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letterstotheflre · 3 years

Text

that’s the thing about illicit affairs

summary: james was never hers to lose.

warnings: CHEATING, age gap (not specified but reader is in her 20s), tiiiny angst?? i don’t think it’s sad lmao, allusions to sex and one miniature sex scene, some food mentions, and a very badly written argument.

word count: 3k (why are they always so long ffs)

a/n: my first james potter fic <3 i love this man so much, sorry for making you the bad guy here. this one’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks, and since i’ve been feeling kinda sad i finally got around to edit it. also hedric rights!!

They always meet like this.

The room is dark except for a small sea salt lamp she bought on sale from Target. Her clothes are piling up on the floor, discarded carelessly by her lover, and his are not too far from meeting the same fate.

He is kissing her hungrily as he could never get enough of her. His hands travel all over her back while she unbuttons his shirt, their lips never parting. He moves her to her bed, the sheets a pale green that reminds him of—

No. He closes his eyes tightly, pretends the green is actually blue like the lacy bralette that covers her breasts and moves his lips down to her jaw. He sucks and nips and bites, letting her moans echo freely between the four walls that make their little sanctuary.

Her hands quickly undo his belt and stroke him lightly through the fabric of his boxers. He groans against the junction of her neck, the skin softer than anything he’s touched in years.

He pushes her down on the bed, cupping her face while he looks at her properly, noting the tangled hair caused by his fingers. Her lips are puffy and shiny, his kisses being the perpetrator of their current state. He waits for her to say something, to give him a sign that this is okay.

(It’s not okay, and they both know it. It’ll never be okay.)

She nods her head, and he kneels in front of her, pushing her legs wide open before he dives in.

—

She is laying on her bed, the sheets covering her body as she watches him try to fix up his hair in front of the mirror on her makeshift vanity.

“Make sure no one sees you leave,” she says, “and put—”

“Put my hood up, I know,” he finishes the sentence for her. It’s not the first time they do this dance.

“Sirius and Remus are with Harry at home. I told them I was going for a run, so they won’t say anything if I show up all sweaty,” he adds, trying to fill the awkward silence.

She just nods her head, fingers playing with a loose thread on the edge of the sheet, pulling it a bit more every time she twists her index finger. He steps forward, then sits on her bed and traces her cheekbone with his knuckles. “You know I care about you, right?” he asks.

Her heart clenches, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest that makes it hard to breathe for a second. She lowers her eyes, refusing to stare at those hazel irises that started everything. “I know, James,” she assures quietly, looking at a picture of her and Harry that’s stuck to the wall just behind him.

James brushes back some stray hairs that are still stuck to her forehead, then presses a small kiss on the slightly sweaty skin. He gives her a tentative smile before heading to the door, and she only looks in his direction when she hears the click of the door.

(He might care, but not enough.)

—

Sundays are always a slightly awkward affair at first.

Both of their families have been friends for years, getting together every Sunday for lunch at the Potter’s. James and Sirius always man the grill with her dad, all of them wearing those corny ‘kiss the chef!’ aprons. Her mother helps Lily make the salads in the kitchen while they gossip with Remus, who steals a few tomatoes when they aren’t looking. Now that it’s summer, she and Harry splash each other in the pool instead of catching up in his room.

It’s always strange seeing James in the light of day, pretending that this is the only version of him she knows: the version of him that is a friend, a father, a husband.

But she knows the other version of him: the one that has her on her knees begging for a taste of him, the one that grips her hair while he pounds into her from behind, the one that lets his tongue explore places of her no one else has. The version of him that kisses her forehead and plays with her fingers while their bodies are tangled together under the sheets. The version of him that kisses her as if she were the only one made for him.

(She isn’t.)

They are sitting around the table eating. Sirius is laughing about something with his arm around Remus’s shoulders, his bark of laughter echoing across the garden. Her mother’s shoulders shake as Lily rolls her eyes in amusement. James and her father have gone back to the grill to bring everyone their second round of burgers, and she can hear her father complaining about something from work.

“Here y’go, kid,” says James as he places the plate in front of her before ruffling her hair. She tenses up for a second before relaxing, muttering a small “thank you” before reaching for the ketchup.

She hates that nickname. It’s so impersonal, keeps a distance between them that truly doesn’t exist. As if he isn’t the only person that can make her vision whiten and the colours of her room hazy while she clutches his shoulders. As if he isn’t the only person who can pull so many different sounds from her vocal cords, sounds he knows no one else has ever heard before because he is the only one who can create them.

She can feel Sirius’s eyes on her as she stretches one arm, so she hesitantly glances at him. He raises an eyebrow, eyes switching back and forth between James and her, and she can see the cogs turning in his mind.

She gulps anxiously, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and goes back to eating.

—

James’s moans are loud as he gathers her hair in a makeshift ponytail. His cock is buried in her throat, and he watches as she gags for a second before relaxing her throat.

She’s taking him so deep that her nose nuzzles his pubic hair, the musky scent of James filling her nose as she breathes deeply through it. She starts moving her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip every time she rises.

He is a mess above her, needy whines and wanton moans leaving his mouth. His hips thrust up softly, slowly fucking her mouth, and he relishes in the small choking sounds she makes. His head rolls back as he groans, “That’s it, baby, so good to me.”

She winces at the name and pulls away from him. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but her hands never stop stroking him. She takes him back into her mouth and starts sucking with a newfound fervour, his voice echoing inside her head as she tries to make him forget about her.

(She tries to forget too.)

—

Honey rays filter through her window.

They are both laying on her bed, James on his stomach while she refills the glasses with some cheap wine she got from the store. He looks at the tiny purple splotches on her neck and the red fingerprints on her hips, then smirks proudly. When she turns, she smiles at him softly.

There’s a summer breeze that ruffles her curtains, and he can hear some teenagers laughing as they walk down the street over the music that plays from her speaker.

She places her glass on her nightstand, her nipples brushing his naked back as she leans over him. She lays down on her side, her fingertips softly drawing shapes on his skin. It takes him a moment to realize they are not random shapes but letters.

Her name, written over his scattered freckles and connecting his moles with cursive loops.

He takes her hand and kisses it, slightly chapped lips pressing against her open palm. Then he kisses her lips, still bitterly sweet with grapes, as his tongue moves languidly against hers while he pulls her by the hand on top of him.

It feels like a distant memory. It feels like a dream.

—

The cacophony of different voices singing “Happy Birthday” rings in her ears.

Harry is at the front of the table, an adorable blush dusting his cheeks at the attention. On either side of him are James and Lily, smiles wide as they watch their son blow the candles. Cedric is behind him, hands on his shoulders, and he leans forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

She sings and claps, whooping with Sirius when Harry blows the last candle. She eats cake and drinks the pretty cocktails Lily ordered. She smiles and laughs, pretends she couldn’t see the way the candles made the golden band on James’s ring finger beam like the sun.

She pretends she doesn’t see the way James holds Lily’s waist before kissing her. She pretends she can’t see them dancing slowly to a song Remus put on the Spotify playlist as a joke.

She pretends she can’t hear his footsteps following her when she goes to the bathroom. She feigns disinterest when he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards a deserted corridor.

But she can’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach when he kisses her, the thrumming in her veins when he pushes one leg between her thighs, nor the pleasure-filled gasps and moans that leave her mouth when he helps her roll her hips along his covered thigh.

It’s thrilling; they’ve never done something like this in public, much less in such proximity to friends and family.

(In such proximity to her.)

Even though she knows it shouldn’t, it gives her a sense of victory. Because he is here with her now: he is kissing her, making her moan, and whispering dirty things in her ear.

A faraway call of his name breaks the spell they’re under. They pull away hastily; she fixes her dress while James makes sure there are no lipstick stains on his face. The footsteps are getting closer, heels hitting the floorboards at the same rhythm as their rapid beating hearts.

It’s Sirius.

James almost breathes a sigh of relief, but she remains tensed up. Sirius looks between them, the same look he had that Sunday all those weeks ago on his face, and she feels bile rising in her throat.

“Lily’s looking for you,” he says, his thumb pointing back over his shoulder towards the reception where everyone’s gathered.

“Right,” says James. “Better go see what she needs. You do not want to see an angry drunk Lily.” He laughs, almost oblivious to the awkward tension between his two friends. He goes back to Lily, leaving her leaning against the wall and Sirius standing in the middle of the hallway.

Sirius looks at her, and even though his mind already knows, he refuses to believe it. “I didn’t know where the bathroom was,” she offers as an explanation. It’s a flimsy excuse, she knows that, but it’s the best she can do under this kind of pressure.

“Right,” he whispers with a short nod, then follows James.

She stays rooted to her spot, lips tingling with the ghost of James touch and a guilty mind.

—

Hours later, she clings to a pillow as she lays on her bed alone. The same pillow James was resting on less than twelve hours ago.

She breathes in deeply, trying to catch any scent of him she can, but there’s only the scent of her fabric softener.

There’s no James. No citrus shampoo or woodsy cologne nor salty air from the beach near his house. Because he never wears any cologne when he comes to her, ensuring that there’s no trace of him once he leaves.

Like he doesn’t even exist.

—

It ends in a parking lot a month later.

She was waiting for Luna to arrive at the mall but ended up asking for a rain check when James texted her, saying they needed to talk.

‘Meet me behind the mall’, she texts him.

She walks to the back of the building and waits for his red car to show up. She already knows where this conversation is going to go, and her heart shatters at the thought of saying goodbye to him.

She raises her head when she hears a honk in front of her, and she gets in while whispering a small “hey”. He doesn’t start the car again, just settles for turning the ignition key off. She looks at the families leaving the mall through the tinted window, refusing to look at him, as her knee bounces up and down anxiously.

The silence is heavy, and she suddenly feels cold in the August heat.

James takes a deep breath, “We can’t keep doing this.”

She can’t help the snarky comment. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday while you had your fingers buried inside me.” He looks at her unimpressed, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s wrong,” he says— as if she doesn’t already know that. “C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it has to—”

“I told you not to call me that!” she raises her voice, and the car gets silent again. She hates the tears that gather in her eyes, hates that she cares so much about him and their stupid game, but she couldn’t help it. Not when he whispered so many sweet nothings in her ears and caressed her skin so softly, almost afraid to break him if he was too rough.

(Not that he cared about that when he stretched her wide open and thrust so hard into her that the bed frame banged against the wall.)

“You can’t just show up here and tell me it’s over like you weren’t the one that came to me first,” she jeers, and she can see the tick of his jaw as he clenches it. Good, she thinks, make him angry.

“Don’t just blame me. You didn’t say ‘no’ once.” He grounds out, “In fact, I can recall you were begging me to fuck you against the wall.”

Her cheeks turn into a small fire, a slight feeling of shame overcoming her. “Oh, like you were any better!” she exclaims. “‘Been thinking about you for months.’ ‘You have no idea the things you do to me.’ ‘No one can suck my cock like you.’ ‘I care about you!’” She deepens her voice to mock him.

James opens his mouth to keep the ball rolling, and she wants him to do it because it meant that the fight was still on, that they wouldn’t have to end this. Instead, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m telling you now it’s over. Stop acting like a kid who didn’t get her Christmas present,” he says, knowing exactly what he is doing with those words.

“I’m not a kid,” she snaps, her eyes fighting back angry teats at his dismissal. “Then stop acting like one,” he shrugs.

Her hands turn into fists, nails digging themselves into her palms as she tries to keep her anger at bay. “Do you know how much of myself I gave to you? How many plans with my friends have I cancelled in case you called? How many guys I stopped seeing because they weren’t you?” she rants, her voice increasing in volume as she lets her frustration take over. Then, she pauses. “You’ve ruined me, James.”

Her voice is so pained that it makes his heart clench, and he lowers his head, refusing to look at her. He knows, God, he knows what he’s done, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so lonely with Lily spending so much time at the hospital, and then there she was with her caring and understanding nature. With her adorable laughs and those touches that were so addictive, a mercurial high that gave him the lowest lows whenever he tried to stop.

He keeps his mouth shut; there’s nothing left to say anyway, and it’s better for her to hate him rather than anything else. “You are not going to say anything?” It’s meek, vulnerable, and she wants to slap herself for acting this way. She knew it would never last, that he would always choose her.

He was never hers to lose, so why is she still fighting?

She nods her head in surrender, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing. The anger now gave way to sadness, “I can’t believe I let you make a fool of me.” Her voice is hoarse, a result of the lump in her throat that prevents her from swallowing comfortably.

She gets out of the car and slams the door shut, then leaves the parking lot, leaving him behind. She keeps walking, fingers gripping the straps of her bag until she reaches an empty street.

The golden sun is ready to dip on the horizon, and she can hear James’s car speeding behind her.

—

She doesn’t let the tears fall until she’s inside her apartment.

The moment she closed the door, she crumbled to her knees, loud sobs falling from her mouth and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It takes her a moment to gather enough strength to walk to her room.

She cries and cries, buries her face in her pillows and starts sobbing even harder because she can smell him. The salty scent and citrus shampoo finally embedded themselves in the fabric, and she can’t believe that after all those days she craved to feel him close to her, he chooses now to leave a trace behind.

She cries for hours until her eyes are puffy and red, and snot comes out of her nose. Her chest heaves with short breaths that don’t really fill her lungs as she clings to that damn pillow before throwing it across the room. She can’t believe it ended like this: with her completely broken for anyone else while James gets to go back to his life and act like nothing ever happened.

Yet she knows that if she had to choose, she would do it all over again because if she had to choose someone to be her ruination, she would choose James Potter a million times.

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whats-rambled-rambled · 3 years

Text

erode

Neil x Reader

summary: this is what happens when you try to cope with immense heat for way too long plot what plot

warnings: 18+ and I mean it, nsfw, teasing, temperature play (listen, I don’t even know, blame it on the weather)

author’s note: I wanted to make it short. They had other ideas. Result? Basically 2,9k words.

I started writing with no particular duo in mind. And at some point I stopped and smiled.

Hello you two, it’s been a while.

(f!Reader)

The song for this fic is TENDER - Erode

Anyway, enjoy! ...and let me know what you think, please?

---

“This heat is absurd,” you huff as you flip the pillow to the other side, hoping to find even a degree cooler fabric there.

The cold shower you’ve taken half an hour ago feels like a distant dream, and you’re already drenched in sweat, trying to position yourself strategically to get the most of the small fan placed near the bed. With those crazy temperatures, the chance of getting a stiff neck on the next day seems like a risk worth taking.

“I think I was supposed to kick you in the shin for complaining about warmth,” chuckles Neil and puts down a glass of water on the nightstand, the ice cubes clinking softly. “You're lucky it’s too hot to do so.”

You knit your brows together. It takes you a moment to remember, but then it hits you and you groan. Of course, he brings back something you said during that painfully long stakeout on a freezing December night.

“Why can’t it be just pleasantly warm instead of a variation on The Song of Ice and Fire,” you sigh, taking off the t-shirt. “Fuck climate change deniers, there’s nothing temperate about this climate we’re living in anymore.” You fall back on the pillow, limbs in disarray, longing for a shred of comfort.

With the corner of your eye, you see Neil’s gaze flitting through your body, focusing on the only article of clothing for a second longer.

“You’re one sexy creature.”

His words carry an amused smile and you glance at him, scoffing in disbelief.

“Even when I’m spread out like that?”

“Especially when you’re spread out like that,” he says, moving closer. “Giving me all sorts of ideas”

He leans in for a kiss, but you place a hand on his bare chest, stopping him an inch away.

“Too hot.”

Neil stifles a giggle.“Hot damn?” he chokes out, and you glare at him, but your lips twitch in a smile of their own accord.

“When the temperature drops, I’m gonna give you that hallelujah, or so help me-”

“Promises, promises.” He beams. “I thought this might be the perfect opportunity to give that little sauna fantasy a test run.”

The sole thought of a sauna threatens your sanity right now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” A wicked grin creeps on his face. “Or let me just--”

Neil turns away and reaches for the water again, then finishes it with one swig. He nibbles on the bottom lip, clearly excited, as his long fingers fish out a single ice cube from the glass. The blue eyes light up with roguish sparks when he looks at you. Neil quirks a brow in a silent question, and you nod as your pulse picks up the pace.

He closes his hand on the ice for a moment, then slides the cube to his other palm. You sigh with relief as he runs cold and wet fingers across your forehead, then lets them comb your hair, keeping the wild strands away from your face. A soft smile taints his lips as he moves a bit closer, keeping enough distance so the almost feverish warmth of your bodies wouldn’t override everything else. He steals a quick kiss and then he smirks, rolling to the side and propping the head on his knuckles. His darkened gaze glides over your features, taking in the views and inevitably plotting your demise at the same time.

You swallow with effort as the shiver of anticipation runs down your spine.

The ice cube touches the tip of your nose playfully. You are about to huff, but then Neil moves his hand lower and starts slowly tracing the outline of your parted lips, and you can only gasp. Your heat-hazed mind is defenseless, so you close your eyes, allowing yourself to focus solely on the sensation. The dissolving ice trickles down your cheek, the cold droplet tickles and makes you yelp, but when it reaches the neck, Neil shifts and his warmth floods you. You feel his hot breath against your skin as he licks off the wet trail and sucks on that little spot right under your ear. You whine and inhale sharply, ready to protest the sudden closeness, but you hesitate, torn between getting closer to your personal melting point and already craving for more.

Before you can make up your mind, Neil moves away, a smug smile dangling in the corner of his mouth. A tip of his tongue darts through his lips as he catches the exasperation in your stare.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist,” he purrs and shushes your comeback by simply gliding the ice cube to your chin and down your throat.

Your head arches back and you draw a shaky breath, but the cold point travels lower, skates between your breasts, through your stomach, around your belly button, and moves back up. You glance down, transfixed on the slender fingers holding the glimmering cube.

“All right?”

The husky question commands your attention back to his face. Neil studies your expression closely and a flash of fondness strikes your racing heart.

You smile and your hand flies to cup his cheek, “Yeah, it’s -- oh god,” you groan as the ice flicks your nipple. Neil chuckles and props himself on the elbow so he can pin your hand over your head in one swift move. “Concern as a distraction? How sneaky of you,” you pant, glaring at the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“It worked, innit?” he says and the mischievous lights dance in the blue eyes as they drop back to your chest. You follow them just to see him cruising the ice cube through your breasts, how your nipples harden when it circles them, again and again until you tremble and squeeze your thighs together, biting back a needy moan. “Look at you, squirming already,” he murmurs, amused.

It’s hard to think, let alone form a coherent sentence, so you just glower and grit your teeth. Neil interlocks his fingers with yours, inching closer, and places a small, reassuring kiss on your shoulder. Then, he palms over the cube and carries on. The warmth and pressure of his hand mix with the coldness of the melting ice, and you sigh and lean into his touch, not mindful of the water dribbling down your sides to the sheets.

He traces the curves and flats of your body. Unhurriedly, but persistently moving lower. Grazes the hip bones, then slides along the hem of your panties. You close your eyes as your thighs come together again, trying to control the bucking hips.

He tightens the hold on you as his hand bearing the ice cube moves to your knee.

Neil’s warmth envelops you once again and he whispers into your ear. “Open for me.”

The request wiping any resolve left in your brain and rushing to your pulsing core. You bite your lip to stifle a moan and comply, earning a pleased hum from Neil.

“Good girl,” he rasps as his hand continues its journey upwards.

“Neil--”

Your weak plea only evokes a throaty chuckle, which doesn’t help in the slightest. He knows what he’s doing. What praise like that can do to you. You see it in his predatory gaze, how he enjoys watching you fall apart. And he still is about to touch you where you need him most.

Neil smacks his tongue. “Not so patient today, are we, my love?” he teases, guiding his large hand up and down your inner thighs slowly.

You want to groan in frustration. You want to shut him up with a hungry kiss. You want him. But instead, you muster some of the strength you have left to control yourself, not willing to give him too much satisfaction. Not yet anyway.

He catches the determined look in your eyes and raises a brow. A corner of his mouth curls and you know that the game is on.

Neil hooks his thumb over a band of your underwear. “May I?”

“By all means,” you breathe out and he lets go of your hand so he can pull your panties down and position himself between your legs.

“Christ, how I adore this view.” He flashes his teeth in a brief smile, his features soften when his gaze meets yours. The extent of love and admiration you see there makes your stomach do a somersault. “You’re so beautiful,” he says quietly and the heart sings in your chest. Then, just when you let your guard down, the blue eyes get dark and yearning. “And mine,” he adds as his knuckles resume the caress.

The pure whiplash from his actions shuts your brain down. You whimper and your whole body tenses when the sleek cube glides over your folds. The cold water joins your own wetness. Your head falls back. The heat that is rushing through your veins has nothing to do with the temperature in the room, but it pearls your temple with sweat just the same. A short pause forces you to look down and you catch the wicked grin forming on Neil’s lips. Your end is inescapable.

You watch as Neil puts the ice cube in his mouth and your eyes widen in sudden realization. He dips his head and then swirls his tongue around your clit and you almost cry out, clenching your fists on the sheets. Hot. Cold. Both at the same time. The pulse pounds in your ears as you walk the line, bold strokes and quick flicks driving you to the edge of sanity. His hand moves up your body, partly to hold you in place. But also to add the fuel to the fire that slowly consumes you. You melt into his touch. You moan. And then he slides his finger inside you and reality begins to crumble.

“Oh yes--” you whine, pushing against his hand. “Please.”

You feel him smile against you and the second finger enters you, then they curl slightly and set the rhythm. You roll your hips and reach down to tug at the golden strands, the only praise you’re capable of right now. Neil’s groan vibrates through you, pushing you to the brink of resolution. And then his mouth envelopes you and he sucks on your clit. The pleasure sears your every nerve, tipping you over, and you arch your back and come with a loud moan. You ride out your high, trembling underneath him, digging your fingers into his arms and then pulling on them, driven by a different kind of need. Neil understands and crawls back up to you, licking your wetness off his lips on the way.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing his knuckles against your cheek tenderly and falls on the pillow next to you.

You nod, still incapable of putting words together. Placing the hand on the back of his neck, you urge him closer and kiss him, grunting softly. It’s hard to level your breath like this, making that act of devotion somewhat sloppy. Neil strokes your hair, deepening the kiss just barely. Fixed on bringing you comfort, first and foremost.

And when you pull back, it’s the eyes that betray him. Full of fondness, yes, but also overcast with desire.

How fortunate you already have an idea how to repay him. Not that he expects it - he would never. But he was so rude, teasing you like that.

And you want payback.

You smile and push him back on the mattress to reach over him to his nightstand. You fish out the biggest of the leftover ice cubes from the glass.

Neil shifts upwards slightly, leaning back on his elbows. His mouth parts as he spots your impish grin.

“Oh.”

“Come on, you really thought I’d let that slide?” you say as you straddle him, batting the eyelashes. You look at the glimmering crystal in your hand, then back at him, raising a brow. “Actually--”

You close your fist and move it over Neil’s chest, and he squirms as the cold droplets fall on his skin. You stare at the way his muscles tense when the water trickles down his toned stomach, and a new wave of excitement washes over you.

You lean on to lay a kiss on his lips, this time a more eager one. Neil sighs when your tongue glides against his and you giggle, breaking the contact. Your noses brush together as you exchange greedy looks, barely containing the animalistic need slowly clouding your minds.

“Not so patient, indeed,” you hum, tipping his chin up with your finger so you can suck on his jaw, letting the hand with the cube ghost over the same spot on the other side. Neil shivers and groans in a way that only boosts your confidence. Your mouth travels down his neck, continuing to play a hot-and-cold mirror game with your hand. You pull back as your eyes follow the wet trails again. Your tongue meets the next one halfway and moves up the chest until it lands on the source of the mess. You look up and you see the blue eyes trained on you, so you smirk, hiding the piece of ice in your mouth the same way Neil did not long ago.

The cube pokes from between your lips as they venture across the body you know so well, but rediscover as you learn its reaction to the new sensation. The goosebumps. The way it trembles. The grunts and gasps that follow. You stop just to get rid of the navy boxer briefs on your way.

The sight ever so gratifying.

Neil’s chest heaves as you start stroking him lightly, but it is when you take his tip in your mouth when Neil moans, sending your heart racing again. You taste and tease him until you hear a stifled curse. Then you drop the ice cube into your hand and you rub it up and down slowly, going back to twirling your tongue over him at the same time. Neil jerks, inhaling sharply and lets out a guttural groan.

“How’s that for a payback?” you ask smugly, enjoying how it takes a moment for him to focus his sight on you.

You recognize the predatory gaze a second too late.

Neil shifts and the next thing you know you end up pinned to the bed.

“Wanna play like that?” he rasps, hovering over you with a sinister grin.

You roll your hips against him, eyes lighting up at the sound of a growl building in his throat.

“Just take me already.”

He crashes his lips on yours and it’s your turn to gasp breathlessly. Then, he flips you to your side so you're facing the running fan and he loops his arm around your waist, pressing himself to your back. The moving air against your body helps, but you're way past caring about overheating now.

Neil brushes your hair away so he can kiss the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. Meanwhile, his other hand travels south, and you hook one leg over his, squirming impatiently.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathes into your ear, but before you can assure him how mutual the feeling is, he thrusts into you and you moan together, melting further into each other.

But instead of setting a pace, the reckless fingertips trail between your legs again to rub small circles against your clit, and soon enough you whimper as you clench around him. More. Neil bites on your shoulder and groans, finally giving you what you need. What he needed, too. You bury your fingers in the blonde mane. Tugs urging a quicker pace. You close your eyes, climbing the peak again. His touch roams through your body, and then his rhythm falters, and you take his hand in yours and press it to your chest, lacing your fingers together.

I’ve got you.

Neil tenses and hides his face in your neck, gasping frantically, pulling you as close as he can. His high pushes you over the edge and you join him in the rhapsodic release, losing yourself in the pleasure. In the strong embrace. In him.

When reality regains its sharpness, you shift in Neil’s arms to face him. The warmth of affection spreads through you when you meet the hazed gaze. You smile softly as your fingers trace his features. Parted lips. Sharp jawline. The brows, still knitted together. Your heart aches from fondness when you fix the golden strands stuck to his forehead.

Happy lights dance in the blue eyes and Neil chuckles, panting lightly. You kiss him, then hug him tightly, not mindful of the heat. Of the sweat. There’s only a heavy heartbeat against your cheek. His scent, ingrained deeply in your mind. The slow, calming strokes on your back. Bliss.

“At least with a sauna we’d have a barrel with icy water, you know,” Neil points out casually. “Or even better - a pile of snow.”

“Oh my god,” you snort, pulling back to look at him. “Imagine that,” you sigh as the heat suddenly hits your senses twice as hard.

He grins, taking you by the hand, and places a small kiss on your knuckles. “May I interest you in a very cold shower instead?”

The corner of your lips twitch.

“Lead the way.”

#neil tenet #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #robert pattinson #neil tenet imagine

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lobakmerahs · 3 years

Text

Morning Breeze

Summary: A morning routine that Levi and reader go through before they start off their day.

Warning: none, except for some spelling or grammatical errors if I may put some.

A/N: This is my very very very first one shot that I have ever written in my entire existence in this world lol, this scene that I wrote had been in my head for days so I had to pour it out, not that I’m complaining though. Oh and I suck at giving title, welpp sorry hehe. Whoever stumble upon this post, I hope you enjoy reading it and I apologize if it is too boring or detailed. Thank you, for reading anyway :)

You are laying on the bed while facing the window as you watch the sky starts to change colour and the sun starts to rise slowly, having the sunshine creeping through the window and travelling through the translucent curtain of your bedroom. The atmosphere is so calming, it fills your heart with calmness.

You turn your body around slowly and carefully not to wake up your bedmate that has his muscular arm hugging your waist. You wish your little shiftment won’t wake him up since you know how hard it was for him to get such a decent sleep. As you fully faced him, you indulge into his sleeping features, his steady breathing and his peaceful sleeping face. He looks so calm in his sleep and you sincerely pray in your heart that his insomnia would slowly be recovered because there is nothing else that you wish for him except his well-being.

What felt like a few peaceful moments, probably sensing that someone is staring at him or probably due to the room that has gotten brighter from the sunshine, Levi slowly opens his eyes, to land his soft gaze at you, breaks a lazy smile before pulling you tighter to his warm sturdy body and closes back his eyes. You return the hug gratefully and inhale his body scent that smells just as fresh as the morning breeze, you feel your heartbeat synchronizes with his and feel beyond happy to be able to just wake up in the morning to him being alive, well and completely yours.

Not long after the hug, you move back a bit, creating a distance between the both of you and continue staring at him in awe. Presumably feeling a bit embarassed with your stupidly adorable stare, he moves his hand that was on your waist, to your eyes as an attempt to cover them from keep staring at him. You giggled and took his hand to place them back to your waist. You then bury your hand into his hair. His dark hair was thick and soft, you played with it and tucked some of his long strands behind his ear. Then, you moved your fingers to his wide forehead, thumbs rubbing circle on his forehead which made Levi hums in relaxation, for someone who is as touch starved as Levi, having you to touch him like that feels so good that he is almost sure that he’s still dreaming. Slowly, you drive your pointing fingers to his long and sleek eyebrows that frame his eyes perfectly.

