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tobifuyu · 1 year

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Shopping with the Haitani Ran goes wrong!

RAN HAITANI x f!reader

Ran thinks you're too cute to be dressing this badly. He takes you shopping, finally gives in to his own desires and touches you in the dressing room. Chaos ensues.

cw: nsfw, mdni, smut, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial.

words count: 5,398

a/n: this is actually my first time writing smut, or anything at all, so bear with me. the one shot is part of a longer fic that I will start posting pretty soon, set in the Bonten timeline, I just wanted to put out something in the meantime, mostly as practice. english is not my first language! enjoy.

If you think shopping with a man such as Haitani Ran would be an enjoyment of sorts, well, you’d be wrong.

If your damnation could be encased in a day it would be today out of all of them.

Haitani Ran is already a handful as it is, put him in a store-filled street, already dressed to the nines and parading around like he owns the motherfucking moon and stars and what comes out is a big ass headache and a lot of self-deprecation.

In theory, the idea was not half bad. Ran knows a lot about this kind of stuff: fashion, styling, brands… at least more than you do, no matter how much you’d like to keep up. And the amount of money in his bank account is – well, still a mystery to you – you can only imagine a lot, considering what he is wearing and the place he’s dragging you to with a big hand wrapped around your wrist.

So in theory him helping you pick out a few pieces of clothing you could buy with your weekly allowance didn’t sound too bad. Considering how extravagant he and his brother are, you were expecting to head over to Harajuku, and maybe try to dig out something he could style for you from a cool vintage store.

You didn’t think he would bring you to a mall.

You don’t even think you’d be allowed in such a place, normally, not in the way you’re dressed anyway.

I mean, you did try your hardest to look somewhat presentable, knowing you’d be running around with the Haitani Ran, but with your laughable budget and a very confused sense of style, you look like Ran had just picked you up from the sidewalk like one of those lone puppies you’d see in a sad movie and brought you around to keep him company while squatting at his feet and wiggling your tail.

You’ve just always liked too many trendy styles, buying a few pieces here and there and leaving you with no basics and nothing to match them with, and so y ou look out of place, walking into a brand store practically hand in hand with one of the most handsome guys those judgy store clerks have probably ever seen, with a timeless and classy outfit that makes him look like he belongs there.

And most importantly, that he can afford it.

Maybe the only thing that makes up for it is his crazy two-toned braids. Doesn’t make him look nearly as bad as you, but at least you know how to use a toner.

He spends some time looking around the racks after shooing the shopping assistant who tried to approach the two of you away, and you trail behind him like – yeah, you guessed it – a lost puppy with eyes cast down, as if trying to disappear, maybe then they’d stop staring holes through your bland white cardigan that’s a little too big for your frame since you eyeballed its size and then found it too comfy to size down.

And that’s because you and fitting rooms just don’t click. You find the whole process a little too tiring, both mentally and physically.

Who enjoys spending that much time undressing yourself to wear clothes that have been worn by god knows how many others and have yet to see a washing machine, just to cry the moment you get them on because fast fashion sizes don’t fit people but want people to fit in them? Also having to recollect yourself and patch up your makeup while redressing as quickly as possible cause a line has already formed outside the door, you can hear them, and you can already feel their judging stares the moment you are gonna leave all the clothes you tried on with the clerk, nonetheless, cause everything looked like absolute shit on you–

Draining, that’s what it is.

But it’s dread that you feel creeping up on you while approaching the said fitting rooms with one of Ran’s arms now circling your waist, the other doing the most to hold up a bunch of clothes that you can barely make out but you know he has picked out, just for you.

“We can skip this part.”

You had tried reasoning, just to get hit with a “Skip this part my ass, there’s no buying clothes without trying them on. That’s how you end up with that cardigan. And I’m paying for this shit, so we’ll do as I say, princess.”

Ouch, what a little bitch.

Maybe you shouldn’t be feeling remorse, after he’s reminded you so kindly of why he’s decided to do this in the first place, knowing he wants to pull out his wallet to soothe his pretty eyes from having to see you dressed like a mess all the time.

But you’re better than this, so you decide you’ll only pick something you can afford.

He’s nothing to you but a new acquaintance, after all.

