn as she nodded. "I know, but I could stay one more night if you think it would help."

"You're exhausted, and rightfully so," Tenzo argued, bumping Sakura's shoulder with his before taking another bite of the rice and vegetable. "I'm just going to sleep anyway, so you should go home and get some rest."

The idea of spending the night in her own bed was so tempting that Sakura could hardly think straight. She'd been crashing on Tenzo's couch so that she could keep an eye on him, which meant sleeping lightly enough to check on the man throughout the night, especially in the first couple of days. A full eight hours or more of sleep sounded like heaven. Sakura dipped her head. "Fine, but you know where to find me if you need anything."

Tenzo chewed and nodded in silence, so Sakura continued to the more difficult part of her plan. "And, you'll come see me first thing in the morning so we can go over to Intelligence?"

Rubbing a free hand over his face, Tenzo sighed without meeting Sakura's gaze. "I guess." She poked his side until he conceded and squirmed away. "Yeah, first thing in the morning, if that's what it takes to get me reinstated."

Nodding, Sakura stood and stretched, her tired muscles and joints popping and creaking with the movement. Pulling her already packed bag over one shoulder, she walked toward the door. Tenzo rose and walked to the kitchen to put his bowl in the sink, then joined Sakura as she pulled on her sandals. It felt strange to be leaving, even though she'd known it was coming. Pausing, Sakura toyed with the strap of her bag. "You're sure, sure?"

Tenzo's lips quirked into an almost smile. "Sure sure."

"Fine," Sakura answered, surprised at her reluctance to walk away now that the time had come. "Hang in there, it'll get better."

"I know." Tenzo's words were soft, and his expression was a mix of sheepish stubbornness that Sakura had come to recognize lately. "Thanks."

Sakura stepped forward to wrap Tenzo in a hug, startling them both. For a second, the man stood there dumbfounded. Then, his arms closed around her, probably more out of instinct than anything else. She stayed there long enough to feel him relax before pulling back. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

A soft pink colored Tenzo's cheeks as he laughed. "I will. I'll see you tomorrow."

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

Exhaustion dragged at Sakura as she dropped her bag onto the kitchen table. She wanted to sit down and outline her theories on detox and recovery, but her brain felt too fuzzy to focus. Sakura hadn't slept decently since the first night that Tenzo had shown up at her apartment over a week ago. As a doctor, she could function with next to no sleep for a little while, but now that the crisis was over, her body demanded proper rest.

Leaving her notebook in her bag, Sakura went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She tossed her clothes into the hamper and stepped under the spray as soon as it had time to warm up. The heat eased the tension that Sakura hadn't recognized in her shoulders and neck. She dropped her head forward, letting the water course down her back. Sakura could have lingered in the shower until it turned cold, but her body needed sleep.

As tempting as a long shower was, Sakura was too tired to enjoy it. She washed quickly, turned the water off, then wrapped a towel around body and twisted a second one around her hair. Sakura knew that she should take the time to moisturize, lotion her body, and dry her hair, but she couldn't be bothered. A quick scrub would have to be enough for tonight. After combing through the damp tresses with her fingers, Sakura pulled them into a loose, messy bun at the base of her neck.

Leaving the bathroom behind, Sakura padded into her bedroom. The opened windows provided enough moonlight for her to see her dresser on one side of the room. She dug through the middle drawer to find her favorite pair of pajama pants. The soft purple fabric kept her warm without making her sweaty under the blankets. Sakura wished that she'd bought more of them. Pairing the pants with a black cami, she climbed into bed with a happy sigh.

Almost as soon as Sakura closed her eyes, Tenzo nagged at the back of her mind. She couldn't do anything for him tonight; he'd either survive without the medicine or fall back into the same habits that he'd been struggling with. As much as she wanted to fix everything, most of it relied on him. Sakura had done what she could, and she'd make sure that Ino took care of him in the morning, that was all she could do.

As she waited for sleep to find her, Sakura tried to imagine what Ino might be like as a therapist. The woman would probably be far too nosy and pushy, but she'd get results. Ino always managed to drag out whatever secrets Sakura wanted to keep hidden. She'd gotten her to talk about Sasuke, just like Tenzo had. The two of them might become fast friends. Ino was certainly likable enough, and Tenzo was coming out of his shell. She'd seen flashes of a playful personality beneath his serious demeanor.

Grinning at the thought of Ino and Tenzo gossiping over coffee like old friends, Sakura fell asleep. Her thoughts jumbled together in a nonsensical dream where Tenzo tried to perfect some yoga stance while Ino complained that he was crushing the flowers she'd just planted on the rooftop garden. Sakura sat beneath the shadow of an umbrella covered table, watching the pair of them with amusement as she sipped hot tea from the mug between her hands.

Noise broke through the whisper of wind and bird chatter. Ino's voice reprimanded Tenzo while he chuckled and made minor adjustments to where he stood. Sakura frowned, wondering why neither of them turned toward the vague sound niggling at the edges of the room. She let her eyes sweep across the rooftop, searching for the source of the gentle knocking. Tenzo laughed at something Ino said as Sakura rose from her seat. The pair didn't seem to notice when the sound returned, louder than before.

The floral scented air scattered with the next breeze, throwing Sakura back into the shadows of her room. Her sleep numbed mind struggled to make sense of the world as her voice answered automatically. "Hello?"

"Couldn't sleep." The mumbled words pulled at Sakura's heart as she rubbed exhaustion from her eyes. Moonlight shone on the man in the doorway as he toyed with the sleeve of his shirt. The appearance and words were familiar after the last couple of weeks. The almost palpable anxiety was part of the detox process. Except, Sakura had been there for the others. This time, Tenzo was alone.

"Nightmares?" Sakura asked, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Tenzo's hands shook when he stopped fidgeting long enough to press one against the center of his chest. His shallow breath hissed into his lungs like a wheeze, a familiar sound. "Panic attack?"

Tenzo exhaled hard, fingers tightening to pull his sweatshirt away from his body like it was crowding him. "I can't breathe," he gasped.

Pushing the blankets off, Sakura climbed out of bed. "Yes you can," she coaxed. "If you couldn't breathe, you couldn't talk. Look at me."

As Sakura reached Tenzo, his brown eyes flicked to her face, then focused on her eyes. He'd had more than one anxiety attack that left him gasping for air during the course of his detox. He and Sakura had come up with dozens of grounding techniques to help take the edge off. Ironically, the simplest had been focusing on her. Tenzo's hands came to rest on Sakura's shoulders, warm against her bare skin, and she wrapped her fingers around his wrists.

"Follow my breath," Sakura encouraged, exaggerating each inhale and exhale to make them more obvious. She repeated the words twice before Tenzo's chest started to rise and fall with hers. Trailing her thumb along the underside of his right wrist to provide another anchor to reality, Sakura nodded. Tenzo's hands curled, nails pressing into Sakura's skin, but his next inhale came easier. "Good."

The glazed expression receded from Tenzo's eyes and his grip relaxed, but he didn't let go. He breathed Sakura's name, voice strangled despite the fading panic. She squeezed, stepping closer. "I'm here."

Tenzo's shoulders relaxed, and his head tipped forward with relief. For a moment, all that Sakura could see was the intensity of his gaze. She lifted her chin, refusing to break the contact that helped pull him back from the brink. Tenzo's next breath warmed her cheek as he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, releasing Sakura's shoulders.

"You've got nothing to apologize for." Letting her hands fall away from Tenzo's wrists, Sakura chuckled. Her lungs felt too small, like the oxygen in the room couldn't fill them as much as she needed it to. "Though, I'd like to know why you were knocking on my bedroom, as opposed to the front door, like a normal person."

Despite the poor lighting, Sakura saw a warm blush spread across Tenzo's cheeks as he shrugged. "You must not have heard it the first time, and I didn't want to cause a scene. So, I picked the lock."

Sakura raised one eyebrow toward the ceiling. "What if I had set up traps or threw a kunai at you?"

"I would have avoided it." Tenzo shrugged, running a hand through his hair.

"Of course you would have, Mr. Anbu Captain," Sakura teased, eliciting an almost grin from Tenzo. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, surprised to find that it was shortly after three. The medicine would have worn off a couple hours ago, so it was a good sign that he'd lasted a little while without it.

Tenzo offered a half smile as an apology, but Sakura saw the exhaustion behind his gaze. She stared up at him for a long moment, then nodded behind her. "Come to bed?"

The man's visible double take prompted a deep laugh from Sakura. "There's still a couple of hours before dawn, and we could both use more sleep. Do you think you'd be able to?"

"Maybe," Tenzo shrugged, cutting his eyes toward the still tidy linens with a deeper flush coloring his cheeks. "I don't know."

Climbing back into bed, Sakura pulled the blankets across her lap and fought down a yawn. "Come on. I promise I won't bite, and I'm not sleeping on the couch again."

"I can sleep on the couch," Tenzo insisted. He shook his head while gesturing at the bed. "This would be too weird."

"It's no weirder than the past three days. Is it Tenzo?" Sakura accentuated the man's name to remind him how much things had changed between them. Reaching out, she grabbed Tenzo's arm and pulled. He stumbled forward two steps, nearly fell, then caught himself on the headboard with one hand. "If it freaks you out, you can sleep on top of the blankets. But, I promise this is more comfortable than crashing on the couch."

For two heartbeats, Tenzo didn't move. Sakura watched the emotions play across his face, wondering if she'd pushed too far. Despite having spent almost a week living together, this was something new, something foreign. Sakura had checked on Tenzo throughout the nights or slept on the couch as the medicine lulled his mind into unconsciousness, but this was actively helping him relax.

"There's a blanket at the foot of the bed, if you need it," Sakura pointed out, watching Tenzo with a mixture of gentleness and amusement.

Pushing himself away from the headboard, Tenzo reached for the dark blue throw. Sakura breathed a sigh of relief when he moved to the other side of the bed and sat down. She rolled over to face him as he leaned back, but almost immediately, Tenzo sat up. "Just relax." Sakura rested one hand in the center of his chest and guided him toward the pillows. "Lie back."

Tenzo sank onto the extra pillows and blew out a breath, body stiff. The man's jaw clenched around the awkwardness of their situation. Sakura wasn't sure if he'd welcome physical contact, but she brushed her fingers against the back of Tenzo's hand anyway. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Tenzo answered, not quite pulling away from the touch, but not reaching for either. "It was just a panic attack."

Sakura hummed in understanding, she'd never wanted to talk about them either. "Can I do anything specific to help you sleep?"

When Tenzo shook his head the way she'd expected, Sakura curled up beneath the blanket and yawned. "Okay, well, I'm here if you think of anything."

As much as Sakura tried to make herself available, she couldn't keep her eyes open. The silence and darkness dragged her back toward sleep. As Sakura fell into the blackness, a single thought surfaced: hopefully, Tenzo would follow.

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

Sunlight irritated Tenzo's eyelids until they slitted open to reveal unfamiliar grey walls around him. He blinked, taking several long seconds to remember that he'd fallen asleep in Sakura's apartment. Not just in her apartment, but in her bed, his brain supplied helpfully. The woman's warmth nestled against his left hip, three layers of blankets between them. Sakura had cocooned beneath the covers, pink hair barely visible above them.

Rather than risk waking the woman up by climbing out of bed, Tenzo looked around the small room more fully in the morning light. The subdued colors seemed at odds with the vibrancy that was Sakura. The furniture was plain and slightly battered, like she'd owned it as a child or picked it up second hand. There were a few splashes of color around the room, but it felt sterile compared to what he'd expected. A picture of Team Kakashi sat on the dresser, three far too innocent faces staring out of the frame.

A more recent photo of Team Seven sat beside the first, but Sasuke was missing from this one. Instead, Naruto grinned over a bowl of ramen while Sakura beamed at his side. Sai sat next to them with a half smile on his lips that could have meant anything. Kakashi stood behind the three, eye smiling. In the corner of the frame, Tenzo stared down at a piece of paper in his hand. He had no idea when the picture had been taken or who had snapped it, but he was certain that he'd been left holding the bill.

Tenzo almost chuckled at the image, but stopped himself short when he remembered where he was. His mirth died further at the reminder that in just a few short hours, he would be submitting himself to the Intelligence division. Technically, Anbu was part of T&I, or at least a close cousin who worked hand in hand with it. Anytime a mission required for someone to be taken alive, they were turned over for interrogation. None of the Anbu liked to think about what went on behind closed doors, but they all had their suspicions.

And now, I'm going to find out willingly. Tenzo shuddered and extracted himself from the single blanket that he'd used. Sakura mumbled something that he couldn't catch then curled tighter in her cocoon. Tenzo crossed to the small bathroom and examined his reflection in the mirror. His eyes were clearer than they'd been in a long time, but red spidered across the whites in places. He turned the water on and raised a handful to his mouth, swishing it around to remove the cottony sleep taste from his tongue.

Dozens of bottles lined Sakura's counter, most with names that Tenzo didn't understand even after reading them. He didn't linger long, though. For some reason, examining this part of Sakura's life felt like an invasion. He wondered if the woman had felt the same way in his apartment, or if she took it stride better than he had. She'd spent several days there and never raised a question about his belongings.

Shrugging off the thought for another time, Tenzo crept out of the bedroom and into the rest of the apartment. He headed for the kitchen out of habit. A quick rummage through the cabinets revealed that Sakura didn't have any tea that might take the edge off the morning. He filled a glass with water instead and took a drink. As Tenzo did so, he heard soft footfalls on the tile behind him. Turning, he found a bleary eyed, pink haired mess.

Sakura yawned as she stepped past Tenzo to reach for the coffee. "Did you get any sleep?"

"Some," Tenzo conceded with the dip of his chin. He had fallen into a fitful sleep some time after Sakura did, plagued by vague nightmares that he couldn't remember. That was preferable to the alternative, at least. "You?"

"Some," Sakura mimicked, stifling a yawn. She ran a hand through her unruly tresses which had pulled loose from her ponytail to stick out in every direction, then frowned. "What are you staring at?"

Tenzo realized that he'd spent too long trying to figure out why Sakura looked different. He finally settled on the strands of pink that were more fluffy and less sleek than usual. He averted his eyes with a shrug. "Nothing."

Grumbling under her breath, Sakura stretched her arms above her head until the soft pop of bone echoed in the room. The sleeveless top that she wore rode up to reveal a smooth expanse of toned muscle across her stomach. Tenzo frowned at the painful noise. "That doesn't sound healthy."

"That's an old wives tale." Sakura tugged her clothing back into position with an eye roll. "Popping your joints is perfectly safe as long as you don't overstrain them."

Tenzo shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "Sure, if you say so."

"I do say so," Sakura returned, pushing past Tenzo to rummage around the cabinets. She produced a packet of oatmeal from one of the shelves, then returned it with a grimace. The refrigerator offered even less, and the woman huffed out a sigh. "I need to go shopping."

"I could pick something up. I wanted to go home and change anyway." Tenzo indicated his sweatpants and t-shirt. He wasn't sure what a person was supposed to wear to counseling, but he knew that it wasn't this.

Sakura appraised Tenzo over the mug that she'd lifted from another shelf. "You'll come back? I won't have to chase you down this time?"

Tenzo flashed a grin as if he hadn't just been considering skipping therapy all together. "I'll come back. I promise."

After another couple of seconds of scrutiny, Sakura nodded. "Alright. I'll see you in about an hour."

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

An hour and a half later, Tenzo and Sakura stood together outside the Intelligence building. He'd changed into jeans and a t-shirt, at least in part to avoid drawing attention to himself. Sakura had been adamant that Tenzo was off duty until he got cleared by psych. The uniform only served to remind him that he was no longer Anbu; he wasn't even a pretend jonin of Konoha. It had been so long since Tenzo dressed as himself that he wasn't sure what that meant any longer.

When Tenzo had arrived back at Sakura's apartment, a bag of muffins in one hand and coffee in the other, the woman had transformed back into someone that he knew. Her wild hair had been tamed into straight pink tresses that framed her face, and the comfort of her pajamas exchanged for the familiar black leggings and red dress. Neither of them spoke about the walls that they'd knocked down the previous night, or the ease with which they rebuilt them in the morning.

"It's going to be fine," Sakura decided, her voice filled with the confidence of someone who wasn't about to have their mind poked and prodded. "This is going to be fine."

Tenzo nodded without speaking, throat too tight to let the words slip out anyway. He followed Sakura into the cool dimness of the reception area and tried to still the beating of his heart. A young man sat at a desk behind a glass enclosure, idly reading a scroll and transcribing notes into a computer terminal. His gaze slid over the pair as he rolled the scroll closed with a soft snap. When Sakura approached the desk, the man's lips twisted into an expression that made Tenzo fearful for his safety.

Sakura's sickly sweet smile as she met the man's gaze made Tenzo nearly as nervous. "We're here to see Yamanaka-san," she said as a way of greeting. Tenzo frowned at the haughty tone her voice had taken.

The receptionist scanned the ledger in front of him as if looking for their names, then frowned. "Do you have an appointment?"

Sakura's chuckle sounded anything but friendly as she stalked toward the glass cubicle. The man didn't flinch as he gazed up at her, half smile on his lips. Tenzo wasn't sure if the boy had a death wish, or if honestly didn't know who Sakura was. Imagining the latter was difficult considering her notoriety after the war.

Resting her forearms on the ledge above the man's desk, Sakura leaned forward to level him with a glare. "I don't have an appointment, and we both know that it doesn't matter."

The man's eyes flicked toward Sakura's chest before returning to her face. Tenzo didn't need to fake the growl in his voice when he moved closer to Sakura's side and spoke. "Is Yamanaka-san available or not?"

A sharp peal of laughter made Tenzo's hand ball into a fist at his side. Sakura dropped her arm to brush her fingers against Tenzo's side as a warning to calm down. The chunin eyed them for a moment, then inclined his head. "I'll page her. Have a seat while you wait."

The cheap wood and plastic squeaked as Tenzo settled into a chair that couldn't have been more uncomfortable if it tried. Sakura perched on the edge of hers, as tense as he was. Tenzo wondered why. The woman's legs bounced on the balls of her feet as she alternated her attention between the man behind the counter and the doorway that led deeper into the building. Across the room, the receptionist murmured into the telephone receiver at his desk. Then, he ignored them all together.

Tenzo didn't try to break the silence as he watched Sakura in his peripheral vision. He wondered if she knew the man behind the desk, if she came here for counseling after difficult missions. The thought hadn't crossed his mind until they stepped into the building. Tenzo never felt an inclination to discuss what happened as a part of his job; it went against everything expected of shinobi. He had assumed that everyone else operated under a similar ideology.

From their earliest training, ninja and Anbu were expected to divorce themselves from the emotion of their lives. The tools wielded by Konoha didn't need human limitations; fear and love were more deadly than any weapon in the midst of battle. Tenzo had seen it time and time again: a teammate throwing themselves into harm's way when they should have held back. Naruto had done it more often than Tenzo cared to recount, living through sheer stubbornness it seemed. That, and the nine tails healing chakra. But normal shinobi didn't have that luxury; they needed cool, unswerving logic.

The careful balance between death and life was all that Tenzo had ever known. He'd been in the black ops since he was practically a child, but Sakura had been afforded different opportunities. When Tenzo had taken over leading Team Seven, Kakashi had filled him in on the background of each shinobi. He'd learned more with reconnaissance of his own. Sakura's parents were civilians, her father was a merchant, and her mother stayed home to look after the house. There had been no reason for Sakura to choose the shinobi lifestyle. Tenzo wondered what had drawn the woman to enter the ninja academy, but he hadn't asked. It seemed too personal.

Even now, Sakura spent most of her time inside the village in her role as a medic. The hospital couldn't afford to be without her for long, especially after Tsunade and Shizune left. Sakura could have opted to be taken off the mission roster entirely if she wanted. No one would call it cowardice to admit that she was better suited for life in Konoha. Except for Sakura. The woman had stood side by side with people like Naruto, Sasuke, and Kakashi. Tenzo doubted that she would let anyone take a risk that she wasn't willing to shoulder herself.