You recalled how his eyebrows were always either furrowed with worries or twitched with annoyance when he was awake. From the eyebrows, you move your finger to touch his eyelids carefully. Under those eyelids laid a pair of eyes that was always stare intensely at people which made those who was in his sight shivered uncomfortably, but you are always exceptional from it, always receiving a look that shines with care. Moving on from the eyelids, your finger travels to his short but compact eyelashes and to his dark circles under his eyes. You notice that Levi's dark circles are not as prominent as they were before he declared you his, probably effected by your sleepyhead that he was able to get more sleep when he was with you than he ever was in his entire life. Meanwhile, Levi stays quiet and calm as if he is sinking into your smooth touches on his face, feeling grateful with how you appreciated his facial features. Gently, you laid your hand on his cheek, his skin was just as soft as silk as you rubbed circles on it in a loving manner. Then, you traced his sharp jawline using your pointing and middle finger, his jawline was one of your favorite spots on his face for you to kiss.

“Ouch,” you suddenly said and looked at your two fingers with furrowed eyebrows as if you were really in pain. Your voice made Levi’s eyes shot opened and you could see his eyes were gleamed with worries.

“What’s wrong?”

“Your jawline is so sharp....... It cuts my fingers.” You said slowly and showed him your fingers that were totally fine and perfect, you spoiled little bratty brat. You couldn’t tell whether he wanted to smile at you or glare at you both for the same reasons. Yet he chooses to take your fingers to his lips, kisses them and places them back on his jawline expecting you to continue your little morning adventure on his face which you certainly do. Levi decides to keep his eyes opened on you to drink in his morning view as his heart swells with love and affection for you. Your long, thick and wavy hair with just the perfect amount of mess from your sleep spreads across your pillow, your face is the definition of serenity and what boosts his pride even more is how focused you are on him as you are appreciating every single detail and every inch of his face much to his pleasure.

You move you fingers slowly, touching his jawline and move to his sharp chin. You are holding his chin with your thumb and pointing finger, while caressing it with your thumb. From there, you gently move your thumbs upwards, to rest it on his lips. His lips are plump, soft and in the perfect shade that contribute to his masculine features. His lips though rarely crack a smile, yet still are able to warm your heart with his love through his soft kisses as well as his comforting words that are delivered in his deep husky voice. Then you use your pointing finger to run it along his pointed nose, to both sides of his nose and stopped at his nose bridge. As you leave feathery touches on his nose, you remembered how he always buries his nose into your hair to inhale the smell of your hair, one of his favorite scents as he always claims.

You held his nose with your thumb and pointing finger, then.....

"BloOop bLoOopP bloOoOopPp," you make that weird sound while pinching and releasing his nose alternatively with your two fingers before you crack a small giggle and look at Levi to find his reaction.

Levi smiles helplessly at you before lets out a small, deep chuckle using his husky yet sexy morning voice that successfully brought butterflies to your stomach.

"Weird brat." He finally spoke.

"Your weird brat." You corrected him.

"Hell yeah. My weird brat, mine, forever."

~🌞

You were tucking your shirt into your pants while standing in front of a long mirror when you saw Levi was buttoning his grey crisp shirt.

"Levi, wait---". You suddenly said which caused him to stop and looked at you in confusion, you were two buttons late anyway. So you walked towards him, hands reaching to his half exposed body, showing off his sturdy front since you stopped him from buttoning his shirt.

"Did you forget...? I want to do it." You firmly said and grabbed his shirt to continue sealing his body while he rested his chin on your head. It is your favorite routine among many others, to help each other getting ready every morning because both of you are always busy and the moments before you both start to work are always precious and they are always utilized to the maximum. Once done, you grab his wrist and walk to the chest drawer that is located beside the mirror, you take his cravat and carefully tie it on his neck just the way he likes it. Levi obliges obediently and watches attentively as you work your fingers on his cravat while he twirles his fingers to your long strands. As you are done with his cravat, you help him putting on the leather strap of his ODM gear as well as his light brown cropped jacket that proudly displayed the Wings of Freedom.

Once Levi has done getting ready with his uniform thanks a lot to your loving help, he feels like it is his turn to return the favor. He notices that you are fully dressed now, in your crisp shirt, same type like his but in your favorite colour, black trousers and knee high boot, but you haven't worn your cropped jacket and haven't done your hair as it is still covering half your clothed body. So he takes the hair comb that was on top of the chest drawer and grabs your wrist to stand in front of the mirror while he stands behind you. Then, he starts to comb your hair as gently as his can to avoid causing you pain from your tangled hair.

"Let me do your hair today, Y/N." He says as he brushes your hair. You always style your hair in a hairbun since one, it was your favorite hair style, two, it was easy and fast but only if you'd practiced enough though, and three, because it would keep your hair away from your face so it wouldn't disturb you from your work. But, Levi has never actually done it himself although he enjoys watching you with your hair routine.

"Levi, are you sure? You've never done it before though." You ask while feeling partially worried about the outcome and partially grateful for his simple gesture of showing affection also knowing how he loved your hair just as much as you did.

"Tch, nothing to worry about. I've seen you done it countless time and it looks pretty easy to me." You smile upon hearing his answer and your smile grows wider since you can tell that it won't be the perfect hairbun that you always style just from the feeling of Levi's tough hands twirling your hair to the way he brings it to your head. Nevertheless, you wait patiently for the result. You felt hair pins being inserted into your hair and fingers mindlessly touching here and there around your head.

"Done." Levi said, the slight hesitant wavering in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by your sharp ears.

You look with excitement at your so-called hairbun that was made with care and love by none other than the love of your life, Levi Ackermann, humanity's strongest soldier and you bite your lower lip so hard to stifle your laugh that your body shakes. But since you feel worried that you might bleed your lip from biting too hard, you let out your controlled laugh.

"Levi........ That's a bird nest!" You exclaimed, pointing at the reflection of yourself in the mirror, precisely to the hairbun and proceeded to cover your mouth while you are laughing. Levi can’t help but smile at your laughter probably because his silliness for being so confident with his hairstyling skill was received as a source of happiness to you which is also to him eventually and the fact that he effortlessly makes you laugh without even needs to crack a dark humour as well. Most importantly, both of you got up early that morning and didn't delay on getting yourselves ready, so both of you are not in a hurry at the moment, so you can mess around with each other while not having to worry about being late.

"Let me try again. I'll get it right this time." Levi sounds eager to try for his second attempt which you just nod with a huge beam. This time, you guide him with clear and precise instructions of doing your hair bun, from rubbing the hair oil onto your hair, then hold your hair in the centre of the back of your head, twirling it slowly and bring it back to your while swirling it. Finally, you ask him to clip your hairbun by using your favorite hair claw clip - the one in the shape of a butterfly coated with your favorite colour, it’s one Levi bought for you on your birthday knowing the obsession that you had for hair accessories. He proceeds to clip your hair carefully and takes a step back when he has done.

Hairbun? Done.

"Perfect." You stare in awe as he releases his hands from your hair, his furrowed eyebrows due to his extreme focus on your hairstyle seem to relax upon hearing your word. He smiles in relief to you through the reflection in the mirror.

"Thank you, Levi. You finally made it," you say wholeheartedly and grin at him. Then you turn around to face him and planted a quick peck on his nose when he seems like he has been waiting for his reward.

"Not enough, one more." He demanded with one arm strongly held your waist-not wanting to let you go, greedy old man. Then you place a few more kisses across his face before he helps you with your cropped Survey Corp's jacket and both of you head to the door together to begin you and Levi's day as the soldier, serving humanity.

Levi opens the door for you, which you walk out with a soft pat on his chest as a sign of gratitude. Both of you walk side by side towards the mess hall to have breakfast while sharing each other’s schedule for the day as well as the works that need to be done. That is how the mornings goes for today, tomorrow or any other day, a morning that starts off with full of gratefulness, love and care for each other in hope that the love that you both shared remain fresh as the morning breeze.

#shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #attack on titan fic #aot fic #aot x reader #aot imagines #aot anime #levi ackermann #levi aot #levi ackermann x reader #levi x reader #levi ackermann fic #levi ackermann imagines #survey corps #levi ackerman

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fourmarkdove · 3 years

Text

Fawn - Part 5

Title: Fawn - Part 5

Words: 2.1k

Summary: Plans to return to your ancestral home are halted by an accident that nearly costs your life. Angst. Hurt/comfort.

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: Suicidal ideation. If you’re triggered PLEASE skip ahead. Please check out the trigger warnings (tw:) in the tags!

A/N: I appreciate you sticking with me this far. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading as always!

The crack of thunder shook you awake from a dead sleep atop Roach. You gasped, lifting your head from the bicep you’d been using as a pillow for hours and bolted upright.

“You’re safe,” Geralt soothed in a tone so deep that you felt the sound rumble in his chest pressed against your back. He’d tucked you completely inside of his cloak with him while the rain patted rhythmically on the fabric all around you. Although it was completely dark, your cheeks were so warm and the scent of leather and him was so comforting. Closing your eyes again, you settled back and felt his thumb stroke your hip indicating that’s exactly what he wanted you to do. The gentle motion of the horse under you and how his hips rolled with yours… you wanted to think more about it but you nuzzled against his bicep and were gone again in seconds.

“What’s she doing?” Jaskier asked hours later when your head poked out of the cloak swallowing your frame. Everything was now covered in a thin layer of white as the rain turned to snow.

Geralt cocked his head to the side, amused by your attempts to catch snowflakes on your tongue.

“So thirsty,” you choked.

“Now how is that possible?” Jaskier complained, receiving a sharp side eye from the Witcher. “I’m just saying… she’s already had yours and mine.”

The Bard was right. But you’d also used up every last drop of fluid in your body to expel the inky poison just the day before. And the elevation change couldn’t help.

Inhaling deeply, he caught the scent of a nearby stream and tugged on the reins toward that direction.

The moment that Roach paused, you pushed aside the black cloak. You became completely enraptured by the tinkling sound of ice forming and breaking along the banks, the gentle rush of the water flowing over well worn rocks, and the sparkle of what little light reflected across the surface. This mesmerizing scene caused you to all but launch yourself at the ground and race towards it.

Geralt caught around your hips mid-leap and dragged you back over his thick thigh to his solid chest with a ‘thump’, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Let me go!” you squealed, your hands attempting to pry his solid forearm away from your ribs.

He grunted, tugging off his cloak and wrapped it around you. He didn’t say so out loud, but he was troubled by how long you slept, how quiet. You’d been draped over his forearm all day and barely woke a couple of times in a daze mewling for water before dropping again. Admittedly, he shifted his weight in the saddle more than once just to check and see if you’d wake and we’re still breathing.

Stepping down, the Witcher led his horse to drink and then lifted you down to sit at the edge as well.

It didn’t take but a moment for you to scramble onto your stomach and reach out to touch the water, bringing your fingertips back to taste.

Jaskier filled his water jug and frowned. “Mm… Geralt I think your friend here is still unwell.”

Clearing his throat, Geralt refocused the gaping bard.

“So what’s the plan then? Pause a moment here? Then move on to the next town? I don’t feel much like sleeping out here tonight.”

The Witcher huffed and shook his head. “Give her a moment; then we’ll see..”

As the two men talked, they didn’t see you lean forward and stretch your neck out to drink like Roach. The cool water tasted so good going down your parched throat, you just couldn’t get enough.

With a yelp and a splash, the powdery snow gave way and you slipped right into the frigid water, dragged under with his heavy cloak gripping your neck.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled, knowing immediately what had happened even before he turned heel to run downstream. Racing ahead of you, he planted his feet in the water that didn’t reach quite over his knees and leaned way over to collect the writhing mass of arms, legs, and fabric tumbling underwater toward him.

You came up coughing and it took him a moment to figure out which end was up. “Let go of me!” you cried out, hot tears welling up, threatening to spill down your cold cheeks.

“Hmm,” he grumped, stepping out of the cold water. Catching under your legs, he noticed the pleats of Jaskier’s borrowed pants were already beginning to freeze, stiffen, and stick to your skin.

Standing you on a clear spot he made with his boot, his cloak dropped in a heap around your legs. You trembled uncontrollably, from the shock of nearly drowning, the frightening cold seizing your body, and terror of the scowling Witcher tearing clothes from your body for the third time in as many days.

“Jaskier. Build a fire.”

“What? Why? We are headed to the next town, remember?”

His eyes narrowed and he growled, tugging the hem of Jaskier’s borrowed tunic right up over your head.

“She’s not going anywhere if she’s dead.”

“Alright, alright,” Jaskier sulked, turning away, beginning to collect firewood. He wasn’t too keen on staying out in the forest any longer - not when there was a warm bed and any number of supple breasts waiting for him in town.

The Witcher looked deadly serious though, his jaw set and gold eyes alight with focus. Feeling through his bags, he retrieved one of his own black tunics.

“Take it,” he rumbled, pressing the worn fabric into your shaking hands clutching your elbows. Left shuddering, you were slow to move. Every muscle in your body ached and the cold had sucked any reserve of energy you’d gained during your long sleep.

The Witcher busied himself tearing apart firewood with his bare hands and tossing them in a pile, making Jasker’s meager armful look like kindling. He could hear your heartbeat slowing the moment he dragged you from the icy water. Even from a distance now, he could make out the faintest sound of your muscles seizing up.

With a hefty sigh, he returned to you and plucked his shirt from your frozen grasp. You’d made no progress peeling off the remainder of the icy fabric, now stiff and sticking to your tender skin.

“Come here,” he husked, bending down from behind you. The rumble of his voice so close to your neck made you gasp.

“I can do it.”

“If you could do it, you’d have done it by now.”

His large hands wrapped around your waist, pulling the fabric down your body. It was a relief to be released from the frozen solid garment and you exhaled deeply in appreciation.

Next he reached around to your belly and tugged at the frozen solid knot of your bottoms. The knot gave way in his fist and they dropped from your hips. Suddenly feeling very exposed to more than just the cold, you folded your arms across your chest like an embarrassed bride.

His black shirt dropped down over you like a sail, skimming below your knees. It was soft and surprisingly warm. As soon as your arms unfolded and slipped into the too long sleeves, he scooped you up under your knees. All you wanted to do was rest your head on his shoulder and curl up against his chest while he stroked you all over but then you remembered the violet-eyed Yennefer. And how he kept the wedding a secret. Embittered by the betrayal, you pulled away when he settled you onto the saddle blanket near the fire just flickering to life and went to repack his saddle bags.

You watched him silently, letting the warmth of the fire gradually thaw your limbs.

“I’m going hunting,” Geralt announced, returning to the flickering fire.

Sitting across from you, Jaskier rubbed his belly. “Not particularly hungry at the moment.”

You shook your head indicating you were fine too.

He frowned sharply, disapproval furrowed his brow. Without saying a word, his attention snapped to his weapons and stalked into the woods alone.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Jaskier’s gaze followed his friend until he was out of sight. “Wha… no. He’s just worried about you and it’s made him extra grumpy.”

By the time he returned with several large rabbits in hand, the Witcher’s cloak was tented over a low hanging branch and Jaskier sat near the fire plucking.

Geralt nosed toward the tent before dropping heavily onto the log nearest the fire and set to work preparing the rabbits.

“She is resting,” Jaskier over-enunciated, still just shy of a whisper. “Are we done traveling for today because I sure would love the feel of a warm bed and soft thighs around my head.”

“Hmm,” he grunted. In truth, Geralt was only half listening, and more focused on turning an ear toward the makeshift tent. “When did you last look in on her?”

His tone was threatening and it made the bard incredulous, putting his hands up. “A while I suppose? All I did was help put some stones down so it wouldn’t blow away when the wind picked up.”

Geralt huffed, nodding slightly. Still, he always heard your racing heartbeat; something felt wrong. Pinning his knife in the log where he sat, he lifted heavily and crunched through the dusting of snow accumulating around the campsite.

“Jaskier!” he bellowed, tearing down his cloak, revealing only his saddle and empty blankets.

“Listen, Geralt, I swear I didn’t know,” he pleaded, following the seething silent witcher. “How can I help? What should I do?”

“Jaskier - you’ve done enough. Go into town like you planned.”

The Wolf followed your boot prints in the muddy snow until there were no more feet to follow. Fortunately, he recognized your scent trail wafting along the underbrush. Stalking in stealth behind you, it didn’t take long to catch up.

Wielding his silver knife overhead, an otherworldly shriek escaped your lips as you dived onto the Drowner, slicing into its sickly flesh.

He dashed forward into the fray as a second and third, escaping your notice, heaved themselves onto shore.

Once the fallen creature lay hissing, you leapt atop its writhing body, pinning it to the ground between your knees, and gripped the stolen blade you’d concealed in your boot.

Dispatching both deadly creatures quickly with his heavy sword, his hair spun like a riptide about his face as he looked for you in the near dark.

A gasping shriek from the nightmare fodder pinned under his fawn gave way to slick, gouging sounds as you mangled the putrid flesh over and over until you were breathless.

Catching your hand, he pried the blood slick blade from your grasp. Ripping your slippery hand from his yielding grip, you leaned over your gaping kill and released a soul wrenched, hate-filled scream.

Geralt gripped under your arms and dragged you away from the water's edge. Collapsing back against an oak tree with you barely contained in his constantly readjusting grasp, he exploded in anger.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?! That fucking thing could have killed you. Stop - Stop struggling and answer me!”

Letting out a howl more feral than alliterative, you squirmed and elbowed his ribs as hard as you could.

He easily overwhelmed your attempt to flee and flexed his arms around your body, dragging your back to the solid wall of his chest. Panting, nearly breathless yourself, he gripped you tight and stroked back the hair clinging to your sweaty brow; you relented more out of pure exhaustion than anything else, letting your head willfully dip back against his shoulder.

He frowned severely, glancing side eyed at you as you trembled with every breath and clung onto the forearm pressed across your breasts.

“What. Happened,” he rumbled, dropping his voice to a more intimate tone.

Your head rolled slightly on his shoulder, licking your dry lips. “I don’t know.”

“Why do you have my knife? You’ve told me how nervous they make you.”

Releasing the grip of the mud underfoot, you began to rest your weight back against him. Feeling your clammy forehead against his cheek, he sighed. And waited.

“I was going to end it, Geralt. Right here by the water. I want to be swept away.”

Jaw clenched, he fought the immediate eruption of rage threatening to explode deep in his belly.

“But those things appeared and ruined that moment in time when I was at peace with the idea. I got so angry because I was ready but they took it from me. Finally a decision all my own and it was taken.”

“Despair is an ugly look on you,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

Conceding to his blunt objectiveness, you wilted. “Unwanted daughter… Bride. Whore. What else do I have to hide my shame if not despair?”

#tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: suicidal ideation #geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt angst #geralt hurt/comfort #the witcher fic #the witcher fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #fourmarkdovewrites

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xfeliciahardyx · 3 years

Text

Summary: What happened in the bakery changed you. The next few years would force you to harden and build so many walls that you vowed to never let anyone in. You can probably guess what happens when a certain soldier starts to scale those walls so that he can get to you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: mention of blood, intense details about ww2, side character deaths, traumatic backgrounds, mention of Nazis, mentions of broken bones and bullet wounds, children suffering due to the war, imprisonment in a concentration camp, someone does get stabbed, and angst (Warnings will be added as the story continues if need be. This is just for the first chapter!)

Taglist: ~Here~ (Feel free to add yourself to any other categories!)

Word Count: 9k

Author's Note: Okay everyone reading I first want to say thank you for reading my imagine. There are some things that I need to clarify before you start reading this. The entire series will be me going through the Captain America movies. It first starts at The First Avenger and continues through the places in time where Bucky is and where he is not OoOoOoO plot twists. But yes this can be overwhelming to read because some details are VERY graphic. i did use techniques from my medical skills class so all the medical procedures are researched and correct. Please enjoy The Winter Soldier and The White Feather or as I like to call it WSWF

The war was changing you and everyone around you. It was making kind people turn green and bad people even worse. You learned that the hard way of course. When you’d had been taken to the facility you didn’t know what to expect. Now you had been in it for God knows how long and you didn’t know what would happen. You had no way of contacting your family. Of contacting anyone you knew really. You were lost, scared, hoping for a savior that didn’t seem to be appearing. Lost traveling in a fog ridden meadow without any sense of direction. It killed you to see how many people died and suffered at the hands of the Germans, but your screams were of no use. The way they treated everyone was as horrible as a cat chasing a mouse. Like you were the filth on their boots, the scum of the earth. Any time someone said something to them they’d react as if a fire touched their skin and recoil away. They acted as if they didn’t have enough money to feed anyone properly. The food was sure to break several health codes back in the city but that didn’t seem to stop you all from eating it. If it wasn’t stale bread that you could knock someone out with, it was week old soup that had hints of green to it. The water was as piss pore and was a dull gray. Not your best moments or the biggest feast for the holidays but it was for survival. It was meant for you to get on through the day and do as you’re told. The inmates had started to call it the end of the world. You didn’t blame them because it was. That didn’t stop them from constantly complaining about every little thing. You on the other hand couldn’t give a fuck. It was like every single one up and flew away with the happiness that had been your life in France. You couldn’t even speak after the horrors the world and slammed into your life. You avoided everyone and everything that lived, scared and desperate to stay hidden. It was the way to go and others followed your lead. You weren’t one to speak or do anything with another person and the others around you knew it. So, they cleared their distance and you appreciated it. You had never been one to stay quiet for long around people. Eventually you’d try to get to know them. But you had changed just as times had. Even now you knew to keep your cool and to keep up with your manners. At any minute they could kill you. Or they could do something to shatter your already scarred mind. You knew you weren’t like the people who decided to suck up to them. Kissing the floor, they walked on for a little bit of clean water, or a bowl of soup that was freshly made. They were horrible to the suck ups and laughed at them as they did their best to seem appealing. You would never stoop as low to be a person who supported the people who had made this sad reality your life. Despite everything your parents had done to you, you always managed kindness. The girl who was secretly the crush of every guy because of her brains. The kind of girl that went to the library in her free time. The girl who never dated because she claimed she wanted to focus on school but could never know how to talk to guys. Went to the movies with her one friend who she cared about more than anything. The girl who made life positive because her family had always made it negative. Yes, you were over all kind but when you needed to be you could be as sharp as a spear. So, why did they kidnap you? It was simply a case of being at the wrong place in the wrong time. But that didn’t excuse their actions following the moments they walked in that bakery with their rifles held high and their voices screaming in curses. Why did they have to kill one of the most important people in your life right in front of you? Shot her straight through the heart at the bakery around the block from the school. All because she was Jewish. Their logic didn’t explain why they had the right to take her life. Her younger siblings had been complaining about food and you had an extra food stamp to use. You’d despised the stars they had to wear on their chest that prohibited them from having the normal things every person

needs. You all had practically skipped to the bakery in hopes that they’d have chocolate. It was a nice moment thinking that everything was back to normal. She had only been 21 and you 20. That was 3 years ago. Even so long after you could still imagine the events that had occurred. Her blood had splattered all over your polka dotted yellow dress. All she had asked for was food for her siblings. Sure, sweets would have been kind but you were all hungry in general. When the soldiers had come in, they’d been attracted to her star. You should have been on guard more, but you’d been naive to think they wouldn’t harm them. One had grabbed Ciera and pushed himself against her. In her reaction she’d kicked the German away and his comrade shot her. Her siblings that had been clinging to your side as they shot her cried out for their sister as she dropped to the ground. Siblings that had their throats slit as they clung to your arms. You had begged for their lives. They were just two children. You thought they would have a little mercy. You knew you would take care of them for their sister. You tried to explain that Tommy and Cassandra had been hungry, and their sister had been killed right in front of them. The trauma they had suffered was enough for their minds to endure. All of what was happening was enough to make anyone mad. It was necessary that they cry and mourn. But as heartless as they were, they showed no remorse. That two children crying for their dead sister would never and hadn’t stopped the Germans. They’d ripped the children from your hands and pressed their silver knives to their throats killed them. You wanted to fight for them. You loved them like your own siblings. They didn’t deserve the fate that had been handed to them. The third soldier had held your arms behind your back to stop you from tearing them away. You had tried to fight him, but you knew he wouldn’t let go. You watched the blood slip from their throats, and you sagged against the soldier. He had been the kinder of the three. A recruit perhaps. You didn’t realize until later that he’d held you in his embrace throughout the car ride to the place where you’d be transported. The screams that left their mouths still haunted you and you saw their terrified faces in your dreams. Sometimes they would come together as a group. Other times Tommy would visit you with blood seeping from his throat asking you for his sisters. You blamed yourself for not fighting hard enough. You watched as the life left your eyes when you knew it should have been you. You should have been dead on the ground with them as they lay dead next to their sister on the ground. Yes, life was unfair. But if life was unfair than war was no comparison.

“Gurl!” A German soldier yells pointing his finger to a spot in front of him. Most of them could barely speak English and when they did it was so slurred. Half the times you had to watch their hand motions to understand what they wanted. His eyes are locked on you from your spot by the back of the courtyard. It was a quiet place that everyone avoided because of the sun that would beam on you. They preferred the shade, but you just needed the quiet heat to cleanse your mind. You cursed and grabbed onto the chain fence behind you to lift yourself up. It bent with your weight but you knew it wouldn’t break. It was a trashy fence that if you tried to climb, you’d either be shot down or just get so scratched that you’d just end up doing more harm than good. The fence traveled around the vast courtyard that was rundown and brown. The fence had rust in certain spots from when it rained but it never did anything for the concrete. Blood stains covered the floor from where prisoners had been shot and dragged away. There were splatters and puddles all over the already dirty floor. Even on the ground leading into your cells you’d find the lengthened blood beneath your feet. The courtyard was the only time you got to see the outside world. They also had a calendar on the wall that told you what day it was. You weren’t sure why but maybe it was to bring down the spirits of everyone. You on the other hand had been there for 3 years 2 months and 25 days. Since the beginning of the German’s invasion of France. It was made up of mock punching bags filled with paper plates and hard pillows that no dared to sleep on. People sat in cliques all around speaking in different languages. Most of them spoke French and in your time there you’d picked up bits of other languages. Nothing too major but just enough to understand.

“Ve dount ave foreevare vittle gurl.” He yelled again and you picked up your pace. You didn’t want to do anything to cause any more attention to yourself. His accent sent prickles of fear up your spine and the hairs on your arms stood on end. As you walked by a few whispers drafted into your ears and people glanced away. Being called over by a soldier wasn’t a good thing and people avoided it as much as they could. There was always the possibility of someone getting shot or having to do something you weren’t mentally or physically prepared to do. So, the terror that was filling up your mind with endless possibilities wasn’t a fun thing. Anxiety tightened the space in your chest and your throat was constricted with worry. You stopped a few steps in front of the soldier who towered over you and said nothing as his eyes trailed over your body. Once upon a time you would have blushed and shifted awkwardly where you stood but now you stand still and stare straight at the wall behind the soldier to avoid eye contact. The mic on his shoulder beeps and he holds out a finger to you. You don’t respond and continue to stare straight ahead. He responds to the German voice in his native language rapidly and you fiddle with your hands behind your back. You could feel the tension rising around the two of you and it wasn’t good. His eyes had begun to harden more, and his posture grew rigid. His eyes darted around the dirt filled courtyard until he turned around and stared at a man. He had been beat up. On his eye was a purplish hue with hints of green. You saw a small limp in his walk as you turned your head in his direction. He stopped and leaned against the fence with his arms crossed a pair of tags dangling around his neck. The green Henley he wore was matted and had spatters of dried blood. His pants hung off his body, still fitting but with tears. Looking from the outside in he looked just as bad as every other prisoner of war. He had an unreadable expression as he surveyed his surroundings. You caught a small calculating look in his eyes as he scanned people that walked by. His eyes caught yours and your breath caught in your throat. He didn’t just stare at you from afar. He seemed to bare your soul out in front of everyone to see. His gaze was intense, and a hint of curiosity was in his dark eyes. The soldier beside you muttered something into his radio and your gaze snapped away from the handsome stranger and you turned back at attention. You couldn’t get the image of him out of your mind even as the soldier gave you your new group to follow to your cells. Everyone was given a number when they were placed in the camp. Each cell was alphabetized and most of the time people didn’t even pay attention to them. They did it to give themselves a feel of control. The only one you didn’t follow. You didn’t say anything back to him and when he dismissed you, you promptly walked back to your spot. You didn’t want to turn your head in the direction of the stranger you knew was walking over to you. You wanted to disappear, and you knew the moment he talked to you your tough exterior would break. There was something different about the way his head was held high and his shoulders never slumped. You could practically feel his confidence from across the courtyard and out of your peripheral vision. You slid down the fence with a sigh as you put your head in your knees. You took a few breaths to keep yourself calm as a pair of shoes came into view. They were brown and matted and looked like they’d seen better days.

“You okay?” a voice followed. It was low and soft, but it sent shivers down your spine. You slowly raised your eyes up the body that was wearing them, and your eyes widened in surprise where the man from before stood in front of you. He’s much taller than you initially realized and his eyes a deeper brown. He stares down at you with worry and you just stared at him not knowing what to do. He was around your age and it was rare you found anyone your age and that spoke a language you could speak. Sure, there were people who spoke your language and had tried to talk to you. Soon enough they stopped coming around because staying in a group too long would strike fearing the people because they wouldn’t want the Germans thinking new company meant rebellion. He moved to your side and carefully slid down the steel fence. You stared ahead at the people who stood in the middle of the courtyard.