A means to an end, you like to remind yourself. You’re not using him, not a hundred percent at least, cause he’s getting your shining company in return. But yeah… you just need him to get to Manjirou. Nothing more. Nothing fun… you swear to yourself.

You’re doing Toman a favor, continuing Draken’s underground work now that he’s gone. You know Takemichi and sweet Chifuyu don’t add up to much when it comes to planning.

You’ve heard about Ran’s little fixation on you from the grapevine. His own brother had admitted to him relentlessly talking about you. And now, with Kantou Manji looming over the future of you all, you knew you had to get involved.

It has nothing to do with the fact that Ran’s lazy lavender eyes have had you in a chokehold from the very first time the two of you met, years ago.

He and Rindou wanting to fight you and your brother – only the latter, really – just to find out that you don’t back down from a challenge.

(From that day onward, if you were to ask Rindou, he would say that’s when his brother started talking about you.)

So you let him lock you in the fitting room, one of those cool ones with mirrors and lights all around you but, most importantly, a sturdy door.

One you know, in a store this expensive, no one will start knocking on if you take too long squeezing into one of those tiny dresses.

Not that it does anything to stop Ran once you’ve declared you’ve tried on the first one.

A pretty lilac piece, that would complement him and his eyes more – you mentally decide you’d like to see that – but you would look pretty (for once) standing at his side.

If it weren’t for the fact that it’s a tad too little on your frame, as expected, squeezing all the wrong places, skin spilling over and all that (you can’t possibly know he’s picked it a size or two too small on purpose).

Especially your cleavage, meaning this is all but a dress you could just wear to parade around the streets with a gang member. It would send the wrong message. And god knows what would happen if that message were to reach someone from Toman. A blond-haired guy in particular.

Shame on you.

But you can’t dwell on it too much, with Ran bursting through the door, then closing it behind his frame with all the nonchalance in the world, as if it isn’t quite scandalous the way you’re half clad and enclosed in a tight space with a man older than you (not by much, but still), in a luxury store, with clerks circling the both of you like hawks.

He approaches your body, and you can tell he’s making a decision his head while scrutinizing the dress, or rather you, from over your shoulder.

You’re facing forward and can feel the heat of his body approaching way before you feel his front touch your back, his hands momentarily settling at your hips.

They then move lower, trying to smooth the fabric of the dress as if it would make it fit better, and you feel a shiver run through your spine at the contact.

The tips of his fingers are cold where they brush your naked thighs, so you blame it on that.

“Looks perfect on you.” his warm breath hits your neck as he speaks with that low voice of his.

Focus, goddamnit.

“I hope you’re joking. I can barely breathe, and I think my ass might be hanging out.”

You can feel his body shake with giggles, and you know he’s trying to contain them for your sake, even though he’s never been the one to shy away from public shaming, especially when it comes to you. Sigh.

“Mh, I don’t know about that, but the front looks good.” His hands make a b-line for your waist, squeezing the fat there before moving upwards to rest a breath away from your tits. The dress is so tight you didn’t need to wear a bra with that. “Gosh, would you look at that? Fucking perfect.”

“Ran,” you warn him, you know he’s just teasing you again, or rather, testing you.

You meet his eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and you don’t want him to win one of the many little challenges he poses you with daily, so you hold his gaze, leaning the back of your head against his left shoulder.

He’s sure you’re the one tempting him at this point, deciding to play along in his little game that’s gonna ruin the both of you sooner or later, cause with that movement alone you’ve exposed your neck and cleavage like a white canvas, only his to paint.

“Fuck baby,” he groans and you feel yourself shivering once again, “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you? Or maybe you do, you little vixen.”

You laugh, “Is that all it takes to bring down the Haitani Ran? A dress that’s a little too small?” you want to hit his ego back, at least, for the way he’s making you feel.

So exposed and vulnerable.

And little, which you’re very much not, but the way he’s encasing you with his bigger body is making you look ridiculously tiny.

“Paired with these tits and hips yeah, might just be the one thing that’s gonna put an end to the Haitani’s reign.”

It’s mesmerizing, his tone of voice, the deep baritone laced with a hint of teasing and sass that drips from his lips like honey straight to your pliant ears and reverberates through your even more pliant body.