Before Tenzo could finish organizing his thoughts, the doorway beside the reception area opened and Yamanaka Ino swept into the room. Seafoam blue eyes slid past the receptionist with a look of reprimand, then settled on Sakura. Surprise sparked in her face at finding Tenzo next to her, but the woman covered it quickly. She held the door open with her body and offered a tight smile. "Sakura, Yamato-san," the girl bowed. "If you'll come with me, please."

Ino obviously hadn't known to expect them, and Tenzo wasn't sure if he felt relieved or worried that Sakura hadn't prepared her for the meeting. He rose mechanically from the chair and followed the women through the reception area. Blowing out a nervous breath, Tenzo tried not to think about how the door shutting behind him felt like a trap closing around his neck. Several rooms and hallways branched off the main passage, but Ino led them through the labyrinth without getting sidetracked or attempting to make small talk.

The blond showed Sakura and Tenzo to an office that was less intimidating than he'd expected. Warm sunlight slanted through the shade that were partially drawn to give the impression of privacy while making the space inviting. The walls were paneled with pale wood that reflected the light in a warm manner, driving shadows away. On the desk, lilac and cream flowers had been arranged in a tasteful vase, adding a floral scent to the air. The atmosphere was meant to be calming, but it left Tenzo on edge.

Indicating a low couch on one side of the room, Ino took the high backed chair across from it. A table separated the two like a too small ocean. As Tenzo stared down at the pale blue fabric, he fought the urge to laugh this meeting off as a big mistake. He didn't think either of the women would try to stop him from leaving if he went for the door. Even if they did, he was stronger than both of them. Sakura settled on one side of the couch and gazed up with an expectant look. Tenzo swallowed the lump in his throat and lowered himself beside her.

Ino crossed her legs at the knee, tapping one foot in the air to some beat that only she heard. She picked up a notebook and pen that were waiting on the side table, then nodded. "So, what can I do for you?"

Tenzo's heart rate increased, drawing his attention to the soft pulse of blood in his temples and roar in his ears. He couldn't have spoken, even if he wanted to. After the silence stretched for an uncomfortable minute, Sakura broke it. "You remember when I told you I needed psych evaluations on Anbu?"

Ino's eyebrows rose before she reined in her surprise at finding out that Tenzo was in Anbu. Smoothing the emotion from her face, she inclined her head. "Yeah, but you left out the part where you drag them to my office personally."

Sakura chuckled, a light shade of pink coloring her cheeks. The sound eased some of the tension in Tenzo's shoulder, as did the way her green eyes cut toward him with an encouraging smile. "Only the difficult ones," Sakura teased. As the soft laughter died down, she continued. "Yamato has been struggling with—"

"Let me stop you there," Ino interrupted, holding up a hand. Her gentle smile focused on Sakura. "It's obvious that you want to fix whatever this is, but you can't."

Tenzo felt Sakura tense beside him as she opened her mouth to argue. Ino spoke before she could get the words out. "If I brought you a patient and told you all of their symptoms, would you still examine them?" The woman waited for Sakura's lips to compress into a thin line as she nodded, then continued. "This is no different."

Turquoise eyes met Tenzo's, and his stomach dropped. Despite the fear that made his body tense in preparation for an attack, he knew that Ino was right; Sakura could only carry him so far. The idea of reliving all the things that he'd been trying to hide for so long made him nauseated. He couldn't imagine going through it without having something to take the edge off, even after the progress that he'd made.

The room blurred at the edges, shrinking to the brilliance of Ino's eyes and the sharpness in her gaze. Tenzo felt like he was drowning; he couldn't draw a full breath. Something fluttered against his hand, light and insistent enough to draw his attention. Gazing down, he stared at Sakura's fingers brushing against his then pulling back like frightened fish. Tenzo exhaled.

Ino frowned at the movement, but didn't draw any attention to it. Instead, she stayed focused on Tenzo. "If you want to complete your evaluation, I can make some time now. Then, I'll clear you for active duty, or we can discuss any additional requirements. Is that something you're interested in?"

Staring resolutely forward, Tenzo nodded.

#Dimi Writes #My Writing #Healing Hands #Tenzo #Yamato #Sakura Haruno #Tenzo/Sakura #YamaSaku #Slow Burn #Mental health fic

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angelicyoongie · 4 years

Text

Out of the Woods (II)

— pairing: wolf hybrid namjoon x human f!reader — genre: fluff, angst, slight smut — word count: 5.5K — warnings: injury, blood, mentions of past abuse — summary: Promising Jihyo that you were going to stay away from your writing for one weekend had been easy in theory, but much harder to actually do once you reached the little cabin the woods. To make matters worse, the only thing that rivals your inability to keep promises is your terrible luck – and after a particularly bad choice leads you to get lost in the mountains, you suppose that it's only karma that you end up face to face with a wolf that looks ready to rip your throat out.

Part I / II / III

You stare at the hand wrapped tightly around yours as the wolf hybrid leads you down the rest of the slope. You can still feel the imprint of his chest against your back, the lingering heat from his body still wrapped around yours. The ghost of his raspy, smooth voice brushing over your ear, his words branded into your chest.

Please don’t leave me.

You wince with each step, the dull pain in your ankle growing harder to ignore. You can see the muscles in his golden arms tense as your step falters, the wolf hybrid’s grip tightening before you can stumble down the last stretch of the incline. He’s keeping your hand almost at height with his shoulders, making it easier for you to borrow some support as you hobble forward.

You keep yourself focused on his hand, on how his long and slender fingers are enveloping yours. They’re a little rough against your skin, but they’re still pretty. Your cheeks are flushed red as you limp forward, but you blame that on the near death experience you just had – and certainly not on the hybrid’s thumb absentmindedly running over your knuckles every few steps. And it’s definitely not because the man in front of you is completely naked. The close proximity means that the expanse of the hybrid’s broad back fills most of your vision, but you’re not willing to take any chances. His body isn’t there for you to ogle at. So, his hand is a good, safe, place for you eyes to latch on to. The hybrid clearly doesn’t have any qualms about his lack of clothes, and it makes you wonder just how long he’s been out here on his own – how long he’s been alone.

You swallow thickly as the ground underneath your feet begins to flatten out, the strain on your ankle becoming a little less painful. You can probably walk on your own now, but it doesn’t seem like the wolf hybrid has any plans of letting you do that, his fingers wrapping even more firmly around yours as you try to let go of his hand. You see a few faint marks on the inside of his wrist, but the angle his hold your hand makes it too difficult to make anything out. If anything, it’s likely just some scratches from the wilderness. You can’t help but notice that one of his gray ears seem to be permanently turned in your direction, only twitching when you let out little huffs of air.

He hasn’t spoken since he uttered those four words – not since he begged you to stay, and the only thing you could think to do was shakily step out of his embrace and ask him to bring you back down. You can’t stay. You're not quite sure why the realization makes you feel so torn. Sure, the hybrid has taken care of you, but you don’t really know him. Hell, you don’t even know his name. But still, your heart stutters painfully as you remember the desperation in his voice, the subdued whine that escaped his lips as you pulled away. The hybrid had only given you a curt nod in response to your request, his back turned to you and hand outstretched before you could even get a good look on his face.

You sneak a quick peek at his profile as he helps you along the path, your breath getting caught in your throat as you catch a glimpse of his strong jaw and oh no, is that a dimple? The wolf hybrid’s silver ears and messy hair compliments his sunkissed skin beautifully, and there is no doubt in your mind that this man must be stunning. Maybe it’s a good thing you haven’t gotten a good look at his face yet, getting weak in the knees sounds like bad plan when you’re already one foot down. You quickly push the thoughts away, turning your attention back to the forest in front of you. You swear something about it looks a little more familiar than before. You only need to hobble through the forest for another few minutes before you realize why.

The wolf hybrid has lead you straight to the lake you and Jihyo passed two days ago, the exact one you were trying to find when you managed to get lost. The weather might be slightly gloomier today, but it still looks absolutely breathtaking as you draw closer. The tension in your shoulders ease up as you realize just how close you are to the cabin, it probably won’t take much longer than an hour to get back even with your throbbing foot. Which is great, but the release of tension also makes you acutely aware of just how irritated your ankle truly is, and it feels like it might break clean off if you don’t get a break soon.

“Can we, uh, rest for a little while? My foot ..” You trail off uncertainly, watching as the hybrid’s head cocks in your direction. He stops in his tracks, ears swivelling around rapidly as he listens to the forest, his grip still tight around yours. He gives you another nod after a few seconds of silence, steering you carefully over to a fallen log. You close your eyes in relief as you sit down, a groan falling from your lips as you finally get the chance to alleviate the pressure on your ankle.

“Thank you,” You murmur, glancing down at your foot as you try to best position to rest it in. You freeze as you see the wolf hybrid’s bare feet out of the corner of your eye, heat creeping up your neck as you realize the position you’ve put yourself in. You’re at eye-level with his dick. There’s no way to look up at him without seeing it, and that’s not something you want to deal with right now.

“Here," You hastily shrug off your windbreaker, offering it out for the hybrid with a grimace, “you can use it to cover up.” Rough fingers brush over your own as the wolf hybrid grabs your jacket, presumably–hopefully–wrapping it around his waist as you keep your eyes firmly on the ground. You don’t dare lift your gaze until the hybrid sinks down on the log next to you with a huff, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you find his eyes already locked onto your face.

The wolf hybrid is beautiful. Your lips part open in surprise as you take in his face, the slight pout to his lips and the gentleness in his expression leaving you a little breathless. He looks kind. Sweet. You don’t understand how someone like him could be left out here all alone.

“I-I'm sorry,” The wolf hybrid cowers under your stunned gaze, his ears falling flat against his head. “Should I stay .. wolf? You upset,” His voice is hoarse and pained as he stutters out his words, his lips forming awkwardly around the syllables. The intention behind his words hits you like a slap to the face. He thinks you don’t like his human form, and he’s willing to turn back to not make you upset.

“No!” You blurt, “I mean, I’m uh, not upset. If you want to, please stay in your human form. It’s nice to be able to talk to you.” The wolf hybrid doesn’t quite seem to believe you, his ears pressing even flatter against his head as he shakes his head.

“What’s your name?”

The hybrid's mouth is pressed into a thin line, and for a second you think he might not answer, but then he mutters out a soft, “Namjoon.”

“Namjoon?” You echo, finding you like the way his name rolls off your tongue. The wolf hybrid’s ears perk up at the sound of his name, the bushy tail behind his back doing a startled wag as Namjoon’s eyes find yours. You give him a soft smile, rubbing your hands nervously at your thighs as you finally ask the question that has been burning away at your curiosity for the past few hours.

“Why are you out here all alone?” The muscles in Namjoon's shoulders tense at your question, the warmth in his golden brown eyes hardening into something you can’t quite decipher. The wolf hybrid looks ready to bolt any second, his eyes flickering around the forest as he says, “Ran way .. bad place. No going back.”

You detest that you’re not even surprised, that the mistreatment of hybrids is so common that it has become almost more normal than treating them like actual human beings. The wolf hybrid looks to be your age, maybe even a little older, and it makes your stomach drop to think about just how many years he must’ve spent out here in his animal form for speech to become this hard – for it to become a struggle.

“I’m so sorry Namjoon, it must’ve been hard being all alone up here,” Your fingers twitch against your thigh, resisting the urge to reach out for him.

“Not alone now, have you,” Namjoon’s raspy voice sends a shiver down your spine, the certainty laced with his next word making your heart skip a beat. “Pack.” The wolf hybrid carefully reaches out for your hand, slowly wrapping his fingers around yours as he watches your mind trying to process his words.

You know it normally takes a long time for a hybrid to consider someone, especially humans, to be a part of their pack, so the fact that Namjoon refers to you as his after only a few days leaves you stunned – and a little bit out of your depth. Then again, Namjoon’s situation isn’t exactly normal. Usually hybrids are much more in-tune with both their human and animal side, but from what you can gather, it doesn’t seem like Namjoon has tapped into his humanity in years. It would make sense for his animal instincts to be more dominant, for doubt and hesitation to take a backseat. But still, his pack?

You catch the slight motion as the wolf hybrid’s eyes stray to your neck, the memory hitting you at full force now that you realize the implications behind your actions. In the midst of your panic when you thought Namjoon was going to tear you limb from limb, you had bared you neck. You had submitted. And Namjoon had accepted you. You wince, sucking in a deep breath as unease swirls in your stomach. Even if you weren’t aware of what you were doing at the time, this is still your fault. You really want to fix this whole mess, but you fear that the one thing you can’t do for him, is the only thing the hybrid wants.

“Namjoon,” You hesitate as you feel his tail wag happily against the log, the words feeling heavy on your tongue as you say, “I can’t stay.” A lull falls over the forest as the rhythmic thumping stops, the grip around your hand slackening as the wolf hybrid hangs his head.

He keeps his eyes on the ground as he whispers out a broken, “Don’t go.” You feel your heart ache as you watch him open and close his mouth, the furrow between his brows deepening as he can’t seem to find the words he needs. “Take care of you. Please.” You think it might hurt less if you just let the wolf hybrid rip you to shreds instead, the pained desperation in his voice making you eyes sting.

“I’m sorry,” You mutter, “I need to go home.” The word leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Home. At the start of your trip you couldn’t wait to return to your apartment, but when you really think about it, have you ever truly considered it home? Sure, you've managed to make it nice and cozy over the last years, but there’s no warmth there, no sense of belonging. Still – you can’t stay here in the mountains.

Namjoon’s ears are pressed flat against his head, his expression turning blank as he withdraws his hand. “Okay,” The wolf hybrid’s jaw is tense as he stares out at the lake, his gaze empty and distant. You ignore the throbbing in your foot as you clamber back up to your feet, taking a few steps forward as you take in the sight of the lake for the last time. The scattered wildflowers don’t seem as charming anymore, and the large body of water suddenly feels more imposing than welcoming. You freeze as Namjoon lets out a low groan, the sound suddenly transforming into a whimper behind your back. You nearly jolt out of your skin as something wet touches your hand, a warm breath spilling across your fingers as you look down. You meet Namjoon’s golden eyes, the wolf letting out a small huff before he nudges your windbreaker closer to your feet. You don’t know why it feels like a defeat that he transformed back, but you can’t shake the hollow feeling in your chest as you thread your fingers into his fur, jacket wrapped around your waist as he leads you back to the cabin.

The wolf’s ears starts to flicker a few minutes before you can pick up Jihyo’s frantic speech in the distance, the dark roof of the cabin coming into view. You’re a little off the trail, the forest much denser around this side of the clearing. Namjoon suddenly halts as he reaches the edge, and you wince from the extra force on your foot as you stumble to catch yourself. The wolf’s tail is tucked between his legs, a pitiful whimper filling the silence as you gently untangle your hand from his fur. You brush it down carefully, already missing the coarse yet soft hairs tickling against your skin as you take a step back.

“Thank you Namjoon,” You swallow around the lump in your throat, forcing your lips into a soft smile as you gaze down at him. The wolf turns his head back to the forest, golden eyes scanning the area before he quickly pushes his head against your hand, guiding your palm over the fur between his ears. Your knees go weak with fondness as you pat his head, the wolf swiping his tongue over the exposed skin of your wrist as you scratch behind his ears. It’s Namjoon that reluctantly pulls away first, his golden eyes soft yet sad as he pushes his snout one last time against your palm. He sits down with a huff, turning his head in the direction of the cabin. The message is clear; he’s not leaving until you are. The goodbye grows and dies in your mouth, your lips refusing to let it slip past as you look down at him. You spare him one last glance, trying to commit as much of him to memory as you can, before you stumble out of the tree line.

It only takes a few steps before you hear Jihyo’s shrill, “Y/n!” and you watch as your friend sprints across the field to meet you. Jihyo knocks into you so hard you nearly topple over, her arms wrapped around your body so tightly you almost fear she’ll squeeze you to death.

“Where were you? What happened? Oh my god, you’re hurt!–” You let Jihyo’s concerned rambling distract you from the empty feeling in your stomach, each step feeling heavier than the last as she helps you walk back to the cabin. You spare one last glance over your shoulder, hoping to maybe see a flash of silver through the trees, but there’s nothing.

Namjoon is gone.

And you’re both alone again.

It was all a rush after you returned. Jihyo had been searching for you night and day, a few of her father’s best employees helping out. The road up to the cabin had been cleared, so instead of having to trek down on your sprained ankle, Jihyo had whisked you away in a car with the destination set for the closest hospital. It took a while before you could collect your thoughts enough to tell her what happened, the words sounding ridiculous even to your own ears as you retold the story.

Jihyo had a deep frown on her face from the hospital to your apartment, uncharacteristically silent as she helped you to your couch. Sinking down on the mountain of plush pillows felt like heaven after sleeping on the ground for two nights, your limbs tired and aching. You really need a shower, but the temptation to rest your foot for an hour is frankly too strong. You watch as Jihyo raids your fridge for drinks and food, the frown not leaving her lips until you’ve stuffed your face with a sandwich.

“Why didn’t you just ask him to come with you?” You nearly choke on a piece of bread at her sudden question, quickly taking a sip of water to chase it down.

“What do you mean?” You croak.

“Well, it’s not like he specifically asked you to stay up in the mountains right? He only asked that you would stay with him. I’m not sure how much I like this, but he did take care of you, and he brought you back safely. If he wanted to hurt you he had many opportunities to do so,” Jihyo purses her lips, her eyes flickering around the room.

"You seem .. smitten. I can remember the last time you looked so fond talking about someone else. It seems like he already considers you to be his pack, so if you want to, I don’t see any harm in asking him to come home with you,” You feel a steady blush rise in your cheeks as Jihyo talks, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of having Namjoon here in your apartment. You couldn’t ..

"It’s not natural or healthy for hybrids to be alone and shifted for such a long time, so you would honestly be doing him a favour. Even if he doesn’t stay with you, he needs to get checked-up.” You find yourself nodding along to Jihyo’s words before you can stop yourself, her eyebrows rising in amusement. She is right, after all. Even if Namjoon doesn’t want to stay, it’s important to make sure he’s healthy. Even you go in for yearly check-ups, and you’re sure it’s been far too long since Namjoon did the same. You have to go back and find him.

“But–” Jihyo presses a finger to your chest, “you’re not going anywhere yet. The doctor said full rest for a week, so that’s what you’re going to do.” She shakes her head before you can protest, giving you a stern look as she says, “You’re in no condition to go after him now, you need to heal up if you want to find him again. I’ve seen enough animal planet to know that wolves have pretty big territories, and you won’t be able to cover that much ground with a sprained ankle.” You sink back down in the couch with a disgruntled sound, hating the fact that she’s completely right. You’ll have to wait until you’ve healed. You just hope it won’t be too late.

“Namjoon?” You wince at the rawness in your throat, your voice ringing through the silent forest. You’ve been out here for hours, but no matter where you go, there’s no sign of the wolf hybrid. You even managed to get back to the little cave Namjoon had brought you to, but that too was completely untouched. The only trail you had is dead. The area you’ve ventured into is much denser and harder to navigate, but you refuse to leave until you find him.

You grumble under your breath as a branch almost whacks you straight in the face, and you push it away with a little more force than necessary as you trek on deeper into the woods. Your ankle has healed up nicely, but there’s still a dull ache from the amount of walking you’re putting yourself through. The sprain wasn’t all that bad; it was mostly just the fact that you kept aggravating it that made it so painful. A week of rest did you wonders, and a little bit of discomfort is a price you’re more than willing to pay if it means you’ll find Namjoon again.

“Namjoon?” You call out again, halting in your tracks as you strain to listen for any sounds out of the ordinary. You let out a sigh at the silence that greets you, shaking your head lightly as you take a step forward. You freeze as your foot connect with the ground, a distant howl echoing through the forest. Namjoon.