“So, you people watch.” The stranger says motioning to the people in front of you both. You nod without looking at him keeping a close eye on the people in front of you. Something felt wrong about the gathering. It wasn’t anything good. Someone was shoved across into another person and you heard the stranger suck in a breath. He felt the sudden shift too and he pointed a finger towards a short man in broken glasses. His eyes flipped from each side of the courtyard where the two soldiers stood. His hands were clasped together, and his feet were headed in the direction of the crowd. You nudged your elbow into your newfound companions’ arm tilting your chin up in the direction of the people. The air felt stiff in the courtyard more than normal as the crowd began to step into a circle the short man now joining them. The soldiers seemed to notice it too because their gazes were hardened, and their guns were pointed. Your heart began to pound as you knew what was coming next. It haunted you every night ever since you had seen it the day you’d been kidnapped and taken to this camp. The images of Ciera’s body falling to the ground flashes through your vision and you shake your head, feeling your heart squeeze. The screams of her siblings were in the wind you closed your eyes tight and took in a deep breath. They were screaming out orders in German, but the group paid them no mind. You couldn’t breathe. Your hands rubbed against your rugged jeans completely lost to your nightmares that were coming to life. You opened your eyes slowly and looked around to see if anyone else was witnessing what was going down. A few other small groups of people watched from afar with dead eyes, but none made a move to assist. Your eyes were locked on the German soldier directly across from you that was walking towards the group. With each footstep your breathing became faster and your mind screamed for them to heed the warnings the Germans were giving. The group was large and growing by the minute which in the eyes of your captors was a bigger threat. The German nudged one of the people in the group with his gun and what happened next you had never expected. The stringy thin man with blood hair who had been poked spun around and stabbed the soldier in the neck with a foreign object and someone screamed. His hands went to his throat and he dropped his gun. The man dove for it as the soldier fell slowly bleeding out on the concrete. Everything was chaos as the gun dropped and a single bullet escaped from its chamber. The bullet flew across the courtyard and your eyes flew with it watching it impale a single child.

“No!” you screamed bolting up from your place by the fence. The soldiers burst into action firing down anyone who had been in the huge crowd. Everyone went running towards the inside of the prison, trying to avoid the bullets. It was pure chaos as people from everywhere were getting shot as they tried to escape the rage of the soldiers. There were screams of all different languages and you heard the cry of the mother above all. Her cries for her baby filled your ears as you raced across the courtyard toward the downed child. The man followed you close behind, and you paid him no mind as you shoved through the on rush of people. People were getting into meaningless fights as they tried to get away. A man stops in front of you making a grab for your waist. A hand presses against your chest shoving you back as the stranger jumps in front of you. He throws a hard punch at the man who’d made an attempt touch and he gets knocked to the ground. You grabbed his hand and started running again. The mother’s screams in French guided you through the crowd. You felt your foot hit something before you went flying. Your hands moved out in front of you to stop the fall by instinct and on impact you hissed in pain. You had landed hard on your free hand but was yanked back up just as quickly.

“We have to go.” The man from before whispered in your ear.

“The child needs help.” You whispered back and he didn’t say a word back as he supported you on the remaining distance. The child lay on the ground holding his mother’s hand as she screamed for help. The brown-haired man set you on the floor beside the child and you immediately began ripping your jacket off your arms. You ripped the sleeves off the jacket and used the back to apply pressure to the wound. The single bullet hole was small but on the size of the boy was enough to cause a lot of damage. You quickly felt it become wet with blood and pressed down a little harder as the boy cried out in pain.

“Mon garçon, s'il vous plaît, sauvez mon garçon.”(My boy, Please save my boy) She sobbed as her eyes covered her face. Her hands were covered in his blood and your mind flashed with the memory of your own hands covered in Tommy and Cassandra’s blood. You ignored her cries but that didn’t stop you from helping her. You kept a steady push on his leg to slow the bleeding. After a few checks you eyed the wound and you couldn’t help the feel of triumph that flowed through your heart. The slow of bleeding meant you could check the wound for any other injuries it could have caused. You ripped open his pant leg and wiped the blood away to get a good look at the wound. This wasn’t the first time you’d be a medic and it wouldn’t be the last. Your father had gotten plenty of hunting wounds and you had been the one to take care of them. His leg only held one bullet hole, but his leg was so skinny it could fit in the palm of your hand. Your heart ached that this would be the childhood he remembered and not one filled with days of running in a field with his mother or being in school with his friends. He was one of the lucky ones you had to remind yourself. He was alive and you were determined to keep him that way. Your hands moved with remarkable speed as you lifted the child’s leg and looked for the exit wound of the bullet. A small hole was in the back of his leg and you wiped it clear of blood. You lifted the sleeve from earlier to your teeth and made a big enough tear that you could rip it with your bare hands. The long piece of clothing dangled between your fingertips as you examined the length. From the way the threading looked it wouldn’t hold for long, so you’d have to find a more permanent solution. But that was later and the thin cloth would do good for now.

“How can I help?” The man whispered in your ear again as your mind whirled with adrenaline. Your instincts in healing were helping you move through the steps you’d done so many times before with ease, but you couldn’t help the storm brewing in your feelings. You were enraged, scared, and so many other feelings all at once. You had gotten lost in the moment as you rushed to save the boy that lay before you. People were still running inside, and the screams had begun to slow. The courtyard was filled with sobs of families returning to their loved one’s bodies that lay dead on the floor. The blood on the ground would haunt them for the rest of their lives as the bodies were carried away by the ‘healthy’ prisoners.

“Lift his leg carefully. I need to make a tourniquet to stop the bleeding.” You said softly showing him the places to place his hands. He placed his above and below the wound just as you’d asked and lifted slowly. The boy screamed in pain and the mother began to reach her hands out to stop you. You glared at her, but she ignored your attempts to stop her from distracting you. She was screaming at you in French, begging you to stop hurting her boy. You ignored her cries and curses and continued to work. Her hands were gripping yours now as she tightened them around your wrists, and you struggled to tie the knot.

��Si vous ne retirez pas vos mains, votre fils mourra!” (if you don’t pull your hands away your son will die) you snap back at her in French and her nails stop digging into your skin. She pulls away quickly but doesn’t move her eyes away from your face. You sigh in frustration as you tighten the knot around the boy’s leg. You can hear the boy crying for his maman and she’s trying to calm him but it’s no use. You grab the jacket and place it over the boys wound again and apply pressure. The mother is sobbing as she holds her sons face and you watch knowing that you can only help minimally. You motion for the man to lower his leg softly and he does. He watches you carefully as you wrap the torn jacket around his leg and tie it again in the back. The bleeding has slowed to minimal trickle, but you’ll have to find something to clean the wound to keep away infection. You sigh in relief collapsing on the back of your heels as the woman steps away from her boy and walks over to you. She offers a hand over to you and you stare at it not sure what to do. She smiles weakly and shakes her hand again. You realize she’s trying to get you to stand up and you take it willingly. She helps you stand up and as soon as you’ve got on your feet, she pulls you into a hug.

“You…help…. me Henry.” She whispers in your ear as she pulls away. There’s a new look in her eyes as she apologizes for hurting you in French. She pulls your wrists to her mouth and places small kisses over the crescent moon shaped marks. Her fingers run over them in a silent guilt and you pull away and give her a small smile. Her hand brushes your cheek leaving a trail of blood, but her eyes are locked on yours. She leans in placing a kiss on your cheek before releasing you from her embrace. She quiets quickly once you tell her that it’s alright and that you have something to tell her. You start to give her basic instructions that will keep her son alive. How to clean the wound and tell her the signs of infection. Her hands grip onto her fingers, and her eyes are eager to make sure she doesn’t miss a word. You tell her your cell keep so that if she may ever need your assistance, she can send someone. The man who helped you stands beside you as you give her these instructions nodding as you list off everything. Once you trust that she knows everything you bid her goodbye and tell her to stay safe. She doesn’t respond as she looks away from you down to her son whose hand is out reached for her. She rushes to her knees and grabs his hand and doesn’t give you another glance. You know she won’t leave him alone for a minute. The fear of losing her family wasn’t a good one and it had scarred her heart forever just as it did to you months ago. She would hold on tight to his hands and watch for any signs of sickness. She would not sleep through the night but would tell her boy that she did. She’d do anything to protect her last light in the dark world. Your eyes travel from their joined hands to the boys’ face. It’s pale, most likely from the blood loss but he smiles at you. He opens his mouth to say something, and just as quick as it opens it closes as a grimace of pain flashes over his face. You shake your head giving him a weak smile. You kneel beside his head and place a soft kiss on his sweaty forehead and murmur a good-bye. You give the mother and son a small wave before standing once more and turning on your heel to walk away. Your tail follows you as you make your rounds around the courtyard. People cry out to the two of you as you try your best to help anyone and everyone. Most people have died by the time you reach them, and you close their eyes for the dead to mourn. Some don’t accept that their loved one is dead and continue to scream their fury at your insistence. One man almost attacks you because he refuses to believe his wife was killed and the stranger has to stop him. Tears stream down your cheeks at the sight of each body that lies on the floor. There was so much blood on the court now that it was rare you saw an old patch that was dried. It runs underneath your shoes and covers each piece of cement with ease. It soaks the clothes of the people lying beside their families and friends crying their hearts out to someone who is no longer there. Their pain has become apart of you and you can feel the shock of it numb you by the time you reach the last patient. Your tears have dried up and your hands are covered in so much blood that pieces flake off when the wind blows through the courtyard. You stand beside the teenage girl that holds her arm limp as her companion stands nearby attempting to talk to you in German. You attempt to converse with him in French the only language you’d been able to learn in your months of imprisonment but it’s no use as he doesn’t understand you. The girl cries softly as you touch her arm trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Was ist mit ihr passiert?” (What happened to her?) your partner says in German earning a glance from the boy. He speaks faster now the urgency in his hand motions clear. You can’t help but watch in awe as the man who has been helping this whole time stays remarkably calm. He nods and continues to ask him questions and gives him responses without hesitation. He doesn’t interrupt when it becomes clear that the boy is in full out panic mode. You place your hand on the girls’ shoulder and she flinches away before you give her a small smile. She stared at you with a suspicious glare in her eyes, but you tapped your eyes and then pointed to her shoulder in hopes that she would understand. Her eyes are wide with understanding and she leans in closer to you. You press your fingertip towards the top of her shoulder, and you feel her flinch. Doing this a few more times as you examine her shoulder you realize it doesn’t look like the other. It’s bent at an odd angle and you curse yourself for not realizing sooner.

“Her shoulder is dislocated presumably from being trampled in the panic. I know how to put it back in place, but it’ll be a two person job so I’ll need your help...” you trail off not knowing your assistants name. He glances over his shoulder giving you a smile makes you look down at your hands tat have begun to fidget.

“Call me Bucky.” He winks but you can tell he immediately regrets it because he turns away and starts muttering something under his breath. You catch a small huff of frustration that he cuts off quickly with ‘idiot’ following in English. You chuckle a little and his eyes brighten at your show of emotion towards him. Besides the subtle nudges of worry from before the attack, it was the only one you’d shown. His whole demeanor changed then, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to the sudden beam of light. He was trying to hide his ear to ear smile as he shifted in place. You shake your head slightly and notice the two people that had been forgotten for a short moment. The man from before is quiet now as the girl talks to him in a soft voice. You motion Bucky over, and he leans down to your level.

“She needs to lie on her back. I’m going to pull it back into place.” Bucky gives you a single nod and begins talking to her in German. She stares at him in confusion but then as he explains it even more, she begins to nod her head in understanding reaching out to her boyfriend for assistance. He grabs her lifted hand and Bucky grabs her waist. Her boyfriend kneels beside her and the two exchange soft words that you don’t attempt to hear. Yes, there were things worse than what she was going through but what you were about to do wasn’t about to be as painless as she’d think. Besides the love that you could see when they looked at each other felt like you were intruding every time they looked at each other. When both men have settled, they both slowly lay her down onto her back, but your eyes don’t miss the flinch she gives once Bucky goes near her and her partner has stepped away. You slightly nudge Bucky out of the way and lightly grab her arm. You can see the gratitude in her eyes, and she tries to grab your hand most likely to thank you in the only way she knew how. You gave her a small nod and remained silent because somethings were better left unsaid. As you go through the steps you tell Bucky what you’re doing and in turn he translates. She doesn’t take her eyes off her partner the entire way as you begin to move her. Her arm is causing her a lot of pain, so your touches are featherlight. She is squeezing his hand and you take a lot of breaks to offer her some relief. Once her arm is outstretched towards you, you place your foot underneath where her shoulder is. You take a deep breath and without warning pull her arm at the same time as you push into her side. A loud pop sounds from her arm and you immediately stop pulling on her arm and let it sit on your lap. A blood curdling scream leaves her mouth and she begins to sob in pain. You can see her body shake as her free hand covers the tears that stream down her face. The three of you aren’t the only ones that heard her of course and a German soldier runs over to you all and starts yelling commands that you don’t understand. The girls companion starts responding to him much quieter than before most likely being careful with what he says. Even with the man explaining the soldier still has his eyes locked on you with a hatred you’d never seen before. It’s as if the soldier doesn’t care that you helped her and that she’d be better off in pain. You glare right back at him without a second thought before he turns his gaze away. He doesn’t respond to the boy before walking back to his post near the corner a few feet away from you. You let a breath you didn’t know you were holding in as he leaves the four of you alone on the courtyard again. You look down at the blonde girl who lies with her hair matted in blood from the concrete. She looks at you with a blank expression on her face that soon turns into gratitude. It’s not the first you’ve gotten but something about the way she put her trust in you makes your heart jump for joy. She lifts her arm into the air slowly but gives you a thumbs up, which in turn makes you laugh a little. She grins at you as you return her thumbs up right back and she looks away reaching out to her lover. He grabs her hands quickly and helps her to her feet. It’s a slow process as she slowly tries to get a handle on her pain tolerance, but eventually she stands up. She holds onto his hands to balance herself and gave her shoulder a roll. She let out a soft laugh in triumph and glanced over to where you and Bucky stood. Her eyes warm with happiness that would only last in the moment but were well deserved. She directed her eyes to Bucky and gave him a small smile as she spoke to him in German. You took the chance to finally look at the man who’d introduced himself to you. Here he was in the middle of a war willing to trust you and take care of all these people and be your assistant and he didn’t even know your name. You could tell by the hard built of his shoulders and the way his jaw tensed was because he was strong. Not in a physical way but in

a mental was as well. He could be one to give support and be just as willing to take it away. He was strong but not with many walls. He was determined but not without conscious. He was a good man. A handsome one at that you think before turning away and blushing. Here this man was helping you as a translator and you were thinking about how strong and physically built he was. You shake your head biting on your bottom lip to avoid the smile that wants to appear on your face.

“What have I got something on my face?” he jokes placing his bloody hands to his mouth. You shake your head but can’t help the small laugh that leaves your mouth. Even as a good guy who’d helped you save 20 people who were either bleeding or needed something fixing, he was a dork. The couple gives you a wave before walking off the courtyard towards the yelling Germans. It was time to go to your designated area. The cell of which you’d have to stay in until mealtime which would be in about an hour. As if on cue your stomach growls extremely loud and you place a hand over it. Usually you could hold your hunger over with some water, but it didn’t seem like there would be anything clean for a little while. The usual stream that came out of a hose was used to clean the victims’ blood away. You turned towards the hose where it had only on clean spot on the concrete. Today had been horrible and you knew there would be more days just like this to come. You still felt the ache for the people you couldn’t save and how their blood was still on your hands. You looked down at the floor and your eyes connected with the blood that covered your shoes. You felt the sudden urge to rinse it off and clean them with bleach, but you knew they would never truly leave. The stains would wash off physically, but it would stay with you forever and trap you in its horrors.

“Don’t let it scar you more than it already will.” He whispered into your ear. You didn’t have the strength for words as the day’s exhaustion hit you. You felt your knees buckle and Bucky’s arm wrapped around your waist quickly, keeping you up. All the adrenaline was dying out and you could barely keep your eyes open as he attempted to have you walk. You couldn’t though and it made your feet hurt 10 times more. You groaned and forced him to stop for a minute. You were blinking rapidly as your vision faded in and out.

“I got you.” He murmured placing an arm under your knees and swooping you into the air. His arms pulled you closer to his chest and you placed a hand on your stomach. You wanted to say thank you, but the words wouldn’t come. You were burnt out of all your energy and your eyes lazily rolled over the man who was walking you across the courtyard. He looked straight ahead, and his gaze sharpened at the people who passed by. It was clear he didn’t trust the people around you. It wasn’t something anyone should ever give out willingly but the thought that he had given you such a fragile thing made your mind whirl with possibilities. You kept staring at him in wonder and you weren’t sure if it was from the lack of food and water, but you felt a sort of friendship growing with Bucky. He made you feel safe and he hadn’t abandoned you as you fell but instead, he’d picked you up. He’d let you work and hadn’t tried to take over either. Your hand gravitated towards his cheek and you held it there. Something about the action felt right and it comforted you. From what you saw it had the same effect on him. He looked down at you with a sincerity in his eyes and a small smile formed on his lips. It warmed your heart that you were able to get that reaction from him after such a long day and you couldn’t stop the smile you returned. He looked up and his gaze sharpened once more but there was something else displayed across his face. It was more lie… astonishment. You turned your head in confusion to see what had made him look such a way and you let out a small gasp. The area around the only source of water wasn’t crowded like it had been when you’d glanced at it. The people had made two lines directly to the water hose. You recognized these people as the ones you’d helped. Men and women who’d lost their loved ones and had found some broken but ready to be helped had stepped aside so that you could get some water.

“No.” you croaked nudging Bucky. You needed them to know you weren’t any special. You weren’t some savior. You’d been able to save them, but you couldn’t save your best friend and her siblings. That their ghosts still haunted you in the depths of the night. You began to squirm in his arms your energy suddenly making its way back into your body. He glanced down at you as you struggled to get down. He lowered your legs and planted them on the floor without a word, but his arm didn’t leave your waist. You were glad because if it weren’t for the support you were sure to fall. You pointed to the hose and Bucky nodded and began walking the two of you towards it. The area was clear as the people watched you from the sides. You could feel your terror rising as you looked to the guards that watched from afar. Your heart was beginning to pound with anxiety. You didn’t want another shoot out. Too many people had died already, and you wouldn’t let any more die. You urged Bucky forward and soon you reached the front to where the boy, Henry stands as his mother washes his wound. He looks up at you and gives you a small wave and begins tapping his mother. She looks up from her action with a look of annoyance, but it vanishes the minute she notices you. Her gaze softens and she smiles urging you forward. You kneeled beside them and murmured a silent hello as Henry proudly held back the torn-up pant leg. He was telling his maman in French about how he would be a strong boy and protect them both from harm. She said nothing but only let a smile and a few laughs through her tough exterior as she let you inspect the wound. There never was a lot of talking in the prison except for the quiet whispers between the terrified families. People weren’t the chatty types when they’d be kidnapped out of their homes and forced away from their families. You shook your head as images of Jews being thrown out into the street and onto a bus in your hometown flashes across your mind. Just like you couldn’t save Ciera and her siblings you couldn’t even save them. But you could save these people. Some part of you hoped that you could help push the everlasting guilt away, but you knew you would always feel that pain. So, you internalized it and turned to the wound on the boys’ leg again. The flesh surrounding the wound looked clean which was already a very good sign. You checked along his leg for any red lines that would travel up. It was a common sign of blood poisoning but seeing as he had none you knew he would be alright for the time being. If there were any of the blood red veins trailing along his pale skin, it would be a sign of infection and with no antibiotics would be the death of him. She pulls the pant leg away from the boy at your request because he dances away from your touch. He giggles because your touch is warm against his cold skin and you smile at her and her boy. Giving her the good news is probably a moment you’ll never forget as she wraps her arm around her son tightly. You can tell from the way she’s beaming at being able to stay with her son for more time means that in some way they’ll get through this together. It makes your heart jump for joy and you can’t help but let the happiness consume you. The mother hands her son to Bucky and he kneels on a rock nearby holding the child. At one point while the mother washes a wound you catch Bucky letting the boy squeeze his cheeks and pull at them every which way. He doesn’t let this stop him from tickling the boy and the sight is so pure that you’re smiling for the rest of the time. More and more patients leave to go towards their cells after you give them direct instructions. They all come to the water and you and the mother wash out their wounds and they walk away. It’s a process that soon you start to do without realizing how many people you’ve helped. Some were far worse than her son with multiple wounds that fill with blood at the touch. It takes a lot to break a person and seeing multiple scrapes and bullet wounds would make anyone sick. After about the 15th person she ran away to throw

up because of the smell of cooking flesh from the sun above. Bucky immediately took her place in helping you clean the wounds. You looked over at the woman in concern but found her son rubbing her back as they sat on the concrete holding each other. You felt for her because this scenario was nothing good or that pleasing to see. Knowing all these people were hurting and that the men who guarded you all watched from afar and refused to help was making you feel 20 shades of green. You wanted to just react at them. To hurt the people who were hurting all these innocents. You despised them and with each wound that began receiving care by your hands the hatred began growing bigger and bigger.

“Neutralize your expression. Showing you’re angry will upset the Nazis even more.” Bucky’s hushed voice interrupted your thoughts. You lift your eyes to meet his as you turn the faucet off and dab at the patient’s jacket to dry his wound. The confusion you felt must have been visible on your face because his eyebrows raise as his head jerks to his right. Your eyes slowly follow the trail to where a German soldier stands with his gun in his hands. His eyes stare directly at your actions as if you were a criminal about to attack.

“They’ve been watching the entire time. Through the cameras in the corners. They have orders to let us be but to shoot if they see anything wrong.” You immediately drop your expression and place a blank look on your face. Bucky’s nod confirms that your expression is fine and you both help the man who’d been stabbed on the right side of his chest. The panic of knowing you were being watched never quite faded so you dived deeper into doing whatever you could for the people’s wounds. He’d been lucky for the knife to not puncture his lung because if that had happened his lungs would have filled with blood and he would end up choking on his own blood. If that had been the case, there would have been nothing for you to do at least long term. You were slowly coming to realize that all those trips spent in the library studying the multiple medical books were coming to work out in your favor. Bucky calls out the information in which you’ve told him to tell the girl who accompanies the man. She nods vigorously before grabbing his hand and helping him walk over to the opening that leads to the cells where you all would be holed up. The prison inside of the prison. How ironic. You call out for the next person to step forward but are met with silence. You look to the previous line to be met with open space.

“Come here.” He urges. He’s kneeling in front of you from where you sit on the high-rise rock. You ignore the outreach of his bloody hand and you walk around him. He sighs as you reach down to the faucet. The cold water greets your fingertips and you don’t move away from it. Bucky taps your shoulder and you turn around to see what he needs. He’s staring at you like you’re the smallest child in the playground and that if you don’t listen, he’ll throw you in time out. He points to his raised knee and you scoff shaking your head.

“Either you do it willingly or I force you.” You shake your head again and he groans throwing his head back in mock pain. You giggle and lean forward to reach the faucet again but you’re swiped off your feet as hands grip your waist tightly. He sits you on his lap and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to keep from falling. You whip your head around to glare at him because you’re certain he’s a mad man and he grins leaning towards the faucet. You let out a squeal and you grip his knees as he shifts back on the rock sitting you square between his legs. You know you look beyond pissed because he avoids your eyes. He’s still grinning though at your reaction as his hands release your waist and reach towards the faucet. You move your hands away quickly and lean forward with him, eager to get the remaining blood off your skin. Bucky turns the faucet to the left and water starts spilling from it. He tuts when your hands almost touch the water and he grabs your wrists. The interaction makes your skin tingle and interlocks your fingers with his. In that moment you feel the firs spread throughout your body. Everywhere he touches you sends a different burn straight to your heart. His chest presses against your back as he washes the blood off both of your hands. When he breathes you can feel it hit your ear and it makes the hair on your skin rise. His hands caress yours as they wash 30 or more people’s blood off. His fingers slide into between yours with ease that you watch in awe as your hands become yours again. Except with his hands on yours you aren’t exactly sure where he begins and where you stop. Funny thing is, you don’t ever want to figure it out. His fingers brush over yours and they move away too soon. Before you can grasp what you’re doing you grab his hands and start the same movements. You slide your fingers against his long ones and watch as they become his just as yours were yours. You hear Bucky’s breathing grow uneven and you look over your shoulder to see what’s wrong. His eyes immediately lock on yours and you can see something that you’d never seen on his face before. You can’t read it, but you know it’s something he tries to hide because his face becomes black once more and his hands move away from yours. You gasp softly at the loss of contact and swallow the complaint that tries to force its way out. The moment has disappeared, and you can feel the slight tinge of embarrassment floating its way through your senses. You wipe your hands on your pants and the sight of you and Bucky’s hands together burns itself into your mind. You know it shouldn’t be there, but your heart holds it close and locks it away for safe keeping.

“You ready?” he whispers. His hand lays on your stomach which does a flop at the sight of it and you nod not sure if you could even get through a full sentence without stuttering. You stand up and take a step away from him. You were trying to get a grasp on your emotions but the only thing you could focus on was how his scent no longer surrounded you. Your legs wobble as you try to walk but your knees give out. Bucky grabs your hand and pulls it around his neck.

“I don’t think I can walk.” You whisper. He doesn’t respond at first but you can tell he’s debating what to do.

“Hop on my back. I’ll carry you.” You nod slowly as you walk behind him and grab onto his shoulders. His hands wrap around your thighs and he pushes you up in the air. You jump and let your legs fall around his waist and let your arms hang loose over his shoulders. His figure shakes a little as he tries to steady you and start his long walk towards the open steel doors. You place your chin on his shoulder and let out a small sigh.

“My knight in shining armor.” You tease half heartedly and he laughs. The sound warms your bones more than anything else could and you don’t catch the small smile that spreads across his face as he starts walking towards the yelling Germans. It’s time for everyone to go back to their cells and if told once more there would be consequences. Your arms become heavy and feel like blobs of jello as they swing. You can feel yourself absentmindly snuggling into the warmth of the man carrying you, but it doesn’t register as your senses begin shutting down. You blink a few times as you stared down at the dog tags that swung on top of the green Henley that adorned Bucky’s chest. The faint sunlight disappears as he enters the prisoner compound and the room becomes dark. You lift your head up as shouts erupt around you. You catch people clapping and you have the urge to tell them to stop. Drawing attention of the soldiers wasn’t a good idea because they had just witnessed what happens when you cause a ruckus. You bury your head back into Bucky’s neck as you silently wish for the cries of joy to stop. Despite all the good you’d done you still couldn’t get over all the good you could have done so many years ago. Bucky senses your discomfort and starts to walk a little faster than before.

“Get some rest. You look like you could use it.” He says softly as a metal door creaks and it gets held open for the two of you. You nod slowly feeling your eyes shut again. You listen to him this time and let the exhaustion finally take over your body.

Tagging some peeps~@randomfangirl82 @stucky-my-ship @jules-1999 @starkssnarks @dallaswinstonswife1109@notsosecretspy @kyn-lyn-blog @alltoowell-taylorsversion@creecree-4-life

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allthingsfangirl101 · 3 years

Text

*The Perfect Goodbye–Zac Efron

Warnings: first time, losing virginity, protected sex, language

I sat on Zac's bed, my knees tucked up to my chest. I struggled to hold back the tears as he packed up his things.

"Okay, I think I have everything," he mumbled as he looked down at his list. His lips moved as he silently checked things off.

"Yep," he said, looking up at me and smiling. "I got everything. I can't believe I'm moving to LA tomorrow."

The smile fell from his lips when he saw me biting back tears.

"Y/N," he sighed as he shoved the list into his pocket.

He walked over and crawled on the bed next to me. I scooted away from him when he tried to wrap his arms around me.

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to form words. There was so much that I wanted to tell him, so many things I've kept bottled up. For starters, the fact that I've been in love with him since middle school. Even though I had a lot to say, I couldn't seem to find the words

"Y/N," he started. I shook my head as I quickly stood up.

"I gotta go," I rushed out. I wrapped my arms around myself and quickly left his house, ignoring him calling out to me.

* * * * *

A few hours later, I was sitting on my bed reading when there was a knock at the door. I looked up, my breath instantly getting caught in my throat when I saw Zac standing in the doorway. I bit my lip, looking down to see he had grocery bags full of treats, his laptop bag over his shoulder, and two pizza boxes in his hand.

"Hey," he said hesitantly. He slowly walked into my room, putting the stuff in his hands on the floor before walking over to me. He hesitated to sit down at the end of the bed.

I scooted to the end of my bed and grabbed his hand, pulling him down next to me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"It's okay," he nodded, not letting me go. "I know me leaving is hard on you. Especially with your parents constantly fighting. I just don't want to spend my last night without you."

Zac pulled out of our hug but kept his arm wrapped around my waist. He smiled as he started to list what we were going to do tonight.

"I brought my computer so we can watch movies all night, two pizzas – one for now and one for later – and all our favorite treats so we can stuff our faces all night."

When we were younger, and my parents weren't constantly yelling at each other, Zac and I used to have sleepovers where we slept on the floor all the time. It was only fitting that we did the same thing the night before he left to start his career in LA. We spent the night, watching movies and eating treats on the floor of my room.

We had just started the second movie of our marathon when we heard the front door open and quickly slam shut, followed by the arguing of my parents.

"You were forty minutes late, Y/F/N." I heard my mother chastise. "We both agreed to go to therapy. When we agreed, we also agreed to be there."

"I didn't agree to this," I heard my father scoff. "You forced it upon me."