One of his fingers creeps up to the neckline of the dress and drags over its seams with such a delicately that you wouldn’t even have caught it if you weren’t so busy trying to follow his every move and breath, leaving the haze of his purple eyes that split second enough to record the very movement.

“Ran, I don’t think this is appropriate.” You try to hide your smirk as you say that, knowing that is not gonna stop him but rather rile him up.

He smirks back, grabbing you by the chin with his free hand so he can turn your head to face him. “Since when have you become such a prude, uh?”

“I have always been, you’re the one trying to taint my innocence, remember?”

You’re not completely joking at this point, he’s been trying to get a reaction out of you since you’ve started hanging out more frequently.

He knows you shouldn’t, but he’s adamant in getting you to admit he can rile you up just as easily.

A dark set of lashes shade his lavender hues as he stares down at you, pondering over what to do next without scaring you too badly.

“Can I kiss you?” There he goes, he just couldn’t resist himself, could he?

You just look so good, dressed in something he picked for you, standing in this tiny space with him draped around you. He wants to eat you up.

“No.”

Ouch. That hurts. How could you say no to him? Look at me, he thinks, and as if you can read his twisted mind, you do just that.

He is so irresistible, with one of his long braids slipping past your shoulder, hair tickling your skin the same way his hand is still doing over the hem of the dress. Pink full lips shaped in a pout you think he’s sporting more to get pity out of you rather than because he cares. But you’re a woman of great self-control.

Or so you thought.

“Just– you can touch me. To fix the dress.”

You two are so close, practically glued to each other, it’s not the first time it’s happened but your body still reacts like it’s being shocked every time he touches you.

And Ran thinks it’s more than he thought you’d allow yourself to go, so he does just that, to fix the dress, that is.

It’s to fix the dress that he grasps the fullness of both your tits in his big palms, no need to use one hand to hold your face to him anymore as you instantly rotate towards his frame to hide your face in the curve of his neck, soft lips pushed against his pale skin to muffle the sighs that you’re letting out at his bold move.

He doesn’t hesitate to squeeze them, pushing them up to prop the fat against the hem of the dress as if to make it fit properly, or as properly as the set image he has in his head, which is everything but proper.

“Fuck, you have such pretty tits.” He’s groaning in your ear at this point, enjoying the way you’re letting him touch you a little too much if the way he starts rubbing against you from behind is of any indication.

You can’t help your body from trying to mold to his touch, back arching and pushing against the hands caressing you over the skimpy fabric of the dress.

One of them is heading lower, running over the hills of your torso and hip before grabbing onto the flesh of your right thigh. The other keeps teasing you with precision and reaches over the hem to pull it down and expose your skin to the cold of the fitting room.

A perked nipple is encased by his long fingers, nails scraping over the bud to tease a soft moan out of your mouth. You grab onto one of his braids, slightly pulling before blindly looking for the hair tie. It’s removed with swift hands that you then run along its length to free it from the twists, so you can bury a hand at the back of his nape, pulling him towards you – as if he could get any closer – scratching the skin there as payback.

“R-Ran” your body is starting to heat up, the cold air surrounding the two of you doing nothing to cool you down. “‘Need more, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” At that the hand that has been massaging the fat of your thigh creeps under the bottom of the infamous dress, making you unable to see his next move even from the reflation of the mirror.

But you can feel him skimming over your panties with his fingertips, pressing against the wet patch that has formed there.

“You got wet just from this? Must be really desperate, uh. ‘ve barely touched you.”

What a piece of shit, you think.

But your body likes this side of his, the degrading and teasing, and it especially likes the way the pad of his finger is now pressing against your clit, unexpectedly making you let out a moan that you didn’t think you’d be capable of. Always the quiet one.

“Shh, you wouldn’t want them to hear us, now, would you?” He’s rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves, touching it just right, just like you would, alone in your room (while thinking about him, probably), making it hard to think or even remotely feel shame. “Maybe you’d like that? Mh? Want them to know making you feel good, right, pretty girl?”

When you don’t care enough to answer he pinches your clit over the wet fabric of your underwear, the whimpering noise you let out like music to his ears.

You just really want to feel his skin on yours, but too shy to ask for it you decide to do the next best thing. With the hand that is not too busy pulling the back of his head, you reach between your legs and push the fabric of your panties aside, exposing your pussy to the air without a care in the world.