You can barely even hear the second howl over the frantic beat of your own heart as you take off, stumbling and tripping over roots and twigs as you run in what you hope is the right direction. The mountain is disorienting at best, but you have no fear of getting lost this time. Jihyo made sure you would be properly prepared.

It’s not until the fourth howl that you realize two things – one, the sound is much closer than you anticipated, and two, it sounds pained. You urge your legs to move faster, your gaze shifting wildly over your surroundings as you call out for him again. You swear you see a flash of silver behind a cluster of trees, and you quickly switch your direction, running straight for what you hope is the wolf hybrid.

“Namjo–” You choke as you skid to a stop, your stomach dropping so fast it leaves you feeling dizzy.

Blood. There’s so much blood. Namjoon’s gray fur is stained with it, the hairs matted and red. You can see the rusted metal of an old bear trap clamped tightly around one of his hind legs, the bone snapped in an awkward angle. Oh god. A pained whine rips you out of your building panic, and the sight of the wolf hybrid attempting to drag himself closer to you despite the trap on his leg finally jolts you back into action.

“No no no, stay still!” You cry as you scramble forward, your stomach doing a dangerous flip as the metallic scent of Namjoon’s blood washes over you. The wolf hybrid is panting as you drop to your knees in front of him, his ears plastered against his skull as he lets out low whimper.

“It-it’s going to be okay,” You hear your voice tremble as you reach out for his head, gently cupping his cheeks between your hands. Namjoon lets the tension in his neck drop the moment you get your hands on him, his head heavy in your hold as you run your fingers over his fur. The wolf hybrid’s body is shaking, his golden eyes barely open as he lets out another whine. You have no idea how many hours he’s been like this, but it’s been too long. He's lost way too much blood.

“You’re going to be fine Namjoon,” You swallow down the bile in your throat as you shuffle around, shifting your hold to gently place his head in your lap. He immediately tries to shuffle closer, not giving up until he’s plastered against your stomach.

“Just, don’t shift, okay? Please don’t shift,” You hastily dig your burrowed phone out of your pocket, vision blurry as you type in Jihyo’s number. Seeing Namjoon’s human form might make it easier to gauge his injuries, but if he shifts while he’s still trapped, you have no doubt it’s just going to tear his leg up even more.

He lets out a whine as you hands leave his fur, his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the pain. The leg that’s trapped doesn’t even twitch, and Namjoon’s body feels horribly cold as you hurry to run your hands over his fur.

“Y/n? Did you find him?” Jihyo’s voice has never sounded more angelic than when she picks up the phone, you body sagging with relief.

“You can track my location, right? It’s Namjoon–” You force down the sob bubbling in your throat as the wolf hybrid whimpers at the sound of his name, the sound soft and weak. “–he’s hurt.”

“Excuse me,” You whip your head up at the sound of someone clearing their throat, a rather frazzled nurse standing in front you. “Are you here with the wolf hybrid? Kim Namjoon?”

“I am. Is something wrong?” You push out of the plastic chair with a wince, ignoring the queasy feeling in your stomach. It’s been hours since you arrived at the hospital, but the image of Namjoon’s blood pooling around his body doesn’t seem to want to let go of you just yet.

“He’s–" The nurse let out a deep sigh, “I think you need to come with me.” She turns on her heel, motioning for you to follow without another word. Oh god, what if he’s dead? The wolf hybrid had been rushed into an emergency operation immediately upon arrival, so there wasn’t much else that you could do than wait. Hope that he would be okay.

You hurry after the nurse, nearly tripping over your own feet at quick speed she keeps as she marches down the hall. You’ve barely managed to catch up when she halts outside a door, an exasperated expression on her face as she says, “We’re keeping him under observation for now and he’s not really supposed to have any visitors yet, but he’s being … difficult.” You jump as something clatters to the ground inside the room, the deep growl hardly even muffled by the closed door.

“He’s a still a little out of it, but not dangerous. You’ll see what I mean,” With that, the nurse pushes the door open, stepping aside to allow you entry into Namjoon’s room. You suck in a breath as you step inside, the floor littered with scattered papers and trays. Namjoon is perched up in bed, a heavy cast around his leg. Whatever they were trying to do, the wolf hybrid obviously wasn’t having it. He’s twisted towards the doctor by his side, the man keeping a good distance from the injured hybrid as he let out another harsh growl. You stare in shock as Namjoon bares his teeth, his posture rigid and tense as he eyes the doctor distrustfully. The doctor notices you before Namjoon does, a soft 'thank god' muttered under his breath as he waves for you to come closer.

“Hey Namjoon,” The wolf hybrids nose wrinkles just as your soft voice carries across the room, his ears springing up on his head as he shifts his attention to you.

“Y/n,” Namjoon’s eyes light up as he catches sight of you, his hands practically tearing up the bed sheets as he tries to untangle himself. The action feels awfully familiar to when he tried to drag himself closer despite the bear trap, and you have no intention of watching him trying to walk on his broken leg.

“I thought I told you to stop moving,” You rush forward before he can get himself fully out of bed, pushing him back with a firm shove to his chest. Namjoon falls back without protest, his wide eyes scanning over your face as a loopy smile blooms on his lips.

“Sorry,” He rasps as he engulfs your hand with his, keeping it tucked securely against his body. You can feel the steady thrum of his heart against your palm, beating in rhythm with the soft beeps from the monitor he’s hooked up to.

“We were trying to explain to Mr. Kim that we need to do some tests, but he doesn’t quite seem to share the same sentiment,” The doctor glances back towards the door as a the nurse brings in a new tray of equipment, a weary frown on his face as he picks up a shot. The growl builds in Namjoon’s throat so fast you nearly jump out of your skin, the hold he has around your hand feels like he’s two seconds away from snapping it in half.

“It’s okay, it’s just some standard shots,” You hesitantly bring your hand up to his face, slowly turning his head back in your direction.

“You haven’t had check-ups in a while right?” The wolf hybrid shakes his head, his ears twitching as his attention flickers back and fourth between you and the doctor. “It’s just to make sure you stay healthy.” Namjoon nuzzles against your hand with a soft whimper as you run your thumb along his cheek.

“Makes me feel .. bad. Sleepy,” Namjoon’s speech seems to flow a little easier than it did a week ago, but the struggle to find the right words is still there, his brows furrowing in concentration as he whispers, "Don’t like it.”

You swallow thickly, your stomach in knots as you ask, “Did your owner give you those? The shots that made you sleepy?” The wolf hybrid makes a low sound of agreement, his ears turning back. The marks on his wrist you couldn’t figure out, they’re needle marks. You’ve heard of it before, how some owners would drug their more exotic hybrids to keep them calm and docile – to silence the part of their genetics that make them so unique. You glance down at Namjoon, the wolf hybrid staring up at you with so much vulnerability and trust that the thought of someone taking advantage of that it makes you feel ill.

“These won’t make you feel that way, I promise.” You muster up the warmest smile you can manage as you peek over at the doctor, a silent plea in your eyes.

“Oh! Don’t worry Mr. Kim, there are no side effects to these shots. You’ll hardly even notice it,” The doctor quickly adds as he takes a careful step forward. Namjoon lets out a slow breath, golden eyes finding yours and his tail draping across his lap as he grumbles out a hesitant “Okay.”

“–All done!” You can see the doctor’s shoulders visibly drop as he finally gets the chance to move back, obviously relieved to put some distance between himself and Namjoon. “I’ll be back later to check on your leg and make sure everything is okay.” The sour expression on Namjoon’s face softens as the doctor hurries out the door, the grip around your hand loosening slightly as it clicks shut behind him.

“May I speak with you outside alone for a minute, miss?” You look up at the nurse as she finishes placing a band-aid on Namjoon’s arm, the empty shots rolling around in the tray as she picks it up.

“Oh, sure,” Namjoon lets out a whine as you try to step away, lips formed into a soft pout as you gently extract your hand from his grip. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” You give his shoulder a squeeze before you follow the nurse out, shooting Namjoon what you hope is a comforting smile over your shoulder. The wolf hybrid keeps his eyes trained on you as you leave, his distressed gaze still burning into your back as you close the door behind you. You only take a few steps down the hall before the nurse turns to face you, her expression troubled as she looks you up and down, “I take it he’s not your hybrid?”

“No, he’s not,” You quickly shake your head. “I came across him up in the mountains. He said he ran away from his old owner, and that it was a ‘bad place’. I’m pretty sure it must’ve been a couple of years at least,” You wince. The nurse nods, her gaze shifting around the busy hallway as she thinks.

“I’ll have someone look into it. We need to settle his hospital bills, and only his legal owner can do that.” She must see the way your face drops, because she quickly adds, “I could tell from his old scars that he’s likely been abused. Even if we find his owner, they’re not going to be allowed to take him home. It’ll be looked into.”

“Right, thanks.” You muster up a weak smile. You know how these things go. Even if there’s an investigation, the police are too easy to buy off. There are frankly too many cases like Namjoon’s, and too few cops that actually treat their abuse seriously.

“Can I stay with him until his owner shows up?”

“It’s a little unorthodox, but yes, you can. I don’t think he’ll actually stay inside his room if you don’t.” The nurse lets out a huff, a flash of amusement in her eyes as she waves for you to go back inside. “I’ll let you know once we figure it out, it shouldn’t take too long.”

“Thank you.”

Turning to face Namjoon’s door, you try to shake off the anxious feeling festering in your stomach. You’re not going to let him go back to his old owner. You’re honestly not even sure how you’ve managed to grow attached so quickly, but there’s just something about the wolf hybrid that makes you ready to fight tooth and nail for his safety and happiness – even if it means he won’t find it with you.

a/n: ahah heyy ... let's just ignore that it took me two months to update this, okay? thank you aksjsk. i decided to split the last part into two, to give myself more time to write a little bit of extra fluff (and smut)! so the third and final part is hopefully coming next week, but if not, it will at least be posted by the end of november. namjoon's speech will get better in the next part and we will learn more about him + his and y/n's relationship will grow! if you like the story then please drop me a reblog/comment, that would mean the world to me! (ps. this story has no tag list!)

as always, see you all soon and stay safe! <3 and in case you enjoy my stories and want to buy me a coffee, you can do so here! 💖

#hybrid bts #hybrid au #namjoon x reader #hybrid namjoon #wolf hybrid namjoon #hybrid!bts #bts au #bts fluff #bts angst #hybridbtsnetwork #bts x reader #out of the woods

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saphirered · 3 years

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Heyo! Saw you wanted some individual character requests! I'm a sucker for Grog, and there isn't enough out there for him, so I was wondering if you could do a Grog x Sorceress!reader where the reader doesn't think grog would have a reason to like her since she isn't a melee fighter. Thank you so much!

P.s. Your writing is amazing, and I always love reading your works! ❤️

Thank you for the request! I'm glad you like my writing and hope you enjoy this one! Turned out a bit longer than I intended but that means more content. Anyway, Enjoy! 😘

Seated on the stone balustrade feet dangling over the edge looking over the city in front of you you twiddle your thumbs. You needed a moment away from everyone to sort your mind on your own. There’s a solitude in the dark clouds looming above and the first drops of rain signalling an oncoming storm and it’s never failed you before. Even while there’s no one around, you can confide in such storms knowing your words will be heard but carried away upon the wind and drowned out by the rain and thunder. A good storm won’t judge or hold a grudge. It will simply accept and listen. So here you’ll stay speaking your worries into the abyss and hope for some clarity or ease of mind and heart.

Back inside Grog sits on one side of the table, Scanlan at the other. They hold their respective tankards at the ready as the gnome counts down. By the end of the countdown they swing back their drinks finishing them as fast as they can being cheered on by the rest of Vox Machina and other witnesses to this drinking game. Grog’s determined to win this. While he’s pretty sure his tankard is actually a bucket with a handle, it’s more to scale compared to the gnome’s. Ale spills over the sides of Scanlan’s drink but Grog keeps it neat. No wasting ale after all.

With one last big chug Grog finishes the drink, slams it down on the table roaring in victory as the table shakes beneath his hit. Scanlan puts the remainder of his drink down on the table wiping his face disappointed. Grog looks around the crowd. Some are happy celebrating with him, others pass over money to the happy people for paying up on whatever amount they lost in their bets. How could they even consider Scanlan would win. He’s the best of the best after all and no one can out drink the all mighty Grog. He doesn’t spot you among the crowd and the victory doesn’t feel as sweet anymore. He really hoped you could have seen this one. Where had you gone?

Before Grog can get up and go find you he’s given a refill and the next challenger approaches. New bets are placed, Vex massages his shoulders giving him a pep talk and noting how he’s been making her a lot of money so better keep it up. He doesn’t want to disappoint his friends. One more game. Then he’ll go find you wherever you went.

The next game comes along, and another, and another but he’s done. No more games. When another challenger approaches and the game starts he doesn’t pick up the tankard and pushes away from the table. People ask him what the hell he’s doing but he ignores them. They’ve kept him long enough so he just up and walks before they can stop him. Grog leaves the room but Pike follows behind him worried for her buddy. He never refuses a good ale or a challenge, let alone the two combined.

“Grog? Grog, wait up!” Pike rushes after him leaving the banquet hall behind. Determined Grog still keeps walking but slows down his pace enough to let Pike catch up with him.

“Where are you going? There’s still plenty of ale to be drunk!” Pike reaches for the goliath’s hand to pull him to a stop. He does and turns to face Pike.

“I think I’ve had enough.” Grog says and Pike gasps. Never, never does Grog think he’s had enough to drink. Something must be wrong with him. Is he ill? Does he have a fever? Did someone poison her buddy’s drink? She might go on a war path if someone did and ruined his fun! But Grog seems okay. Physically that is. He’s fine.

“Do you know where she went?” Grog asks, maybe Pike can help him find you and maybe she can talk to you why you left. He doesn’t think you’d want to talk to him about that kind of stuff and while he’d consider himself a good listener, if something’s really up Pike always knows what to do. She can help.

“Who?”

“The pretty sorceress.” Grog states as a matter of fact and it is. Anyone who dares say otherwise clearly need some of those glass thingies Percy keeps on his nose and make him look smart.

“Oh, I don’t know Grog. She left to go get some fresh air.” Pike searches her mind to see where you might have gone. There’s a few places that come to mind but it’s all narrowed down to just the one when thunder rumbles through the sky. She knows exactly where you went and by the looks of it so does Grog.

Grog knows there’s only one place you really love to watch a storm unfold. You’ve told him before and you’ve even watched some storms together there. He shares a look with Pike and picks up his step going where he knows you’ll be, still dragging pike behind. When she doesn’t move fast enough he swings her up on his shoulders, running up the steps as far as they’ll take him, dodging a torch and pushing aside a guard here and there.

Then around the corner he sees you. Feet dangling over the edge, a single push away from what could possibly be a death drop, hand outstretched catching the rain with a sad smile on your face. You’re absolutely gorgeous. More alluring than anyone ever could. If he could paint, Grog would make sure this moment would be captured for eternity just so he would never forget. Maybe he can get some money from Vex to hire a painter? If Scanlan did it, why shouldn’t he?

You’re seated alone at the top of the tower. Lightning flashes through the clouds, sometimes branching down to strike the ground be it mountain or forest, you’re in a valley of safety surrounded by the storm. The drops of rain hit your outstretched arm extended beyond the cover of the overhanging. Cold as they are to the touch you watch them glide around your arm with movement until they too, continue their descend.

“…Sometimes I wish I would just have the courage but I don’t.” You speak into the skies. A burst of lightning strikes in the mountains, the sound echoing and even this high up you can feel the slight tremor of the ground. You know a storm is no sentient being but you read it like a reply no less and continue.

“I’m not a fighter. I don’t know how to wield a sword or an axe. I can barely lift one. We have such vastly different lives. Grog’s got no reason to like me in any way.” Thunder strikes again you smile briefly. You’ve come to terms you’ll always like Grog and your feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated. The only reason you’re even spending time together in the first place is because you’re both involved with Vox Machina in one way or another. You’ve got hardly anything in common so if you hadn’t met through them Grog probably wouldn’t even have thought about you twice.

That may sound sad and you’re thankful for getting to know him but Grog has his own life and interests so why should he bother indulging you in yours. He’s already not a big fan of magic and you won’t bother attempting to teach him. It’s not like it’s any interesting stuff and he’d probably be bored out of his mind the entire time. Then again, the theoretics of magic might just not be your strong suit either. It’s more of a natural born gift.

Grog gets this weird feeling in his chest as if he’s been hit by something and it’s being twisted. Kind of like when he got shot by an arrow and Pike had to remove it. It’s not a good feeling. Checking for injury just to make sure he’s fine. It’s clear to him he feels this on the inside; his heart bleeds a little for you. You shouldn’t think that way. He likes you. He likes you a lot actually so you couldn’t be more wrong. Pike nudges him to set her down. He does as they remain around the corner, leaving you unaware of their presence.

“Go talk to her.” Pike whispers and Grog panics for a brief second. How is he even supposed to do this? What is he supposed to say? He doesn’t know how this psychology stuff works. That’s what Pike’s for. If people feel sad they often come to her, talk about their worries and problems and then they feel better. How’s he supposed to do that? He’s not Pike.

“She needs you, Grog. I know you like her and she needs you. Go talk to her.” Pike nudges him on into your direction. The goliath isn’t physically moved by her effort but he does move. If Pike says you need him, if you really need him then he’ll be there. Looking over his shoulder one last time to ask Pike for some advise she’s already half way down the stairs leaving you with him. Grog thinks hard for a moment but thinking isn’t his strong suit either so he’ll do what he always does; face the problem head on.

A throat clears behind you and you almost slip from the fright it gave you. A heavy step rushes forward and an arm wraps around your waist pulling you back before you can fall. You’d have spells to save you in case you did fall but you’d rather not and are grateful for your valiant saviour. The bare arm wrapped around your waist is covered in tattoos, markings and scars and engulfs the majority of your middle. It doesn’t take a fool to know this arm belongs to Grog Strongjaw himself.

Flustered you allow the goliath to pull you back onto solid ground and off the balustrade entirely before he lets go of you, making sure you’re right on your feet. How much of your conversation with the skies did he hear? Did he hear anything at all? Grog steps back and stares at his boots. He doesn’t only appear to be more embarrassed than you feel but also apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Please don’t fall again and please don’t be angry at me.” Grog closes his eyes tightly afraid you might be mad at him as he was the cause of you almost experiencing a death drop. You’re basically gods but if we’ve learned anything from Keyleth; that doesn’t save you from a splat.

You step forward grab one of his hands in yours drawing his attention. With your index finger you tilt his chin up just enough so he’s looking at you and not over you. These gestures are enough for Grog to open his eyes. When there’s no look of anger on your face the tension in his body falls away just slightly. There’s still some rigidness from nerves but he’s closer to usual Grog.

“Chin up, big guy. You saved me too. I’m not mad.” You smile and the smile is returned. The air is still somewhat awkward so you decided you best get this over with and clear it up.

“How much did you hear?” You ask. The blush rushing to Grog’s cheeks and frantic glancing around to make sure no one else is here to witness it tells you he heard enough.

With a deep sigh you step back to the balustrade sitting down upon it once more but now to face Grog instead of the sky, your hair blowing lightly in the breeze, the rain and occasional illuminated sky behind you leave him staring yet again forgetting your question. He’s just captivated but you calling his name snaps him out of it. Saved it. Still got it. As long as he doesn’t turn to ‘drunk Keyleth’ levels he’ll consider it a win.

“I-uhhhh…. Why don’t you think I like you?” Grog twiddles his thumbs rocking back and forth from his tiptoes to his heels in anticipation of your answer. He knows he heard you tell the sky but he wants to be sure because if he gave you any reason to believe he didn’t like you, he did do something wrong. He’ll pick you over any of those other fools down stairs. He might just even pick you over the best ale. He’d already picked you over the ale he’d been offered. If that isn’t testament to his fondness of you, then what is?