"For the welfare of Y/N. You remember her? Our daughter?"

My eyes filled with tears as they continued to fight. Zac must have seen the look on my face because he jumped up, quickly and quietly shutting my bedroom door.

"Zac," I said, my breath getting stuck in my throat. "We aren't supposed to be alone in my room with the door closed."

"I don't care," he said as he walked back over to me. We leaned against the edge of my bed, Zac instantly pulling me into his chest.

I took a shaky breath as he started rubbing my back. I buried my face in his shirt as the tears started streaming down my cheeks.

"They're getting worse," I said, not pulling away from his chest. He hummed and tightened his arms around me, knowing I just needed to vent.

"The only time they don't fight is when my dad is at work," I continued. "The minute he walks in the door, my mom always says he did something wrong or my dad complains about dinner. Then things. . . Escalate. Things never get physical, but. . ."

I felt Zac lean slightly out of the hug, but his arms still around me when I didn't continue. "Y/N?" He said gently. "Are you ever scared they might. . ."

"Hurt me?" I asked, finishing his thought. I sat up and moved my head over to his shoulder as I sighed. "No. I mean, I know they would never hurt me. . . Or each other. They throw things at the wall sometimes but never at each other. Like the other day, my dad broke their wedding picture after throwing an empty beer bottle at it."

Zac sighed as he reached over and grabbed my hand in his. "I'm so sorry, Y/N," he whispered. After a few beats of silence, he added, "And I'm leaving you tomorrow."

"I wish I was going with you," I said under my breath as I snuggled deeper into his hold.

"You can always come visit me," he shrugged. I looked up at him, nervously biting my bottom lip.

"Really?"

"Of course," he smiled down at me as he tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "You could run away and live in my apartment with me."

I looked up at him, my eyes filling with different tears. They weren't hurt, scared tears that I've been crying lately. They were the tears you cry when the love of your life is leaving and he doesn't know he's the love of your life.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. As he started to lean back, I grabbed his face and brought his lips down to mine. Zac sucked in a breath when our lips pressed together.

I was about to pull out of the kiss, embarrassed by my sudden moment of courage, but Zac put his hand on the back of my neck, deepening the kiss.

We were sitting on the floor, leaning against my bed as our lips moved in sync. My hands were still holding his face as his hand slid down my back. I gasped, breaking the kiss when he grabbed my waist and pulled me so I was straddling his hips.

I leaned my forehead against his as we caught our breaths. I slowly leaned back, nervously biting my bottom lip. I looked into his eyes, completely speechless. His lips slowly formed a smile as he stared into my eyes. As soon as our breathing had gone back to normal, we both leaned in and started moving our lips in sync again.

"Zac," I said between kisses. I moaned when he pulled away and started kissing my neck. "I have to tell you something," I stuttered as his lips traveled down my neck, before stopping and focusing on my collarbone.

It took everything in me to push Zac away, disconnecting his lips from my skin. I took a shaky breath, hesitating.

"What is it?" He asked, reaching up and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

"There's something I've never told you," I said, messing with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his gaze. "And. . . And I would regret it for the rest of my life if I let you go to LA without telling you."

I finally looked up at Zac, nervously chewing on my bottom lip. "Y/N," he smiled at me. "You can tell me anything."

"I love you," I said quickly before I could talk myself out of it. "I've been in love with you for so long."

Before I could say anything else, Zac grabbed my face and roughly pressed his lips to mine. I let out the breath I was holding as our lips moved against each other. I moaned as he slid his hands down my body until they pressed to my back, pulling me in closer to him. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against mine, slightly rubbing my nose with his.

"I love you too, Y/N."

I leaned back, my heart dropping into my stomach. "What's wrong?" He asked hesitantly when he saw the look on my face.

"You're going to LA tomorrow," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I sucked in a breath when a sob got stuck in my throat. Zac reached forward, gently grabbed my chin, and made me look up at him.

"It doesn't matter how far apart we are," he whispered. "I loved you when we were little, I love you now, and I will love you for the rest of my life. We can do this long-distance thing."

"Are you sure?" I stuttered. "Long-distance relationships are hard. I mean, they rarely ever work out. Other couples have tried, but. . ."

"They aren't us," he interrupted me with a soft smile on his lips. "I love you, Y/N, and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you in my life."

"You leave tomorrow," I said, my voice low.

"Then let's make tonight count," he said, smirking slightly at me.

I smiled before gently grabbing his cheeks and pressing my lips to his. As our lips moved in sync, Zac slowly laid us down on my rug. I ran my hands up his chest and ran my fingers through his hair. He moaned as I tugged slightly.

I pushed his computer that was still playing the movie away as our lips continued to move in sync. I moaned as he slipped his hand under my shirt, slowly dancing his fingers up my stomach.

Zac slid his tongue across my bottom lip, asking for entrance. The second I opened my mouth, his tongue started exploring every inch. I moaned as he immediately took dominance.

I pushed his chest, smirking at the confused look on his face as he stared down at me. I bit my bottom lip as I grabbed the bottom of his shirt and started sliding it up his chest. I tossed it aside as he smiled down at me.

He sat up, pulling me with him. I bit my lip nervously as he slowly slid my shirt over my head, tossing it next to his. Zac started to lean towards me, laying us both back down. As soon as my back hit the rug, he pressed his lips back to mine.

I moaned as Zac started slightly grinding his hips down against mine. When he started kissing my neck, I reached up and started undoing his jeans. I felt him smirk as he bit my collarbone, a moan escaping my lips.

I sucked in a breath and held it as Zac pulled away. My cheeks burned as Zac tore off his jeans and started taking off mine. He looked down at me, breathing heavily as he scanned my almost naked body. He looked back at my eyes, his smirk turning into a smile.

"I just want to make sure," he whispered, "that you really want to do this."

"Yes," I said instantly. "I want to do this, Zac. More than anything. I want to take this next step with you."

Zac smiled as he lowered himself, his face inches from mine. He rubbed his nose against mine, his breath hitting my face.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered. "And I'm going to make sure it's the perfect night."

"You really want to make this work?" I asked, shakily. He leaned back far enough for him to stare into my eyes.

"Y/N," he smirked. "Do you really think I'd be here, with you, the night before I leave if I didn't want to make this work?"

I blushed as he smiled at me, lust slowly creeping into his eyes. He reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Y/N, I love you. I want to be with you. After you graduate high school, maybe you can come out to LA. We can live together and finally start our life together. Actually, let's start right now. Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," I giggled, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck. "I love you, Zac."

"I love you too, Y/N."

He leaned down and instantly started moving his lips against mine, the kiss quickly getting heated. Goosebumps covered my body as Zac slid his hands under me. I arched my back, giving him the space he needed.

I sucked in a breath when he was able to unhook my bra. He broke the kiss and quickly yanked it off. I bit my lip as he looked down at my bare chest. When his eyes finally came back up to my eyes, he smiled at me before leaning down and pressing his lips to mine.

"You. . . Are. . . So. . . Beautiful," he moaned between kisses. He moved his lips and started kissing up and down my neck. I tilted my head, giving him better access.

As he continued to leave hickeys up and down my neck, I reached down and slid his boxers off. His lips started moving down my chest, pressing opened-mouth kisses in between my breasts. I moaned when he started massaging my breasts with his lips.

"Zac," I moaned as his tongue swiped across my nipple, hardening it. He pulled away, a popping sound echoing off my bedroom walls. He didn't look away from me as he reached down and slowly slid my underwear off, tossing them and making them land on top of his discarded boxers.

He was about to lean down, but I put my shaking hands on his bare chest, stopping him. "Zac, wait," I whispered.

"What is it?" He asked, tilting his head slightly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I said instantly. I nervously chewed my bottom lip as I remembered that this was about to be, not just our first time, but my first time.

"If you're worried about this being your first time, I don't want to pressure you," he instantly said, reading my mind. "I don't want to make you feel like I'm forcing you. I love you, Y/N, and I want to make you feel as beautiful as I know you are. I want to pleasure you, showing you how much you mean to me. If you want to stop, then we will."

"I don't want to stop," I said quickly. "I want to do this with you, Zac. I love you and I want you to be my first."

"I love you too," he smiled at me. "If I'm being too rough or going too far, just tell me and we'll stop. Okay?"

I nodded as I looked at my hands, still pressed to his bare chest. "That's not all," he said slowly when he saw the look on my face. "What else is going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

"I'm um. . . I think we. . ." I stuttered, embarrassed about what I was about to say. "I don't have protection."

Zac let out a small laugh as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips before pulling away and standing up. I sat up, wrapping my arms around my bare chest as I leaned against the end of my bed. I nervously chewed on my bottom lip as I watched Zac walk over to his pants.

I blushed, turning away when he bent down. I looked back over, my cheeks burning even more as I avoided looking him up and down. He sent me a smirk as he pulled a condom out of his wallet. I chuckled as I looked away.

Zac walked over and sat down. I gasped as he put his hand on my stomach and pushed me so I was laying on my back. He crawled on top of me, his eyes never leaving mine. I waited for him to hover over me, but instead, he knelt down, one knee on each side of me.

I nervously chewed on my bottom lip as he opened the condom and slipped it on. He smirked when he saw the redness on my cheeks. I gasped as he leaned down and grabbed my hands, putting them above my head.

I sucked in a breath as Zac leaned down and whispered, his lips grazing my ear. "What do you want, Y/N? Tell me and it's yours."

The way he said my name sent chills up and down my body. "I want," I stuttered. "I want you, Zac."

The second his name left my lips, I felt him push into me. I moaned at the pressure and the stretching of my walls. He took a shaky breath as he didn't move.

"Just relax, baby." He said, his voice soft and strained as he intertwined our fingers, still holding my hands above my head. "You'll adjust."

He waited patiently as he leaned his forehead against mine. I nodded, silently telling him I was ready for more. He grunted before starting to push in and out of me. His movements started out slow, but gradually got faster.

The faster he moved inside me, the quicker my breathing sped up. The world melted away as he continued to move his hips against mine, pulsing in and out of me.

"Zac," I moaned as my orgasm built.

"We have to be quiet, baby," he said with a small chuckle, breathing heavily. "Your parents are downstairs."

"True," I moaned as he pushed into me hard and pulled out of me slowly. "But they probably won't hear us over their arguing."

Zac looked down at me with a playful smirk on his face. He leaned down and roughly pressed his lips to mine, our lips moving messily in sync.

Zac pulled away from my already swollen lips without pulling out. I moaned as I noticed him watching me as he pushed in and out of me. The longer he watched my reaction, the more the tension between us built up. I closed my eyes when his lustful gaze got too much.

He started kissing down my chest, between my breasts, still rocking his hips against mine. "Holy shit, Zac," I moaned when I felt the pleasure build up.

"I like it when you moan my name," he smirked against my chest as he started sliding his hands down my arms. "It turns me on."

I arched my back, causing him to slip even deeper into me. "Damn, baby girl." He grunted as he grabbed my hips for stability. "You're so tight."

I moaned as he continued to push deeper and harder into me. I slid my hands up and down his arms, tightly squeezing them in sync with his grinding.

"What can I do for you?" I stuttered. "I want. . . I want to give you as much. . . Make you feel. . ."

He laughed, gently pressing his lips to mine. I grabbed his face, deepening the kiss. He pulled away and leaned his forehead against mine.

"You don't need to do anything, baby," hewhispered. "Just being with you is enough."

"But Zac," I moaned as he pulled out of me just to push back into me.

"Tell me how this feels," he grunted as he quickened his pace, turning the attention back to me.

"So good, baby." I moaned. "So fucking good, Zac. Holy shit!"

Zac roughly pressed his lips to mine, shoving his tongue into my mouth. Our tongues battled for dominance as he grabbed my thigh, wrapping my leg around his waist causing him to shove himself deeper into me.

"Fuck!" I moaned, pulling out of the kiss as he pressed against my g-spot.

"Damn," Zac groaned. "This feels so good, baby. I never thought. . ." A moan got stuck in his throat as I clenched my walls around his member.

"I'm close, baby," I moaned.

"Good," he grunted. "Cum for me, Y/N. Don't hold back. We'll do it together."

He pulled out of me, took a deep breath before quickly and roughly pushing into me. As he rocked his hips against mine, messily kissing me and causing another orgasm to build.

"Y/N," he moaned against my lips. "I love you."

When he said those three words, I arched my back and didn't hold back anymore. I wouldn't want to even if I could.

"Fuck," Zac moaned as he cummed shortly after I did. He pulled out of me and rolled off as we started to catch our breaths.

I closed my eyes, my heart beating against my chest. I bit my lip when I felt Zac reach over and grab my hand, instantly intertwining our fingers.

"I think that's why my parents never wanted us in my room with the door closed," I said under my breath, breaking the silence.

Zac laughed as he squeezed my hand. He pulled on it, rolling me over so I was pressed to his chest. I closed my eyes and cuddled into his chest.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered. I opened my eyes and looked up to see him already looking at me. "So much."

"I love you too, Zac."

He smiled as he pulled our intertwined hands over his heart. I leaned my head on his shoulder, snuggling into him even more. Zac reached down and pulled a blanket over us. He started rubbing his hand up and down my arm as our breaths finally went back to normal.

My eyes filled with tears as I thought about the fact that in a few short hours, we were going to have to say goodbye.

"Y/N," Zac whispered. "While I'm gone, I will be completely and a hundred percent faithful to you. You never have to worry about me cheating on you because I know that there is no one better for me than you. Now that we are together, I won't do anything to ruin it. I will spend all day thinking about you. I'll call you every night. I'll text you all day. We'll Skype every weekend. I'll come down to visit you and you'll come up to visit me. And when either of us visits the other, you and I will spend all day together and all night in each other's arms."

"Promise?"

He sat up, making me sit up too. I wrapped the blanket around my chest as I turned towards him. He reached forward and grabbed my chin, pressing his swollen lips to mine in a gentle kiss. He pulled away, smiling widely at me.

"I promise," he whispered. "I love you, Y/N."

I smiled as I leaned forward and pressed my lips back to his. I pulled back and rubbed my nose against his.

"I love you too, Zac."

#zac efron #zac efron imagines #zac efron x reader #zac efron smut

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fireladybuckley · 3 years

Text

A Thousand Knives of Ice

Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Evan Buckley (Buck) x Eddie Diaz (Buddie) Prompt: Falling through the ice Word Count: 10,661 Summary: While on a roadtrip through the Canadian Rockies with Eddie and Christopher, Buck attempts to rescue a child with disastrous consequences for his own safety, leaving Eddie to take charge and nurse him back to health. Rating: PG Author’s note: I had an absolute blast writing this! Please let me know in the replies or reblogs if you liked it! It’s my first Buddie fic, but will most assuredly not be my last. :D

“You know, I think I’m actually getting used to the cold,” Buck grinned as he hopped out of the SUV, pulling a knitted toque onto his head, a few curls of hair sticking out the front. “Maybe they’ll make me an honourary Canadian soon.”

Eddie, who had just gotten out of the vehicle on the other side, rolled his eyes and smiled indulgently at Buck’s enthusiasm. Less than two weeks ago at the beginning of their month-long trip, Buck had sworn he’d never be warm again and complained incessantly about the cold.

“That’s because it’s like 2 Celsius,” Eddie laughed, slamming his door and moving around to the back of the SUV. “It’s unseasonably warm for this time of year.”

“What’s that in Fahrenheit again?” Buck asked, squinting through the sun and watching a raven fly past them, cawing in its deep, croaking voice.

“35 or 36,” Eddie replied, pulling open the trunk and watching as Buck bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly itching to go and explore.

Eddie, Buck and Christopher had been on this road trip for about ten days, driving from Alaska, down through the Canadian Rockies. Eventually they would head back down into the USA, following the mountains down through Utah and back home to LA. It had been a blast so far, and Eddie was never sure who was more excited every time they stopped somewhere new: Buck, or Christopher. Buck hadn’t done much travelling when he was younger and Christopher was obsessed with mountains after doing a project on them in school the previous year, so it had seemed the perfect trip to take. Christopher had really wanted to see the mountains in winter, so Eddie had pulled him out of school a couple of weeks early before Thanksgiving break. Eddie knew he really shouldn’t miss so much school, but after everything Christopher had gone through last year or so with moving to California, losing his mom, the tsunami, and everything else, Eddie thought he deserved a special break. Buck had agreed, and so they’d appealed to Bobby to let them go and flew to Anchorage, where they rented an SUV and began to drive.

“What’s this place called?” Eddie asked as he dug around in the trunk, pulling out the sled and Christopher’s winter jacket. He’d lost track of all the places they had stopped in the last few days, first around Jasper and now near Banff, Alberta.

“Lake Minnewanka,” Buck read off the nearby sign, pointing at it. “Ooo, they have boat tours.”

“Probably only in the summer though,” Eddie pointed out. “Pretty hard to boat when the lake is frozen.”

“Ah. Right.” Buck seemed disappointed, and Eddie was unable to resist giving him a quick hug as he came around to his side of the SUV.

“Sorry Buck,” Eddie chuckled, patting his shoulder. “I promise, we’ll come back someday in the summer.”

Buck laughed and pulled on his jacket as Eddie moved past him to get Christopher ready. Buck was looking around eagerly, the sight of the large dock in the distance drawing his attention. He was aching to explore again, but he reigned himself in as he listened to Eddie talking to Christopher.

“Ready to go down to the docks, bud?” Eddie was asking Christopher, who grinned at him but shook his head.

“I gotta pee first, Dad,” he said, holding up an empty Gatorade bottle. Eddie laughed and helped Christopher get out of the SUV, looking over and seeing that Buck was still staring longingly down at the lake.

“Go ahead and look around,” Eddie told him, steadying Christopher as he stood for the first time in a couple of hours. “We’ll be a little while.”

“You sure?” Buck asked, reaching out and ruffling Christopher’s hair fondly, prompting a giggle from him.

“Yeah, go on. We’ll meet you down there in a few.”

“Okay! See you soon,” Buck said, leaning over and giving Eddie a quick kiss on the cheek. Buck stepped back and watched Eddie slowly lead Christopher towards the bathrooms and then began to walk down a long hill towards the docks, face turned upwards, letting the sun soak into his skin. Considering it was still very much colder here than it ever was in LA, Buck was finally not feeling too cold and he smiled as he walked, thinking he could get used to this. It was a nice change not to feel sweaty every time he went outside, though he thought he would never get used to the kind of cold they had experienced when they’d landed in Alaska, which had been in the -30s.

Buck slowed his walk as he stepped onto the docks, looking around. The large lake, which curved out of sight in the distance, was surrounded by multiple mountains and the view was breathtaking. He had seen photos of this place in the summer, when the water was turquoise with glacial dust, but now the ice made the dark blue water beneath seem cold and limitless, and in places there were streams of bubbles that had frozen into white, oblong spheres beneath the surface. Making a mental note to point these out to Christopher, Buck continued up one fork of the large T shaped dock, barely even noticing other people around until he heard a scream behind him.

Buck whipped around at the sound, instantly on edge and alert, scanning the small assortment of people scattered around. Another scream brought his focus to a small family, a woman and a young boy on the dock, looking out over the lake in horror. Buck followed their gaze and his eyes locked on a flash of pink, which he realized a moment later was a woolen toque, not unlike the one he was wearing himself. Adrenaline pumping through him, Buck was already running towards them as the mother screamed again.

“Help! Someone help! She fell through!” The mother was clearly panicking, unsure of what to do as she was torn between jumping out onto the ice herself and staying with her younger son.

“Stay with him,” Buck ordered as he skidded to a stop beside her and looked over to see the girl floundering in the water about thirty feet away, desperately trying to grab hold of the ice and screaming. Buck lowered his foot over the edge of the dock and found, after putting some pressure down, that the ice was solid, at least this close to the dock. Carefully, he stepped completely off the dock, arms out for balance.

“What’s her name?” He asked the mother as he unzipped his coat and pulled it off, intending to use it as something the girl could grab onto.

“Molly, she’s Molly,” the woman sobbed, clinging to her younger son. “Please save her! I can’t swim!”

“I’ll get her, don’t worry,” Buck told her reassuringly, already edging away from the dock, trying to be careful but also acutely aware that the girl was quickly freezing in the water.

About fifteen feet from the dock, Buck felt like the ice was thinning and looked down to see spiderwebs of cracks starting to splinter away from his feet. A wave of fear shot through him and he cautiously lowered himself down to the surface of the ice, remembering from a training video long ago that it was the best way to spread his weight and not break the ice.

“Molly, just hang on, I’m coming!” Buck called to the girl, sliding closer to her on his belly, ignoring the chill of the ice quickly sinking through his shirt. The girl was still screaming and crying, trying to hold on to the edge of the ice she’d fallen through but kept losing her grip. As Buck got closer he estimated she was maybe seven years old and quite small; if he could get a good grip on her he should be able to pull her out.

Once he was about six feet away from her, he could feel the ice moving under his weight and slowed to a stop, worried that if he went any further it would collapse under him. Sucking in a sharp breath as some water that had slopped over the edge of the ice from her flailing soaked into his shirt and against his skin, Buck did his best to ignore the sharp stabs of the cold and tossed his jacket towards the girl, holding on to the opposite sleeve.

The edge of the other sleeve fell just short of the hole and Buck swore, creeping closer as slow as he dared, feeling his heart hammering in his chest as he knew the girl was in severe danger of hypothermia the longer he took. He crept a good six inches closer, then tried to toss the jacket again, letting out a breath of relief as the other sleeve hit the water this time.

“Grab hold of the sleeve, Molly!” he called to the girl. “I’ll pull you up!”

“I c-can’t!” Molly cried, trying to grab the sleeve, but Buck could see she was losing control of her movements, her muscles no doubt completely seizing from the cold.

Steeling himself and thinking he was probably going to regret this, Buck began to edge closer, focusing entirely on the ice around him and the little girl’s face, every sound in the background fading, even the mother’s screams of fear. Finally, he was only a couple of feet away and he reached out his hand, gritting his teeth as the frigid water splashed onto him, soaking his arm, splashing his face.

“Come on, Molly! Grab my hand!” he shouted to her, trying to stay as far back as he could while still holding his arm out. “You can do it!”

Buck was about to call to her again, encourage her, but when he reached a little more, trying to move his hand closer to her without actually moving closer to her, he felt the ice crack below his chest. Buck immediately froze, trying to decide if he should try to back up again, but he knew intrinsically that it was too late. He knew a single moment of panic in his mind, as he heard and felt the ice under him crack again, vaguely aware that Eddie’s voice in the distance was calling his name, before the ice completely gave way under him and he was plunged into the dark, icy depths.

Buck’s whole body was submerged before he even had a chance to realize the ice was gone and every skin cell was screaming simultaneously in agony from the cold. It felt like being stabbed by a thousand knives, like being consumed by fire and ice at once and Buck momentarily couldn’t think or move, his body rigid with shock as all of his muscles seized up.

* * *

Eddie had just gotten to the docks with Christopher when he’d seen Buck lower himself to the surface of the ice many feet from the dock and realized something bad was happening. He’d told Christopher to stay where he was and bolted across the dock past a few other people to where the mother was crouching, holding her other child and sobbing.

“You! Call 9-1-1! And please watch my kid!” Eddie ordered, spinning around and pointing at the person he’d just passed, who was watching everything proceed with a look of horror on her face, then pointing towards where Christopher sat in his sled at the edge of the lake. She started as Eddie pointed at her, surprised to be addressed, but she nodded and immediately dug for her phone in her purse, moving towards Christopher as Eddie continued to the edge of the dock nearest the hole in the ice.

Eddie called to Buck multiple times, trying to get his attention, but Buck seemed laser-focused on the little girl thrashing in the water and Eddie realized he wasn’t hearing him. Adrenaline pumping through him now, Eddie looked around wildly and on the other side of the docks saw a coil of rope hanging on a mooring post where he assumed a boat was usually tied in the summer. Eddie sprinted towards it, nearly wiping out on a slick patch of ice as he tried to stop too quickly. The rope was frozen to the post, but with a few good pulls Eddie was able to get it free. He hoisted it over his shoulder and sprinted back towards the other side of the dock, hoping beyond hope that he’d get back and get the rope out before the worst happened.

Unfortunately, Eddie has just come to a stop beside the mother when the ice gave way. Eddie screamed Buck’s name, watching, horror-struck, as Buck’s form disappeared under the surface of the water with a splash. Fear and panic gripped Eddie’s heart as he waited, terrified, seeing no sign of Buck except his green wool hat floating to the surface.

* * *

Something slammed into Buck’s shoulder as he floated there, suspended a couple of feet under the water, still in shock. The impact startled him enough that he was suddenly able to move again, and he forced his body to pump his arms so that he could right himself. After a moment of furiously swiping his arms, his head finally broke the surface and the sound of his coughs and gasps for air reverberated around them.

Eddie nearly cried with relief when Buck’s head appeared above the water, and he frantically began unwinding the rope, unsticking it from itself where it was frozen in several places, desperately trying to move as fast as possible.

Buck, meanwhile, realized that the thing that had impacted his shoulder was the little girl’s frantically kicking legs. He was only a few feet from her now and though his entire body still felt like it was being stabbed while simultaneously on fire, he tried his best to fall back into firefighting mode and channel his adrenaline into helping her. Her movements were quickly weakening and he swam the distance between them, grabbing her around the waist and holding her tight to his chest.

“I-I’ve g-got you,” he told her, trying to sound confident even though his voice was shaking as he shivered violently. She clung to him, sobbing and shaking like a leaf, as he struggled to swim sideways towards the side of the ice, every stroke more difficult as the cold quickly ate away at his strength.

At the edge of the ice, Buck grabbed hold of it, testing how strong it was. It would definitely not hold his weight, but it seemed strong enough to hold hers. Desperately kicking in an attempt to keep his blood flowing and to keep them afloat, Buck extricated the girl from around his neck.

“I’m g-going to push you up onto the ice. You need t-to crawl to your m-mom as soon as you’re up th-there, okay?” Buck told her firmly, trying to convey how important it was that she do as he was asking, despite his shaking voice. She was clearly still terrified but she nodded through her trembles, and he smiled at her, trying to reassure her.

“You’re r-really brave. You’ve g-got th-this!” he told her, maneuvering so he was behind her and she was facing the ice, facing the docks. He took as deep of a breath as he could manage with his tight chest muscles, steadied his grip on her waist and hoisted her as hard as he could. She didn’t raise up nearly as high as he’d expected her to, his muscles starting to seize up considerably from the cold, and she floundered awkwardly on the ice, her ribs stuck on the edge. He pushed again, as hard as he could, and felt her move upwards and forward this time. The momentum of pushing her so hard forced him back down, though, and he choked on the icy water as his head was submerged again. The frigidity of the water over his head gave him an instant, piercing headache and he struggled to get back to the surface, shuddering as the icy water streamed from his hair down his face and neck. The next moments were a confusing mess of flailing limbs and splashing water. Molly accidentally kicked Buck square in the nose at one point as she tried to propel herself forward and Buck noted in vague surprise that his face was so numb he’d barely felt the impact, though seconds later felt oddly warm blood join the water pouring down his face as he rose above the surface again, coughing and spluttering.

Finally, through joint effort, Molly was completely out of the water. Buck grabbed hold of her feet and gave one last push as hard as he could, the momentum shoving him backwards. She slid forward on the ice as Buck fell back into the water, his head submerging below the surface yet again.

* * *

Eddie was practically vibrating with adrenaline and panic as he watched Buck trying to save the girl, frantically uncoiling the rope. He finally managed to unwind it all and ran over to stand beside the mom as Buck tried valiantly to lift the girl onto the ice. Eddie watched helplessly as Buck had to keeping pushing her upwards, forcing himself back under the water several times in his attempts. Eddie called Buck’s name again, but Buck didn’t hear him.

Quickly and expertly, Eddie tied a large loop in the rope, knotting it tightly. He slid the loop around his shoulders to make sure it was large enough that Buck could get it over his own and pulled it off, satisfied that it would be the right size. He urged the mom and her son to move away and planted himself firmly on the dock, knowing he’d get better traction here than on the ice, as much as he desperately wanted to rush forward onto the ice and save them.

“BUCK!” Eddie yelled in fear and dismay, watching as Buck managed to get the girl up onto the ice, but then disappeared below the surface yet again. Shaking himself, Eddie wound up and threw the loop towards the girl, who gave a little yelp of fright as it landed right in front of her face.

“Sorry! Grab the rope, sweetheart!” Eddie called, trying to focus on the girl while also watching the water, waiting for Buck to resurface. Molly managed to get an arm through the loop and held on as tight as she could as Eddie began pulling her in. She was light, even with her sodden winter clothing, and she slid quickly across the ice towards them as he pulled.

Within moments she was right beside the docks and Eddie reached down to pick her up, looking out at the water at the same time. The cold water from her jacket stung his hands as he set her down beside her mother, fear gripping him. Buck had been under too long. Eddie was just starting to think he might have passed out and was about to leap onto the ice without another though when Buck’s head finally reappeared, and Eddie could hear him gasping and coughing. Both relief and intense worry set his body alight as he turned to the mother and tried to instruct her as fast as he could.

“Get her to your car and get all of her wet clothes off. Wrap her in a blanket or warm, dry clothes but don’t warm her up too fast or she could go into cardiac arrest. The paramedics should be here really soon.”