If desperation had a face, at this point, it would most definitely look like yours.

“Ah shit, pretty-“

“Touch me, Ran.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He finds your clit once again, not before running through the dripping folds and collecting the wetness with the pad of his fingers, just to rub it over your soft spot with careful precision.

His hand gives one final flick to your nipple before joining the other between your thighs, raising the lower hem of the dress to fully expose your wetness under the bright lights of the fitting room, just so he can take a good look in the reflection of the mirror.

You’re no saint, but also no one has ever touched you like this before, and the pleasure is pushing you to do things you probably would never even think of when the two of you are apart (but maybe you will, from this day forward).

That is why you reach down to grasp the wrist of his other hand, redirecting him to where you want to feel his touch, before slipping your fingers through his as if to show him what to do to you.

You feel his lips move against your ear before you register him talking, “Princess, you want my fingers? Hm?”

At that, you couldn’t nod faster, waiting for his touch to finally skim your opening, and once it does, you know he understands how much you need him, cause you see him raise his fingers as if to take a double look at the viscous liquid now wetting his skin. He rubs it over you then, spreading it on top of your clit to make his other hand work smoothly.

He stops right before he could slip in, making you whine in disagreement. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

All these pet names are new to you, he usually sticks to one a day, trying them out on his tongue before throwing the chosen one at you with the most annoying tone he could muster to, simply put, annoy the fuck out of you, as he does with pretty much everything else.

But the way he’s saying them now, between rushed breaths and a voice so strained that nearly makes you believe he’s the one being played with, does unspeakable things to you.

So you give in like you’ve learned to do with him lately. “R-rannie, please, want you… to touch me.”

“What do you need me to do, pretty? Speak up, use your big girl’s words.”

“Need your fingers. Inside me.” You feel like the air in the dressing room is thinning out, and you need to get this done as fast as possible.

That’s until his pointer slips past your hole. The moment his other fingers resume their rubbing over your bundle of nerves, while he’s opening you up, that’s when you actually start praying for time to stop.

Maybe if his hands were to leave your frame now you would crumble to the ground and die. That’s a new fear you have just unlocked because you don’t think you could ever go back to how life was before he made you feel what you’re feeling right now.

Alive.

Like every nerve ending is tingling and responding to the sweet sounds he’s making, or maybe the ones he’s pulling out of you. You don’t know what makes you more turned on, the effect you have on him, or the grip he has on you.

He starts moving his lone finger in and out, gently, testing out how far he can reach before you clench around him in pain.

He rubs over the ridges of your walls looking for something, trying out different patterns, and bumping against the outside of your hole with the palm of his hand to stimulate all of you once he slips completely inside, reaching as deep as his long digit permits.

At first, it doesn’t feel like much, you can tell he’s an expert but he’s just getting to know you. You think the feeling of fullness alone is enough to get a kick out of you, as long as he keeps massaging your clit in a, now, slower motion, as if he has nothing to rush about, not one care in the world. But it creeps up on you when you least expect it.

You thought he oversold himself with that oozing confidence that he sports 24/7, but as he starts laying open-mouthed kisses over your neck, running up its column, until he finds your sweet spot nested just below your ear and right by your clenching jaw, so does his finger.

“Fuuck. Oh my fucking god.” you heave.

Yeah, his lips are a godsend, but the way he’s bumping against that one spot inside of you with the tip of his digit just now is downright delicious.

He builds up a rhythm then. Fucking into you with more force and confidence, not forgetting to hit that patch of skin even for a single time.

“You like that, uh?” he asks like he doesn’t know, pressing his mouth against the underside of your jaw to drag his tongue along your salty skin, moaning at the taste. He asks as if you’re not clenching around his finger like your life depends on it, as if you want to capture it and hold him inside you to never feel empty again.

He realizes you need more, and he wants to give you his cock. Wants to stuff you full to the brim, cause he can feel how greedy your cunt is, so he knows you would eventually take him all inside, no matter how big.

You’re thinking the same, imagining how good it would feel to have him fuck you against the mirror that’s fogging up in front of you. You’re seeing the moon and the fucking stars with the tip of his finger alone. You wonder if his cock is big enough to kiss that little spot just right with his leaky tip.