“Ah, so you did hear that. I just- I think-. Ugh, why is this so hard?” You try to express your reasons but words are difficult and feelings even more so to describe yet still you try. Grog waits patiently either way.

“Do you think we would have been friends were it not for our lives being tied together as they are now?” You ask the dreaded question. You don’t even know if you really want the answer afraid that it may break any semblance of hope you had somewhere in your mind. Grog’s brow furrows, deep in thought but mostly confusion.

“Of course we would be. Why wouldn’t we?”

“Because I’m not like you. I’m not a fighter. I stay back with my spells and incantations while you run in axe swinging taking down anyone in your path. I read while you train. I sit around in my tower watching the skies while you go out and drink the town dry looking for a fight to enjoy. I could never do what you do and I do not dare to assume you’d have any interest in doing what I do.” The thoughts and feelings find words. A tension lifts from your chest like a breath you didn’t know you were holding just by speaking your mind to the goliath in question.

Grog knows damn well you’re not a fighter in the traditional sense. No steel or arrows for you but that does not mean you’re not a fighter in your own right. If he’s learned anything a fighter comes in many shapes and forms and you fit the description perfectly. You’ve shown determination and strength, courage against all odds and immense skill. You are a fighter.

“When I run into danger kicking ass who’s had my back every time?” Grog asks. There’s a harshness and authority in his voice indicating he’s leading somewhere and you better answer.

“We all have-“ Grog cuts you off.

“No. You have had my back every time.” He corrects. “Who comes watch me train, throwing spells to keep me on my toes? Who does it while reading her books completing not one but two tasks at the same time?”

“I do.” You admit.

“And who helps me kick ass in bar fights? Who cheers me on or joins me in any gamble or drinking game? Who is the best drinking buddy? You are. Now, who spends time with you watching storms whenever they occur up here in the tower or anywhere else?”

“You… do…” Grog’s right.

“I like to spend time with you because I like you. I don’t care you don’t swing an axe. That firestorm you do works just the same and looks way more badass. I’m not the smartest but I know two of the same are not always useful and can be too much. What are you going to do with two when you only need one. You need difference so they compitry- complitarity- colmpli-“ Grog struggles with that word. He’s heard Percy use it in a similar context but why is it such a difficult word to recall. He still tries and just hopes you’ll get what he’s trying to say.

“Complimentary?” You ask. You fear Grog might get himself a migraine if he tries any harder. You still don’t think that’s the correct use of the word but you get it. He’s trying to lift your spirits and it’s working.

“That one. Yes. Complimentary. I don’t just like you, I love you for who you are. You’re special and being different makes you special.” Grog admits he tries to fight the heat rising to his cheeks from admitting what he did but when he sees your smile grow, that’s enough to push his pride aside and let it be. Maybe he can do this thing Pike usually does after all? Maybe not unless it’s you. When he tells you he loves you he means it. When he has to say it to the likes of Vax he’d rather eat his own boots for lunch.

You gesture with your hand and beckon the goliath over to come closer. You rise to stand on the edge of the balustrade and wrap your arms around Grog’s neck holding him close. You feel his arms wrap around you in turn and pull you closer to where your feet barely touch the stone.

“Thank you. You have no idea how much that means to me.” You pull back to look Grog in the eyes as he still holds onto you and take his cheeks between your hands giving him a quick kiss. Grog’s eyes light up and lifts you up higher offering you a kiss of his own. Sweet and short and filled with glee. He sets you back down on your feet but doesn’t let go of you yet.

“Do you want to go back downstairs? Last I checked there was a drinking game going on? Should we show them what we’re made off?” You grin and the proud look on Grog’s face tells you enough to know exactly what you’re talking about.

“Let me tell you the tale of my grand victories-“ Grog starts as he begins leading you back down the stairs, arm wrapped around your shoulders pulling you into his side as you walk.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #vox machina x reader #grog x reader #critical role #vox machina

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sourholland · 3 years

Text

A Royal Convienence || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part One

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

AN → I’m so excited for this, I honestly thought it’d be out a little sooner but whatever.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 1.8k

Word of the royal engagement had spread quickly, not only by mouth, but through the newspapers as well.

Prince Thomas of Wales and Princess Y/N of France would be married in the spring. Only six weeks awaiting the royal wedding where the crown prince would marry the firstborn princess of France. Rumors of His Majesty, King Dominic’s ill health thickened the air, leaving the country to wonder if the reason for the sudden alliance was perhaps in favor of the succession of the eldest prince.

“Your Royal Highness,” the man bowed his head as you stepped from the ship onto the dock.

You lifted your gloved hand to his outstretched fingers, helping you onto the grass. The clouds hung grayly in the sky, droplets of rain threatening to spill. The man guided you to the carriage not far from where you’d disembarked. He was clearly a member of the royal guard, dressed stiffly and talking very little. You couldn’t tell if this was due to your status or the requirements he was to adhere to.

The inside of the carriage was decorated richly, plush bench seats accompanied by satin curtains of gold. You were tempted to reach over and touch them, retracting your hand when the carriage jerked and began to move through the crowded streets of London.

You were exhausted, hardly sleeping on the journey from France. You’d been unable to keep down any food, seasick and lethargic the whole way. You hadn’t been able to freshen up, assuming that your hair which had been pulled back was a mess by now. You also hadn’t been afforded the luxury of taking your ladies with you, some of which had been with you since you were a girl. This was making things like lacing your own corset considerably more difficult.

The whole way to Buckingham Palace had gone by rather fast, the scenery passing you by reduced to blurs in your memory. It was a much different atmosphere than that of France, or at least what you’d been allowed to see of it. You spent most of your early life being taught how to rule a country, being the heir to the throne until you reached the age of fourteen. Your mother, the Queen Consort Marie, had finally produced a son, an heir, a male to take the throne once the king died.

This day, the day when your brother Prince Louis was born, had been one of the most dreadful days of your life. Everything you’d been working towards, learning about, being trained for, was stripped away from you. After that, you’d been reduced to what it seemed every woman was around you, aristocracy or not, an object of marriage.

Some years later, you would be called into the throne room and told by your father that you would be wed to the Crown Prince of England. You’d only met Prince Thomas once before, at the English Duke’s wedding when you were only twelve years old. He had been only fourteen, unbothered and unfazed by your presence. From what you recalled, your encounter with him had been less than pleasant.

You’d made several attempts to speak with the Prince throughout the night, taking your mother’s words of encouragement. He brushed you off every time, once telling you that he did not care for the French, nor your way of approaching the ‘next King of England.’

“Ma’am.”

You were brought away from your thoughts at the man’s words, your head rising from its place at the wall of the carriage. You glanced out the window, the large palace greeting you. You remembered nothing of coming through the gates, or even seeing the Buckingham Palace for the first time.

You stepped out, flattening your skirts with your palms and doing the best with your hair. You couldn’t imagine how improper you’d probably looked, your stomach churning at the thought of walking through the doors of the palace.

The walk from the carriage to the set of doors that led you into the large entryway was short. The walls were covered in rich fabrics, candles lighting each walkway. The guards accompanying you remained silent, the sound of your shoes against the fine carpet in your ears. You remembered your governess, the way she’d always remind you that a princess never slouched. The straightening of your back and extra spry in your step helped you to gain back a bit of confidence.

Through what felt like dozens of twists and turns, the tallest guard was pushing open two large doors. You stepped in wearily, recognizing it as the throne room. You suddenly became very aware of your appearance, the way you must be an absolute mess.

“Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of France,” he announced to the room.

You walked before the throne and gave a deep curtsy to both King Dominic and Queen Nicola. You met each of their eyes nervously, you knew it was wrong to look for any bit of illness in the king, unable to help yourself from noticing his paleness and sunken in eyes.

“Your Majesties,” you addressed.

“Why, I haven’t seen you since you were a girl,” she remarked. “Of course, then you were to be the Queen of France. And now—well, there’s Prince Louis, correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you answered with a twinge of bitterness. “My brother should take the throne some day.”

King Dominic’s eyes scanned over you promptly, looking for any imperfection, any flaw to point out. This wasn’t odd behavior of a king, yet it still seemed to make you stammer over your words.

“You’ve grown very beautifully, I’m glad of this,” she added. “We’ve had portraits sent over, however, I will say that you are a fine-looking girl.”

There was no sign of the Prince, nor his younger brothers. It was only the king and the queen that occupied the throne room. You felt almost relieved of this, not wishing to see any more people in your current state. You also dreaded your imminent fate, a vow of marriage to a man you hardly knew, let alone could stand.

The large doors opened once more, revealing the eldest Prince, behind him were the twins, and next was the youngest. Prince Thomas held a blank expression, his eyes not yet meeting your own as he walked with his brothers to bow at his parents feet.

“Thomas, I’m sure you remember Y/N,” his mother said, motioning towards you.

His gaze fell on you, his eyes dipping from the cream colored skirts that swayed at your feet, to the mess of hair falling into your face slightly. His hair was slicked back and styled, the embroidery on his tunic rich and in season. His eyes darkened, a look of disdain flashing for a moment.

“I do, mum, I quite clearly recall us being introduced at cousin George’s wedding a few years back,” he answered.

He forced a grin, looking to his mother for approval. She went on about wedding preparations, dining plans, and which wing of the castle your chamber would be. It didn’t take long for you to realize how much of a rambler Queen Nicola truly was. You could only blame it on her longing for a daughter, and the fact that this was the first wedding she’d be able to orchestrate for one of her sons.

“Tomorrow you’ll meet me to choose an engagement ring, then to tea where your Ladies in Waiting will be,” she spoke modestly. “It’s far too late to do anything this evening. Though, I’m sure a chaperone could be arranged if you and Tom wished to speak for a time privately.”

“That won’t be necessary, mum. It’s quite late, I’m sure the Princess would rather retire to her chamber for the night,” the Prince interrupted. Good, you thought. You had no desire to be anywhere near Thomas, not now, and definitely not for what was playing out to be the rest of your miserable life.

“Ma’am,” you started. “Do excuse me if I’m incorrect, however, I thought Prince Thomas should have been the one to choose an engagement ring?” You asked, a snort came from Tom, a dismissive look from the Queen following. He grimaced as his younger brother, Prince Sam, you assumed, had elbowed him in the ribs.

“Well—yes, you are correct. Traditionally, if you and Thomas had courted, and then he’d gone to your father for his blessing, he would have chosen an engagement ring once you agreed to have him. This is not a traditional engagement, though. You’ll look through some of our most precious jewels, I assure you, Y/N.”

You felt your face heat up at her words, drowning out the last of her speech and curtsying again as she and the king left the room. The three younger Princes followed suit, Tom stopped at the archway for a moment. A servant most likely waited behind those slightly ajar doors, ready to escort you to your chambers.

“Princess,” your title lingered on his lips.

“Prince Thomas, can I help you?”

“I wish you would not refer to me as Thomas, that god awful name is reserved for my mother,” he said shortly. “Tom will do fine.”

“Prince Tom, then. Is there a reason you’ve stayed back? We shouldn’t be alone in here,” you had only been in the palace a short time and the last thing you wanted was a scandal.

His expression was not endearing in the least, he looked burdened by you. His jaw was set, his eyes malice, the curl of his lip in disgust. You took in a breath, mimicking his body language and going to pass him out into the hall. You were caught off guard by the jerking of your forearm, his hand grasping at it harshly and pulling you much closer to his face than you had been before.

“If this is what I must do for my country then so be it, however, do not think for a second that I would ever willingly marry someone like you,” he cursed, leaning in so close that you could feel his cool breath on your skin.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” you said, looking him dead in the eyes. The weight of his words stung like a blade, his expression like pouring salt into an open wound.

“Well then, something we can agree on.”

You yanked away from him, brushing off his grasp and looking up at him with narrowed-eyes. He gritted his teeth as you flattened the fabric of your skirts once more before you left the large room in a fleeting motion.

taglist- @justapurrcat @witchyartemis @keithseabrook27 @clara-licht @dummiesshort @username2002 @imaginationisgrowth @nova-sup3r

#tom holland imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #prince!tom #prince!tom x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine

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mothandpidgeon · 3 years

Text

Extra Credit (Professor!Dave York AU)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Dave York x F Reader

Words: 2865

Rating: VERY E 18+!

Warnings: student/teacher quid pro quo (safe to say this falls under DUB CON so please be careful!!!), spanking, humiliation/degradation, oral sex, orgasm denial, spitting, pussy slapping, biting/marking, p in v sex, Dave York

Summary: With graduation on the horizon, you just have to pass Professor Dave York’s class. But a bad choice on the final assignment leaves your grades in jeopardy. But he’s willing to give you extra credit if you can follow instructions.

a/n: First off, PLEASE MAKE SURE YOU MIND THE WARNINGS. I did not see myself sharing this kind of stuff but I guess I'm freaky like that.

Second, I’m sorry this has the plot of a bad p*rno but sometimes it be like that. Thanks @pascalslittlebrat, @starlightmornings and @mouthymandalorian for encouraging this. It is filth. And thank you P for the gorgeous moodboard!!!!

Also, here is my assignment for the class. What subject do you think Professor York teaches? I was thinking Political Science. Would love to hear your ideas.

It was hot in the lecture hall, one of those early spring days when the weather decided winter was officially over. You had only a few more weeks until graduation and you were white knuckling to the end.

It had been a tough semester. You had your classes to deal with and your motivation was dipping. It wasn’t entirely your fault. You’d had to take on a full time job on top of your studies. Your shitty little car always seemed to be in the shop and your roommate had turned into a psychopath so you slept with one eye open.

Professor York’s class was the hardest you’d ever taken. You liked his style, his dry sense of humor as he lectured. But he was difficult to please. Most professors let their TAs do their the grading but not him. No matter how hard you worked on your papers, you couldn’t wrestle anything higher than a B- from Professor York.

The TA was handing back your papers, the last assignment for the semester, and he placed yours face down in front of you. There was no grade on it just red pen that spelled out see me after class in tight, neat handwriting. Fuck.

You looked up to see Professor York glowering at you from his spot at the front of the hall. You approached him as the other students filed out. You wished you could share their relief that this class was finally done but you had a knot in your stomach.

“Have a seat,” he said, taking the paper from you and tapping it in his palm.

There was a chair next to the professor’s desk and you sat down putting your bag beside you.

“Thanks, Tyler,” he said, dismissing the TA.

When the lecture hall was empty, Professor York sat behind the desk, eyes skimming your paper.

“I wanted to talk to you about this,” he said.

You nodded, too nervous to try speaking.

“This is some great work. This is the kind of essay that really sticks with you after you read it,” he said. His brown eyes were warm and soft and he sat forward in his chair.

You were dumbfounded, your anxiety quickly washing away.

“That’s probably how I know I already read this,” he said, his features suddenly darkening.

Your stomach plummeted into your feet. You were such an ass, thinking you could get away with it.

“I don’t tolerate plagiarism,” he told you.

With everything that had been going on this semester, you didn’t have it in you to complete this final assignment. It wasn’t like you were going to get a good grade anyway. You’d been so exhausted, you hardly cared if you got caught when you’d handed it in. But now that you had to face Professor York, you were kicking yourself.

“I find it highly disrespectful that you would try and pass this off as your work. You know you can be expelled for this?” he asked.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’ve just had so much work to do-“

“I’m not interested in excuses,” he snapped.

You shut your mouth and felt tears bite at your eyes.

“Are you going to cry?” he asked in disgust. “That’s not going to work on me.”

“Professor, if I fail this class I’m not going to graduate. Please. I’ll do anything to just pass,” you said.

“Anything?”

“Anything,” you said. The word sounded so definitive when it left your lips.

Professor York leaned back in his chair, swiping his finger across his lower lip in thought.

“I can give you extra credit but you have to do exactly what I tell you,” he said.

You were so relieved, you nodded breathlessly.

His lips curled into a smile.

“What color panties are you wearing?” He asked.

Your cheeks set on fire but heat also pooled between your legs. “I- what?” You managed.

“Show them to me,” he commanded.

Your whole body flushed and you stared at him, wide eyed. You had to be dreaming. You’d always found Professor York sexy with that grin and his deep voice but he wouldn’t- this wasn’t happening.

“Do you want extra credit or do you want me to give this paper to your advisor?” He asked, his tone suddenly harsh.

You swallowed hard. Why did his words send a shiver down your spine? You picked up the hem of your skirt and lifted it so Professor York could see between your legs. You looked away, blushing deeply.

He made a guttural noise that made you drop your skirt and clench your thighs together.

“Give them to me,” he said.

Your mouth hung open. He looked completely serious, blinking at you slowly as if this was a casual request. You bit down hard on your lip but finally you relented.

You squirmed out of your panties, being careful that you didn’t give him a show in the process, and placed them in his large, outstretched hand.

He put them to his nose, inhaled, and then squirreled them away in his back pocket, all the while watching you with amusement.

“Stand up. Put your hands on the desk,” he said.

You couldn’t move, sitting there with a gaping mouth. Finally he narrowed his eyes and you did as he said. You put your palms against the table top, aware of the vulnerable way you were leaned over. His eyes moved over your form and he wore the same self-satisfied expression that came when a student asked a stupid question.

Once he was finished admiring your obedience, he stood up and walked behind you. Your heart was pumping wildly as he stepped closer and you could smell his cologne, leather and tobacco.

“I‘ll pass you but I don’t want you thinking you’re getting off easy,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said.

He chuckled and your breath caught. You felt him lift your skirt up, the fabric skimming over your bare ass, and you gasped. He didn’t touch you but he made a noise of approval that shot through you.

“I’m going to hit you five times,” he said into your ear. “You tell me if it’s too much.”

You nodded without even knowing you were doing it. What the fuck was happening? You were standing in the empty lecture hall, bent over, ass out, and desperate to graduate. You couldn’t believe Professor York’s audacity and yet you were going to let him spank you like you were a little girl. It wasn’t like you had a choice, you told yourself.

Before you could make sense of it, his hand connected with you and you let out a grunt. Were you getting wet? You definitely should not be enjoying this.

He hit you again and this time a moan escaped from you. You clamped your hand over your mouth.

“Hands on the desk,” he commanded.

You put it back down and another strike came against you. The sound of his punishment seemed to be echoing off the walls of the empty room.

He pulled your hips into him to steady you as he went on. You loved the feeling of his arm wrapped around your middle, holding you firm.

When he was finished, you were nearly shaking, your pulse quick and your lips parted. You were still reeling not least of all due to the fact that you wanted more.

“Good girl,” Professor York purred smoothing his hand over the spot he’d turned red. His fingers dipped between your legs to feel the slick on your lips. “You’re not going to learn your lesson if you’re enjoying this.”

He came up right behind you so he could wrap his hand around your front and stroke at you. You were thankful your palms were braced against the desk because your knees nearly gave out.

“Professor,” you tried.

“Did I say you could speak?” he asked, a hand gripping your hair.

“What if someone comes in?” Your voice shook.

“Then you’ll have to tell them why you’re failing my class,” he said and continued to play his fingers between your legs.

You whimpered. You could feel his hard length through his pants pressed into the tender flesh of your ass. Your head spun. You knew how fucked up this was but you didn’t want it to end. Professor York’s fingers circled you expertly and you felt like you were melting in his hands. You forgot everything— the circumstances that lead you to this moment, that this was your teacher, that you were exposed in public. Nothing existed except for your pleasure building and building.

As the sensation mounted in you, you began to buck against his hand.

“Are you close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Good,” he replied and suddenly, his hand was gone.

You cried out in desperation. You clenched at nothing, left at the precipice with no relief. You were throbbing almost painfully. Professor York caught your chin in one of his hands, squeezing your face and wrenching your head around to look at him.