The woman nodded, clutching her sobbing daughter to her side. She picked Molly up and began to run along the dock and towards the parking lot, her son trailing behind her. Eddie spared a momentary glance to make sure Christopher was still sitting where he’d left him, the woman with the cell phone beside him, then turned back to the ice.

“Buck! BUCK! Can you hear me?” Eddie yelled as he gathered up the rope and began to wind it again so he could throw it out to Buck, who was just barely clinging to the edge of the ice and looked like death, even from this distance.

* * *

It had been very hard, that last time, to get himself back to the surface. Buck had been in the water for at least seven minutes by then and his muscles were so stiff he could barely move. The sensation of a million knives stabbing his skin had slowly been replaced by a numbness so complete he felt like he was barely in his own body anymore. He’d stopped shivering and struggled to find which way was up. He swallowed some water as he ran out of breath just as he’d finally broke the surface, coughing violently and choking on the water, awkwardly trying to keep himself afloat and keep his head above water. He tried to hold on to the edge of the ice, but he couldn’t feel his hands and everything was so slippery that he kept losing his grip, forced to clumsily tread water with his rapidly stiffening limbs.

It was several moments before Buck realized he could hear Eddie’s voice calling to him and looked around, finally seeing Eddie’s form on the docks a good way away. Buck’s brain seemed to be lagging behind, processing things slowly, but he eventually managed to focus on Eddie as he clung to the edge of the ice, forcing himself to kick every so often to stop himself completely sinking under the water again. Buck attempted to heave himself upwards, but he had used so much of his energy getting the girl out that he had none left to hoist himself.

“I’m going to throw you the rope!” Eddie shouted, worriedly watching as Buck clumsily tried to hold onto the ice but kept slipping off, everything too slicked with water to hold his grip. “Put it under your arms!”

Buck tried to call back to him but felt like he couldn’t get enough air to speak, so he gave a weak thumbs up, letting out a soft cry as he lost his grip on the ice once more and fell back, spluttering as a wave of frigid water splashed over his head.

Eddie bit his lip in worry and determination and launched the rope with a practiced swing. It unfurled beautifully in the air, but stopped many feet short of the hole on the ice. Swearing, Eddie pulled it back as fast as he could, winding as he went, realizing he was going to have to step onto the ice for the rope to get close enough. The girl had gotten much closer to him before he’d thrown it the first time.

Buck was rapidly losing control of his muscles as he tried to keep himself afloat. His arms and legs were so stiff it took all of his effort to move them, all of his brain power to remind himself to kick to keep his head above water. The only thing that kept pulling his attention was the feeling of the blood still pouring out of his nose. He was too numb to feel the pain, but his blood felt sickeningly hot as it trickled out of his nose, dripping onto his lips and chin. He tried to keep wiping it away, but the stark contrast of the scarlet blood on his pale fingers made his stomach churn.

Eddie could see that Buck was having difficulty holding on and felt his hands shaking as he finished reeling in the rope. As he adjusted his grip to throw again, he could see Buck slowly tipping backwards as he fruitlessly tried to grip the ice, and Eddie worried that he was starting to black out.

“Kick, Buck!” Eddie shouted, winding up to throw the rope again. “You can do this!”

Relieved as Buck clearly heard him and sluggishly righted himself in the water, Eddie stepped onto the ice and crept a few feet forward, stopping only when he was sure there was enough rope to reach. He planted his feet as firmly as he could, swung, and released the rope. Thankfully, this time the rope landed right in front of Buck on the edge of the ice.

“Grab it! Under your arms!” Eddie yelled, trying to encourage Buck, who looked absolutely bedraggled and exhausted. Eddie’s heart broke for him as Buck tried valiantly to grab at the rope and missed several times before his stiff fingers finally caught on the thick cord.

Buck tried as hard as he could to be fast, but his muscles were so stiff he could barely lift the rope once he got a grip on it. He couldn’t feel his fingers or his hands at all, so maneuvering the rope was difficult. He managed to get it around his neck and under one of his armpits, but he was having trouble bending his other arm enough to thread it up through the loop. He could hear Eddie shouting encouragement at him, noticed the tone to the words becoming more frantic the longer it took him to move.

Finally, after another minute or so, Buck managed to get both arms through the loop and settled it under his armpits. Eddie immediately began to pull until he felt resistance, as Buck’s chest bumped up against the ice. Buck reached out slowly, achingly, trying to pull himself up, not having a lot of luck. Some of the ice broke under the weight of his arms and he cried out as a fresh wave washed over him.

“Come on Buck, kick! You can do this,” Eddie called to him, his voice cracking slightly with emotion as he watched Buck struggle to the new edge. “I love you, I’m right here, you can do this!”

Buck looked up at Eddie through the haze of pain and exhaustion, trying to draw strength from his words. He could see that Eddie, the man he loved, was clearly scared out of his mind and worried for him, and he knew that somewhere, Christopher was probably scared too. The thought of the two of them filled him with metaphorical warmth, and he felt a last wave of strength and determination wash over him.

As Eddie yelled “Pull, Buck!” and tugged on the rope, Buck let out a shout of determination, pain, and anguish and heaved himself upwards as hard as he could, clinging to the rope, using every ounce of his remaining energy. He heard Eddie let out a whoop of relief as Buck managed to get his elbows out of the water and prop himself on the surface of the ice, which mercifully held him this time. Eddie dug his heels in and began to pull, hard, nearly slipping on the ice himself but just managing to stay upright.

“Kick! Kick as much as you can, Buck!” Eddie yelled, his muscles straining as he pulled.

After an enormous amount of effort on both of their parts, Buck’s upper body finally left the water and he splayed out on the ice on his belly, drops of crimson blood hitting the surface under his face. Eddie kept pulling, taking a few steps backwards as he did so until he was at the dock’s edge. He hopped back up onto the wooden surface so he would have better traction and then began to pull Buck in as fast as he could. Buck was too weak to help, too weak to do much of anything but attempt to hold on to the rope as he was dragged forward, leaving a wide swath of water shining on the surface of the ice behind him. It felt like hours were passing as he moved across the surface a few inches at a time, and eventually he felt so weak that his head drooped, resting on his outstretched arm.

“Buck!” Eddie cried when he saw Buck’s head loll, thinking he had passed out, but then Buck moved his legs on his own and he realized he was still conscious. Still, spurred on by the fright, Eddie pulled as hard as he could, sweat pouring down his face from the effort, and finally Buck was within reach.

Someone he hadn’t noticed nearby rushed forward and helped him pull Buck up onto the dock and Eddie hit his knees on the wood, pulling Buck into his lap, barely feeling the shock of the cold water soaking into his pants. Eddie was unable to stop himself touching Buck’s face, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes, putting his hand around Buck’s head and tilting it towards his, his hands shaking with relief. Buck moaned, taking fast, shallow breaths, mostly limp in Eddie’s arms, his eyes firmly closed as he stirred feebly.

“Buck, Buck! Stay with me,” Eddie pleaded, as Buck’s eyes refused to open and he moaned softly again, once again scared that he had lost consciousness. As though through sheer force of will, Buck’s eyelids fluttered weakly and then slowly opened, and his gaze met Eddie’s.

“Eddie,” Buck murmured, his voice so soft and breathless Eddie barely heard it. It wasn’t a question, more like an acknowledgement and Eddie felt tears well in his eyes at how broken Buck sounded. Eddie stroked Buck’s cheek and leaned down, pressing a kiss to his frozen lips, so thankful to be holding him again that he momentarily forgot everything else. He hadn’t realized just how scared he’d been until this moment, holding Buck in his arms.

Eddie had almost lost Buck so many times already; in the fire truck explosion, in the tsunami; hell he’d almost gotten taken out by a driverless, flaming car careening down a hill when they’d gone to Texas. Almost losing him again had terrified Eddie so thoroughly that his hands now shook uncontrollably as he stroked Buck’s hair, whispering to him that he was okay, that he had him, that he would be just fine. Buck’s eyes slowly closed again and his head rested heavily on Eddie’s chest, still regularly letting out small gasps for air, clearly unable to take a proper breath.

After a moment, Eddie shook himself; Buck needed care right now, not emotions. Swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking back the tears in his eyes, Eddie got to work. First, he reached down and began tugging Buck’s sodden forest-green sweater off of him, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Buck moaned as his bare skin was exposed to the air, and Eddie shushed him gently, reassuringly. Eddie quickly stripped off his own jacket and button-up t-shirt, leaving him in just a tank top. He quickly used his t-shirt to dry off as much of Buck’s skin as he could, feeling horrible for him, his skin icy cold everywhere Eddie touched. Once he was as dry as Eddie could get him with the t-shirt, he carefully sat Buck up, drying his back as much as possible as well.

Buck groaned as Eddie sat him up, feeling all his stiff muscles resisting the movement, but he did his best to help stay upright as he felt Eddie pulling his arm into a jacket sleeve. It was a weird sensation; he could see Eddie pulling the fabric over his arms, but he could barely feel anything. His skin felt like cold stone, unresponsive to touch. He could kind of feel the weight of the jacket once it was properly settled on him, but couldn’t really feel the touch of the fabric on his skin.

“Come on, Buck, we have to get you up,” Eddie said encouragingly, bending over in front of Buck and reaching for him. Buck whimpered involuntarily as he clung to Eddie’s arms and Eddie all but picked him up, Buck’s muscles screaming in protest. He nearly fell over as soon as he was standing, his knees buckling instantly under his weight.

Buck was breathing fast and shallow and felt dizzy as hell as he teetered on the spot; the only reason he didn’t collapse was because Eddie was holding onto him. Eddie wrapped his arm around Buck’s waist and pulled Buck’s arm up behind his neck, supporting the vast majority of Buck’s weight as his legs refused to do the job. With a lot of encouragement Buck was able to shuffle forwards, and Eddie half-carried, half-dragged him slowly along the dock. He glanced back only once, vaguely noting that Buck’s jacket was laying on the ice, then looking away, focusing instead on where he could see Christopher still sitting on his sled, the woman he’d had call 9-1-1 still standing on the shore beside him.

It took many long minutes to get Buck even close to the edge of the dock; the farther they moved, the more heavily Buck leaned on Eddie, what little strength he had very quickly leaving him. Eddie shivered slightly in the cold breeze and felt instantly guilty; if he was cold in his mostly dry tank top, how the hell did Buck feel? Eddie’s head and heart suddenly lifted as he heard sirens approaching, and a moment later, an ambulance pulled into view at the top of the hill and parked, killing the sirens.

“Eddie,” Buck muttered, speaking to the ground because he could barely lift his head, his speech slurred. “Need to stop. Can’t feel my legs.”

“Just a few more steps,” Eddie told him, tightening his grip on Buck’s waist and pulling him along. They were almost to the end of the dock, and there was a bench on the shore that Eddie could sit Buck down on for a moment, just until the paramedics got down there. Eddie saw the mother waving at the medics and they went over to her car first, where he could just barely see a small figure wrapped in a blanket.

Buck groaned but did his best to obey, shuffling forward like an old man, his grip on Eddie getting looser instead of tighter as his energy waned and he came dangerously close to collapsing. They had barely made it to the bench when Buck stumbled and began to fall. Eddie managed to steer Buck to the side and he collapsed on the bench instead of the ground, Eddie losing his footing as well and nearly falling again.

“Dad!” Christopher shouted at him as he righted himself, and Eddie realized he’d be so focused on Buck he hadn’t heard his kid calling to him. “Is Buck okay?”

“Yeah, mijo, he’s okay.” Eddie made sure that Buck was securely lying on the bench before turning to the woman whom he’d asked to watch Christopher.

“Thank you so much, I really appreciate you watching him,” he told her gratefully, the stress and mounting worry evident in his voice. She smiled grimly at him with a nod, then looked over at Buck.

“Is he okay?” she asked, in a very different tone than Christopher, and Eddie knew she thought he’d been sugar coating it for his kid.

“He will be, he just needs to warm up and get a lot of rest,” Eddie said, running a damp hand through his hair. “Can I ask you one more favour?”

“Of course.”

“Can you go up there and tell the medics they need to come down here too? In case the mom forgets.” Eddie didn’t blame her if she did; if it was Christopher who had fallen in the water, he would have been laser-focused on him too.

“Absolutely,” she agreed, nodding. She started to turn away, then looked back at him with a smile. “Tell your husband he’s a hero, when he’s feeling better.”

Eddie found himself smiling at this, feeling his heart swell as he thought of Buck. The brave idiot had scared the shit out of him once again, but Eddie swore it only made him love him more.

“Not husband yet,” he said, looking over at Buck, who was still lying where he’d fallen on the bench, “but don’t worry, I plan on telling him the second he’s coherent.”

The woman smiled and turned to make her way up the hill, and Eddie pulled Christopher’s sled closer to the bench, sinking down onto it beside Buck. He gently pulled Buck onto his lap, half-sitting him up so he could lean on Eddie’s chest, holding him close as they waited. Buck gave a very soft gasp followed by a moan and turned his face towards Eddie’s chest, he soaked hair leaving a wet spot on Eddie’s tank top.

“Did Buck save that girl?” Christopher asked, pointing in the direction of the water, and then the parking lot.

“Yeah, he did,” Eddie told him, squeezing Buck to acknowledge him. Buck, while still conscious, had his eyes closed, and Eddie got the impression he wasn’t really hearing them. Eddie slipped his fingers down to Buck’s throat and surreptitiously took his pulse as he explained to Christopher a sanitized version of what had happened.

Buck’s pulse was slow, slower than he’d expected, and Eddie swore inwardly, worried that he’d progressed beyond light hypothermia into moderate, which was much more problematic. Eddie looked around to see if the woman had reached the medics yet, and was pleased to see the two paramedics already leading a stretcher down the hill, the woman standing at the top and watching their progress. She saw Eddie looking and waved, and he waved back, beyond grateful for her help.

The medics got to them quickly and Eddie briefed them on what had happened. Buck seemed to have stopped making any effort to sit up or move by that point, so Eddie helped the medics lift him onto the stretcher. Once he was settled they strapped him in and Eddie gave his cold cheek another stroke before they started to push the stretcher up the hill. Eddie nearly went with them without a second thought, remembering at the last moment that he still had to get Christopher back up the hill too.

Eddie said some words of reassurance to his son, who was upset at seeing Buck being wheeled away on a stretcher, though he wasn’t even sure what he had said as he started to pull Christopher’s sled, following the medics up the hill. He, too, was upset at seeing Buck being wheeled away, the nightmare of the fire truck explosion and Buck’s crushed leg flickering in his mind as he walked, and it was hard for him to think of anything else.

When they got to the top of the hill, Eddie saw the medics were checking Buck’s vitals and so hurried over to their SUV.

“Are you okay to wait here, mijo?” Eddie asked, lifting Christopher up and placing him gently into the backseat. “I want to go and make sure Buck’s okay.”

“Yes Dad,” Christopher said softly. “Tell him I love him.”

“I will.” Eddie kissed Christopher’s forehead, made sure the engine was running and the heat was on so he wouldn’t get cold, then closed the door and headed back over to the ambulance.

Buck seemed slightly more coherent, his eyes heavy-lidded but open and trying to speak to the medics, though his words were still slurred and his voice very quiet. He was visibly relieved when Eddie came into his line of vision and let out a small sigh, looking plaintively up at Eddie.

“I thought you left,” Buck whispered, weakly reaching for Eddie’s hand. Eddie, feeling his heart break even more and guilt kick at his insides, pulled Buck’s hand to his face, kissed the back of it gently, then wrapped both of his hands around it.

“Of course not,” Eddie told him firmly. “Never. I just had to get Christopher into the car. He says he loves you, by the way.”

“Love him too,” Buck mumbled, his eyes drifting closed for a moment before he forced them open again. “He okay?”

Eddie shook his head, exhaling in both exasperation and a soft, disbelieving laugh. Even in this state; so cold he could barely move or speak, blood still dripping sluggishly from his nose, icy hair plastered to his head, all Buck could think about was other people.

“He’s fine, Buck. He’s just worried about you. I am too.”

The medics spoke up at that point, telling Eddie that Buck was stable but that he should get checked out anyway, and asking if they wanted transport to the hospital.

“What about Molly?” Buck asked, his voice breaking as he attempted to speak. Neither medic heard him properly, so Eddie repeated his question for him.

“We advised the mother to take her to hospital.”

Buck and Eddie both looked over at the car next to the ambulance. The mother was sitting sideways in the passenger seat with the door open, her daughter sitting in her lap, wrapped in a blanket. The mother was obviously still extremely distraught, still crying, her hands shaking as she clutched her daughter closely.

“Take her instead,” Buck said immediately, his voice a little louder this time, a little more firm. Seeing the mother so scared and upset seemed to give him some strength, and Eddie squeezed his hand.

“Buck, you need to go to the hospital,” Eddie told him, though he could already tell by the look in Buck’s eyes that Buck would literally argue this until he passed out from exhaustion if he had to. Sighing, Eddie rubbed his eyes, feeling a distinct pain in his head behind them as the medics reiterated to Buck that he needed to go to the hospital.

“My boyfriend is a medic,” Buck insisted, trying to sit up, clumsily pulling at the strap over his chest. “He can take care of me.”

Eddie sighed again, but knew there was no point arguing. Plus, he had to agree with Buck’s assessment of the mother of the girl.

“Look, he’s right,” Eddie said, gesturing to the car beside them. “She’s in no fit state to drive. Take the girl, I can bring Buck to the hospital myself.”

“I don’t need the hospital,” Buck told him, but since he spoke so quietly it was easy for Eddie to pretend he hadn’t heard. The paramedics looked at each other a bit uneasily.

“Are you sure? He should really get checked out as soon as possible.”

“I’ll bring him straight to the hospital,” Eddie promised, ignoring Buck’s wordless noise of protest. The medics had Buck sign a form declining care, and one of the medics began to unstrap him as the other approached the mother.

Eddie suddenly felt the enormity of all of this slam into him at once as he watched the paramedic undoing Buck’s leg straps and felt unbearably exhausted, actually having to shift his weight to stop himself falling over. Seeing Buck on this stretcher like this, blood on his face, his hair plastered to his head, paler than Eddie had ever seen before; it was suddenly more than Eddie could handle. Goosebumps erupted on his bare arms as a cold breeze ruffled his hair and made the water on his shirt feel even colder, but Eddie refused to let his feelings get the better of him and took a few deep breaths, looking away from Buck for a moment and shoving away his weakness into a dark corner of his mind. Buck needed him to be strong, capable Eddie right now and that’s what he was going to get.

Eddie helped Buck sit up and then carefully held him tight as he stood, his legs still as weak and wobbly as before, but at least they didn’t have the daunting hill stretching before them this time. It was easy enough for Eddie to lead Buck to the SUV, and once he was settled in the front seat, Eddie quickly dug through their suitcase in the back until he found a dry sweater for Buck, tossing the wet one in a corner of the trunk. He helped Buck take off his jacket and get the sweater on, as it would warm him better than the jacket, pulling the coat back on himself before hurrying over to the driver’s seat.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Buck said almost immediately as Eddie got into the vehicle and closed his door, tossing the key hub into the dash tray. Eddie reached over past Buck and pulled his seatbelt down, buckling him in, ignoring the look Buck was giving him.

“You’re going to the hospital,” Eddie said, pulling out of the parking space and driving off.

“Eddie, I’m fine,” Buck said in a pleading tone, his voice cracking. “Please… I really don’t want to go.”

Buck tone was one of desperation and Eddie glanced over at him for a moment as he waited to turn onto the highway. Buck looked very upset, and Eddie could only imagine what he was going through as all the memories of hospital visits in the past rushed through his head. Eddie didn’t blame him for not wanting to add another one, especially in another country. Especially when they were on vacation. But still, Eddie was worried about him.

“Buck, you were in that water for a long time,” Eddie said, unable to banish the uncertainty from his voice, shaking his head as he pulled out onto the highway and began to accelerate back towards the townsite.

“And you’ll take care of me. Right?” Eddie glanced sideways to see Buck give him a ghost of a smile and sighed as he felt his will crumbling, rolling his eyes at his own weakness. He was quiet for a while, going over Buck’s symptoms in his mind, well aware that Buck was still looking at him.

“Fine,” Eddie relented, and sensed rather than saw Buck sag with relief. “But with a caveat,” Eddie continued immediately. “If you feel worse or get any new symptoms you have to tell me, and it will be up to my discretion whether we get you checked out or not. Got it?”

“Okay,” Buck agreed in a small, breathy voice, leaning back against the seat, clearly exhausted. Now that they were on the highway at a stable speed, Eddie let go of the steering wheel with one hand and reached for Buck’s, wrapping his warm fingers around Buck’s frigid ones. Buck made a soft noise that Eddie wasn’t entirely sure was happy or sleepy, but either way, Eddie held Buck’s hand until they had to turn off the highway about twenty minutes later. Their hotel was thankfully very close to the turnoff, and Eddie parked, darted in to check in, and then came back out.

Eddie realized Buck had fallen asleep in the front seat and Eddie hopped back into the driver’s seat, reaching across to take Buck’s wrist. Eddie settled two fingers over his pulse point and counted, satisfied that the rate was higher than it had been before, which hopefully meant he was stabilizing. After watching Buck sleep for a moment with a small smile on his face, Eddie decided to take Christopher up to the room first, not having the heart to disturb the poor guy just yet.

Fifteen minutes later, Eddie had brought Christopher and all the luggage up to the room and came back for Buck, who was still sleeping peacefully in the warm SUV. Eddie opened Buck’s door and slipped a hand up to Buck’s neck, gently stroking there before moving upwards and stroking his cheek gently instead, trying not to startle him. He noticed that Buck had started shivering again and was glad; it meant he was slowly getting warmer.

“Buck, come on,” Eddie said in a gentle, quiet voice as Buck stirred, slowly opening his eyes and blinking sluggishly at Eddie. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Buck was very sleepy and still weak, so Eddie took his sweet time helping Buck out of the car and into the building, into the elevator and down the hall a short ways to their room, attracting a curious glance or two from the couple of people they passed.

Without telling Buck, Eddie had upgraded their basic room to a King Deluxe suite, so there was a separate master bedroom with a king sized bed and a wonderful ensuite bathroom, with a double bed in the living room for Christopher. Buck looked around in faint surprise as Eddie led him into the room, smiling weakly as Christopher cheered their arrival and waved. Christopher immediately got up and padded over to them, wrapping his arms around Buck’s middle as Buck steadied himself on the wall so he didn’t fall over onto him.

“Glad you’re okay, Buck,” Christopher said into Buck’s sweater, and Buck smiled, weakly rubbing his back, his hands trembling.

“Thanks b-buddy. I’m g-glad too.”

Eddie got Christopher settled in front of the TV again with a snack and led an exhausted, shuddering Buck into their bedroom, closing the door behind them.

“We need to warm you gradually,” Eddie said, as he noticed Buck looking longingly over at the large jacuzzi tub. “No hot bath until you’re at a stable temperature for a while.”

Buck sank sadly down onto the bed, hoping he would at least be allowed to sleep if he wasn’t allowed to have a bath or go in the hot tub. His shivers were unending and Buck stared down at his shaking hands, his eyes slowly closing even as he sat there.

Eddie came over with a warm, wet cloth and took Buck’s face in one hand, gently dabbing at the drying blood on Buck’s skin with the cloth until it was clean, his touch as light as possible to avoid hurting him. Buck let out a soft noise of distress and pressed his cheek into Eddie’s hand.

“Come on, let’s get those wet clothes off of you,” Eddie said placatingly, giving Buck’s cheek a stroke before tossing aside the cloth and helping Buck take off his soaked boots, socks, pants and boxers. As much as Eddie wanted to comfort Buck, getting him warm was more important.

Eddie helped Buck into a pair of warm, dry underwear, and then pulled back the blanket on the bed. Confused, Buck was too weak to protest as Eddie gently pulled Buck’s shirt off, Buck immediately crossing his arms over his pecs in an attempt to feel warmer.

“What are you-” Buck started, watching with growing confusion as Eddie peeled his own t-shirt off, leaving him bare chested.

“Body heat is the best way to gradually warm someone,” Eddie explained, flashing a brilliant smile at Buck that would have made him weak in the knees had he not already been weak in the knees. “Come on. We have an hour until Christopher’s movie is over.”

Buck smiled faintly as Eddie helped him lie down, his body feeling extremely heavy the moment he was horizontal. He was absolutely exhausted, and his eyes were already closed by the time Eddie joined him in bed and pulled the blanket over them.

Eddie let out a loud, involuntary gasp as he pulled Buck close, Buck’s chilled skin pressing against Eddie’s warm chest, the chill shocking him more than he’d expected. Buck let out a very small laugh at the sound of his gasp, and Eddie felt Buck relax in his arms as he snuggled up against Eddie’s front.

Within a few minutes, Buck began to shiver harder. Buck whimpered and Eddie held him even closer as he shook, his whole body twitching. Eddie had been expecting this, but clearly Buck hadn’t, if the way he curled up tightly against Eddie’s chest was any indication.

“W-why n-now?” Buck asked, shivering so violently he could barely speak, his teeth chattering and his hands trembling as he reached up to push his hair off of his forehead.

“Because before you were too hypothermic to even shiver,” Eddie explained, leaning forward and kissing Buck on the forehead, reaching up to stroke his hair. “I know it feels shitty, but I promise it’s a good thing. It means you’re warming up.”

Buck let out a small groan and ducked his head, resting it on Eddie’s arm, letting out a long, shaky breath. Eddie pulled Buck to his chest and held him close as he trembled, as he let out small gasps and moans as the shivers wracked his body. Eddie’s heart felt like it physically hurt as he listened to Buck’s ragged breathing, his weak gasps and whimpers as the convulsions continued. Eddie wished nothing more than to be able to take away the horrible feeling from him, to be able to protect Buck from everything in the world.

“You’re a hero, you know that?” Eddie murmured after a while into Buck’s damp hair, kissing the top of his head. “You saved that little girl.”

“You w-would’ve d-done the s-same,” Buck replied shakily in a muffled voice, his head still tucked down against the crook of Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie shrugged.

“Yeah, but I didn’t. You did.”

“O-only because you w-weren’t th-there f-first,” Buck protested, and Eddie laughed softly, kissing Buck’s forehead again.

“Just take the compliment, Buck,” Eddie said in quiet exasperation, shaking his head. “You’re a damn hero.”

Buck didn’t say anything else, but Eddie felt him smile against his bicep. Eddie kept up a slow, gentle stroking of Buck’s back to comfort him and within a few moments, Eddie felt Buck’s weight press more heavily into him. He continued to shiver, but not as intensely, and Eddie could tell that he’d fallen asleep. Knowing that he’d likely be out for a while, Eddie gently extricated himself, gave Buck a quick kiss and covered him with the blanket, tucking it all around him so he was nice and snug.

Eddie pulled a long-sleeved shirt on and headed out into the living room so Christopher didn’t feel abandoned, watching the rest of the movie with him and playing a round of Kids’ Trivial Pursuit with him. A couple of hours later, Christopher was cheering his victory against Eddie when Eddie heard Buck’s soft voice calling. Eddie laughed, ruffling Christopher’s hair, and hurried off to check on Buck while Christopher reset the game.

“How are you doing, Buck?” Eddie asked, coming into the room to see Buck propped up on the pillows, looking somewhat more alert than he had.

“S-still c-cold,” Buck shivered, pulling the blanket up to his bare shoulders. “B-but I’m h-hungry and don’t want to l-lie here anymore.”

Eddie smiled and came over to Buck’s side of the bed, sitting down and taking Buck’s hand, sliding his fingers over Buck’s pulse once more. Buck looked at him with a bit of a sad, vulnerable expression on his face, which melted Eddie’s heart and made it hard to concentrate. He was pleased to feel that Buck’s heart rate had increased again and felt stronger than it did before.

“Come on. Let’s get you some food,” Eddie said once he was done, shifting to take Buck’s hand and pull him into a standing position, realizing belatedly that he was still mostly naked.

“I sh-should probably p-put some c-clothes on,” Buck said, crossing his arms over his chest again to try and keep warm as the cool air of the room wafted over his skin. “D-don’t want to scar C-christopher.”

“Right,” laughed Eddie, rifling through their suitcases and finding Buck some sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie and helping him get dressed. Once he was dressed and standing unsteadily by the bed, Eddie took his hand to lead him out into the other room.

“Wait,” Buck said, as Eddie started to pull him forward. Eddie stopped, turning back to him curiously. “I… I didn’t get to say anything b-back there, but I h-heard what you said.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked, though he thought he knew. Back when he was trying to pull Buck in, when he was trying to encourage him, he’d been shouting all kinds of things, not even really aware of what he’d been saying, though he suspected he knew what he’d said.

“You… you said you love me.” Buck said quietly, biting his lower lip a little, suddenly bashful. “Did… did you mean that? O-or was it just because you were afraid I w-was dying?”

Eddie looked down at him for a moment, thoughtful, then reached up with both of his hands and took Buck’s face gently in them. Eddie leaned in as Buck’s eyes fluttered closed and pressed his lips to Buck’s, stroking Buck’s cheeks with his thumbs as he kissed him. Eddie felt Buck melt into his embrace and smiled into the kiss, slowly pulling away many moments later and looking down as Buck’s eyes opened to meet his.

“I love you,” Eddie said simply with a light shrug, smiling and taking Buck’s hand once more. Buck seemed momentarily stunned, but then his face lit up, his grin nearly as bright as it usually was despite his continued shivering.

“I love you too.”