He leaves you little to wonder, with the way his hips are bumping against you from behind. You can clearly make out the size of his length, now fully erected, as it rubs against your ass.

“Ran, fuck, I need more!”

And you both know that, but he also knows how ridiculously tight you are, how much he would have to open you up to take his cock, how he might need to spend hours with his head between your legs, fasting on your wet cunt just to make you loosen up. He’d do that gladly, but not now, in this fitting room.

So he just joins his pointer with his middle finger, carefully trying to fit in a second one through your squeezing muscles.

“No, Ran-“ you’re ready to beg, get on the ground on your knees, and plead him to have his way with you.

This is so not like you.

Or maybe it was, all along. You just needed someone to free you at last.

“You’re not ready to take my cock yet.” His tone is firm like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “I can barely fit two fingers in, pretty. You need to let me in, gonna make you cream around them, ‘kay?”

You swear the way he’s looking at you through the mirror alone is your undoing. You see his eyes running back and forth to your half-open ones, so you follow the gaze rolling over your exposed tits, heaving with your labored breaths, until reaching the apex of your thighs.

Two of his fingers are now plunging into your wet opening, the squelching sound being so loud to tint both of your cheeks red, and a ring of white collecting around the circumference of his digits, before dripping down your parted legs at the force of his thrusts. Your clit is still being rubbed raw, the intensity increasing with every passing minute, making you twitch in his firm grasp.

The whole picture is insanely erotic, something you haven’t even experienced in your fantasies yet.

It’s so intense that you feel your cheeks get wet from the unexpected tears now streaming down your face.

You’re a cryer, he’s elated.

You’re trying hard to muffle a scream, but Ran has you blocked in his grasp with both of his arms running over yours, so you have to turn and bite at the skin of his collarbone to do so, as you grip over his forearms, leaving behind the half-moon indentation of your nails.

He groans, letting his head lol back as you lick over the bruise; the skin has torn and you can taste the blood. As he speeds up the fingers that are massaging your clit, you realize that both of you might enjoy a little pain mixed with pleasure.

The overstimulation is so overbearing that you know you should’ve come long ago, but he’s taking you to such heights that you just can’t seem to let yourself go when alone in your bed you would have long given up and just taken a shitty orgasm as a win before retiring to sleep.

“Feel so- god, it’s so fucking good, Ran. Don’t stop, please please-“You don’t stop begging and he doesn’t stop thrusting, both his fingers and his hips behind your frame, chasing his orgasm against the plush of your ass.

He wants to pull his cock out of his pants and rub it against your skin. The dress has raised over the globes of your behind, he wishes he could just come all over it.

But he has no intention of ever slowing down his hands, not with the way you’re trembling against him, and not until you come, completely undone and fucked up from just two of his fingers.

You look so beautiful like this, with tears streaming down your reddening face, lips bitten, unfortunately not by him, and your cunt taking his fingers so well. Like the good girl he knows you are under all that sass.

He glances down at the scene one more time.

Your pussy is so pretty, glistening wet, he could finish right here and then.

He wants you to fucking come while screaming his name, no one else’s. He doesn’t care if they hear, he wants them to.

Ran wishes for more than just the clerks hearing you come undone for him.

At that thought something snaps inside of him.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Fucking tell me.” You snap out of the blubbering mess you’ve become, not because of the inexplicably angry tone of his request, but because he’s slowing down his movements and you were not expecting that.

Does he not know by now that you like his roughness? You need to come so badly.

“Please fuck don’t stop, please-“

“I said who’s making you feel this fucking good.” Ran doesn’t like to think he’s a jealous guy.

He’s The Haitani Ran, after all. There has never been any need for him to be.

But now that he has tasted heaven, here in this tiny dressing room with you, he doesn’t think he can stop.

He wants to make you his, and if that means he has to deprive you of your very first orgasm given by someone else so that you can come back running for more, so be it.

“You, Ran! Fuck it’s all you! You make me feel so go-” The slap that resonates in the small space it’s the thing that stops you from completing your praise.

Ran’s fingers have stopped moving inside of you completely, and his other hand has raised to slap your spasming cunt.

A scream of his name finally does rip out of your parted lips. There’s no way you could’ve avoided that.