“Do you deserve to cum?” he asked.

You thought you might actually cry between your need for his touch and the fear his voice instilled in you.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

You shook your head.

“No,” he confirmed.

He loosened his grip on you and, for the briefest moment that softness returned to his eyes. You looked at him, eyes glassy and practically drooling, wishing he would touch you again.

“Needy girl,” he chided. “On your knees.”

He pulled you to your feet by the back of your skirt and you got down, bare knees and shins on the tile floor. You gazed up at him, still a little nervous, still pulsing between your thighs.

Professor York undid a few of the buttons of your shirt and skimmed his knuckle across your breast with a hum.

“Maybe I should take this too. Matching set,” he said. He snapped your bra strap which made you jump. “Off.”

He palmed the bulge in his pants as he watched you remove your shirt and unhook your bra. He squeezed one of your tits and pinched your pebbled nipple until you flinched.

“You want to pass?” he asked you, repeating the motion on the other side.

You nodded and he arched an eyebrow.

“Yes,” you said.

“You want to please me?” Now his hand ran gently along your jawline.

“Yes,” you breathed. You’d been trying all this time, studying hard, staying up all night to perfect your papers. Now you had a new goal in mind though you were afraid it was just as unattainable.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed and when you did he spit into it. “Don’t swallow that.”

You stayed like that, with your mouth open as he released himself from his pants. There was a dark patch on his boxer briefs stained by precum. You watched him wildly as he pulled at himself and a glistening bead appeared at his tip. Saliva, yours or his, was dribbling out of the corners of your mouth, dripping on your hard nipples.

“Don’t you look pretty. I hope you can suck cock better than you write papers,” he mocked.

For some reason this was what made your eyes pop. You asked yourself if you were really going to suck off your professor for a good grade. As if you hadn’t just handed him your panties. As if you hadn’t just let him smack your ass. As if your thighs weren’t drenched with your own slick.

He approached you, still stroking himself and you were jealous. You wanted that friction on yourself, were dying for more.

You didn’t have to be told what to do. You wrapped your wet lips around his thick length and your tongue swirled around him.

“Eyes on me,” he demanded.

You looked up at him, and grasped his shaft in your hand as you sunk your mouth around him as far as you could go. Your saliva dripped down his cock pooling in your fist.

“Fuck,” he said.

That word excited you. You kept going, watching him try to keep his eyes open as you surrounded him. The noise of your lips on him was almost disgusting, wet and squelching, and yet it was driving you insane. You clenched your core for some kind of relief that wouldn’t come.

He thrust deeper into your mouth and you tried to take him in but gagged. You pulled away, his cock bouncing out of your mouth and you coughed.

“Good girl,” he said. “Look at you trying to earn that extra credit.”

Tears stung in your eyes as you tried to recover.

“You still want to cum?” he asked, one hand pumping himself slowly.

You nodded timidly. More than anything in the fucking world. But you didn’t want to seem too eager, aware that he was ready at any moment to rescind the offer.

“Sit on the desk,” he said and you did. “Greedy little brat.”

Professor York slid your skirt up your thighs and that sensation alone felt erotic. He inserted two fingers into your mouth and you sucked them hungrily while he grinned.

He slid them across your folds and you were already so sensitive your back arched. He surprised you by getting down on his knees, opening your legs and throwing your thighs over his shoulders. You leaned back on your hands, laid out across the desk, fully on display.

You heard a noise in the hallway and gasped, your head snapping towards the door. But your attention was immediately drawn back to Professor York when you felt him smack you between the legs.

“Do you want to cum or not?”

“Please,” you begged.

He gave you a dark smile and then began nipping at the inside of your thighs. When he got closer to your center, he bit and sucked hard. You let out a breath, a mix of pleasure and pain.

“When you think about this later, I want you to touch yourself and look at this,” he said, swiping the pad of his thumb over the welt he’d just left there.

You let out a shuddering breath and he began to nibble at your clit between his lips. When your hand automatically shot into his hair, he grabbed you by the wrist and removed it, holding your palm against the desk. His tongue lavished you, churning you into a frenzy, and it didn’t take long before you were back where you’d been before. You were panting and grinding your hips into him.

This time he let you hit your high and you trembled and thrashed as he worked at you. It felt like you’d been wiped out by a wave, not being able to sense up from down. You were mewling and shaking when you finally begged him to stop, overwhelmed and cloyed.

He stood and wiped you from his chin and then said, “I’m going to fuck you now.”

You nodded frantically. He pushed into you and you were sure he could feel you still fluttering around him. You were wetter than you could ever remember but still he was difficult for you to take and you inhaled sharply. He didn’t seem to care, snapping his hips into you and grunting, one hand balling your skirt in his fist against you. Soon, though, you were lost in the sensation of his thrusts.

You didn’t even realize that you were whining loudly as he fucked you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Professor York took your panties from his pocket and shoved them in your mouth to stifle your cries.

“You’re going to have to quiet down,” he rasped.

You whimpered against the fabric in your mouth and he smiled wickedly. He put his hand around the back of your neck to draw you in closer and he pressed into you faster and faster. He pulled out and you heard your own muffled moan at the loss of him. He worked at himself, spilling over your thigh and on your skirt with a groan.

Both of you took a moment to catch your breath and you watched as the professor leaned over you on his hands, swallowed, and then stood up, as composed as ever. He laughed quietly to himself as he took the panties out of your mouth and smoothed his hair.

“Put your clothes on. I have another class to get to,” he said, handing you a handkerchief and zipping himself up. He slid your panties back in his pocket.

You felt shaky on your feet after you’d mopped up his spend. You got dressed wondering how you were going to get through the rest of the day commando, with a ruined skirt, and the remnants of your professor’s cum drying onto your skin. He didn’t say anything else. You hooked your bag over your shoulder and Professor York looked you up and down one last time. He handed you back your essay. It was soaked through down the middle and you realized you’d been sitting on it on the desk. At the top was a new note in red pen: see me after graduation and his phone number.

You got an A.

-----

tagging some folks: @pascalslittlebrat @mouthymandalorian @starlightmornings @purplepascal042 @originallaura @cheekygeek05 @fangirl-316 @fairytale07 @tuskens-mando @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-skov @skulliebythesea @oceanablue @rebel-soldat @goddessinwolfskin @stevie75 @yespolkadotkitty @danniburgh @221bshrlocked

#dave york #dave york au #dave york x reader #dave york pit #oneshot #dave york x reader fic #dave york fic #professor!au #au

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forever-rogue · 3 years

Note

congrats on the followers milestone! can i request

“You’re shaking.” from prompt list 3 with Javier Peña? ❤️

Ask and you shall receive, my love 💕😌

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader; warnings: depictions of violence & angst

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Javier," you didn't even open your eyes as you reached out for him. You were buried in a cocoon of warm, plush blankets, resting on a pillow that smelled just like him.

It was late - so late that it was early in the morning. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you listened to him continue to pace his bedroom. The window was wide open, letting in the soft sounds of the lightly falling rain, but it still wasn't enough to drown out the shuffling of his feet. His body was practically humming with nervous energy as he couldn't quite seem to calm down.

"You're going to wear a hole in the floor," you pouted as you sneaked a peek at him, finding him standing at the foot of the bed, shoulders slumped and hanging his head in...shame? Worry? Something was weighing heavy on him.

He got like this sometimes; but you didn't blame him. While you didn't work for the DEA and weren't completely privy to every aspect of his job, you knew it was hardly rainbows and sunshine. But you never, ever pried, rather, you provided whatever he needed. Sometimes it was silence, a comforting touch as he pondered over his actions. Sometimes it was listening to him as he ranted and raved about his day. Sometimes it was providing a sounding board he posed different theories about anything and everything.

But most importantly, it was you being you. He loved you more than life itself, and at the end of the day, getting to come home to you, to be yours, was more than he could have dreamed of. You were the reminder that for all the bad that was in the world, there was still some good. There was still a reason to hope, a reason to get up every morning and fight for the right thing.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned around and looked at you, nothing but sorrow etched in his eyes. Those soft brown eyes were often filled with so much emotion, so many things all at once - honeyed and golden - and now? They were tired, empty- hollow. He exhaled slowly, a long shaky thing before he offered you a small nod.

You sat up and held your hand to him, beckoning for him to come closer. Javier stared at your outstretched hand for a moment before caving and giving you his own, much larger hand. Pulling him closer to you, he gave in and sat at the end of the bed.

"I love these hands," you whispered before bringing it to your lips and gently kissed his knuckles, "so strong and calloused, but still soft and tender under it all. One of the best parts of my day is getting to hold one of these hands - or to be held by them."

"Dulzura," it was the first time he had spoken since he'd arrived home. It had been late and you were already in bed. He'd barely alerted you to his presence, only announcing his arrival with a soft kiss to your forehead that had stirred you from your slumber.

"Javier," you reached over and touched his cheek before tracing over his features, "I love you, so much. I want you to always know that. You don't have to tell me what's going on, but you know I will be here for you no matter what."

Almost as if a weight had been magically lifted from his shoulders, he let out a gentle sigh before closing his eyes and keening into your touch. You were the sun, despite the cold, dark embrace of the night, and he was lucky enough to be in your orbit.

"I love you," he whispered gruffly, his voice catching on each syllable. Before he could think twice about it, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you closer, wanting to feel the sacred intimacy of your skin on his, "I will always protect you. Yeah?"

"Javier," you smiled softly before pressing your forehead against his, "I know that. You don't have to tell me what's on your mind, but if you want to, you know I'll listen. I'm not here to judge you; you think you're this monster, but I know you're not. You're a good man, despite what you think."

Javier made a small sound in his throat before gently laying you back down in your pile of blankets; they were soft - so soft - just like your heart. Instead of getting up to aimlessly pace around, he laid down next to you, facing you, as he slung an around your waist and tangled his legs with yours. Reaching over, you brushed a stray curl from his forehead before giving him a gentle kiss. The worry on his face eased up ever so slightly as you closed your eyes and pulled him against your chest before using him as your pillow.

It wasn't long before you were asleep again, delicately snoring in his arms as he tried to ground himself with your presence. But sleep still managed to evade him, and he laid there with a multitude of dark thoughts in his mind.

But at least you weren't one of them.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be a quick in and out of the small supermarket. Another long week had passed and you had wanted to surprise Javi with his favorites for dinner.

It was all supposed to be so simple.

And now?

You were lying against a mess of rubble and smoke, your ears ringing out of control as your vision grew hazy. Everything hurt, but you were alive - covered in blood, not all your own, as you tried to make sense of what happened. Abrasions and gashes liberally covered your body as you tried to wipe away the grime from your face.

All around you people were running around frantically, screaming and shouting. You didn't blame them; if you hadn't been so confused and taken aback by what happened you would have been the same.

You pulled yourself up on shaking, trembling legs, and tried to navigate away from the ruin. Whatever type of bomb that had been used was enough for this building and the next, it had caused nothing but chaos. All you knew was that you wanted to get out. Out, out, out and into safety.

But before you could escape, you heard frenzied shouts of your name among the loud ringing and screams. You looked around and found Javier sprinting over to you.

He stopped as soon as he was in front of you, his hands finding your face as he looked you over. You didn't even realize you'd begun to cry until you felt his hand brush away some of the tears.

He was speaking - asking you questions but you didn't hear a word. His hands went to your shoulders as he tried to shake you and pull you back in reality but nothing worked. It was like you were watching a movie play out, but this wasn’t anything like that - this was a horrifying reality. The worst part? You were one of the lucky ones.

You were in such a daze that you shut down, finding yourself blankly staring back at him. Nothing but fear and worry clouded his expression as he tried to get you to say something - anything - back to him.

The last thing you remembered was him pulling you into his arms and turning away from the horrific scene.

»»————-　♡　————-««

The next time you woke up it was quiet. Almost too quiet and nothing met your ears the harsh ticking of the clock on the wall and the beeping of the several machines. A small groan left your lips as you slowly moved, trying to stretch your stiff limbs as you woke up.

Rubbing at your heavy eyes, you frowned deeply when you saw all the contusions and lingering scratches on your hand.

Oh. It hadn’t been some sort of wicked dream or nightmare.

Your throat was practically raw as you tried to swallow, screaming in pain. You quickly spied the pitcher of water and sad plastic cups on the table next to your bed, reaching for it hastily as you poured a cup and downed it in one go. It was warm and almost metallic; you wondered how long it had been there. How long you had been there.

Studying the IV in your arms, along with other various implements, you sighed as you tried not to cry. Everything hurt, every fiber of your being felt like it was aching to the bone. Pulling back the thin, scratchy blanket, you realized your lower half didn’t look much better. Your legs were nothing but constellations of black and blue tinged with green. As if to test the waters, you moved each leg, flexing your feet and knees, as if just checking to make sure everything still worked. Just in case. Just because.

It hurt now, and no doubt for a long time, but you were alive. You were still breathing, taking in shallow breath after shallow painful breath. But you were still here. That’s what mattered.

You looked around for someone...anyone. But found no one. Your heart fell a little as you had half expected Javier to be there, or perhaps Steve, or maybe even Connie. But there was no one. Half tempted to get up and move around, or at least try, you refrained and hit the call button on the remote on your side instead.

It was only a few moments before you heard footsteps approaching and a nurse poke in her head. Her face lit up when she noticed that you were awake and conscious, despite the sight for sore eyes that you currently were.

“You’re awake,” she came over and looked at you, a hand going to your face as she brushed away a few tangled locks from your forehead, “a welcome surprise. How are you feeling?”

“Like death,” you admitted quietly, “but I’m here, and that’s...that’s the important part.”

“You survived a bombing.” she reminded you, “being here is the only thing right now. How’s the pain?”

“Just sore,” you admitted, not quite feeling the full effects just yet, “am I...anything permanent?”

“No,” she promised as you felt a wave of relief wash over you, “you got lucky. You’ll be back to normal eventually, right now you’ll need lots of rest - for your body and mind. We just want to keep you for a few more days to make sure there’s no infection with anything. You had a few good gashes on your legs and abdomen.”

“Okay,” you let out a stunted exhale as you realized that no matter what happened, you were in good hands and had been well taken care of. But that still didn’t solve the mystery of why you were alone, “there was a man that brought me in I’m sure...is he...here?”

“Javier?” she asked as you nodded lightly, “he had to leave on an emergency call. Don’t worry, sweetheart, he hasn’t left your side in days.”

“Days?” you tilted your head to the side in confusion, “how long have I been here?”

“Almost a week,” she gave a tight lipped smile, “go on and rest, and I’ll bring you something to eat. I’m sure he'll be back soon.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

But soon turned into hours and those hours stretched into the wee hours of the night, and eventually you fell back asleep. The amount of painkillers and fluids were enough to keep you drowsy and despite wanting to see Javier, you couldn’t stay awake.

It had hurt your feelings a little - the fact that no one stopped in to see you. But you decided not to take it personally; work was probably insane at the moment.

Javier didn’t make an appearance until the next afternoon.

His tread was light as he hovered in the doorway, almost as if studying you to see if you were conscious.

“Javi,” you beamed when you spotted him, slowly sitting up as best as you could. Your heart instantly felt better at the sight of your lover as he shuffled into the room. You’d expected him to be excited, to smile, to cry, to...something. But there was...nothing. You frowned as he came and stood at the side of your bed, “Javier? W-what’s wrong, mi amor?”

“Look at you,” he whispered softly after a few tense moments, reaching up and gingerly touching your cheek. You sighed and reached for his hand but he quickly flinched out of your grasp.

“It’s okay,” you promised softly, surprised by his recoil, “it looks bad now, but it will be better. They said nothing is permanent. I’ll be fine soon enough.”

“You were almost killed and you think this is fine?!” you had never heard him shout before, not like this, not in such anger. His nostrils flared as he ran a hand over his tired face, “you look terrible, you were barely conscious and then in a coma for a week. Nothing about this is fine!”

“Javi,” you had leaned away at the sound of yelling, confused and hurt by his harsh response, “I’m alive, okay? That’s what matters. The rest will get better -”

“What about all the people that it won’t get better for?” he sighed as he turned around for a moment, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, “what if it had been you? If something worse had happened to you, I would never be able to live with myself.”

“But it didn’t,” you whispered, “and I know it’s hard to accept right now, but I am okay and it will get better and this isn’t your fault. Please, Javier, calm down, my love, you’re shaking…”

“This was because of me,” he turned around, an emotionless mask on his face, “don’t you understand that? This happened to you because you know me...because you’re with me.”

“Javier-”

“I couldn’t even protect you,” he hung his head with a bitter laugh, “I promised I would always protect you, and I couldn’t even do that much. What if...I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this every day knowing how easy it is for them to get to you. I won’t have anything happen to you just because you’re mine - because of me.”

“You didn’t….” you paused and tried to reach for him, holding out your hand and offering it to him as you had done countless times before. Except this time...he didn’t take it, “Javier. I know this was bad, and I know that it wasn’t your fault. You did protect me - if you hadn’t gotten me here in time, or came to me, it could have been so much worse. I’m not...I know the risks of your job, Javi, but it doesn’t scare me. Not away from you….I love you.”

“I know,” he answered gruffly, “I know you do. Despite the fact that I’m a bad man that does bad things. And I love you too. That’s why I have to do this….”

“Do what?” you asked as your heart plummeted into your stomach at the tone of his words. This wasn’t good - no this..was very bad, “Javier? What’s...what’s going on?”

“As soon as you’re well enough to travel, you’re going home,” he didn’t even look at you as your mouth dropped in horror and confusion, “you’re getting on the first plane back to the states. And you’re never setting foot back in Colombia.”

“Javier,” your voice cracked as he refused to meet your eyes, “you can’t just do that. You can’t-”

“I have and I will,” he answered gruffly, “it’s been taken care of. The DEA will set you up with a new place and help you find a new job. Please...just don’t argue with me. Just…”

“You can’t do this,” you were crying now, as your whole world crumbled around you and Javier started to walk away, refusing to look at you again, “please...please don’t do this. Please don’t make me leave. Don’t - don’t...walk away. Javier, I love you, and I want to be here with you. I don’t care about anything else!”

“I know, Dulzura,” he whispered as he paused in the doorway, his back still to you, “I love you more than you will ever know. That’s why this has to be done. Please just...do this one thing. For me.”

“Javier...don’t walk away,” you were begging him, your chest tightening in constricting as it got harder and harder to breathe, “p-p-please don’t do this. Please don’t leave me - not like this. Please.”

“I am sorry,” he promised gently, “I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. But I do love you, truly, that’s why I have to do this. You will thank me one day.”

“Javier,” he turned and walked out of the small room, pausing for just a moment before he exhaled shakily and walked away. If you had seen him, you’d have seen the most heartbroken look on his face as tears streamed down his cheeks. But you didn’t; instead you sat there, helpless and small as your vision grew warm and bleary with your own tears.

You hid your face in your hands as you cried and cried and cried until you couldn’t anymore. No one came in, no one said anything, and he never came back.

This was….it. A new life without your love.

Empty, hollow, broken. Just like him - and now you.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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gripefroot · 3 years

Text

A Court of Dusk and Shadows ❲1❳

The throne was white.

No - it was every color of a sunset. With the descending sun blazing behind it, it turned gold and orange and pink and purple. New shades spreading across with each passing minute as night crept on. And beneath it - shadows lengthened and spread from the carved base, wild and free.

The throne beckoned. Come sit, it said to me. Come take your place.

Beyond the throne were marble pillars that stretched proudly into the sky, woven with vines of moonflowers and orchids. I could not see any roof - dusky clouds obscured the view. And below, far, far below - the sea rippled in shining waves, beating against the island in shimmering hues. Boats with bone-white sails seemed to drift forever. Distantly I could hear voices: voices laughing and talking and teasing and bargaining. The calls of animals, the hammer of forges.

And everything smelled of salt and fragrant flowers and lemon.