* * *

A few days later, Buck was enthusiastically ready to leave the hotel once again. He had slept a lot over the last few days, and he hadn’t stopped shivering until well into the night the day of the incident. Eddie had extended their stay by a few days so Buck could rest, and he’d been alternating between sleeping in the king-sized bed with Eddie or napping on the couch, often with Christopher snuggled up beside him, watching (or sleeping through) a movie. They played board games several times, as Buck could sit, wrapped in a blanket, and be perfectly comfortable. Eddie had taken a quick trip to a nearby grocery store for snacks and had been ordering meals so that Buck didn’t overtax himself going out, which was nice the first two days but was starting to irk him by the third, as he was starting to feel a little suffocated.

The only major downside to his recovery had been discovering how sensitive his skin was after being so cold for so long, especially his fingers. When Eddie had finally cleared him to have a nice warm bath, Buck had yelped as he sank into the water and submerged his hands; they felt like they were burning, the same sensation as having a hot shower with a sunburn. This meant the hot tub was out of the question and Buck had sulked about that for a while, wanting nothing more than to submerge himself in hot, bubbly water.

Thankfully, the sensitivity had subsided over the last few days and now they were, finally, heading out for a day’s sightseeing. Their first trip was to a nearby hot springs, on Buck’s insistence that he was better. It was snowing and the effect was magical as they watched the snow melt as it hit the steamy barrier floating up from the springs pool. Christopher was mesmerized and Buck was mostly just pleased that he was able to soak without (much) pain, finally feeling like his old self again.

The only obvious sign that anything had happened was the purple bruises under either of his eyes from when the girl had kicked him in the nose. Eddie had insisted that they weren’t as obvious as they felt, but Buck still felt self conscious about them, trying to avoid looking people in the eyes when he met them. It also made kissing Eddie a little more difficult; Eddie’s nose had accidentally bumped his despite Eddie being as careful as possible just that morning and the sudden pain had taken Buck’s breath away.

Buck and Eddie followed behind Christopher as he led them up and down the town’s main street, going in and out of gift shops, buying souvenirs and fudge, getting an ice cream from a famous ice cream shop, even though it was cold outside. Eddie pulled Buck into an outdoor supplies shop and bought him a comfortable new jacket and a teal knitted toque like the one he’d lost, getting both Christopher and himself the same hat to match, upon Christopher’s excited request.

They stopped to have lunch at a cute little pub with great Irish food and were just stepping away from the door when something collided with Buck’s leg. Buck looked down in surprise to see a young girl, who threw her arms around his waist. He looked around, confused, until he saw the girl’s mother approaching with her small son in tow, and realized this must be the girl he’d pulled from the water.

“Hi Molly,” Buck said, smiling, patting her on the back as she clung to him. She said nothing, but her grip on his waist tightened as he said her name.

“I’m so sorry we didn’t get to thank you the other day,” the mother said to him as she came level with them. “Thank you so much. I can’t even begin to repay you for what you did, you nearly died for a little girl you’ve never even met.”

“It’s alright, ma’am,” Buck said, feeling his face flush as he felt rather than saw both Christopher and Eddie watching them.

“We’re firefighters,” Buck said, gesturing to Eddie and himself. “It’s what we do, I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Cool!” The little boy behind his mother poked his head around her side to stare at Buck and Eddie. “I wanna be a firefighter when I grow up!”

Eddie grinned and high fived the little boy, who seemed star struck to meet two real-life firefighters. They spoke with the mother and her kids for several minutes, until Christopher started to shift uncomfortably, feeling cold from standing in one place for too long.

“Well, we won’t take any more of your time,” the woman, Eleanor, said. “Thank you, again. Both of you. If there’s anything I can ever do to help you in any way, please, don’t hesitate to call.”

Eleanor pressed a business card into Buck’s hand so he would have her phone number and peeled Molly from Buck’s side, where she still was, refusing to let go.

“Thank you,” Molly said in a tiny voice, looking up at him, before dashing back towards her mother and hiding behind her, suddenly shy. Buck laughed, then waved as they walked away, Molly looking back him several times and giving him a small wave before they disappeared around the corner.

“Told you,” Eddie said, taking Buck’s hand as they walked slowly in the opposite direction back towards their car. “You’re a hero.”

Buck felt himself blushing again as he tried to wave off Eddie’s words, but as Christopher cheered in agreement and Eddie pulled him over to give him a kiss, Buck had to admit it felt pretty good to know that he’d saved that girl and he was no worse for wear besides the bruises on his face.

“Fine, fine,” Buck said gruffly after Eddie had pulled away from the kiss as Christopher let out an “ewwww!” and they all laughed.

They got back to the car and Buck helped Christopher into the back seat, buckling him up before closing the door. Buck turned around to see a squirrel bounding across the sidewalk right near him and watched, wrapping his arms around his chest as he shivered a bit in the cold air, even though he was in his snug new jacket.

“I thought you were an honourary Canadian?” Eddie teased, coming around the side of the car to see what he was looking at.

“I was, until I spent twelve minutes in a freezing lake,” Buck lamented, and Eddie made a noise somewhere between concern and a laugh. “I will never complain about being too warm in LA ever again.”

Eddie actually laughed then, and clapped Buck on the back. They both jumped into the SUV, Buck behind the steering wheel this time as Christopher excitedly asked where they were headed now. They’d had quite the misadventure here but they were ready to continue on their journey as a family, just the three of them.

* * *

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Tag list: @outside-the-government @littlecarowrites @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @stormsnevercometostay @southernbellestatues @mad-girl-without-a-box @reading-in-moonlight

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handwrittenhello · 3 years

Text

where the road then takes me

Prompt: Law of Surprise Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Renfri, Geralt/Renfri, Geralt/Jaskier, Jaskier & Renfri Rating: T Warnings: None Summary: When Jaskier runs into a pack of wild dogs while searching for his lost hen, he's lucky that Geralt is nearby to save him. But he has nothing to repay the witcher with except the Law of Surprise, and who do they find upon returning to the farm, but Jaskier's sister, Renfri, back early from marauding?

For @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo!

(ao3 link in reblog)

Jaskier, eighteen, had grand dreams.

They were little more than dreams, unfortunately, because seeing as how he and Renfri had grown up fending for themselves, stuck in a tiny village on the border of Creyden, he didn’t have much opportunity to go to school or learn to play the lute or anything, really, besides tending to the farm while Renfri got… freelance work elsewhere. That was all he cared to know about it—she would leave, and return home every couple of weeks with a decent bag of coin and blood-spattered clothes, which Jaskier would bitch about cleaning. She made enough for them to live, though not comfortably—Renfri had kept him fairly sheltered, but he knew that they were one of the poorer households in town.

Which was why Jaskier only dreamed of traveling the Continent, singing songs and weaving grand tales for the commonfolk. Instead, he was stuck here chasing down their old hen again, after the coop had blown down in the storm for the fourth time. Henrietta was a sneaky fucker, already gone by the time he woke up in the morning. He cursed but pulled on his boots and stumbled out into the cold morning air to look for her.

He cursed all the way to the edge of the forest, where she’d apparently disappeared into, judging by the tracks and the few scattered feathers he found. “Damned hen. Ought to just eat you and be done with it,” he muttered, pulling his cloak tighter around him before heading into the forest.

He followed her trail as the sun slowly rose, stopping when he heard barking in the distance. Fuck, he hoped that was the hunters’ dogs—he hadn’t thought to bring a knife to defend himself with. Whatever it was, he trudged onwards, because they couldn’t afford to lose a hen. Renfri would kill him if—when—she found out.

And then he heard it—familiar squawking, accompanied by those same barks, louder. He crept closer and saw exactly what he’d feared—a pack of wild dogs circled Henrietta, one of them darting in every so often to snap at her slashing claws. She was fending them off pretty handily, actually—Jaskier knew how vicious she could be firsthand.

But the dogs would no doubt attack in force soon, and then she’d have no chance. Without thinking, Jaskier picked up a rock and threw it at the nearest one, hitting it square in the nose. It recoiled and turned its attention away from Henrietta, which was exactly what he wanted.

Unfortunately, it turned its attention towards him, which was exactly what he didn’t want. “Oh, fuck,” he spat, and turned tail as the pack gave chase.

He dashed over tree roots and fallen logs, blind stupid terror coursing through his veins. He had no plan beyond don’t get caught—and he could only run for so long before tiring. He threw a glance backward and saw that they were gaining on him—and fast.

Not looking where was going, he was taken completely by surprise when he slammed into something hard, bouncing off it and landing with an oof on the mossy ground.

Dazed and still half-blind with fear, he didn’t even notice that he’d slammed into a person until they moved, stepping over him and taking on the dogs with an easy confidence, sword swinging with preternatural force.

Two swords, armor, incredible speed and fighting skills? As the man finished dispatching the last of the pack and turned around to reveal mutated cat eyes set in a heavily scarred face, Jaskier realized who the man was. He sucked in a sharp breath.

The witcher sheathed his sword, holding out a hand as if to calm Jaskier. “It’s alright,” he rumbled, voice full of gravel. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Jaskier picked his jaw up from where it had dropped. “I know that,” he answered, getting to his feet and half-heartedly brushing the dirt off himself. “You’re a witcher.”

“I am. Usually fight more dangerous things than wild dogs, though. Also don’t usually see unaccompanied kids running around being chased by them.”

“I had to get their attention somehow. Henrietta was—wait, Henrietta!” Jaskier, remembered, abruptly spinning on his heel and dashing back to where the pack had cornered her.

“Wait!” the witcher called from behind him, but Jaskier paid him no heed.

He was gratified to see that while he’d been running for his life, Henrietta had seen fit to begin making herself a nest right in the same spot. “Oh, aren’t we cozy?” he grumbled, creeping closer in an attempt to grab her. He was almost upon her when the witcher ruined it, crashing through the underbrush behind him and sending her clucking away just as Jaskier pounced.

Jaskier sighed and turned to face the witcher, who at least had the good grace to look a little guilty. The guilt soon disappeared, though, when Jaskier rounded on him and began to lecture. “Now look what you’ve done. It’ll take me ages to catch her,” he complained, watching as the witcher’s eyes grew incredulous.

“You risked your life for that scrawny thing?” the witcher asked, amused disbelief coloring his tone.

“That scrawny thing is probably the most valuable thing we own, so yes,” Jaskier snapped. He couldn’t stand it when out-of-towners looked at him like that, like he was a stupid farm boy who knew little more than dirt and chickens. Which, to be fair, he didn’t, but it wasn’t as if he wanted it that way.

The witcher’s face cleared to something more akin to understanding—thank the gods it wasn’t pity. “Then I suppose I owe it to you to help catch her,” he said, and in the blink of an eye he’d snatched Henrietta up. Jaskier accepted her into his arms somewhat stunned.

“Thank you,” he eventually managed to stammer. The witcher said nothing in return, and they stood there for a long, awkward moment, before Jaskier realized he was probably waiting for something. “Oh! I don’t—I don’t have anything to pay you with…” he trailed off, recalling all the old adages, that witchers never worked for free. Fuck. Renfri wouldn’t be home for days if not weeks still, and the only coin he had he needed to save for the market day after tomorrow.

The witcher began to speak—what it was he was going to say, Jaskier didn’t know, but he interrupted as an idea struck him. “But I can offer you the Law of Surprise!” he suggested, recalling the ballads of children promised to witchmen. “We’ve a bitch due for pups soon—perhaps we’ll return home and you’ll find yourself with a companion to warm the long nights on the road!”

“Hmm,” the witcher replied, but it wasn’t a no, so he figured that it probably meant he wasn’t about to be forced into the witcher’s debt. Humming, he led the way back to the farmstead, the witcher a silent, hulking protector at his back.

Once they arrived, Jaskier was quick to secure Henrietta in the barn, where normally there would be pigs, but now, after sickness had taken their only sow, there was only dust and hay and the occasional mouse. He left Henrietta to her mouse hunting and led the witcher to the cottage, throwing open the door, excited to see what surprise he might find.

“Jaskier, why the fuck have you brought a witcher home?” asked Renfri, perched on the table and cleaning underneath her fingernails with one of her many knives.

Jaskier paled. “Renfri! You’re—you’re not meant to be home yet,” he choked out.

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” she drawled, eyebrows knitting together. Jaskier, helpless, threw a glance back at the witcher, who was wearing a thunderous expression. Shit.

“I—not in this case, no,” Jaskier said tersely. “Fuck.”

“Some welcome,” she said faux-calmly, hopping down off the table. Jaskier recognized the tenseness in her form that spoke of a predator preparing to pounce. Sure enough, she lunged a moment later, her knife held a half-inch away from the witcher’s throat. Jaskier yelped. “Did he hurt you, Julek?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the witcher’s face.

“No, nothing of the sort, now put that down,” Jaskier hissed, tugging ineffectually at her arm. “He saved me, in fact, and…”

“And?” Renfri asked lowly.

“…and I may have promised him the Law of Surprise in return,” Jaskier finished all in a rush, wincing. “I swear, Ren, if I’d known…”

“That’s the thing about surprises,” the witcher interjected. “But you needn’t worry. I have no plans to claim your—sister?” Jaskier nodded. “As I said before, I need no payment.”

Renfri lowered her knife, and Jaskier breathed a bit easier for it. Renfri was a formidable fighter, but Jaskier doubted even her strength against a witcher. If a fight had broken out, he’d have had to—well, not help, because he was rather useless in a fight, but it was the principle of the matter.

“I suppose I could do worse for myself,” Renfri mused, looking Geralt over critically.

“Wait you’re—Renfri, he said he wouldn’t claim you, you don’t have to.”

“And what if I want to?” Renfri answered. “He seems a decent sort. And not too hard on the eyes, either.”

The witcher, looking uncomfortable, stood there and said nothing.

Jaskier threw his hands up. “You’re insane. And you!” he said, turning to the witcher. “Are you agreeing to this?”

“The life of a witcher isn’t well suited to… companionship,” the witcher replied, face twisted. “Walking the Path is difficult.”

“And if I promise that I can handle myself?” Renfri asked, twirling her knife in one of the many tricks she was proud of. “I’m no stranger to the road. It’s Jaskier you’d have to watch out for.”

“I resent that,” Jaskier said mildly, mostly out of principle. But the prospect was too exciting to dwell on it for long—was Renfri truly proposing that they set out with a witcher? “Ren, do you mean it?”

“If your witcher is fine with it, then I don’t see why not,” she replied. “What do you say, witcher?”

“Geralt,” the witcher corrected her. “If we’re to travel together, you ought to at least know my name.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeated. It rolled off the tongue wonderfully. “Oh, this is so exciting! I’m going to write so many songs, just wait,” he gushed. “The Witcher and the Shrike—I can hear it now.”

Renfri pulled him out of his thoughts with a cuff to the shoulder. “Ow,” he said mildly. “Wait—you are planning on sharing, right?” he interjected. “Because, I mean, look at him.”

“Am I a toy to be shared among siblings?” Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that a no, you don’t want to sleep with both of us? Because I’ll respect that, I will, but also, not to objectify you or whatever, but dear gods please, I think my poor heart might break if I didn’t get to fuck you at least once.”

“Jaskier! Leave my Husband Surprise alone,” Renfri said, shoving him away. “Go get packed. Essentials only!”

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” Jaskier placated, raising his hands in surrender. “Don’t get up to anything while I’m gone, you lovebirds.”

As he left, Geralt turned to Renfri. “Is he always like this?”

“Yeah, he’s chronically stupid. Gets it from our father.”

“Remind me again why I agreed to this?”

“Don’t know, but it’s too late now. You’re stuck with us, witcher,” Renfri replied, looping an arm around Geralt’s.

Geralt made a show of sighing, but in truth, he wasn’t annoyed as all that. At least it would make life more interesting.

#the witcher #witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geralt/renfri #geralt/jaskier/renfri #geralt/jaskier #witcher rarepair summer bingo #wrsb #geralt #renfri #jaskier

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missysvault · 4 years

Text

Playing with Food

Summary: “Now: movies with me or leave me alone?” It’s Halloween and you want to watch your cheesy movie marathon in peace. Missy has other ideas.

Warnings: NSFW. Blood is mentioned, it’s present in a sexy way, but also serves a functional purpose on account of Missy being a blood-sucking creature, MIHOW

Word Count: 2970

A/N: Yes I know it’s mid-November.. Yes you’re still getting this vaguely October themed fic, I just wanted to write Missy as a vampire

The TARDIS should not be as dark as it was. Usually it was well-lit and easy to navigate, sympathetic to your poor sense of direction. Tonight though it wound endlessly and you were sure you were lost; you hoped someone would find you before you got in too deep. “Poppet, what are you up to all the way back here?” So this was her fault. The tone of Missy’s voice told you there was no way she’d just innocently come across you. Sometimes when she wanted a captive audience she’d get you so disoriented you had to rely on her to get back to a familiar area- it happened at least once a month.

“If you wanted to play hide and seek, I would’ve liked to be told first.” You turned to face her, but she was much closer than expected and you stumbled back against one of the many doors on the wall. She was on you in a second, arms boxing you in on either side; you were a little taller than her, but she was by far stronger. Missy had you in her grasp as soon as she’d laid eyes on you. Her teeth shone in the dark hallway, just barely reflected with the wall-mounted candlelight. Of course, she’d bother you on Halloween with her hunger, how appropriate. “Moreso, just ask if you want to bite me.”

Missy’s face dropping into an exaggerated frown, making a disappointed noise. “Oh you’re no fun. Fine, let me bite you.” She said it matter-of-factly, not even bothering to make it sound like a request. If she was quick with it, you wouldn’t have minded, but theatrical as she was, Missy was determined to always make a long show of it and tonight, for once, you had plans.

“No, Missy, I’m busy.” There was a movie marathon calling your name tonight and being late was not on the agenda. In a moment of boldness, you tried to escape her cage, but to no avail. One strong hand shoved you brutally back into the door, the heel of her palm digging into your abdomen with so much force you knew she was bruising you. “That hurts-“

“And being rejected hurts. We’re in the same boat.” She was being a child, most likely because she hadn’t eaten in a while. She did look a little bit more pale than normal, but her strength was clearly still present so it couldn’t be too bad, still enough to make her irritable. “I am letting you live here even though you’re no help to me,” Missy stepped forward, pressing her body to yours and sandwiching you between her and the door, “The least you could do is help me once in a while.” Her fingers ran over your neck, checking your pulse, all the while staring deep into your hesitant eyes. How dangerous she looked shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was and yet...

You sighed, trying to play off much cooler than you were. She’d never hurt you out of malice, but what she was capable of always stuck in your mind whenever the two of you butt heads. “We both know that’s untrue.” Missy wouldn’t let you touch anything critical without supervision if you’d tried, but she enjoyed your presence and so did the TARDIS. She was the one to ask you to stay. “Would you like to come watch cheesy 80’s Halloween movies with me, Missy?” Maybe you could distract her long enough to get through a film or two if you held out long enough. Your arms wound around her waist despite her hand still painfully pinning you to the closed door; sometimes a hug softened her for a short moment. The bared teeth grin on her face no longer scared you for things such as this; she had the complex of a small dog.

“What I would like is to mark up that pretty neck of yours.” Missy’s gaze fixed to your throat, seemingly entranced, slowly moving forward until her mouth was at the base of your neck. Her tongue marked out the exact spot she sought to feast on, she did bite, digging into your skin until you were whimpering, helplessly caught between her and the door, but you never felt the sharpest of her teeth. “I could've been done by now.”

“You wouldn’t unless I say you can,” you wheezed, clinging to whatever resolve you had left. Determined as she was, she’d bide her time until you gave into her willingly. It tastes infinitely sweeter that way, Missy always claimed. You didn’t know if that were true, but it certainly gave you some leeway in persuading her to wait.

Missy pulled away, her face still too close to be read properly, but the challenge was clear on her face, “Yes I would.” This back and forth game amused you; maybe you could have more fun than just your traditional movie night alone. It was Halloween after all, some new entertainment would be a treat. Missy faltered for a split second and you gave one good push back against her and thankfully, her hand eased long enough for you to move more freely.

“No, Miss, you wouldn’t.” Hand fully out of your stomach, you pushed off of the wall with Missy still in your grasp. With a small kiss pressed into her hair, you released her and took a few steps backwards down the hallway until you were a safe distance away, not daring to break eye contact with her. “Now: movies with me or leave me alone?” You were being braver than usual and you didn’t know why, perhaps the late hour made you more ambivalent to Missy’s threats, but why she was letting you get away with it was a bigger mystery. One thing you loved about Missy is how plain emotions read on her face. It took awhile for her to open up to you in such a way, but now you could read her like a book and when her expression mellowed from irate to complacent, you knew you had her for at least a bit. “Is it a movie then?” She stalked past you without a word and you followed, knowing she’d find your room faster than you could.

You only expected to watch one movie with her; she wasn’t obligated to watch an entire marathon deep into the night, especially with how harshly she judged them. “Why is she running towards the lake?” You sighed and slumped down, resting your head on her chest. Missy was nice enough to insist you lay on her while you two binged the constant stream of cheesy 80s horror and you certainly weren’t one to ever protest that.

“Why are you still watching if you’re so upset?” It wasn’t that the movies were good, per se, but they were in season and you watched them every year, just for tradition. Usually it was a solo activity, free from criticism, but this year you’d spent more and more time with Missy and after your latest harrowing adventure, she’d convinced you to stay aboard the TARDIS with her a while longer and before you knew it, October was upon you. You’d missed out on a lot of things this year for her, but this was one event you could still enjoy and you thought sharing this with her might be nice. “No one’s forcing you here.”

Missy groaned, her head hitting the headboard as it fell backwards. “I can’t spend time with my little human? I didn’t know how badly you wanted me gone.” Her hurt voice made you wary, of course you wanted her around. Hardheaded as she could be, you did love her.

“It’s not that, Miss, I just… watching these every year means a lot to me.” You craned your neck to press a kiss to the arm she’d draped over your chest hours ago, patting her soft skin lazily with a gentle hand. “I am enjoying watching them with you though, no matter how much you say you hate them.”

Missy huffed, but pulled you into her nonetheless, kissing the top of your head. “Maybe I don’t despise them…but they are taking your attention away from me.” She nuzzled her nose into your hair, calm and sweet as opposed to the young teens being slashed at on screen. Missy would never say it, but spending time with someone else was a big reason she’d asked you to stay; you’d heard her talking to the Doctor about how lonely travel could get, especially when gone for long stretches of time. You’d missed her when she set off for what was supposed to be quick, but ended up as five months and when she asked you to come with her again, you did, not wanting to chance losing her again. Watching dated horror movies wasn’t together wasn’t top on the list of things you’d expected to do while aboard, but you wouldn’t complain.

Once the third movie started though, it seemed all bets were off. It was innocent cuddling at first, giving you gentle squeezes every once in a while and whispering funny Jason Vorhees jokes into your ear whenever the film tried to be too dramatic, but she had ulterior motives. Once she judged your guard lowered enough, Missy slid her hand over your inner thigh, rubbing in small circles with her thumb in a way she knew all too well you had a weakness for. This was her game; she’d waited for hours until you were sleepy, effectively weakened from laying securely in her arms all evening, poised and ready for the perfect time to strike- and you’d fallen right into it. Asking her to sit through a movie she had no interest in, why would she ever agree. No, she was interested in you or really, what you could provide for her. The hand not poised for attack at your hips now held your upper body securely against her where it had once been a lazy, comforting hold and as you tried to push yourself up and wiggle away, you realized you were effectively caught. “You can’t be serious.”

“Serious as a funeral, my darling.” Her mouth still rested behind the shell of your ear and you could feel her predatory grin as she slipped past the stretchy waistband of your loose sweatpants. “Now, I’ve indulged you in your little Halloween fun, I think it’s my turn now, don’t you?” Mostly you were mad at yourself for falling into yet another one of her traps; you thought you’d diverted her, maybe that she’d given in and that was your fault. It was all you could do to try and focus on the television, but even there teens were hiding away in a barn to make out despite the murderer still on the loose. “Maybe if I take you out to a secluded lake like them, I could have you all to myself. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You rolled your eyes noncommittally, much too distracted with how she was bunching your shirt into her hand, exposing your nipples to the cold air. “No, you only have me on a spaceship floating throughout the galaxy, too many other people to daydream about here.” Missy would drop you off in the middle of nowhere just to keep you to herself and the concept was way too appealing.

“And yet you wouldn’t give me what I wanted,” she tsked, grabbing at your breast and rolling the tight bud under the cool pad of her thumb. “How disappointing.” It was awful really, how quickly and efficiently Missy could manipulate you like you were her own treasured piano. Your friends, Bill especially, would laugh if they saw how easily you folded for someone you were so heavily warned about, but it was worth it. “And here I thought you’d be my good girl.”

“Missy-” She cut you off with a tug on the ear with her teeth, making you hiss. Movie all but forgotten, you wiggled under her, trying to shift your hips against her fingers to no avail, whimpering to an unsympathetic ear. She pinched hard at your flesh as a warning and you stopped squirming immediately. “Please? I’ll be good, promise.” You tilted your head to lock eyes with her, pleading silently for her to finally touch you properly and meeting only a borderline sadistic smile, you knew all was going according to her plan.

Her fingers went wandering down your abdomen, a gentle touch turned harsh as she scratched her blunt nails back up, leaving bright red lines and spotty drops of blood in their wake. “Pleasee, I’ll be good, promise.” Missy was mocking you, taunting your change of tune from earlier that evening; she did that when she was particularly unforgiving, mocked you for giving into her. “You, dear girl, are lucky that I’m so nice.” Not the word you’d use to describe being lured into a trap with short-term domestic bliss, but nevertheless, you shuddered when she grabbed you through your underwear and as hard as you thought about putting up a fight, the idea of just melting into Missy and letting her take you over for however long she wanted was so hard to resist. So you didn’t. “Open up for your mistress, dear.”

You did as she said, parting your legs to a sugar laced that’s a good pet that had you wetter than you’d ever admit and lithe finger slid past elastic fabric and over slick folds. “Don’t you ever get tired of getting exactly what you want?” It didn’t sound nearly as daring as you’d like, but it was all you could manage. A singular sure fingertip circled around your clit, teasing until your thighs twitched for her.

“Hmm..” Missy pondered, tapping her fingertips against you as you thought, “nope!” She slammed into you, two fingers deep, giggling at your surprised yelp as she stretched you with her curling digits. “Quite love it this way.” You bent your knees, planting your feet into the mattress for any kind of purchase against the sudden rapid assault below. There was no need for teasing tonight; Missy had you where she needed, now she wanted you riled and wanton, begging for her as soon as humanly possible and it wouldn’t take her long at all.

In a matter of moments you were breathless, on the verge of collapse, clinging to Missy’s legs on either side of you, aching for her presence to ground you even as she mercilessly thrust into you. “Missy, I am begging you, just please-“ She expertly wrenched every moan and cry you could offer her, reveling in the power she held over you, but she wasn’t done yet.

“Ooh, desperate now, are we?” Soft lips grazed over your neck, calm and cool where your blood pumped hot and fast, trying desperately to keep up. “Let me taste you and I’ll give you whatever you could possibly want.” You knew you were going to let her; it was a matter of when instead of if, especially as she held your orgasm in her hands. There was a pain that came with it, you knew from experience, but it was worth it for the thrill that came right after. Missy didn’t bite you often for your own good, she didn’t need to anyways, but when she wanted to, well, she always found a way. “I’ll clean up after, no mess this time.” Occasionally she left you bloody simply for the aesthetic of it all and you complained of ruined clothes and sheets, but honestly tonight you didn’t care either way.

Your nod was barely there, easily could’ve been mistaken for just a twitch, but she understood. With a reverent kiss over the hickey she’d made in the hallway hours before, sharp fangs pressed into the thin skin of your neck, piercing with the swift accuracy of a needle. It hurt just like you remembered, but Missy was shushing you before you could cry out, cupping your head with her free hand, thumb brushing over your flushed cheek as an implied I love you while she held you close against her mouth. You were coming before you realized, overwhelmed with the combined rush of endorphins from her bite and the orgasm she tore mercilessly from your body. It should be impossible to feel this blissful, possessed, and so deeply wanted at the same time and yet… You made a passing note to your future self that you didn’t know why you ever resisted this at all- but then you realized she was forever intent on taking every ounce she could from you before you passed out. “You’re going to kill me…”

She would never, not really. The first time you agreed, you were sure she’d quite literally bleed you dry, but she was careful, always in tune to when you’d given enough. Missy pulled away as you came down from your high, the dreaded sting on your neck promptly soothed over by her wet tongue. “Don’t be dramatic, you’re fine. I could do a lot more.” And she could, but she loved you and you amused her so she wouldn’t. If you had more control you’d reach to kiss those blood red lips, but you felt akin to a pile of jelly and it was all you could do to hazily smile in her general direction. Thankfully, Missy was aware how ‘lovey’ you could be and pressed her lips to yours, granting you a purposely messy kiss. You could feel her grin before she pulled back, fingers also slipping from you and placing them on your lips. She tapped your wet, parted lips until you let her in, sucking on instinct. “Be a good girl and suck, maybe I’ll let you come again.”

#missy x reader #missy/reader #gomez!master x reader #doctor who imagine #the master x reader #yes hi hello I've written this and it's my first published reader fic #soooo #my fic.