And the new canting of your hips that are raising to chase a ruined orgasm is to little avail, you just don’t seem to reach the promised land.

Against all odds, Ran doesn’t resume touching you, even his hips are now resting firmly some inches away from yours, not even letting you feel him anymore.

He presses father light kisses from the column of your neck up to the side of your jaw, retracing the path he had run with languish before, until he can sweetly kiss your burning cheek as if to gently bring you down from the orgasm that never happened while he removes his fingers from inside of you, leaving you eerily empty.

“I- I didn’t come.” you’re still trembling at this point, but for a different reason. You think he might have mistaken any of your reactions for you reaching your long-awaited end.

You’ve heard some stories, you know some guys can’t even tell right from left when it comes to a woman's body.

But you’re wrong about him. “I know.”

More kisses are left on the side of your face, you’d think the gesture sweet if it weren’t for the ever-present grin you can feel against your skin.

“What- why?” the way you’re asking nearly breaks his heart, you sound so confused, broken. But that’s exactly what he needs, right? He needs to be the one to guide you.

“Because I’m not letting you come. You’re not my girl.” Your eyes are big like saucers, and you’ve turned your head to stare at him, he thinks this situation is so fun he could giggle.

“But I thought-“

“Just leave him, pretty girl. You’ve already forgotten about him, haven’t you? It was my name you were screaming, it was my cock you were begging for. Leave him, and come back crawling to me. Maybe then, I’ll think about letting you come.”

He takes some steps further away from you then, cold but still careful enough to make sure you won’t fall the moment he lets you on your own, bringing his soiled fingers up to his mouth. You watch in silence as he licks them clean. He’s making a show of it, engulfing the digits in his mouth and sucking around them as he moans. You’re so turned on you could die right there and then.

He then hits you with a “Fuck, you taste like heaven, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Before diving right back in, licking the skin one last time for safekeeping.

And now, you don’t know what’s worse: the cheshire grin stretching the pinkish of Ran’s lips while he’s downright degrading you after depriving you of an orgasm and, honestly, your self-respect;

Maybe it’s the fact that sweet Chifuyu’s face had only flashed behind your eyelids at his mention, after you’ve probably done one of the worst things you could ever do to him, or in your life, really;

… or the fact that you had to walk out of there, and wait for Ran to pay for the stained dress, cause he wouldn’t let you leave without making a scene. Knowing damn well that everyone in the shop had heard the two of you and is now looking with a mix of: reverence towards Ran, and hatred for you, by all women and men who rightfully wished to be in your stand.

At the end of the day, you were right. Fitting rooms would ever only leave you a crying mess, with clothes too little to fit; and shopping with Ran Haitani was hell made on earth.

At least you were convinced this was gonna be the last time you would ever accompany him – anywhere, really – or so you thought…

#ran haitani #ran smut #ran haitani smut #ran x reader #ran haitani x reader #ran x you #ran haitani x you #ran x y/n #ran haitani x y/n #ran x oc #ran imagines #ran haitani imagines #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #haitani brothers #haitani rindou

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

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I Have This... Thing

Not My Gif

So as someone with vaginismus, it’s sometimes frustrating to read fan fiction, specifically smut. Y/N always has sex so easily and with very little foreplay, finishing with no issues. And it’s so great for people who can do that, but it’s not the case for all of us. Some of us can’t have any sort of penetration without pain. Some people can’t finish without toys, or hours of work. Some people will never be able to have penetrative sex. There’s all kinds of people, and there’s all kinds of sex. But not near enough fics featuring Y/N’s with these issues. So I’m going to write some, and feel free to request any issue with any character, and if I don’t know that character, we can collaborate to find a character you like that I do know.

Paul Lahote x reader smut.

You had lived in Forks for about 6 months now. You’ve known your new friends here for 5 months. And you’ve been the imprint of Paul Lahote for 3 months. Well, you’ve been his imprint since you guys first locked eyes at La Push when you first hung out with Emily, but he didn’t tell you about the whole werewolf/ imprint thing until 3 months ago. Safe to say it came as a shock. Your friends, the people who had welcomed you so easily, helped you move furniture around, and gave you tours of the new town, were WOLVES. Or engaged to wolves. *cough* Emily *cough*. You had to take a few weeks break from them after they told you. After Sam explained the legends, the lore. After Paul told you that you were basically his soul mate. It’s a lot to take in!