But I could feel, rather than see, what was making my heart wrench away from the lovely sight. A hand outstretched in front of that throne, leading up to a smiling face clear of sorrow and fear.

A scarred hand. Extended from the dark, and I knew that between us was where light and shadow met.

Come sit, he said, echoing the throne. Come take your place, and I’ll be at your side forever.

⚘ ⚘ ⚘

The night was an inky black shield dotted with silver and gold. Velaris far below, the stars above and only the whistling wind and thump of his own heart for company: Azriel’s gaze honed in on the House of Wind as he descended, and hoped that none would question his tardiness.

His boots landed silently on an upper balcony.

Halls were unlit, creeping with silence. The shadows that came with him curled around his neck and ears, whispering that nearly everyone was asleep. There would be no interrogation that night, at least - though breakfast might be another matter. But that would be for the morning. He slipped into his bedroom and closed the door behind him, resting his forehead against the wood panels for several heartbeats before turning wearily away to find his rest.

A cozy fire had flickered itself to life, the wrought-iron window springing open to let in more of that sweet night air. He lingered only to unstrap himself of weapons, setting them on the table beside his bed as his thoughts skittered and bit at him like hungry wolves.

Azriel had been gnawed for so long he wondered how they found any part of him left to devour.

Truth-Teller shone like a void in the light as he pulled it from its sheath, if only to look at it. Scarred thumb tracing over the hilt - with a sigh he shoved it back in, and put it aside.

The knock on his door was so quiet that he might not have heard it, had the shadows spreading from him not trembled in response. They slithered up the door to turn the knob, his head lifting in a jerk as he scented his visitor - the sweet, heady jasmine that wore itself on her skin like a blessing. Or a spell.

A click behind her. The door was closed.

The wolves barked. Azriel turned, hand lifting to rub the back of his neck in an unconscious gesture as he forced himself, as he always had, to keep his expression even. To betray nothing. Even though the sight of her lace robe over a silken, lilac gown that displayed her creamy throat so well was enough to move him to his knees. To say nothing of the loose curls hanging down her back - wanting to be touched. Wanting him to bury his face there and breathe her in until she lived beneath his skin -

“You were missed,” Elain said.

“I was occupied,” Azriel said shortly. Her head tilted slightly to the side, and at his glower the shadows that crept curiously around the hem of her nightgown scattered, leaving her free to glow in the golden light of the fire.

“Why don’t you come to family dinners anymore?” she asked, her voice softer than rain.

He swallowed. A tremor went through his wings, and he stretched them out slightly to ease the tautness. Her eyes flitted to them over his shoulders. He saw the bob of her throat. “You know why,” Azriel told her in a hoarse, harsh voice.

Elain lifted her chin, though the expression in her lovely eyes shimmered. “If it’s me you’re avoiding, I’ll stop going,” she said.

“No.”

“You should be with your family. They miss you.”

“No,” Azriel said again.

“I don’t know how much longer I can attend, pretending that nothing’s wrong with me,” Elain said. “That my heart doesn’t hurt more each time you don’t appear. Azriel,” she breathed, and his spine stiffened as if brushed with a tender finger from root to tip. “I - I don’t want to go anymore. I don’t want the reminder that you - that you don’t want to see me.”

Secrets were best whispered alone in the night: Azriel had always known that. Known that honesty could burst out at the right moments, if prodded enough, uncaring of the consequences it could bring.

As for him - the consequence was like a poisoned knife between his ribs, where he felt the emptiest.

“The best solution is for you to go instead of me,” Elain went on in his silence. “I’ll be happier knowing you are.”

“I’m not happy,” Azriel said. But she merely lifted her slender shoulders, the lace rustling against the silk. As if she didn’t care to wonder why he’d said it; the extent of what he’d meant. His honesty was kept deeper down and further back. Where it couldn’t hurt anyone who could hurt him.

“I’m not going to go to family dinners anymore,” she told him. As if her mind was made up. “I hope you do.”

“You’re hurt when I’m not there,” he said. “No different than I am at your absence.”

It was all the game. It had to be. The repeating, the declarations, the anguish: pushing at the walls each of them had built around the other, as if looking for weak spots. To crumble, or to build back better. Azriel didn’t know. Something in him was howling.

Elain’s eyes began to glitter. The shift of the firelight against her hair, the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed -

Something clattered from elsewhere in the house. Azriel stiffened, wings snapping in as his gaze darted to the door behind her. He ground out between his teeth, “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I want to be,” she whispered. “I can’t stay away.”

The jasmine - he realized her scent wasn’t fresh and blooming. He’d noticed it when she first came in. It was heady. Like it had been scorching under the summer sun, begging for water; thirst to be parched, or the petals to be plucked and treasured -

Azriel’s head spun. The wolves that ate at him yipped and scratched and whined. They wanted. They wanted.

“If you’re looking for release,” he said in a low growl, fingers clenching into fists at his side. Cracking a whip at himself to quiet the wolves, but still they snarled. “Lucien Vanserra can be summoned.”

“I don’t want Lucien,” Elain said sharply. The color was high in her cheeks as she tucked a curl behind one of her delicate ears, the simple motion drawing his attention like a drawn bowstring. “I want you.”

His next words were difficult, but he forced them out: “Rhys has...commanded that we stay apart.”

“Rhysand isn't my High Lord. I’ve sworn no oath to him.” Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips. “He can't command me.”

“He commands me,” Azriel said.

“Then tell him I coerced you. Whatever you need.” The lightness in her voice was pleading. Begging. Her slender hands trembled, eyelashes stark against her skin as she blinked furiously. Desperate.

“No. I won't let you face censure, or - or punishment - ”

“Not being with you is punishment every day,” Elain cut him off, and Azriel nearly swallowed his own tongue as he saw the glitter in her eyes escape to trail a silver path down her flushed cheeks. “Lucien is punishment for me, isn't he? I was given to someone I don't love. Someone I don’t want. While you are denied to me. Is this not punishment?”

Every fiber in his body wanted to cross the space between them: to reach out, to dry the tears and to hold her in his arms until she stopped trembling. Until that gaping wound beneath his ribs was whole and glowing again -

Azriel didn’t smile, though the irony wasn’t lost on him. “It feels like it.”

Her bottom lip quivered. Then, “Please,” in a yearning whisper that started unthreading him from his very bones. The wolves purred as he took a step closer to her.

“Elain,” he murmured, and she trembled at her name, eyes closing briefly as if to savor it. “They’ll know. It...it can’t be hidden. I’d leave my scent all over you. And you on me. And I’d never, ever want to wash it off.”

“It’ll wear off,” she said.

“In days? Weeks? How long will we hide?”

Elain didn’t answer, and he took another step closer, unclenching his fists as he breathed slowly through his nose.

“It's not just that, either,” Azriel said, and her head was tilting upwards to watch him, hungry and hot as he towered over her. “Once I have you...I won't be able to stop wanting to have you. Over and over again, in every way imaginable. I don't want to live another day on this earth without tasting you on my tongue. Smelling you on my skin. Feeling you. I would…”

He trailed off, realizing that the night had somehow wrung more honesty from him than he’d ever intended. Her eyes blazed up at him, and daring, he lifted a hand to rest his scarred fingertips on the lace at her breast, beneath which he could feel the rapid pulse of her heartbeat.

“I would want to be here, inside of you.”

“Please,” Elain whispered again, barely more than a warm breath that brushed against his face like a shadow - but those stayed back. “Please, Azriel. I'm not afraid. Not of Rhys, not of Lucien. I'm afraid....of what my life will be without you. I'm afraid of wanting you for the rest of my life with no hope of having you.”

Her fingers curled over his on her breast, cool to the touch and he shivered head to toe as her thumb stroked along a rippled, white scar. Not even noticing it, with her eyes melting so intently as she stared at him. Lips slightly parted, only a few inches from his and ready to be tasted, and savored and worshipped.

“Even if you refuse,” she went on, pressing his hand tighter to the skin-warmed lace. “You’ll always be here, where you always have been."

“There’s nothing in me that can deny you,” Azriel said. Swallowed. “Elain.”

“Azriel…”

“You could ask me to tear down Ramiel with my bare hands and I would,” he breathed. “I would tear apart any part of this world. If you asked me to carve out my own heart, I would.”

“I’m not asking for that,” Elain said gently. Mirror of him, her slender hand brushed up his chest - a shudder enough to cause an earthquake ripped through him. Without armor, only a dark shirt of cotton was between their skin. He could feel the warmth of her flesh as her palm splayed over his heart. “I’m only asking for you.”

The drumming in his head must be his heartbeat. A warning, perhaps - or fate zeroed in on this moment. Where a future was held taut between them. A question between souls. Dark and light, as they’d always been. His dark, her light: she offered it freely.

Will you have me?

Will you risk it all?

He could see in her shining eyes. I would risk it all for you.

“You want me,” Azriel said. Half a question. She’d already said it. At the dip of her head in assent, he closed the remaining distance between them with a step. The slight gasp between her lips warmed his face, but he didn’t give her the kiss she wanted - the kiss she’d asked for long ago - the kiss that he’d dreamt of until his soul was used up and dry. No, three more strides backed her against the wall as he heard her heart flutter madly beneath his hand. Closer still: he braced his opposite hand above her head, feeling the pattern of the wallpaper as his knee came between her legs. Trapping her. Pinning her.

She trembled. But it wasn’t the acrid scent of her fear that was making her eyes bright.

It was want.

“I’m dangerous,” he growled in a low voice. Still Elain didn’t tear her eyes from his, even as her fingers balls into a fist with his shirt between them. “This is dangerous. You and me.”

“I don’t care.” Not the breathy tone he’d expected. Something thornier, stonier, as she lifted her chin to face him more fully. But it just exposed more of that creamy, unblemished throat to him. An invitation.

Azriel tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. Hair hung in his face, and her fingers softly brushed it aside. Jasmine. Jasmine. Jasmine. Summer, heady, hot flowers; slow-dripping honey -

Chest to chest, pressing closer as if their skin would fall away and they’d be just one person from then on. His leg lifted slightly, the rustle of lace and silk - and he felt her, through the layers, as her dark lashes closed, lips parting in an uneven breath and he heard, more with his heart than his ears,

“Oh - ”

He’d rather be boiled by the Cauldron than face Rhys after this.

And it would still be worth it. To watch the rose-pink deepen in her cheeks as her eyes fluttered open again. On his thigh she throbbed, and if he tried to push her away, he knew she’d rip his shirt apart, so tightly was she clinging to him.

“Are you scared, Elain?” Azriel whispered.

“No.”

Her eyes had glazed slightly. Like she’d gone drunk at a sip of wine, yet stared down the bottle ready to drink it to the last drop. But he was the bottle, and the wine, and the drinker. Sucking in a breath, holding her quivering body in place, he lowered his head, tilting it to the side.

His lips met her skin at a sensitive spot beneath her ear. He felt her tremble. Brushed downward to the base of her neck, savoring every inch of her as she whimpered a strain of incoherent noises he knew would play in his dreams until he was a corpse in the ground. Then, tilting his head again, he stared at the glistening hollow of her throat. Where her scent was the thickest. Richest. Sweetest.

Azriel paused long enough to take her wrists in his hands, lifting them above her head as her chest rose and fell against him. His chin was nearly between her breasts, and though they wanted his attention and he wanted to give it to them - he kept his eyes instead on her throat.

Elain was squirming. Not to get away, but to get closer. The frantic bucking of her hips against him - not close enough. He pressed harder with his leg until he could feel the grind of her bone against him, and his tongue darted out to that hollow to taste it the moment her moan rose beneath it.

“There,” he breathed. Again she rubbed herself against him. He could smell the growing headiness from there, and the jasmine coating his tongue. He licked again, and again as she moved more frantically.

His wings unfurled as he growled deep in his throat, talons reaching to dig into the wall - the house would repair itself later - and shreds of wallpaper fluttered to the ground as he steadied himself. And Elain. The way she was pulling him in, giving of herself so freely, wanting him - chasing pleasure he could give her, scant as it was...as if this would be all she was ever given. A drop of water before starvation.

Azriel fastened his lips to one jutted collarbone, and sucked. Immediately he clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her cry. Sweat was dampening her nightgown - more than sweat - and it was the most intoxicating thing he’d ever smelled. He tore his mouth from her skin to say in a hoarse voice,

“Quiet. Don’t make a sound.”

Slowly he removed his hand, then, and lifted his head enough to see the perspiration dotting her forehead. Eyes squeezed shut as her fingers dug into his shoulders, now.

“Good,” Azriel rasped. “Keep going, Elain. Use me however you need.”

“Touch me.” Her plea was broken and wavering. “Please - Azriel - ”

He snarled. Gripping her hips between his hands, helping her to move against him. Guiding each undulation as her heart beat faster and faster and faster - her breasts were at his eye level, so high he was holding her off the ground - and he allowed himself one more luxury: he rested his forehead against her sternum, feeling each bob of her breasts on either side of his face. The slight snag of a hardened nipple.

If she didn’t come soon, he would.

But it was a mere moment later that she came: breathless and noiseless, like he’d commanded, but he felt the clench of her even on his thigh. The desperate throbbing, wanting to be filled but still cresting. Deeper breaths from her parted lips, a night-song of indescribable beauty.

Azriel wanted her. He wanted her so badly he thought he’d die from it.

Elain went lax, and he caught her ‘round the waist before she toppled over. Her head against his shoulder, wings still shrouding them - his nose really was in her glorious mass of hair, now, and because he knew this shouldn’t happen again, he breathed in the scent of her curls, over and over and over again -

“Azriel,” she half-panted, half-sobbed. It made his heart wrench. The wolves in his head still prowled, still snarled - wanted to pounce, to stroke, to take - but no. No. No. He wouldn’t.

Talons unhooked themselves from the wall, wings folding delicately back in as he lowered her to the ground. A moment of unsteadiness before she could stand, blinking up at him like the sweetest fawn on a spring day. Cheeks flushed red, eyes glittering, throat damp. A faint bruise was left there from him - it would heal by morning. He hoped.

His trousers were unbearably tight. He could barely stand. But he did, and held Elain’s gaze as if it were a lifeline offered to his dying soul.

Which very well could be the truth.

“Azriel,” she said again. Tucked curls behind her ear. But he merely bowed, instead of throwing her onto the bed to devour her until Summer Solstice as he wanted to do with every fiber of his being, and said,

“I hope you’re feeling better, Elain.”

Something like hurt passed over her face. Mouth pressed together in a thin line as she tugged the lace robe to lay straight over her breasts and shoulders. Azriel didn’t look.

A single breath, drawn out like a keening wail of grief: Elain turned and swept away to the door, yanking it open to disappear into the blackness as shadows reappeared, gently closing the door to keep it from making a noise and alerting the sleeping inhabitants of the house. Azriel stared after her for a moment, fists clenched and empty and her scent all over him like a thick, woollen blanket.

He hadn’t even kissed her.

He stomped to the fireplace, tearing at the laces of his trousers to yank them off each of his feet. Threw the Elain-soaked pants into the fire.

As if knowing his intention, knowing his agony: the house ate up the leather quickly, turning it to blackened, crumbling ashes that fell among the cracked logs. He still smelled of her, he knew it. He’d smell her even if he did manage to wash her off. His leg, his hands, his chest where she’d touched him, his face - she was everywhere. Everywhere.

Almost everywhere.

Azriel ached. He ached between his legs, almost like he’d been kicked with a spiked boot. Hurt so bad even without trousers that he didn’t want to touch himself. Instead he stared at the flames, and then the embers as they burned down and the shadows crept closer to swallow him whole. Still his heart beat on, a steady, unceasing rhythm that chanted with each pulse of blood -

Elain. Elain. Elain.

TO BE CONTINUED

#elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar

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bratkook · 3 years

Text

like a peach. kth.

pairing. taehyung x reader genre. fluff, established relationship warnings. mentions of alcohol, oc is sloshed and clumsy while drunk but otherwise cute word count. 2.5k note. this was requested by @pars-ley under #14 #57 #60 from this prompt list, i know the numbers were listed under angst but somehow this became fluffy so im sorry asksjak

The hallway in your complex is completely quiet besides the metallic clanks of your keys jingling against the door knob that echo out, your double vision making your hands miss their target as you once again try to unlock it. With a small laugh you rest your forehead against the door, lips pressed together tightly to hush your drunk giggles.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you press your palms flat against the door, refusing to look at the keyhole since that hasn’t been going well, instead you feel it out, index finger guiding the key against it until it finally slides in.

“Hell yeah,” you cheer in a whisper, turning the lock and smiling as your front door gets pushed open and reveals the interior of your dimly lit apartment. The creek of your floorboards makes you grimace, only being made worse when you lose the grip on your keys and they clatter on the ground in a sound you swear is deafeningly loud.

You were doing an absolute horrible job at keeping quiet, clamping a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughs as you bend over and grab them, wobbling around ungracefully and unintentionally slamming the door shut once you stepped inside.

Taehyung groans from his spot in bed in the room a few feet away, having heard you the minute you rammed into the front door ten minutes ago as you failed to unlock it, trying to block it out in order to get his eight hours of sleep needed before his shift tomorrow morning. He remains in bed though, trusting you enough to know you’d be able to get from point a to point b on your own.

Just as he flips over and tugs the sheets above his head, you enter your shared bedroom, going in totally blind in order to not turn the lights on to prevent disturbing him further. His eyes are shut as he listens to your movements, a small smile on his lips when you start to mumble to yourself as you attempt to recall the layout of the bedroom in your inebriated state.

“Okay,” you whisper as you inch forward, mentally calculating how many steps it took to get to where you wanted to be, hand outstretched to swat in front of you to help guide you in a fool proof method. “That's the nightstand,” you decide when your palm smacks the hard surface, a small giggle filling the air before you hush yourself once more, finger pressed against your lips.

If you were right then your bathroom door should only be a few feet to the right, close enough for you to be able to enter with ease, but seeing as you decided to throw back two more shots before leaving the bar you’re not as coordinated as you’d like to think.

With a confident step, you’re ramming your knee into the corner of the nightstand, the pain flashing up your thigh as you bend forward to clutch the area that throbbed. “Ow fuck,” you wince, loosing your footing and tumbling onto the ground with an even louder thump, unable to conceal the laughter from escaping you full force.

Taehyung can’t pretend to be asleep any longer now that you’re laughing in pain, sitting up in bed and flicking on the table lamp on his own night stand, the room flooding with that warm familiar glow and it grabs your attention. With a muffled yawn he’s rubbing at his eyes before looking to the side where he sees you laying on the ground in a heap of limbs, absolutely defeated as you continue laughing to yourself.

“You okay?” His voice is laced with sleep, deep and gravely but you can hear the hint of a smile that you know is on his lips and as you lift your head up to stare back at him you see that much is true. He looks tired beyond belief, eyes squinting at you but the curl of his lips makes you smile back at him, sitting up to rest on your butt instead of sprawled out on the carpet.

“I think my knee is broken,” you slur with a tilt to your head, eyes looking down at the knee in question, the dull throb still felt from earlier pulsing through the joint. It aches as you stretch it out, wiggling your toes to make sure you weren’t somehow paralyzed now from the force of the impact.

Taehyung chuckles at that, shuffling out of bed and stretching his arms out as he does so, his shirtless upper body out for you to ogle at without a care. If you thought your knee was broken that just wouldn’t do, not on his watch. You observe him quietly as he rounds the bed, his grey sweats hung dangerously low on his hips, bed head leaving his curls fluffed and nearly covering his eyes, looking just as beautiful as he always did.

“Did you have fun?” Taehyung wonders as he approaches you, smelling the alcohol from you now that he was closer. The glazed look in your eyes spell it out for him, the cheeky smile on your face despite the tumbles you have taken entering the apartment alone not putting a damper on the small buzz coursing through your veins, you had clearly had an amazing time.