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legolaslovely · 4 years

Text

It Can Wait

A/N: Hi friends! This started as something to help me get rid of my little Fíli block (which SUCKS because I LOVE him with all my heart????), and I ended up really liking it! I hope you guys do too! :)

Pairing: Fíli x Fem ! Human ! Reader

Word Count: 2,847

Warnings: Fluff, talk of violence and injury, talk of blood, major character with a minor injury, nakedness (?), but like, respectful nakedness

Summary: Fíli runs to (Y/N)’s rescue at a rather inopportune time. ;)

“Lay down your packs. We’ll rest here for the night.”

Before Thorin even finished his sentence, the company of dwarves and their hobbit dropped their packs as if they were full of builders’ bricks. The resounding thump of bedrolls and clinking of weapons falling to the ground would have been enough to wake the nearest orc pack if it hadn’t already attacked the travelers earlier that day. Luckily the enemies were somewhat defeated and mostly evaded by the comrades. The skirmish did come with its casualties, but besides a few ripped packs with one gone and lost to the wargs, the injuries were survivable and would heal in a few days, according to Oin’s gruff but medically sound opinion.

(Y/N) walked to the far side of the rising camp and joined Thorin and his nephews instead of piling herself near the dwarves of the company who couldn’t bear to take another step. It seemed they’d rather plop where they stood, even if that meant sleeping on top of each other.

“Move over there, Bofur,” Bombur said. “Give a dwarf his own space, will ye?”

“Ye have plenty of space, what with ye losin’ yer pack to the warg’s mouth,” Bofur answered.

“Which wouldn’t have happened if ye didn’t run so slow!”

“Oi!”

And thus the bickering began.

(Y/N) dropped her pack on the ground where she could have some space to herself. Once freed, her aching arms stretched up over her head and her creaking back bent from side to side like a reed in the wind. She inhaled deeply, hoping to refresh her senses with some clean forest air but what she got was nothing of the sort.

That smell!

She coughed, she waved, but nothing completely dispelled the thick stink. One more sniff to make sure… and yes, that stench was her. Well, not exactly her. It was the black orc blood covering her tunic, the dirt under her nails, the sweat sliding down her skin and whatever the company shared for supper the night before. Nevertheless, that smell was indeed coming from her.

“I need to bathe,” she muttered.

“There’s a shallow river to the east. Not far,” Thorin said from behind her. She hadn’t realized he’d been setting up his bedroll so close to her as she complained about her… filth. “Go now,” he said. “Before it gets much darker.”

She nodded, going through her pack for some of her belongings. If she went now, she could wash her soiled and smelly tunic, fill her canteen, even wash her hair and still be back in time to share supper before it disappeared.

“Where are you going?” Kíli asked as (Y/N) loaded a smaller bag of hers with her washing utensils.

“To the river. I won’t be long.”

“You’re going alone?” Fíli asked, standing from his half made bedroll and wincing from the effort. Even he hadn’t been spared by the orcs today, having taken quite a blow to his knee. (Y/N) was convinced his limp was the reason Thorin called for camp before dark.

“I’m going to bathe so yes, I’m going alone,” she said.

Her fond teasing always left the tips of his ears stinging red.

“Do you think that’s the best idea?” he asked.

“I won’t be far. And I always have a dagger on me,” she said with a wink as she slung her bag over her shoulder and made for the river.

Kíli leaned to his brother’s ear, eyeing the weapon that hung from (Y/N)’s hip. It caressed her leg like a friendly cat with every step she took into the woods. “Always, always?” he asked. “Where does she keep it?”

“Use your imagination, Kíli!” she called over her shoulder.

Fíli saw the wheels chugging to life and wildly churning in his brother’s mind and smacked him.

“Oi!” Kíli barked.

Fíli listened to (Y/N)’s distant laugh and shoved his brother’s shoulder once more before returning to his bedroll. He flattened it out over a patch of long wildgrass which made for the softest sleeping place he’d had in weeks.

Moving himself to sit was a challenge with his throbbing knee, but it was one that came with a just reward. He kicked his leg out in front of him and leaned back on his hands, not in a rush to dig the crumbs of dry food out of his pack for his supper. No, he’d sit for a moment and let his mind go blank for the first time since the night before.

“Ye expect me to sleep on that little sliver of roll?”

“Yer lucky I’m sharin’ me roll with ye at all! Yer the one that lost yer pack!”

“ ‘Cause I was watchin’ out for ye!”

“Oi!”

Fíli cracked one eye open and rolled it at the spectacle. As the rest of the company spread out from their lazy pile, the grassy area dwindled, leaving mud moats and pebble piles as the only free space on the edge of the camp. Fíli had marked his territory, as had his brother and uncle. (Y/N), however, ran to the river so quickly she’d barely dropped her pack from her back, never mind set out her blanket.

“Kee,” he whispered. “See that little sliver of grass there?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Unroll (Y/N)’s bed for her, will ya? Right there. She’ll be left in the rocks otherwise.”

Kíli lolled his head and looked behind him, hair brushing the ground with his movement as he leaned back on his elbows. “S’too far away, Fee.”

“It’s right there!”

“You get it, then!”

Fíli had a trademark glare he saved for his little brother. Wide eyes threatened while thick brows sat like soldiers braced for battle; thinly lined lips could snap a command at any moment though his jaw seemed still and hard as stone. The glower wasn’t often unsheathed but even after seventy-odd years together, it was a weapon that still made Kíli tremble. Even now, he glanced again to the pack in question in order to avoid his brother’s steel gaze.

“What?” Kíli squeaked. “She can do it herself!”

“She’s not here.”

Fíli pushed himself to stand. The pain shot through his leg like an fiery arrow through his veins, exploding its target in the middle of his knee and sending shrapnel throughout. He winced, face scrunched up tight, as he limped to unclip (Y/N)’s bedroll from the top of her pack.

“You don’t have to baby her,” Kíli said.

“I’m not,” Fíli said as he rolled the thick blanket over the grass near his own. “I would rather not listen to her complain of her sore back all because you didn’t save her a place.”

“I wouldn't have to if she didn’t take so long washing her pretty hair.”

Fíli patted his handiwork and leaned close to Kíli to say, “Good thing you didn’t get up off your rear, then.” He dodged Kíli’s flying hand and chuckled at his little brother’s faked outrage. Then he stood, adjusted his belt and looked to the sky to judge the time. The sun was low, shining in the trees ahead and painting the leaves golden, the same way it shone at the crown of (Y/N)’s head as if she were a royal.

“She does have pretty hair,” Fíli said.

Before Kíli could shoot back an answer, his attention was pulled to a sharp cry echoing in the near distance. He caught Fíli’s eye and saw panic there.

“What was that?” he asked.

Fíli unsheathed his dagger and listened. Nothing.

“Stay here.”

Fíli disappeared into the eastern woods and made for the river. His injury was forgotten as he rushed through the trees, on guard for any lagging assailants waiting for him to approach. With each twig crunching step, he willed himself to slow down, make a plan, take in his surroundings, so as not to sprint full force into an enemy attack on his own. But the thought of (Y/N) in danger spurred him on. He rushed forth- forgot his training, his pain, his fear. His heart pounded in his chest as if attempting to break free from its cage and act as lieutenant.

His steps were mechanical, automatic. Green and brown whirred around him until he reached a clearing and saw blue. Then a shining dagger glinted in front of his chest.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” he said, arms shot in front of him.

“Fíli! What’s wrong?”

The land all around was empty except for the two of them. No enemy stood in sight and there was no evidence of a fight before he’d arrived. No blood, no weapons, and the only footsteps in the dirt were (Y/N)’s own. Her bare feet, tiny compared to his thick boots, led to bare calves, bare knees and mostly bare thighs, only the tops of which were covered with a clinging, wet tunic. Back to her feet his eyes went and he backed away, sheathing his dagger and looking anywhere except the soaked woman before him.

“Mahal, I’m so sorry. I thought I heard a scream and you were out here alone- my mind went to the worst. I really didn’t- this is no ploy to- I swear.”

“I believe you, Fíli.” She picked her dagger’s sheath from the ground and replaced her weapon. For a moment, he watched the soaked tunic adhere to her chest. Her hair shone with soap that slid down her neck, the bubbles making their way down over the dips of her collarbones and adding to the translucency of her covering.

She straightened. “I heard it too, but it was a fox. The pack made a kill just over the bank and celebrated so loudly I thought they were actually dwarves.” The corners of her mouth wriggled as she tried not to smile.

“You’re funny.”

“Thank you.”

She watched him. For his reaction? To pressure him into keeping his gaze to himself? To thank him for risking his life for her safety? He wasn’t sure.

“I’m also shivering and covered in soap, so if you don’t mind-”

“I’ll leave.” He turned back to the way he came, leaning a bit too far onto his sore leg. Despite his best intentions, he hissed in pain but the spare air vanished when a damp hand landed on his arm.

“What did Oin say about your knee?” she asked.

His hand clamped onto hers. “I’ll be crooked for a few days, but it should heal just fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing to run through the woods on either.”

A breeze blew between them. She shook with a chill that ran down her spine and took her hand away from his.

“You are shivering,” he said. “I’ll leave you as you asked.”

“Actually, I just meant to ask if you’d turn around so I can rinse off. Then we can walk back together. Wouldn’t want any foxes to attack you in your weakened state,” she said, biting her lip to stop from laughing as he shook his head.

He watched her back into the water, expertly dodging slippery, sharp rocks, until the little ripples reached her knees. She never took her eyes off his, but cocked a brow as she fiddled with the hem of her wet tunic.

“You should probably turn around now.”

“Right.”

He dutifully and respectfully spun, holding his breath to listen to her laugh. Her tunic landed on the rocks near his feet with a wet slap while the river water splashed and encased her in its embrace. If he closed his eyes, he’d be able to see her leaning her head back into the waves, revealing her neck and the swell of her breasts until her flesh disappeared below the surface. If he closed his eyes, he had the chance to imagine things he shouldn’t be picturing about his comrade.

So he looked up into the trees to count the birds or the leaves or the branches- something that would take his attention away from the completely bare woman right behind him. Then he saw her extra tunic hanging dry, still stained dark grey and maroon from their skirmish with a small orc pack that afternoon.

“That’s your only spare tunic up there?” he asked.

She hummed. “I can’t seem to wash the orc stench out of it, but it seems I’ll have to wear it for the night as my other one won’t dry in time.”

“I have an extra you can wear.”

“Oh, no, I’ll make do.”

“Nonsense,” he said, retrieving the wet tunic-ball and hanging it over a branch. As he sniffed the stained one and winced, he said, “Rip this one up for rags. You’ll need some for cleaning and mending as we go on. This wet one will dry, but until we can get you another spare, you can take mine.”

He dropped the rags-to-be by her bag and slid out of his outer layer. As he shed his clothes, he started to regret his decision. But asking her to choose between freezing overnight and sleeping in orc funk wasn’t an option. His fingers shook as the rustling of the water grew higher in pitch and her steps turned from small splashes to light pats over the dirt.

“That’s generous of you. Thank you.”

He pulled his tunic over his head and held it out, only seeing her by his side when he ran a hand through his braids and set them to rights. She’d slipped into her trousers and though she’d squeezed the water from her hair, stubborn droplets ran down her smooth skin and over freckles that were newly formed from long hours in the sun.

“You’re welcome,” he said, turning away as she dressed.

It wasn’t long before she landed before him, long tails tucked in and bunched in her trousers and laces tied under her neck.

“Well, then,” she said. “Ready to fight off some foxes?”

Fíli chuckled as the sleeve she’d pushed up to her elbow fell back down and over her wrist. “Indeed. Maybe we’ll find something for supper on the way,” he said as he neatly rolled the extra fabric up her arm the way he knew she liked it.

“Anything would be better than whatever your brother caught for us last night.”

“Not a fan of mystery meat?”

“Not when it smells like that,” she said.

When the pair grabbed everything they’d brought with them to the river, they started their way back to the camp. The sun had set but there was still a residual light radiating from the sky and through the trees. The purple twilight illuminated the path which Fíli had made much more prominent with his previous run through the woods. Mighty bear jokes were passed back and forth as (Y/N) noticed the broken branches and large bootsteps left in the dirt.

Fíli wrapped an arm tight around her shoulders and pulled, making her topple into his chest and giggle even more.

“Knock it off,” he said, words warped by his wide grin.

“Fine, fine. But seriously, Fíli. I’m honestly quite offended by what you’ve done tonight.”

He stopped her in the path, eyes wide and deep with regret. “(Y/N), I promise, I was not at all trying to sneak some sort of peek. I really thought you were in danger-”

“No, not that. All this time I always thought I had a rather pleasant voice. Now you say I sound like a yowling fox. It hurts me a bit.” She headed back to camp without him, leaving him stunned into place in the middle of the woods. “More than a bit, actually,” she continued. “I think you’re going to have to think very hard on how to make this all up to me. If we want to stay friends, that is.”

Two giant, limping steps later, he was close enough to take her in his arms and kiss her, as he’d wanted to do for months. And unexpectedly, magically, thankfully, she returned his embrace. Her fingers were cold on the nape of his neck but his tunic was warm around her body. Up her back and into her hair went his thick fingers, opening her to him and pulling her lips even closer. He sighed, a mix of her scent and his, her hair oil and his soap, and every bit of him swelled to capacity with pride and affection. Finally.

He drew away just enough to take in her face. Her eyes were still closed, and slowly, a smile grew on her pinked lips. She hummed and looked at him.

“That’s a good start,” she said.

“I’m glad you think so.”

Her smile spread into a bright and beautiful grin and Fíli could only return it. He shifted against her and felt her arms wrap further around him in support.

“We should get you back for some rest. Your knee-”

“Can wait,” he said, taking her chin in his fingers and running his thumb just under her lips. “It can wait.”

He kissed her again, pain and worries gone.

***

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floralguccistyles · 3 years

Photo

trigger warning: This chapter mentions sexual harassment. It does not go into detail at all, but be warned

wildflower :: chapter four

...and takes you on a date

I was halfway through a salad when Niall called me.

“Don’t eat anything, I’m taking you out to lunch,” was my only greeting. My hand, positioned halfway between my bowl and my mouth and holding my fork, paused.

“Niall, I’m halfway done with a salad,” I said through a mouthful of lettuce.

“Well, stop eating it and come out to lunch with me. I was gonna stop by that smoothie place you like and grab some for us. And maybe a doughnut too.”

I set my fork down and swallowed my mouthful before answering. “What’s the occasion? Smoothies and doughnuts are celebration foods.”

I tried to remember if there was anything we were celebrating. Our birthdays were the twelfth and thirteenth of September, respectively, and it was only teetering on the end of May. He would have told Lily and me if he was up for a promotion, so I knew it wasn’t anything related to his job.

“I just want to see my Rosebud. Is that a crime?”

My eyes travelled to the salad I was eating. It was filled with spinach and kale and was definitely healthier for me than a smoothie and a doughnut, but it also looked limp and sad in comparison. “Alright, but only because this salad is making me sad now after the promise of Matilda’s sweets.”

He laughed, the sound sending a little thrill through me. I loved making people laugh, but making Niall laugh was better somehow. His full-bodied laugh made me feel light and happy, like by making him laugh I was doing the world a favor because it meant they got to hear it.

“Deal. I can be at your place in ten?”

“Sounds good. I’ll be ready.”

Lily was working most of the day with her coworker for a big case, so I figured Niall was just lonely. He hadn’t been by this morning to drive to work with her, and I felt the absence of him just as much as I felt Lily’s absence. It was funny how Niall had weaved himself into our lives so completely that I felt the loss of him when I didn’t see him for a everyday.

I had managed to shimmy into jeans and a cardigan and fix my mess of tangled hair when I heard Niall’s key in the door. “‘M here, Rose!”

“Hi,” I managed to spit out through the rubber band in my mouth, held with my teeth. I had half my hair up in my hands to try and put in a semi-presentable messy bun. “Almost ready.”

“Matilda’s gonna be happy we’re visiting her,” he said, walking over to me and holding out his hand. With a gentle movement, he took the rubber band from between my teeth and held it for me. “You look nice.”

“I’m not wearing makeup and my hair is atrocious.” I raised a brow at him, reaching out to take the band from him so I could secure my hair. “But thank you. That’s sweet of you.” After my hair was situated, I was able to take him in fully, noticing that he was wearing the pretty blue color I always loved seeing on him. “Hey, you’re wearing the shirt I love.”

His cheeks tinged pink. “Figured I should look nice when you were going to look undoubtedly beautiful.”

“He’s got the compliments flowing today,” I joked, poking his cheek with my index finger. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

The drive to Matilda’s shop was spent listening to Niall’s favorite band at the moment (this week it was a group called Bad Suns) and absentmindedly tapping the little rose charm necklace he still had hanging in his car. He grinned at me every time my finger touched the edge of it, commenting that it was his “good luck charm.” I rolled my eyes, but there was an emotion that swelled up in my chest and threatened to burst out, like a balloon filling and filling until eventually it popped.

“Welcome in, you two! I was hoping you’d come back soon.” Matilda’s shop smelled of freshly baked maple bars when we walked in, and the old woman leaned over the counter. “Fresh. Want one?”

“We’ll take two, please. And two glaze twists.” Niall reached in his pocket to pay for their doughnuts.

“If you’re buying the doughnuts then I’m buying the smoothies,” I said when he inserted his card into the chip reader. “I feel bad you’re always paying for my stuff.”

“Don’t be. I just got a bonus at work.”

“Look at you, Mr. Moneybags.” Feeling a little nervous to ask, I picked at a loose thread on the edge of my shirt. “How is work? After...you know.”

Something dark crossed his face, and I couldn’t help the sharp shooting of sadness that struck my spine. I wanted to reach out and grab his face in my hands until he smiled again. When Niall smiled, all was right in the world. I shoved my hands in my pockets to resist doing just that, lest I look like a fool in the middle of a doughnut shop.

“He’s off the team and has lost his scholarship to the school. They’re thinking about expulsion. The counselor at the school wants her to press charges, but you know how the security is...they’ll say she needed to report it sooner. It sucks, Rose. It makes me want to put you, Lily, and Violet in a bubble and never let you out.”

“Put some of Matilda’s doughnuts in there and I’d be set,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. The corners of his lips turned up and he wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in close as if he never wanted to let me go. Lily had done the same when I had first told her about Kent. She had pulled me in close and had walked around with her arm in mine every time we left the house. It made reaching on the top shelf of the grocery store to get my macaroni and cheese hard, but I never complained because it was nice to be taken care of by someone I knew cared about me.

Matilda handed us our doughnuts with a big smile and a forceful “you’d better come back here!” Niall handed me one of the maple bars, the dough still warm in my fingers as we exited the shop and walked across the street to the smoothie place.

Equipped with our doughnuts and smoothies (that I paid for, thank you very much), Niall suggested we walk down the strip of road. There were two antique stores, a little locally owned florist shop, and a travel agency building. I took him into the florist shop first, since I didn’t think the antique stores would let us in with our food and drinks. “What’s your favorite flower?” I asked absentmindedly, touching the petals of a pretty mum flower.

“I’ve never really thought about it. I know your favorites aren’t roses. You used to stick out your tongue at Violet whenever she picked out some for you for your birthdays.”

I laughed. “I liked the rosebuds you got me,” I defended.

“What is the Rosebud’s favorite flower, then?”

I thought about it for a moment, taking a sip of my smoothie. “Tulips. Pink tulips. They make me smile.”

“Then I like them, too. Whatever makes you smile is my favorite flower.”

My heart gave a little flutter. What was going on? I never reacted to Niall this way, in the way I imagined Lily reacted whenever she saw him. Is this what it felt like when she saw him coming to pick her up for their daily lunches? Heart taking off in her chest, stomach dropping with anticipation? I turned to look at pretty white hyacinths to avoid looking at him. I could feel my face heating up with the knowledge that had just presented itself.

I thought Niall was handsome. He was kind and funny and always made me feel safe. And now that I thought about it for more than two seconds...the thought of him with Lily made my skin crawl, like it was something that should never happen.

“I see sunflowers!” I shouted, startling him. I needed a distraction, something to take my mind off these new thoughts swirling around in my head. Bolting towards them, I managed to put some distance between us.

As long as I put distance between us, I could take a moment to clear my head.

Fancying Niall was, for lack of a better word, stupid. He was destined to be with Lily. He loved Lily. And Lily loved him. Even though they hadn’t realized it yet (or at least, hadn’t admitted it to themselves yet), this was a fact. It was like saying that humans needed air to live and the grass was green. It was an inevitability. The sun would rise in the morning, set in the evening, and Niall Horan and Lily Fairbrough were meant to be together.

“Rosebud? You ready to go to the antique shop?” Niall appeared by my side, and I couldn’t help it.

I screeched.

It wasn’t loud enough to embarrass myself totally, but it was enough for Niall to grin and start laughing, bending over at the waist. I wanted to beg him to stop laughing, not because I didn’t want him to laugh at me, but because his eyes became more blue and his laugh sent a fluttery feeling through me. “Jesus, didn’t know I would scare you, Rosebud.”

“I’m fine,” I stammered out. I then noticed he had disposed of our doughnut bag (because we had eaten them in less than a minute) and was holding something in his hand. When I processed what they were, I felt lightheaded. “Did...did you get me pink tulips?”

“Sure did. I’ll hold them while we hit the antique shops, if you want. You done with your smoothie?”

Okay, so I had three options.

Option one, I could act on these weird new feelings. I could randomly just step up to him right now and ask to kiss him (because obviously, I wasn’t going to kiss him without his consent). If he said no, which he would, I would back up and tell myself that he didn’t want me. Even though I already knew he didn’t want me, I would let this new knowledge wash over me until my little crush on him shriveled up and died.

Option two, I could wait it out. These feelings obviously couldn’t last forever, right? I knew he was Lily’s. Shouldn’t the knowledge of that make my heart turn away the thought of being with Niall? Surely I just had to wait for these feelings to go away. How long could they last, really?

Option three, I could beg Lily to finally confess her feelings to him, and beg Niall to finally make a move on her. Seeing them together and so in love would make these feelings disappear in an instant. My eyes and brain would go, “see, they belong together” and tell my heart to shut the fuck up.

“Y-yeah,” I said, stumbling over my words and I handed him my smoothie cup.

He smiled and took it, tossing it in the nearest trash can before gesturing his head towards the door. “C’mon, then, you numpty. What’re you just standing around for?”

I was helpless to him as we walked to the first antique store. I had gone shopping here when I had first moved into my apartment. I was pretty sure I had a couple of old records and a couple of accent photos that I had gotten here. Niall immediately hitched a right and went to the furniture, looking through ugly but fun velvet yellow couches and creepy looking porcelain dolls. “Let’s play a game,” he suggested.

“Please don’t say that while you’re standing next to a doll that looks creepier than Jigsaw.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Let’s look around and pick out something for one another. Meet back here when we’re done?”

I wondered if he knew how much I loved things like this. I liked going to locally owned shops and seeing what people’s imaginations had come up with. Even if I wasn’t particularly interested in what they were selling, the business and marketing major in me could appreciate when someone was passionate about what they were selling. In fact, this was a perfect date for me.

Which, naturally, made me want to hyperventilate. I had just discovered these pesky feelings for Niall and he was already unknowingly taking me on my version of a perfect date? Still, I had a hard time saying no to Niall. I agreed to his little game and watched in amusement as he shot off to the right, headed towards the section of the antique store that sold glass figurines. I decided to start with the basement level, figuring they might have some old magazines about sports teams. However, my mind wasn’t into this like I would have been on any other day.

Even Niamh and Patrick believed Niall was going to end up with Lily.

But there was one person who hadn’t.

Making sure no one was around, I pulled out my phone. Luckily, my sister was glued to her cell and she picked up on the second ring.

“Hello? Why are you calling me?”

“Nice to hear from you too. About the Niall and Lily bet—”

“Christ, I thought you had something important to tell me.”

“This is important!” I hissed out, making a poor old woman who was browsing some records jump. I sent her an apologetic look before continuing my conversation with Violet. “Why did you bet that they weren’t gonna end up together?”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know.” Shouldn’t that be answer enough?

I heard her let out an annoyed sigh on the other end of the line. “I don’t know, Rose. It’s obvious he doesn’t fancy her. They’re just...friendly.”

“But can you give me a specific example?”

She was quiet for a moment. And then she said, “Has Niall said something to you?”

“What? No.”

“Of course not. Not sure why I thought differently. Anyway, this is a pointless conversation and I’m trying to study for biology. Can you have an existential crisis later?”

“You’re a twit.”

“Whatever. Bye.”

I was met with the dial tone and I cursed Violet, shoving my phone back into my pocket. What did she mean, asking me if Niall had told me something? Were he and Lily together? I’d like to think he would have told me if they were dating, and if he hadn’t, Lily definitely would have. And then there was that night when we were talking about the girl he liked. It described Lily perfectly.

I halfheartedly searched through the old books and magazines until I found a cool baseball book that discussed Jackie Robinson and had a fun looking baseball card taped to the inside cover. He could put it on that empty space on his shelf in his office. I hooked it underneath my arm and meandered back to where Niall and I had agreed to meet.

He was standing there already, waiting happily with my tulips in his hand. When I made it back to his side, I couldn’t help but smile even though my heart felt like it might collapse. “You’re already done?” I asked. I had expected him to take longer than I had.

“I am. You first.”

I handed him the book. “I saw that empty spot on your shelves in your office when I was there and thought this might fit pretty well there.”

He smiled. “Thanks, Rosebud. It’s perfect.”

His object was a golden desk nameplate, with the words “Best Manager Ever” scrawled in decorative script in dark black calligraphy. I raised an eyebrow, but took the nameplate from his hands. “Thanks, Ni.”

“You’re sweet for pretending you know what it is. They obviously didn’t have one that said marketing team member, so manager was the best I could get.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but marketing team member would have been false, too. You should have found one that said receptionist.”

“That’s actually why I brought you out for lunch today. Remember that meeting I had with that athlete? The one who wants to create an eco-friendly line of equipment and uniforms?”

“Yeah! It sounded really cool. Did it go well?”

“It went fantastically. So fantastic, in fact, that he was offered a start-up donation and needs a good marketing team to spread word about the products when they’re out. And...I maybe told him that I had an amazing friend who was aces at marketing. If you want it, you’ve got a job.” He must have seen the stunned look on my face, so he continued in a rush. “You can finally quit the hotel and do what you love again, Rose. I know you’re great at it. You would be amazing. I know it may not be the exact business you want to work with, but it’s a good alternative for now, yeah?”

I was so shocked that I barely registered the door opening behind me, the little bell above it letting out a tinkling sound. We were standing in the middle of the walkway, so I looked at the patron to apologize.

The words died in my throat.

“Rose Fairbrough.” Kent Tanner had not changed in the year since I’d seen him. In any nightmares or late-night fears, I had imagined him looking more threatening and scary. But he was still just an average looking man, with his straight brown hair and dimpled-chin. He had maybe put on a pound or two, but not enough to make much of a difference in his stature. “Nice to see you.”

My throat went dry. Niall knew Kent as the guy who had fired me from Barkley’s, so he narrowed his eyes in Kent’s direction. If he knew the whole truth, he would probably have Kent bleeding on the ground in five seconds.

“How’ve you been?” Kent asked, leaning against a bookstand next to him. It was incredibly arrogant and entitled and screamed Kent. “Where are you working now? Barkley’s sure does miss you.”

He reached out to put his hand on my shoulder in what I’m sure was a friendly pat, but I flinched away and moved closer to Niall. I felt Niall’s welcome embrace around my waist, pulling me into his side and looking down at me to make sure I was okay. “It doesn’t matter where I’m working,” I said, wanting my words to sound fierce and powerful, but all they did was shake and stumble.

“Well, if you ever want a job at Barkley’s again, let me know. We miss you, Rose.”

I heard the implied words. If I wanted a job at Barkley’s again, his proposition was still open. It made me shudder even closer to Niall. “I’m fine, Kent. Excuse me.”

Quickly placing Niall’s nameplate for me on the bookshelf, I rushed out of the antique store. The air outside seemed to clear my mind a little, sending waves of cool to my overheated body. The wind felt nice against my arms, like Mother Nature was doing her best to tell me that she supported me.

“Are you okay, Rose?” Niall asked in a worried voice, but I would have known he was concerned just because he hadn’t called me Rosebud. “What a dick. He’s such a pompous arse.”

It all came crashing down when Niall reached out to rub my arm comfortingly. Still surprised and taken off guard by Kent, I winced and moved away. Niall’s eyes widened in surprise, and I knew why. I had never shrugged off a touch from Niall before. “Sorry,” I immediately said, my voice coming out rougher and more emotional than I’d wanted it to. “Sorry,” I repeated.

“That’s not a normal reaction to someone who fired you, Rose. What happened with that guy?” His voice was soft, but firm. I knew that we wouldn’t be leaving here without me telling him what truly happened with Kent. Either that, or I could continue the lie and have Niall never trust me again. And that simply wasn’t an option. Crush or not, I couldn’t deal with myself if Niall decided I wasn’t someone he could confide in.

“Can we walk and talk?” I asked gently, wanting to put as much distance between Kent and I as possible.

“‘Course, Rose. C’mon.” He was careful to not wrap his arm around me like he normally would, and it brought tears to my eyes. While I wanted his touch, I appreciated that he understood I couldn’t handle it just yet.

The farther and farther away we got from the antique store and Kent, the easier it felt to breathe. But it was hard to talk through the lump in my throat as I explained to Niall why I had really lost my job at Barkley’s. I was careful not to focus on him, but I knew his hands were curling into fists and his brow was furrowed in frustration.