He sighs gently as he crouches down to your level, knees bent as he softly cradles your face in his palms, thumbs soothing your face when you lean into his touch. “No,” you surprise him with your answer, bottom lip pillowing out as you bite down on it, eyes falling shut briefly as you enjoy finally being with your boyfriend.

“No?” He repeats, leaning forward until his lips met the skin of your forehead in a sweet kiss and you swear your heart squeezes in your chest at the action, more so when he takes it upon himself to start helping you get ready for bed, smiling when he hears the cute way you mumble about him being too good for you under his breath. His hands are tender as he unclasps the hooks to the necklaces you have layered on, your earrings and rings being next to slide off and be placed on top of the nightstand that was the reason for your tumble.

“I missed you too much, couldn’t stop thinking about you.” It comes out as a whine, knowing that although you did have a great time with your friends on a much needed outing, you couldn’t stop your mind from wandering, wanting to text him every hour to see how he was doing at home, desperate for any update despite how mundane it was. He appeases you always, sending you selfies as he rewatches episodes of Criminal Minds, answering your drunk phone calls just to hear you ramble about how good the salted tortilla chips you were eating tasted before abruptly hanging up when your friends handed you another drink.

“Yeah, I think you sent me around fifty I miss you texts,” he teases you, kissing you quickly before standing up to grab one of his shirts from your shared dresser for you to change into. Taehyung would never mind the abundance of messages he’d get on your nights out, preferring that to radio silence and wondering when you’d be home, the love spelled out in typo filled texts leaving him excited for your return home.

“I always miss you.” You breathe out a sigh, smiling wide when he reaches his arms out for you to grab onto, hauling you up onto your unsteady feet once more. The throbbing from your knee was long gone but the wobbling remained so he wraps one of your hands around his shoulder so you could keep yourself steady, not willing to let you tumble once more now that he was around.

“I always miss you too baby.” His admission makes those same butterflies swirl in your tummy, wings flapping so hard you think you might pass out, choosing to grip his shoulder tighter to prevent that from happening. You feel like a love sick puppy whenever you’re around him, sporting permanent heart eyes that are crystal clear despite the beer goggles strapped tightly to your face.

Taehyung has to hold in his teasing when he sees the way your eyes stay glued on him despite how your head lolls to the side the longer you stand there, allowing him to tug up your simple black dress up and off your body, unhooking it from the hand holding onto him before it fell to the floor in a pile.

With the new exposure of your skin, his eyes zero in on the slowly forming bruise on your hip, a splotch of red that was sure to blossom and spread out into shades of purple and blue tomorrow morning. He can’t stop himself from reaching forward and allowing his fingertips to prod at it, apologizing when you wince at the small flash of pain.

“What happened here?” He wonders, knowing very well that you didn’t have that on your body before you left. The only purple specks that coated your skin were nestled in between your thighs, victims of his wandering mouth, but he knew that his lips hadn’t traveled this high up.

With a confused pout you stare down at the area he was now circling softly, eyes widening in realization before you begin giggling. Taehyung simply watches in confusion as you break out into a fit of laughter as you recall how you had gotten that nasty bruise, having rammed your drunk self right into the metal pole outside of the bar. “Tequila happened.”

He just smiles in understanding, unhooking your bra for you before sliding the top of his shirt over your head, he knew very well how clumsy you were without alcohol in your system, witnessing first hand how many times you’d taken nasty falls with the help of Don Julio.

“What, were you ready to square up with someone because I bruise like a peach?” The flash of possessiveness in his face as he spotted the bruise was evident enough, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks with a dopey smile when he tries to play it off with a huff and roll of his eyes.

Taehyung doesn’t fool anyone though, the creeping smile on his face calling his bluff when his eyes meet yours once more. “You know I’d hurt anyone who left a mark on you.”

“Oh yeah?” you giggle, pressing a loving kiss against his lips, feeling him smile through it, not minding the way you taste like tequila. “Well there’s a pretty sturdy light post outside of the bar that you’re more than welcome to go punch for me you macho man.”

Taehyung laughs now, that hearty laugh you love so much and it warms your chest as he pulls away fully, large hand coming up to cup under your chin, fingers pushing into your cheeks until your lips pucker out obnoxiously. “I’ll do that first thing tomorrow morning,” he presses a rough kiss against you, the wet smack making you snicker in his grasp. “But for now it's bedtime.”

Your lips attempt to pout in the pursed position he has them in, only cheering up when he kisses you once more, releasing his grip and continuing to help you get ready for bed now that it’s been established that your knee was in fact not broken.

This had to be your favorite part of going out, getting to come home to your boyfriend and being taken care of like a spoiled princess, he knew how much he personally enjoyed it when you would baby him when he came home wasted and giddy, so he always took the time to ensure you were comfortable enough to not go to sleep feeling gross. You’re pliant in his grasp as he hauls you onto the bathroom counter, allowing him to peel off your fake lashes and set them aside with care, removing your makeup with a wipe as carefully as he could, taking the time to not yank at your skin because he knew you’d lecture him about wrinkles.

He only gets a small noise of complaint from you when he brushes your hair, bristles catching onto a knot that he attributes to dried up alcohol that was surely splashed onto you earlier in the night. He decides then to call it quits with that, setting the brush aside and getting your toothbrush ready for you to use, something you were adamant on doing on your own.

Taehyung can just watch you with those same heart shaped eyes you wore as you brush your teeth, eyes droopy as you stare at your reflection, foamy toothpaste escaping from the corners of your mouth and dripping down into the sink as you stick your tongue out to be brushed next.

“What?” you mumble after spitting it all out, eyes narrowed at his own reflection in suspicion before gargling water.

“Nothing, you’re just really pretty.” You don’t fight him on the compliment, always loving how he confidently shot them out to you so often you had no other choice but to accept them even when you felt anything but. He smiles as you avert your eyes and dab at your mouth, mumbling a cute thank you out to him before swiftly exiting the bathroom, cheeks burning from the alcohol and flutter of your emotions.

He allows you to escape without teasing you further, cleaning up the splash of water you had left around the sink as you make yourself cozy in bed, breath minty fresh and face moisturized. Just as you’re about to complain about him being missing he slips into bed beside you, shuffling under the sheets until he feels your skin pressed beside his, wasting no time you nuzzle against Taehyung’s body, arm slung across his stomach with your leg hooked over his hip to keep him close.

“So, tell me again how I’m a macho man.” The laughter that bubbles out of you makes him smile as he stares down at you through the dim light the moon provides, seeing the way you bury your face into his chest to conceal the giant smile.

“You want an ego boost at 3 in the morning?”

“Hey you started it,” he shrugs, a yawn escaping him, showing you just how tired he was, not once complaining about being woken up by your drunk antics despite desperately needing sleep.

“You’re right,” you sigh, tightening your hold on him and pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder, “love you my macho man”

Taehyung hums in appreciation, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you even closer, a kiss pressed to your forehead making you smile the way it always did. “Love you more my little peach.”

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenarios #bts fluff #bts scenarios #kim taehyung #bts fics #taehyung smut #new

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

In a Heartbeat - Four

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Almost Smut

Word Count: 2.3K

A/n: hello I hope you all enjoy this!! I’m loving this series and I hope to keep updating it and Of Kings and Beasts regularly. Idk though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

~*~

“You’re sure I look good?”

Nat groans and climbs off your couch reluctantly, grabbing you by the shoulders and stopping you from pacing anymore.

“You look gorgeous.” You bite your bottom lip nervously, hands itching to come up to your mouth.

Your hair is pushed behind your ears, natural and beautiful, and your makeup is light. Adorning your body is a simple light blue dress that stops just above your knees, as well as a beige cardigan that hangs loosely off of your shoulders.

Nat grabs you a pair of beige heels and shoves them into your hands.

“Put your shoes on and stop worrying. He’s on his way up so even if you didn’t look good there’s no time to change now.” You nod, taking a few deep breaths before crouching down and putting your shoes on. Right as you’re doing up the clasp around your ankle there's a knock on your door.

You freeze in place, looking at Natasha in absolute terror, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s open!” She calls. You shake your head, one shoe on and the other off as you run to your bedroom.

“I can’t,” you whisper as the door starts to open. Hiding away in your bedroom, you listen to Nat greet Bucky.

“She’s almost ready. Just needs to grow a pair,” The redhead says loudly, her footsteps clomping towards the bedroom door.

She whips it open, ready to give you an earful, but when she sees the genuine fear on your face she reconsiders.

“Beans, you’re gonna be okay. He’s a real gentleman and he won’t do anything that you don’t want to do, I promise.” You take a few deep breaths, trying to hold back tears.

“What if I get hurt again, Nat? I don’t think I could handle it.” The weak whimper that leaves you has her heart shattering in her chest.

“He won’t hurt you. If he does I’ll kill him, I swear I will.” You sniffle and chuckle softly, sliding your foot into your other shoe and doing the clasp up.

“Okay. I think I’m ready.” She nods, taking your hand and giving it a firm squeeze before stepping aside and motioning to the door.

You take a deep breath, lift your chin, then leave your bedroom.

Bucky stands in the doorway, a bouquet of flowers in his grasp. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans and a black button-up, as well as a leather jacket.

“Wow,” he whispers, eyes wide as he takes you in.

“You look... wow.”

You smile shyly at him. “You clean up pretty nice yourself, James.” He chuckles, then, as if remembering he’s holding flowers, offers the bouquet to you.

“I uh... I didn’t know what kind of flowers you’d like... and Steve said to get red roses but Nat said that red roses are for love and I think it’s too early for that because this is our first date and all and I really didn’t wanna scare you away and now I’m definitely talking too much but I’ve been looking forward tot his for.. since we set our real first date and-” Nat interrupts his rambling, hating and loving seeing her usually so confident friend stumbling over his words.

“You’re doing great, Casanova. Keep this up and she won’t even leave.” You glare at Nat over your shoulder, not wanting her to be mean to Bucky.

“Thank you, I love them.”

He got you a bouquet of beautiful lavender roses, white lilies, and an assortment of small little leaves that tie the whole bouquet together.

“Nat, can you put these in a vase for me please?” You hand the bouquet to her after taking a long sniff, smiling eagerly at her. She nods, taking them from you and handing you your purse.

“Now go on. Have fun kids, use a condom and all that.” You groan, risking a glance at Bucky to see that his cheeks are bright pink.

Feeling better at the fact that you’re not the only nervous one, you take his outstretched arm and allow him to walk you out of your apartment.

“So where are you taking me?” You ask, smiling up at him.

“Well, I know this little café that makes these nice little sandwiches. I figured we could start there, grab a bite to eat and see where the day takes us.” You nod, taking a few deep breaths to calm your heart.

~*~

“I’m really glad you gave me a chance, I know things started really rocky but I... I’m glad I get a second chance.”

You smile at him, setting down your cup of tea and nodding.

“Of course. I don’t think I would have ever heard the end of it from Nat if I didn’t anyway.” The two of you share a laugh, him smiling brightly at you.

“I’ll make sure I thank her.” You nod, taking another sip of the decaf tea, heart thundering in your chest.

“I-I’m sorry, I just need to take something. I’m very nervous and my heart-” He reaches across the table and grabs your hand, squeezing gently.

“You don’t need to explain it to me if you don’t want to. Do whatever you need to do to keep yourself healthy, okay? Your health and happiness... those are my top priority.” You swear if it wasn’t beating unbearably fast against your ribs it would melt.

You take your pills as discreetly as you can, but Bucky, being ever the gentleman, excused himself to the bathroom to give you space to do whatever you need to do.

~*~

“I uh... I pushed Steve out of the way when we were in a really bad fire. I saw the beam coming down and it would’ve killed him. So I pushed him out of the way and... took the damage instead. Doctors told me if I had waited a second longer it would’ve been too high up and would’ve got me right in the chest. Instead... it took my arm.”

You sit idling in Bucky’s truck in front of your apartment, the two of you talking for the past two hours.

“Oh James... I’m so sorry.” He shakes his head, smiling at you. “If it hadn’t happened then Steve wouldn’t be alive and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing I could’ve done something. Besides, Tommy thinks it’s pretty cool.” You nod at that, fingers tracing small patterns on his metal hand.

“I uh... When I was younger my mom was really careful with me. She wouldn’t let me do gym class... I could never go out with friends... nothing. One day we got into a nasty fight before I went to school. We called each other names and said awful things...

“I stopped on my way to school and bought an energy drink.” He stiffens beside you, eyes wide.

“I’d never even had caffeinated tea before, but I was so... so angry. I thought that... ‘whatever happens will teach her’. And I drank it. The whole can. I started feeling it halfway through class and when I raised my hand to tell my teacher... I just passed out. Collapsed right there in the middle of math class. They rushed me to the hospital and... I’ll never forget the fear I saw on my mom’s face. They said I almost killed myself. My heart couldn't handle the caffeine and I almost died. So from then on I just kinda... listened to my mom. Lived my life in the safe lane.”

He’s quiet for a long moment, eyes on your pretty face as you continue tracing patterns on his prosthetic.

“I’m glad you took a chance with me,” he whispers.

You look up at him, a shy smile on your face.

“I am too.”

His eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes, and you do the same, silently granting him permission.

He leans in, and before you have a moment to second-guess your decision, his warm lips are against yours.

You whimper, hand grabbing his wrist while the other finds his hair. He leans forward, lips moving against yours as if that is what they were made to do.

After a moment he pulls away, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry! I should’ve told you. I shouldn’t have done that. I-is your heart okay?” You giggle, pushing him back into his seat and climbing over until you’re seated comfortably on his lap.

“It's gonna take a little more than some kissing to stop me,” you whisper, bringing your lips back down onto his.

He kisses you with newfound passion, hands gripping your waist and pulling you tight against him. His tongue explores your mouth, dancing with your own and making you feel things you haven’t felt in... ever.

When you pull away to breathe he doesn't stop. No, his lips, teeth, and tongue work their way down your neck until you’re quivering on top of him, body desperate for more.

“Come upstairs,” you whisper, panting against his mouth.

He lets out a weak chuckle then sighs, shaking his head.

“I shouldn’t.” You pull away, giving him a confused look. “Why not?” His hands find your thighs beneath your dress and he rubs his thumbs in circles on the soft skin.

“I... I wanna take my time with you. I wanna take you out again and I wanna wine and dine you real nice. If we just get right to it... It doesn’t feel right.” You go to climb off his lap but he stops you.

“This feels right. I didn’t mean that this,” he motions to where you are,” doesn’t feel right. I just... you already deserve so much more than I can give you, and I wanna do everything I can to prove that I’m gonna take care of you. Believe me, I wanna come upstairs and fuck you until you can’t remember your goddamn name.” You shiver at his words and he chuckles, pulling your hips forward a bit. You gasp as you feel his hard length through his pants, pressing up against you.

“I fucking want you,” he murmurs, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck. “You’ve got no idea how bad I want you. But you deserve to be taken out and treated like a queen.” He pulls away, flesh hand coming up and cupping your cheek.

“I like you, (Y/n). And I don’t wanna ruin things before they get good.” You rest your hands against his chest, fingers splayed on the warm skin beneath his shirt from where you’ve popped a few buttons open.

“I like you too, James. A lot more than I thought I would. And... if I’m being honest... that scares me.” He frowns, looking up at you and waiting for you to continue.

“I just... what if something happens to you?” His heart melts and he leans up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, and then another.

“Don’t you worry about me, pretty girl. I’m not going anywhere. Not as long as I’ve got you willing to wait for me.” You grin, nodding and leaning down to press a kiss to his chest. Your lips linger long enough to feel the steady pulsing beneath the skin.

“I’m gonna be waiting for as long as you’ll have me.”

“Good.”

He walks you up to your apartment, hand held tightly in yours and a goofy smile on his face.

When you reach your door you feel sad that the night is coming to an end. Slowly you turn to him, eyes filled with things you want to say but can’t explain.

He simply chuckles softly, metal hand cupping your jaw gently.

“Text me when you get home, okay?” You ask softly, eyelids fluttering closed as he leans down. His lips find yours and you never want them to leave.

They fit so perfectly against yours, you could spend all of eternity kissing him.

Unfortunately, he pulls away after another fantastic moment.

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes on his as he slowly stands up to his full height.

“You can still wine and dine me even if you stay the night,” you whisper, already knowing what his answer will be.

He laughs quietly, shaking his head while smile lines fan out around his eyes.

“You, (Y/n), are gonna be the death of me. But god, what a way to go.” He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek then a lingering kiss to your knuckles before pulling away slowly.

“I’ll see you soon, babydoll. And I promise to text when I get home.” You nod, watching as he walks down the hallway. He shoots a glance over his shoulder when he reaches the elevator, a smile spreading on his face and red coating his cheeks as he sees you watching him.

Only once the door is closed do you unlock your apartment.

You hardly have time to step a foot in when you hear the door behind you open up.

“Next time you put on a show like that let me know so I can make popcorn.” You giggle, turning to Gladys and shaking your head.

“If we had known you’d be peeping on us we wouldn’t have done anything.” She shrugs, smiling at you. “It’s hard not to watch with a man like that standing there.” You roll your eyes at her.

“Goodnight, Gladys.” She’s already back in her apartment.

“So I’m assuming it went well?”

You nearly scream.

“Nat?! What the fuck!” She laughs, throwing her head back and letting out a good belly-laugh.

“You should’ve seen your face!” You glare at her, throwing your purse at her.

“Not funny! Why are you still here?” You kick off your shoes and groan as your toes finally have time to relax after being in heels all day.

“After last time I wanted to make sure nothing went wrong. But from the sounds of it I almost caught something scarring, didn’t I?” You shake your head, sighing and plopping down on the couch with her.

“He’s a fucking gentleman. For better or for worse.” She nods, hand slapping your knee.

“I told you. He’s gonna treat you right, Beans. I promise.”

#fireman au #firefighter au #fireman!bucky #fireman!bucky x reader #bucky x reader fireman au #bucky barnes/reader #James/Reader #james x reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader au #bucky x reader au #Bucky Barnes x reader fireman au #Bucky Barnes x reader firefighter au

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missinghan · 4 years

Text

falling for the first time ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : hogwarts au; fluff

❖ word count : 2,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : your plan of putting all effort into avoiding bang chan as much as possible has been going smoothly for almost seven years until he asks you for a dance at the Yule Ball. or alternatively, your families hate each other but wait...has he always had those golden flecks in his eyes?

❖ author’s note : here’s the song they’re dancing to 🖤

one.

The once cold ballroom has waited for eons it seems, for a real heart to beat a new rhythm into the matter that made it.

Meanwhile, you too have been waiting (for two-ish hours) in the corner with your cup of root beer abandoned at a table for your dance partner. You’re currently half-clutching your dress and half-panicking because Chan wouldn’t miss an event as extravagant as the Yule Ball. He’s not the type to be sour over little things either just because he didn’t win the Triwizard Tournament. Or perhaps someone else just happened to ask him?

A blood-curdling shriek bursts your eardrums.

Jeongin gives you a nudge with his elbow from behind. “Grilled scream-cheese?” he asks with a mouthful of gluten and carbs, a plate of a sandwich with a (literally) screaming slice of cheese slapped in the middle.

“No, my appetite is ruined,” you say, pushing it away slightly and heaving an audible sigh.

The Ravenclaw boy makes an alarming noise—something similar to ‘uh-oh’ and swallows the big bite from before as fast as he can. “Where’s Chan?”

You only shrug, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” If only you could do that with the train of thoughts that have been going in and out of your ears for the past a hundred and twenty minutes.

“Y/N, you look troubled,” he purses his lips, frowning at you.

“I’m not,” you voice in denial, trying your best not to come off as snappy. No, you will not give up your facade that easily. You won’t leave Chan’s ego nor Jeongin to rest without a fight by saying that you actually want to dance with the heathen!

“Yeah right, let me-“

“Don’t. What if he’s already asked someone else?” You momentarily shudder at how sad you sound. The root beer shouldn’t have hit you this hard. “I mean look at him, he’s Bang Chan. I’m pretty sure those girls from Beauxbatons have been eyeing him up and down since the Tournament.”

Jeongin lets out a huff of laughter in disbelief. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“One of you guys could have asked me. Or I should have paid Jisung to be my partner yesterday. I just, I don’t know, what am I saying? I’m confused.”

Your friend is officially done with your bullshit so he decides for himself that he will now set down his food to make your first and last Yule Ball arguably unforgettable. “Honestly? I can lie and say I would dance with you if you weren’t so full of pride. But truth is, none of us asked you to dance because we all know how badly Chan wants this opportunity. Wake the fuck up! He’s been planning this since forever. I’ll go look for him, wait here,” he points a finger at you before running off, leaving your heartbeat pause awkwardly like a broken record.

The ballroom feels significantly colder now.

“Miss Y/N?”

Ah, perfect timing. What’s another way to phrase ‘being an absolute idiot at a ball’? Oh right, it’s ‘talking to your professor five minutes before the first dance while your friends are socializing left and right’.

“Yes, Headmistress McGonagall?”

Your professor peers around when she realizes that you’re all alone. “Are you and Mister Bang ready?”

“R-ready?” Suddenly, you feel out of place.

“Well, of course. It’s only traditional that the three champions start the first dance!”

“Oh.”

two.

Only the celestial bodies above can know how melancholy you are. But you’re met with a sky without stars tonight.

With your head on your elbows, lips pressed into a straight line, your gaze falls from the endless canvas of darkness to the hustle and bustle of students leaving the Great Hall to head back to their designated dormitories. A sigh. You definitely don’t need to know what they’re going to do for the after-party. Ryujin used to show you an article on this peculiar machine called ‘a laptop’ that the more you sigh, the faster you age. If Chan keeps doing shit like this to you, you’re gonna be all old and wrinkly by the time he comes here.

If he is going to show up at all that is.

The moment you peel your eyes away from the overcrowded main gate, a broad figure is shuffling himself through his drunk Quidditch teammates, sloppy couples, and burnt out professors. He dashes through the empty hallways to reach the spiral staircase, skipping three steps at a time, risking the chances of falling on his face just to get to you.

Pulling himself to a halt at the last step, Chan sees you all curled up against the balcony railings and feels a pang of guilt wash over his innards like a wave. You’re pulling your legs toward your chest, defeated eyes gazing into the space ahead while your hair falls to your face messily. Like you’ve gone through the depths of the Fourth Dimension, struggling through dark matters and a rite of divinity at the end of the line. All for him.

You’re beautiful.

And the amount of affection that’s piling upon his rib cage? Astronomical.

Your gaze is averted away; even with a slight scowl, sloppy clothes and messed up hair, you still flare radiance. He thinks that if a meteor shower is happening right now, you can still outshine it. “You came,” you mention.

For once, Chan finds himself at a loss for words. “Y-Yeah,” he manages to swallow. Yeah? What the fuck, Chan? Is that all you’ve got to say?

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. Yeji accidentally mistook one of Minho’s potions for her allergy medicine so I gotta take care of that before coming,” he scratches his forearm awkwardly, head hung low with guilt. “I didn’t know it would take that long…”

“Oh.” Wow, jealous stinks. This isn’t pre-school, you’d better snap out of it. “Let’s head back. I wanna check on her before passing out.”

“She’s fine now, sleeps like death. Chaeryeong is there too, you know, just in case.” Chan feels perplexed as he tries to coax anything but the ‘head back’ option from you.

You tilt your head. “And...?”

“I’m afraid you owe me something?” A slow smile begins to outstretch upon his facial muscles, deepening the dimples on either side of his cheeks that you adore the most. “A dance, I believe,” he makes a thinking face while striding toward you.

Coldly, you stand up to dust your dress. “I don’t want to.” You’re not having it, he can tell. But does Bang Chan ever give up?

“A bet is a bet, Y/N.”

Chan’s hand fishes inside the pocket of his trench coat to take out his wand. His hand delicately gives it a swift flick; once, and twice followed by a low mumble from his lips. Immediately, light pulses from the tip of the wand before shooting upward, disintegrating into a million bits as though a starry night is embracing the both of you. He does the same action again to cast a different spell. Music laces through every fiber of air without effort, like honey being poured into your ears.

“It’s just one bet,” he pouts with a hand fully extended toward you.

You should have realized how good Chan looks tonight. A black dress shirt that’s buttoned below appropriate, matching trench coat, silver accessories lining his fingers and ears with naturally tousled hair from running here. He looks so gorgeous that it almost suffocates you, that it almost makes you want to hiss ‘fucking unfair’ out loud.

Enchanted by his poise and grace, your body reacts without the consent of your mind. You seize up when you unknowingly place your hand on top of his, the touch sending electricity down your spine. A simple response has become all too complicated for your brain to process.

You grow breathless the moment he grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him. “Yeah, a bet so you’ll leave me alone,” you remark sarcastically to ease your nerves.

“Look, it’s not my fault that the Goblet of Fire chose me to participate in the Tournament,” Chan chuckles lowly, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes while he sways you to the soft melody. Dots of light continue to float around weightlessly, reflecting the golden flecks in his eyes. He’s ethereal in the worst way—the way that isn’t healthy for your heart.

But you soon slap on another scowl when you realize he just reminded you of why you’re even here in the first place. If only you weren’t so salty about Slytherin winning your team over at the final Quidditch match before the holiday occurs. Let’s just say you weren’t exactly in the best mind state after getting your ass kicked in your favorite sport.

And Chan wasted no time to slip in between the line of comical humor and your ultimate torment. Which results in—if you get to attend the Triwizard Tournament, he will leave you alone for the rest of your life; but if he is the chosen one, he gets a dance with you at the Yule Ball.

It’s really not all that bad if you think twice about it. Dancing with Bang Chan, the Slytherin’s Quidditch team captain, the student with perfect academics and conduct for six years straight, and now one of the Triwizard Tournament champions this year.

Music threads through the atmosphere and lifts away gravity. You can’t count how many times you have stepped on his toes due to nervousness because you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye. But he’s the only thing you can seem to focus on right now.

“Besides, don’t you think this is a good opportunity to get rid of the tension between us?” Chan asks honestly, and this causes you to perk up.

“What?”

Lights are twinkling with every step as Chan spins you around gently, your dress billowing out prettily as your heels click against the cold concrete. After that, he swiftly pulls you back into his arms and you exhale in relief like you were meant to be there all this time.

“Don’t act dumb, you’re terrible at it. I know the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me since first year was because of our families’ stupid grudge. ”

Your eyes are cast downward, sadness glinting in your round pupils. “Either way, my parents wouldn’t like to see me talking to you. And look at what we’re doing. It’s going to be catastrophic if they find out.”

“Well, they can’t just magically appear now, can they?” Chan leans a little closer to lock his eyes with yours.

And you break it seconds later because you’re an absolute coward for a Gryffindor. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

“Did they even tell you what the actual problem was in the first place?” he huffs out in faint annoyance.

You shake your head. “I don’t think they’d even remember.”

“Then would you stop giving me that look as if I just shooed your owl way every time I said ‘hi’ on my way to class? Have you ever thought about my feelings? About us being civil for once? Like friends? Or even more so?”

“I-“

“We’re not our parents, Y/N.”

Your heart becomes all erratic at his words. It’s nothing like those fully-fledged, tear-jerking nor cheesyass confessions that you’ve gawked at one too many times, but it makes your heart flutter and stirs up those cliché butterflies inside your stomach. This can’t be compared to the Yule Ball—it’s even better than that. Because it feels as though you and Chan are the only presences that graze the surface of this land. There’s no one to judge, no fingers to point, no gossip spreading like wildfire.

It’s perfect. Almost.

“Us...it’s not- it can’t happen. It’s not supposed to happen. It’s not possible, Chan.”

Wordlessly, he stops, moves both of your hands to his shoulders, and wraps his arms around your torso. The sound of your heartbeat against his is so in sync they just drown out the music completely. Time is frozen in place, leaving you to hang on the edge with him, hanging onto this single moment as thin as the red string of fate. You’re waiting for him to do something, say something.

Just then, Chan cracks a wry smile and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck, resting his forehead comfortably on yours. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Looking For A Place to Happen 6

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats, drunkenness, some content not warned.

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: The second last chapter of Sam for y’all!

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Making stops along the way

💀💀💀

You laid on your side and hugged the covers as the bed shifted beside you. Sweaty, sore, exhausted, and the sun was only just dimming beyond the window. Sam’s broad back tensed as he sat up and stretched his arms above him. You could still feel him inside you, not that any reprise lasted long.

He said nothing as you heard the knock again. You barely noticed before but the pounding got louder as Sam pulled on grey jogging pants and chuckled. You groaned and hid your face against the duvet. Every move sent a thrumming pain through you, and agonized emptiness you resented.

Your knee hit the toy as it rolled against you and you flinched. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if it was him or the silicone stretching you. How had it only been a few hours? It felt like you’d been there for days.

“Damn it,” the voice grumbled from the other room, low and muffled by the wall, “I told you I was coming by.”

You recognized it from that fateful night at The Asp; deep and sinister. As brief as your encounter with the man, you could guess he was rarely anything but irritable.

“Calm down,” Sam replied lightly, “I got other things to do…”

“You got business,” Bucky retorted.

“Money’s in the bag,” you heard a soft rustle and a harrumph.

“Should’ve brought it direct,” Bucky complained.

“I’ve been taking care of your other problem,” Sam countered smoothly as you heard heavy footsteps move around the front room.

“I see that,” Bucky mused, his voice clearer, closer.

You lifted your head and quickly hid your bare leg and ass under the blanket. He chuckled as Sam neared and crossed his arms over his thick chest.

“She knows the rules now,” Sam said, “got it all under control.”

“Mmm,” Bucky lifted his chin and turned to Sam, “yeah, yeah, well… my girl…”

“Nice woman… stubborn like you,” Sam remarked.

“Stubborn’s a word for it. She’s, uh, concerned,” he said carefully, “about the girl. Says she’s young--”

“Not deaf either,” you sat up as you clung to the duvet.

He squinted at you and you flinched. Sam glanced at you and tapped a finger against his lips for you to be quiet.

“You know Steve’s girl is having that little thing at the bar. Her birthday or some shit.”

“Steve won’t shut up about it,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“He’s sweet on her. Too sweet.” Bucky sniffed, “Anyway, bring the girl, need mine to stop worrying.”

“Ah, sure, when was it again?”

“Tomorrow,” Bucky jutted his jaw out, “actually…” he peeked over at you as he thought, “take her by my lady’s place. The girls will be there getting all dolled up.”

“I’m busy--” you began and Bucky snapped his fingers at you.

“You said she knew the rules,” he pointed at Sam, “maybe you should remind her before I have to see her again.”

He turned and you saw his leather jacket as he stomped away, seizing a leather bag from the coffee table as he passed. The door slammed in his stead and Sam leaned against the wooden frame to look at you. He shook his head and sighed.

“Don’t know what it is about that man and women,” he gave a smirk, “but y’all sure do like to take the piss out of him.”

💀

It was easy enough to find any house in Birch, there were only so many. As you were realising too late, this was detrimental, not just to you but many in the thrall of the club’s clutches. There was no place to hide from those men and their cruelty.

He handed you your phone back before he let you go. He warned that you better use it wisely. He would meet you at the bar later; you were to make your way over with the group of women you didn’t know.

You neared the front door of the yellow house and knocked. You waited nervously, the cold air slipping in under your long jacket. A woman opened the door and you wondered if you were at the wrong place. Typical. You could even get lost in Birch.

“Oh, you must be the last,” she chimed, “I’m Mel.”

You smiled and awkwardly gave your name. She beckoned you inside and you added your boots and coat to those already by the door. You dressed for the occasion, Sam approved of the outfit with a growl after advising you to wear something slutty. You hadn’t worn the tight leather leggings and the strappy crop top since your club days in your two years of community college.

Mel looked you over but made no remark on your attire as she pointed up the stairs, “to the left, you’ll hear them.”

You ascended and the low hum of 90s music and female voices reached you from the slightly open door just down the hall. You neared and knocked as you waited tentatively. You knew Bucky’s girl from the bar but never had the chance to talk to her. You never did well with strangers, always the weird one, the funny one.

“Hey,” Bucky’s girl swung open the door, “just in time.”

“Um, hi,” you stepped into the small bedroom, “I brought tequila.”

You held up the bottle as you peered around. The mechanic was on the bed, her brows arched sardonically as she watched the quiet baker girl that sat at the slim desk and checked her appearance in a hand mirror. She hovered a stick of eyeliner in front of her face but never made contact with her skin as she bared her teeth. You put the bottle down on the corner of the dresser.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she wisped but quieted at her name as Bucky’s girl introduced them, “oh, hi.”

You smiled and stared quietly. You chuckled nervously and rung your hands. “Did you need help? I’ve watched some, um, Youtube stuff on it--”

“Sure,” she lowered the mirror in defeat, “I just don’t wanna mess it up.”

“That’s a lame present,” the mechanic said, “make-up? When you don’t even use it? I always knew Steve was a bitch--”

“At least he got me something,” she handed over the stick of liner as you neared and Bucky’s girl pushed a cushioned chest up from the corner for you to sit, “my pa never did.”

“Just because he’s less of an ass than your pa doesn’t mean he’s not an ass,” the mechanic spat as she pulled at the front of her stiff dress, black with little gems set into the fabric.

“Oh, and look at you, wearing that clown suit,” Bucky’s girl intoned, “we’re all in the same boat.”

“What kinda look you going for?” you asked as you cleared your throat.

“I… don’t know, something pretty,” she smiled meekly.

You nodded and looked over your shoulder at the bottle of tequila. You peeked back at the girl as she squirmed nervously.

“We should do some shots,” you said, “it’s your birthday, right? You should have fun… try to relax.”

“Her, relax?” The mechanic scoffed.

“Shots sound good, I’ll get some glasses,” Bucky’s girl said from behind you.

She left and you asked the baker to close her eyes. You held her head carefully as you stretched her eyelid and traced it carefully. It was much easier to do on someone else. You added a little wing and balanced out her other eye before you sat back.

Bucky’s girl plunked four short amber shot glasses on the dresser and poured as you went over the gift bag full of make-up with Steve’s girl. She chose a rosy shade of pink that you gently applied to her lips.

Bucky’s girl handed out the glasses. The mechanic didn’t flinch or wait before she downed hers. Steve’s girl frowned as she took hers and you gave a thank you as you accepted a glass.

“I can already feel the burn,” the baker girl bemoaned.

“Come on, loosen up,” you raised your shot and downed it, “jeez, how old are y’all?”

“Old enough to know better,” Bucky’s girl said, “you know, you really got yourself in the shit but I’m sure I don’t need to tell you.”

“Oh you mean the local den of assholes,” you snorted, “shot, shot, shot.”

You encouraged Steve’s girl until she reluctantly knocked back the tequila. You took her glass and your own and went to the dresser. You refilled them and offered her the second.

“You really don’t learn,” the mechanic blinked.

“No, I do but I’d rather be drunk and miserable than sober and miserable,” you raised your shot, “and you guys, this,” you pointed to them, “the look, sure you got some years but you’re still young enough. You needa show some skin.”

“It’s below zero,” Bucky’s girl narrowed her eyes.

“The tequila will keep you warm,” you nudged Steve’s girl and mirrored her as you drained your shot.

“She’s gonna get us all killed,” the mechanic muttered.

“No, I’m gonna get you lit,” you grabbed the bottle and turned up the little speaker in the corner before shimmying over to her. You filled her glass and took a swig directly from the bottle, “also, I can hardly feel anything anymore.”

💀

“I’m telling you,” you slurred, “you can’t wear that! We stop by my place and I’ll get you the look.”

“The look?” Bucky’s girl interjected, “you mean the hypothermic style?”

“My nan has more style than all of you,” you stumbled off the main road away from the bar, “come on!”

“We’re gonna be late,” Steve’s girl squeaked.

“For what? It’s your birthday,” you grabbed her hand and ran ahead.

The other two followed a few feet back as you led them down to your nan’s house. You dragged her up the steps and leaned heavily on the door as you burst through. The smell of cigarette smoke met your nostrils as your grandmother appeared in the door of the front room and puffed as she watched you sway.

“Nan!” you dropped the baker girl’s hand and outstretched your arms as you grandmother swiftly sidestepped you and sucked on her cigarette.

“I see you’ve made friends,” she tutted, “try not to make a mess of my house or you’ll be cleaning it up, drunk or not.”

“We won’t be here long, we just need clothes… you got any of that wine left?”

“No more for you, girly,” she chided.

“Girls, girls, girls,” you turned back, “this is my nan. She kills bikers.”

“Shut your mouth, girly,” your grandma snarled, “you might be three sheets to the wind but words carry.”

“Do you?” the mechanic spoke up, more and more quiet as she imbibed.

Your nan gave her a long look. There was a moment of silence, understanding, commiseration. The old lady shrugged and tilted her head.

“I haven’t messed with bikers since 1978 and I don’t plan on starting again,” she butted out the cigarette in the empty coin tray on the console table, “go on, get what you need and get out.”

“Ugh, fine,” you moped away and waved the girls up the stairs behind you.

You leaned heavily on the railing as you ascended and they followed behind you in disorder, several times supporting each other in the climb. Inside your room, you pulled open your closet and looked at the impulse purchases you never had a chance to wear. You don’t know why you bought them, they were all cheap and generic, but you were always a sucker for a sale.

“Here,” you handed the mechanic as shiny silver top with straps, “I should have something to go with it.”

You handed out clothes like candy, some of the tags still attached so you ripped them off clumsily. The mechanic ended up in the silver top and black pleather leggings, Bucky’s girl in dark blue dress with cutouts that you ordered in the wrong size, and Steve’s girl in no more than bright red bra and some high rise jeans.

“We’re gonna freeze,” Bucky’s girl whined.

“Suck it up and put your coat on,” you snapped, “now, we’re ready for fun!”

“Steve’s not gonna like this,” the baker moaned.

“You need more alcohol! Who gives a shit what he thinks?” The mechanic nudged her, “he’s a prick.”

“They’re all pricks,” Bucky’s girl giggled, “what’s this?”

You turned as she pulled out the bottle of Smirnoff hidden in your top drawer. It was still sealed because you didn’t like the grape flavour but she quickly broke the plastic. She took a gulp and scrunched her face as she held it out to Steve’s girl.

“No more, it’s too much!”

“If only Thor hadn’t dragged his girl off,” Bucky’s girl pushed the bottle to Steve’s girl’s lips, “but we gotta make up for her, don’t we?”

“Shit, shit,” the mechanic chuckled and grabbed the bottle as the baker struggled to swallow, “we’re gonna get in some shit, girls.”

“Is that idiot ever happy? Loki? What a dumb name?” Bucky’s girl snarled.

“They all suck,” you added.

“Ugh, don’t get me started on Sam,” the mechanic wiped her glistening lips, “preying on a kid.”

“I’m not… not a kid,” you hiccuped.

“You didn’t know who Aaran Carter is,” Bucky’s girl said, “you’re a kid.”

You laughed and took a swig and cringed at the burn of the vodka, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure don’t act like it,” the mechanic said loudly.

“Who gives a fuck? Tonight, we don’t,” Bucky’s girl said, “come on, let’s go see those bastards and show ‘em we don’t fuckin’ care.”

You snickered as you found your coat where you left it on the bed and the lot of you staggered down the back steps and around the house. The winter air crawled over you and sent a shiver up your spine. You hardly felt it in the warm glow of the alcohol; not the cold, not the dread that had lingered for days, not even the regret. You were completely and pleasantly drunk out of your mind.

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