“That’s why Violet and I were arguing in the kitchen at our last movie night. She thinks I should go to her school psychiatrist.”

“I think so, too.”

“I don’t want to go to a psychiatrist,” I said helplessly, wanting Niall to see things my way. “If I go to a psychiatrist, that means I’m not...normal Rose anymore. Besides, I know it could have been a lot worse than it was.”

“That doesn’t matter, Rose!”

I had never heard Niall yell at me in frustration before. I had heard him yelling across the bar to me when he was blackout drunk, I had heard him yelling at me from down the hallway to come look at something on his laptop, but I had never heard the tone he was using with me now. I stepped back in surprise, nearly tripping over myself.

“Knowing that he did that to you...that absolute piece of shit. I don’t care if he didn’t touch you, Rose, it’s still despicable and is gonna leave insecurities and shit that you can’t physically see, but you’ll carry around with you. And I think instead of letting it fester, you should have someone clinical talk to you about it. Someone who you aren’t personal with.”

“Well, thanks for your opinion on how I should handle my own sexual harassment, but I’m going to handle it my way.” I stubbornly crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. “God, you’re being just as bad as Violet. I didn’t tell you about Kent because I wanted your advice, Niall. I just needed someone to listen.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t tell you how to handle it. That’s not right of me, and I’ll apologize for it. But Rose, can’t you see that Violet, Lily, and I are trying to get you to do this because we care about you? I mean Christ, you...you don’t even know.”

“I know how much you guys care about me. I appreciate it.” Reaching forward, I squeezed his arm with my hand. “And I love you so much for it, Ni. But let me handle things my way, okay?”

“But will you? Will you handle it? Can you at least call Violet’s psychiatrist?”

Hindsight is a funny thing. If I had known how this conversation was going to go down, I might have changed things. I might have tried to de-escalate things. But suddenly I was getting annoyed with him again, and in my frustration I didn’t act the way I should have when he told me what he had.

“Jesus, Niall, stop it. Stop trying to play the hero. I’m fine.”

“Don’t tell me you’re fine, Rose. You have to sleep in the same room as someone because you’re terrified of sleeping alone. You turned into a mess when he walked into the store, and sometimes you flinch away when I pat your shoulder or Patrick tries to hug you.”

Hearing the things that were wrong with me, the things that made me a burden, hurt. Hearing them from Niall made it ten times worse. Hearing them from Niall when I had recently discovered these pesky little feelings for him made it a hundred times worse. So, I did what I always did. I pushed. “You aren’t my boyfriend, Niall. Stop acting like it.”

I wished I could take back the words as soon as they left my mouth. He looked absolutely defeated, like I had just crumbled him into a paper ball and put him through a shredder. “No, I’m not your boyfriend, Rose. I’m just someone who has been in love with you for over ten years. But I forgot. God forbid someone actually gives a shit about you.”

And then he was gone, shoving cab money into my hand to pay for my way home before he disappeared. He wasn’t walking back in the direction of his car, so I could only assume he was walking to clear his head. I found the idea as appealing as he did, but I couldn’t move.

I’m just someone who has been in love with you for over ten years.

The only thought my brain could come up with was, what?

I might have called an Uber, but I don’t remember it. My brain was on autopilot, going through the motions of getting back to Lily’s apartment. All I knew was that I had, somehow, hurt Niall so much more than I’d realized. And I’d never wanted to hurt Niall.

“Hey,” Lily said when I walked into the apartment. She was sitting on the couch in her comfy clothes, so she had to have been home from work for at least an hour. She had a ritual. “Niall told me you were coming home. He asked me to text him that you made it home safe.” Her voice was cautious, and I wondered how much of our argument Niall had talked to her about.

“Did you know?” I asked helplessly.

For once, Lily didn’t have all the answers. Or, at least, she didn’t have the answer I wanted to hear. Her lips clamped shut and she nodded slowly. “He’s...he’s been in love with you for a long time, Rose.”

“And no one told me?” I mumbled, feeling like my entire body was going to crack open and sink into the floor.

“Rose...you push people away when they love you. Mom, Dad, Violet, even Pat and Niamh. The only one you haven’t pushed away is me, and sometimes I still feel like eventually you will. You tell me everything that happens to you, but you never tell me what you’re feeling. You only let people see the surface of you, Rose.”

It was my fault. That’s what she was saying. It was my fault that no one really knew me. I was too hard to open up, too slow to be vulnerable.

“How about you come and we watch a movie?” Lily asked, worrying her lower lip. “You look like you need some rest.”

“I do,” I agreed halfheartedly. “But not here.”

And then I turned out of Lily’s apartment and got in my car.

I turned through the familiar winding streets, past the park, past the record store. There was a parking space right in front, like it was fate that I would be there. I put my car into park and made my way up the front steps, pushing my key into the lock.

The lights in my apartment were off, but I didn’t bother turning them on. I just made my way over to my bed, the bed I hadn’t slept in for over a year, and sunk into the mattress.

I didn’t sleep one bit.

#wildflower #wf #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan au #1dff

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

s’mores

pairing: chef!bucky x plus!reader

warnings: fluff, domesticity,

word count: 1.8k

description: chef!au; you and bucky have a bedtime routine

just a taste masterlist

“What is that?” Bucky stepped up from the couch to help you at the door, the fifty-pound box you were trying to slide across the floor. You grin up at him,

“A firepit.”

Now that the inside decor was mostly taken care of you were slowly piecing together something for your small patio. You’d been bringing home cushion covers, string lights, a crate for blankets. “For when it gets cold.” You tell him. But he was happy to let you do whatever made you happy. And this seemed to make you really happy.

It was an odd day off for him. After giving Sam a few days off for him and Wanda to travel upstate to a bed and breakfast for their anniversary he pushed Bucky to take some time off for himself. The only problem with that was, you’d been busy all week.

It was the end of another quarter, a big project that Stark was trying to launch, some app that you didn’t really explain too much to him about because it was mostly for corporations to see what quality of workplace they were creating. It had something to do with hours of work, versus difficulty of work, versus pay and formulated a score. And with this score it would show you how to improve the quality of work for employees.

Needless to say, in testing, Tony had given you a raise among many others.

But it took up a lot of your time.

Which is why he was so surprised you came home with the firepit anyway. The two of you were listening to music and sitting outside, Bucky on the ground while you sat on the cozy deep outdoor couch that you’d given him heart eyes over when you’d originally gone shopping for outdoor furniture.

“Can you hand me that screwdriver, right there?” He asked, holding his hand out for you to hand the tool to him, which you did, while also letting him take a sip of your old fashioned. His own long since finished but hadn’t quite gotten up to make another. “Thank you.”

You were anxiously waiting for him to finish. A pile of sticks off to the side you’d already collected along with a couple of large branches you’d snapped and what was left of the briquettes from the grill just in case it wasn’t enough and beside you on the coffee table he’d pushed out of the way, marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers.

He flipped the metal base over, pushing himself off the ground he moved it a comfortable distance away while you sipped on the strong drink, admiring the view of your boyfriend bending over in front of you.

“What do you think?” He asked. You grin up at him,

“It’s perfect.” You stood while he went inside to make more drinks, laying the dry sticks and branches on top of the briquettes, using old newspaper from the move to stuff in the sides and light. The sun was just setting, the outdoor string lights flipping on their timer. You hum contently and stick a marshmallow on a skewer. You twisted it around in the flame until it was bubbly and brown, pulling it out as soon as Bucky joined you back outside.

You held the melty fluff to him and he wrapped his mouth around the marshmallow, pulling it off the skewer before sitting down. Munching happily while he handed you a drink.

“Thank you.” You grin at him, a sweet marshmallow and bourbon kiss. Next time the marshmallow was melted and you smushed it between the two graham crackers and a couple squares of chocolate, happily taking a bite while Bucky pulled the blanket across your laps.

“This was a great idea.” He mumbled over a mouth full of s’more. You sip on your drink, a pleasant buzz going through your body, leaning back into his chest as you worked on your second s’more.

“How do you think Sam’s doing?” You ask. It was a Friday night after all. The first Friday night that Bucky hadn’t worked since the restaurant opened. He kept glancing at his phone in worry. Like maybe Sam would need him. He was also checking the numbers, sales. A 10k hour.

“They did a 40k lunch today which isn’t bad for a Friday lunch.” That was busy. So they were hoping to do another 50k at least for dinner, “But we are looking closer to 75,” Bucky was worried but he knows and trusts Sam to handle it.

“Maybe you should have taken off during the week.” You take a sip. “You’d be able to relax more.”

“Yeah, but you’re not off during the week.” You sigh, leaning further into his shoulder, his arm wrapped around you squeezing you to his side.

“Still… it would have made you worry less about what’s going on in the restaurant.” He pulls his skewer from the fire, blowing on the marshmallow that had caught fire and he popped it into his mouth.

“Maybe.” It’s so comfortable. The silence. The radio still playing softly in the background as you both get lost in the flames. Both chocolate bars gone, Bucky munched on graham crackers and the two of you finished off most of the marshmallows. He tasted like sugar and bourbon. A soft kiss on your cheek and then on your mouth, soft fingers tilting your head towards his. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” His tongue is soft, slow. Bucky liked to savor everything, even kissing. His fingers brushing your neck made you shiver. Your lips parting in a soft moan against his. His other hand comes to your leg, tapping it gently before helping you straddle his lap, the blanket falling around your hips, his fingers tracing figures down your back while you slowly kiss. Your fingers finding his hair, scratching gently on his scalp.

You broke for air, resting your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him as he hugged you to his body. You could almost fall asleep. The smell of just him, clean and masculine. The warmth between you. Work had been so stressful this week and you’d looked forward to spending the entire weekend with him. It was the only thing that made you make it through the workweek. Truly. And this hug, those sweet kisses, this closeness, it was giving your brain a much-needed rush of serotonin and you could feel yourself growing drunk with it.

“I love you so much.” You mumble into his neck, the fire warm on your back.

“I love you too baby.” He rubs your back for a moment, “You wanna go to bed?” A soft nod into his neck. “I’ll put this fire out, go ahead, I’ll meet you up there.”

He wasn’t far behind, meeting you at the sink to brush his teeth. You look at him in the mirror, watching him brush, to which he gives you a silly look, moving back to let you spit into the sink and grab mouthwash. A minty kiss after.

You change into some sleep shorts and an old t-shirt, rubbing lotion on your legs and moisturizer on your face while he changes and washes his face.

Bucky had this skin care routine, and he was very diligent with it, but then again his skin was very nice and clear for working in a kitchen and sweating for 75% of his time. The next part of the nighttime routine was probably the hardest.

He would sit next to you on your side of the bed and you’d take the medicated steroid cream given to him by his doctor and rub it into his left arm. The first time you’d done it you didn’t ask how it happened, “I can’t reach fully on my back.” He said. But he applied this cream every day to give the skin its flexibility back. It was stiff and hard to move sometimes. The tattoos he’d gotten, “They did more harm than good.” The inky swirls and Aphrodite herself, he’d gotten them before he went to war. The full sleeve. “There was an accident,” He told you, “It was friendly fire.” What almost blew his arm off was, of all things, friendly fire.

Against Doctor’s orders Bucky enraged the flesh more by going back to his tattoo artist and having the guy fix what he could on the healing and mottled flesh. “I was a dumb kid,” he said, “I thought I was doing the right thing.” Joining the war. “But they just chew you up and spit you out, thank you for your service and sorry but you’re going to be on the phone calling trying to get help every day for the next however many years of your life.” And it hurt you. It hurt you that he’d gone through this. Trying to get the military to pay for his hospital bills, the corrective surgeries, all the pins and rods in his arm. “I’ve got more metal than bone.”

You did what you could, rubbing the steroid cream into his arm, massaging the sore muscles he’d never complain were sore, working the joints of his fingers and massaging it into his back. The heel of your palm digging into his left shoulder at the knots that would form there from the stress on it. A kiss to the back of his neck and you went to wash the cream off your hands.

When you return the covers are turned down, Bucky already scrolling through the sales app on his phone. “He’s fine.” You scold him, climbing into bed. “Put your phone down.” Bucky sighs and darkens the screen, placing it on the end table.

“I know he’s fine…”

“You need to relax.” You softly kiss him, cuddling up into his side. “Sam can handle it, just like you did.”

“I don’t know about all that,” He jests. “He’s terrible at multitasking.” You roll your eyes, the room partially dark save for the light coming from the cracked door of the bathroom. A must for Bucky.

“You’re terrible at multitasking.” You mumble into his chest.

“That’s not what you were telling me yesterday.” Your core pulsed at that, the memory drifting back. You lift up to glare at him, a cheeky grin on his face. “You’re so beautiful.” He licks his lips, “Did you know that?”

“You’re a suck up.” You scoff, burying your head back into his chest, “Did you know that?”

“I love you baby.” His fingers tracing patterns on your back, your eyes beginning to find that tiredness you’d had on the patio.

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #chef!bucky #plus!reader #sebastian stan #captain america #sam wilson #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws

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aenwoedbeannaa · 4 years

Text

Scrubbrush | Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: You have been traveling with Geralt for some time now and convince him to stop for a while to bathe in the stream you’ve just come across. Or, basically smut with no plot.

Warnings: Smut, fingering.

Word Count: this drabble turned into 3,412 words. It’s fine.

A/N: I simply could not stop myself. Hope you all enjoy! Just throwing this out there, I also created a ko-fi page. I will obviously continue to post fanfiction here just as I’ve always done, and do not expect anything from anyone, but it exists, if you’d like to show your support for my creative work in that way.

But obviously, the best way you all show your support to me is just by reading my work. So, thank you all endlessly for sticking around and reading!

If you enjoy my work, you can find all my work on my masterlist. You can also check out my personal blog where I post all kinds of things, including original writing. If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, let me know and I will add you!

***

The air is warm, the sun bearing down from directly above signaling high noon. You’ve been traveling for several days now, and all you want is a bath. Between the sun bearing down on you all day and the constant movement with little rest, you feel – to be quite frank – disgusting. The dirt and dust from the road somehow looks good on you Witcher companion; but you doubt it looks so nice on you.

You are at least a day and a half’s ride from the nearest town, meaning a bath is at least two and a half days away.

You sigh silently, not wishing to voice these particular concerns to Geralt. He doesn’t seem concerned about it, and you are certain he is not stealing glances at you the way you’ve been stealing glances at him. You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter – with a rather low degree of success.

But as the two of you continue riding side-by-side, your mood lifts. In the distance, you can see a stream between the trees.

“Geralt!” you exclaim, shocking him out of his thought, “Let’s stop by the stream for a while.” You turn and look at him, batting your eyelashes without realizing you’re doing it. You aren’t quite sure about the Witcher’s feelings—he isn’t really one to express emotion—but you do know that pouting tends to work with him quite well.

“Hm,” Geralt mutters, thinking. “Guess we could stop and water the horses, and we’re going to need to refill the water skins anyway.”

Blushing slightly, you chew on your bottom lip as you look over at him, “It’s hot, Geralt.”

He lifts an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side in apparent confusion. “Yes?”

“I need to bathe, Geralt,” you explain, turning redder.

His eyes widen for a moment, but by the time he speaks a second later, he has collected himself again. “I’ll… prepare lunch.” The man, clearly used to travelling nearly nonstop, is pretty clueless when it comes to typical human behavior. You’ve pointed it out to him several times, and he’s not denied it.

You nod awkwardly, not exactly sure how you feel about the answer or what to make of his momentary loss of composure. Most likely, it is just awkwardness. You doubt that he is thinking any thoughts about joining you in the water. No, those are entirely of your own creation.

It doesn’t take long to reach the stream, where he helps you dismount as he’s been doing since the two of you began travelling together. You always find yourself slightly giddy as you take his hand and dismount, despite the fact that you have been riding horses for years and are quite capable of dismounting without help. But his large hand is deliciously rough, so you don’t complain.

You lead your horses over to a shallower part of the stream, allowing them to drink. You take the opportunity to dig through your saddlebags for a clean pair of trousers and white cotton shirt. You don’t have a towel, but you don’t mind. You bend over to let your fingers skim the surface of the water, smiling to yourself when you find it as deliciously cool as you imagined.

You scan the edge of the tree line until you find the stalks of green your mother had taught you about seemingly an entire lifetime ago. You bend over to pull a few stalks, the pieces easily detaching from the plant.

Geralt, in typical Witcher fashion, seems to sneak up behind you without the slightest warning. You gasp, feeling silly, considering the same thing had been happening for days. He smirks, shaking his head as you stand up, turning to face him. His amber eyes are fixed on the bunch of stalks in your hands. “What is that?” he asks.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Scrub brush,” you respond matter-of-factly. “I thought Witchers knew everything about plants and herbs.”

“Not that one,” Geralt says, reaching out and taking one of the cylindrical stalks, his hand brushing yours as he does so. You would almost swear it was intentional.

“Figures,” you say with a sigh. “You break it and put it in the water, like soap. Works in a pinch, but ‘course Witchers don’t bother with soap.” you say with a shrug.

Honestly, you are so eager to scrub every inch of your skin that the thought of using the rough plant sounds entirely pleasant.

Geralt looks at you, head cocked to the side in a smirk. “Are we really that bad?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at himself. Your eyes roam over his body for a moment, perhaps a little bit too obviously.

You surprise yourself when you speak next, “A wash wouldn’t hurt.” You look up at him through the curtain of your lashes, challenging him. “The stream is certainly big enough for the both of us.” Your expression, however, indicates that space is not exactly something you’re concerned about.

“Hm,” the Witcher says, a low rumble in his chest. His eyes seem to be burning into yours, making heat rise in your cheeks.

Taking advantage of the courage that smoldering gaze are giving you, you smirk, “Don’t worry, I’ll turn around to protect your modesty.”

He laughs, that warm, rumbling sound that makes it feel as if your stomach has been replaced with butterflies, “Shall I walk away and let you change in the bushes?”

Your heart hammers in your chest, excited by his gaze. “And risk poison ivy?” you ask, “I’ll change on the bank. Close your eyes if you must.”

With that, you turn around, feeling quite bold as you walk to the bank, peeling off your sweat-stained shirt and tossing it to the side along with the fresh clothes. You pause for just a moment before unlacing your breeches and letting them pool around your ankles. You are too nervous to glance back at Geralt as you kick off your riding boots, leaving you in nothing but your small clothes.

You take a deep breath, finally gathering the courage to pull off your top, letting the breeze caress your bare skin. You pull your bottoms off next, swearing that you feel his eyes on your back. You stand there for another moment, wondering where exactly the courage you’d felt when you began your walk to the bank of the river went. Now, you are just nervously standing there feeling quite exposed wearing only a scrap of white silk clothing.

You freeze, considering your options. You can remove them and step into the water as you had originally planned, saving your ego. Or, you can let your pride take the hit and leave them on.

Thanks to a certain Witcher, you don’t get the chance to decide.

You gasp, once again not having heard him creep up behind you. You are only alerted to his presence when you feel his breath on your neck as he speaks from somewhere deep in his chest; a tone you’ve never heard from him before.

“Be careful, Miss. You never know when there might be drowners nearby…” Your skin prickles with goosebumps under the unexpected touch of his hand as it brushes down your back impossibly gently. “Or men with wandering eyes.”

You chew on your lower lip, heart hammering in your chest. It takes nearly all of your resolve to keep your head facing forward. “No sign of drowners,” you say smoothly before finally turning your head to look at the Witcher over your shoulder, “But wandering eyes?”

He looks down at you, his golden eyes alight with both desire and conflict. He opens his mouth as if he is about to speak, but no words come.

“What’s the matter, Witcher?” you ask, turning around to face him head-on. “Certainly, you’ve seen plenty of women nearly naked. Or is the sight of me that appalling?” The question you finish on rings slightly of truth and nerves. The Witcher has probably been with loads of women who are far more beautiful than you. Perhaps seeing you like this only disappoints him; makes him wish that it was someone else standing almost naked before him.

He bites his lower lip, shaking his head as if to clear it before finally speaking, “No… You look…” he stammers, searching for words that seem to be caught in his throat, “You have no idea how badly I’ve… wanted to see you – wanted to touch you.”

You smile despite yourself – looking far too eager and far too happy about this latest revelation. You blink up at him, bringing your free hand up to touch the cotton shirt he has stripped down to since dismounting, “Then why haven’t you?”

He sucks in a breath, eyes looking down at his chest where your hand rests for a moment, breathing out in a his, “Fuck.”

You look from your hand to his face before speaking, confused, “What?”

“It’s not appropriate… I shouldn’t…” he continues speaking painfully slowly, “You’re so innocent and—”

You cut him off with a burst of laughter, “Innocent and what… pure?”

You reach with your hand to pull at the already loose laces of his shirt. He sucks in a breath, his lower lip once again caught between his teeth. If you’re being honest, you have next to no experience in this sort of thing, but you are far from innocent. And, even if you were, you are pretty positive you wouldn’t care.

No man has ever made you feel quite like this. It wasn’t like you had no suitors back home – you had plenty. But none of them have quite captured your attention; perhaps it was just that you were more than ready to leave your boring little nowhere hometown, but they had all seemed so uninteresting. Geralt was anything but uninteresting.

“Yes,” he finally admits, “That.”

“I’m an adult, Geralt,” you counter, “I can’t stay like this forever, can I?” You bat your eyes at him.

Hesitantly, he reaches for you, letting his hand brush the hair back from your face and making you shiver in the process. You lean into his touch, savoring the feeling for his calloused fingers against your cheek. He hums appreciatively, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin under his fingertips.

“Geralt,” you sigh, wishing that he would do more than caress your face – as nice as it feels.

“Y/N,” he breathes, free hand wrapping around you and clutching you closer to him. The two of you stop, eyes fixed intensely at one another. Apparently unable to restrain himself any longer, he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours gently.

You respond in kind, savoring everything – the way his shirt and firm muscles feel against the bare skin of his chest, the feeling of his hand pressed against the small of your back, the smell of him, and the taste of his lips moving so gently against yours.

His tongue eases your lips open with the utmost care. You gladly part or lips for him, moaning softly as his tongue explores your mouth, sending shivers down your spine. This kiss is so very different from every other kiss you’ve had. Most often, the mean you’d kissed had hungrily pressed their lips to yours, crushing you against them. Now – you’d have absolutely no complaints if Geralt were to do the same thing, but this was something different. You could feel the wanting in his kiss, somehow more intense than anything you’d experienced.

He wants me, you can’t stop repeating to yourself over and over again.

The two of you stand there, clutching at one another, lips pressed together and eyes closed, warmed by the high noon sun and lost to the world around you for what feels like an eternity but somehow not long enough.

When Geralt pulls away, you lean up on your toes, a disappointed sigh escaping your lips. He laughs lightly, cocking his head to the side as he smirks down at you. “Weren’t you planning on bathing?” he asks playfully.

“I was, until you interrupted,” you tease with a grin.

“Mhmm,” he growls softly, the sound alone making you weak at the knees. “Now don’t stop on my account.”

You look up at him, once again with wide innocent eyes that gleamed with something quite different. “You should join me. You really do have no sense of smell, Witcher.”

“If the Lady insists,” Geralt responds, this time without hesitation as he strips off his linen shirt and begins undoing his belt, “I’m interested to see how this scrub brush works, exactly.” You can’t help but stare, chewing on your lower lip as you watch him. It hits you in that moment that you’ve never actually seen a man naked before – you hadn’t wanted to. You’d always been certain that those village boys were just as uninteresting underneath their clothes as they were outside. Geralt, though… Is quite a different story.

Hesitantly, you step out of your underwear, resisting the urge to cover yourself up. Even with all that has transpired in the last few moments, you are worried that he won’t like what he sees. Those fears are quite immediately quelled, however, when he kicks off his boxers. You try not to let your eyes pop out of your head at the sight of him.

Without much warning, he scoops you up into his arms, carrying you over to the water’s edge and stepping in. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries the two of you farther out until the water reaches his waist.

“Geralt!” you squeal as he tosses you into the cold water. Well, at least you’d adjust to the temperature quickly. When your head pops back out of the water, you turn to him with a pout, shaking your head and letting water cascade down your back. And then you splash him.

“So, this is the game you’d like to play?” Geralt asks with one eyebrow raised before diving easily beneath the water, moving with inhuman speed toward you, arms encircling your waist, giving you just enough time to hold your breath before he pushes forward, plunging you under.

You both come to the surface laughing, the water no longer feeling cold against your skin but pleasant. The Witcher catches your chin with his hand, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. He stares for a moment, enveloping you in amber light.

“Ench’eass,” he breathes, almost as if he is speaking to himself.

“What?” You know he is speaking in the Elder Speech, but the meaning is completely lost on you.

“Enchanting,” he responds. “You are enchanting.”

You grin, feeling the familiar heat of a blush on your cheeks. Geralt, however, has an intense look on his face – full of need and wanting. He crashes his lips to yours, much less gentle this time – but you are not complaining. His tongue parts your lips again and you moan into the kiss, eliciting a growl from deep in his chest.

His hands caress your skin underneath the water, and you arch your back, pressing your body against his, wanting to feel your skin touching every inch of him as possible. You let out another disappointed sigh when he pulls his lips back from yours, but that sigh soon turns into a soft moan as he brings his lips first to your jaw and then to your neck, making you throw your head back, giving him complete access to the sensitive skin of your throat.

You feel his lips twitch up into a smile as he continues to explore you with his lips and tongue, making you draw in little sharp breaths as unfamiliar pleasure washes over you. The soft sounds seem to please Geralt, because you can actually feel the almost primal growl where your chest is pressed against him.

“Geralt,” you breathe, dragging your fingers down his chest, memorizing the feeling of each scar they graze over.

“Yes?” he asks softly, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes, drinking in the sight of you breathing heavily.

“Nothing…” you admit, not quite knowing the words you want to use or are supposed to use in this situation. “That just… feels good.”

He laughs, letting his hands drift lower, over your ass and down the backs of your thighs. You shiver again, sucking in another breath as his fingers caress circles on your skin.

“You’re shivering and I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

Those words, naturally, make you shiver again as warmth pools in your core. You with that he would touch you like he’s talking about. “Please,” you mutter against his chest where you’ve pressed your lips.

“Please what?” he asks haughtily, looking quite amused with himself.

“Please… touch me….” You are stammering, unable to come up with words. “Like… that.”

Geralt smirks down at you, hooking his hands under you knees, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“As you wish,” he says. Thanks to the water, he is able to support you with almost no effort; your arms wrapped around hi neck and your legs wrapped around his waist are enough. He takes advantage of this, letting one hand move to your breasts, grazing over your nipple and making you moan once more. His other hand slips under your ass, and you moan as his fingers gently move over your folds, coming to rest gently on your clit.

Your breath catches in your throat as he freezes there for a moment, amber eyes fixed intently on yours. You seem held there by some unseen force as he begins to move his finger in small, gentle circles, making you moan and throw your head back. No one has ever touched you there before, and you are already drunk on the feeling.

“I’ve wondered what you would look like when I did this to you, Baby.” His words seem to amp up the feeling of electricity building in your core, your mouth opening in a permanent ‘o’. He speeds up slightly, increasing the pressure. It feels so different than when you touch yourself; it feels so much better.

He continues his ministrations, working you with his fingers as his other hand slips from your breasts and down your back. His finger explores your opening for a moment, not pressing in but circling gently before letting his finger enter just inside. Your walls spasm around the tip of his finger, urging him deeper. He obliges, beginning to pump first one finger, than two, in and out of you slowly.

At this point, you are mewling against him, hips moving of their own accord to draw him deeper and deeper. You let out a long, drawn out moan as he adds a third large finger, stretching you deliciously. The pleasure he is making you feel only growing as he curls his fingers gently against that spot inside of you.

“Geralt!” you yell, “Gods, don’t stop!”

“Oh, Baby,” he smirks, “I won’t stop until you’ve come all over my fingers and go limp in my arms,” he says in that deep, primal way that he’s never spoken to you before.

He continues curling his fingers against the most sensitive place inside you while he continues to relentlessly rub your sensitive little nub. You babble incoherently, telling him you are about to cum, and he brings his lips to your neck, biting the sensitive flesh there and making you squeal.

It doesn’t take long before you’re arching your back and clawing at his back, moaning long and loud as the delicious tension that has been building up to the moment that you convulse under the word of his fingers, walls clenching around him and body seeming to move of its own accord as he helps you ride out your orgasm, only stopping once you’ve indeed gone limp in his arms, body spent from such a rush of pleasure.

“Geralt,” you mutter, feeling his hardness against you and desperately wanting to feel him inside you.

However, he simply smirks at your efforts to move your hips in line with his member, cocking his head to the side and smiling at you teasingly. “Uh uh,” he says with a shake of his head. Didn’t we come in here to bathe.”

That is about the last thing on your mind as you look up at him, eyes fixed on his as you crash your lips to his once more.

Taglist: @fairytale07 @geeksareunique @jesseswartzwelder @haru-ririchiyo @unnamedmaincharacter @lazilyscentedwerewolf @valkyriepuff @comicbeginning @alwayshave-faith @hp-hogwartsexpress @curlyhairedandconfused @superconfusedandreadytorumble @keithseabrook27 @missemmalie

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geralt fanfiction #geralt smut #witcher smut #witcher fic #fanfiction #geralt x fem!reader

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