But you quickly realized that you had grown to love the pack. And now that you knew the big secret, things were easier around them. No more lies about where they had all been. No more avoiding talking about their mysterious injuries that only seemed to last for a couple hours. No more awkwardly dancing around why Paul stared at you constantly and wouldn’t let any other guy get within 6 feet of you without having a rage attack and sprinting into the woods. Things were going good.

Well… as good as they could be without sex. Yep. You and Paul had been together for 3 months and you have not had sex. You didn’t give each other head. You didn’t take your clothes off around each other. You didn’t even dry hump. And you knew it was your fault. You could tell that Paul was getting nervous about the fact that you wouldn’t let him touch you like that. He would never ask you about it, because he wouldn’t want you to feel pressured or rushed, but you could tell it was on his mind. The little sad smile he would give when you stopped things from going further. The hover of his hands over your ass before landing back on your waist. The way he looked almost guilty after looking at you in a swimsuit or crop top.

See, vaginismus made relationships difficult. You never had a long term relationship before Paul. You were either too scared to tell partners about it, and just dealt with the excruciating pain, which would lead to resentment and breakups, or you would tell them and they would ghost you. Guys don’t normally go for girls who’s opening line is “Hi! I cannot have sex without crying.” You’d been dilating for almost a year now. It was going okay. Some days hurt more than others. A lot of times, Paul would ask you to hang out when you were in the middle of your physical therapy, and you would have to make up some excuse as to why you couldn't. Too tired. Headache. Stomach bug. He was starting to catch on.

One day, you guys were hanging out at your apartment watching a movie. You had been making out, but as soon as it started getting slightly heated, you had pulled away and got up to get a drink refill. Paul, having gotten used to the routine, didn’t question you. While you were in the kitchen pouring some more juice, Paul asked “Hey babe? Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah it’s in the top drawer of my bedside table,” you haphazardly yelled back.

You heard him get up and go into your bedroom, rummaging around a little. Then silence.

“Hey babe?” he said hesitantly. You thought he just couldn’t find the charger, so you began walking towards your room to grab it for him. Once you got to the doorway, you stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes wide. Face bright red. Paul held up the dilator you were currently on, which was about 5 inches long and looked… well let’s be honest. It looked like a dildo. The bottle of lubricant that was also in the drawer didn’t help your case. How the fuck were you supposed to explain yourself? You expected Paul to tease you, make some sex jokes, and maybe try to make out with you again, but he didn’t. He looked absolutely crushed.

“Do you not want to have sex with me?” He asked, sounding on the verge of tears.

“What?! Paul, of course I want to have sex with you!”

“Then why this?” he pressed.

“You don’t even know what that’s for. Let me explain,” you pleaded, afraid he was going to lose that infamous temper. You’d never witnessed it before, but you were scared you were about to.

“I think I have a pretty good guess about what this is for!” He exclaimed, holding it up. “You won’t even let me kiss your neck but you have this that you obviously use when I’m not around. You don’t want to have sex with me. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Paul! That’s not true at all!” You were starting to get irritated at his assumptions. “It’s for physical therapy.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling orgasms now?” He questioned, exasperated.

“I’m not talking about orgasms! If you gave me two seconds to explain, you would know that that does not bring me an ounce of pleasure. I hate having to use it.” You started to tear up at this, all the memories of your struggles surging back up. At this, Paul stopped. He looked super confused, but also worried about you. God forbid you shed a tear, Paul would rip the world apart to make you happy again. “Come sit down,” you said, resigned, as you moved to sit on the edge of your bed. Paul, still holding the dilator in his hand, sat down next to you. The silence seemed to last an eternity, but you knew that the longer you went without explaining, the more hurt Paul would feel.

“I wasn’t lying when I said it was for physical therapy,” you whispered. “I have other ones. All different sizes.” You realized you might not have been helping your case with this.

“I don’t understand. Why do you need them if you don’t use them to get off?” He looked like a kicked puppy.

“Well… I have this thing. It’s like… a condition? And I need them so maybe one day I can have sex without any pain.” He still looked wildly confused, and you knew you were going to have to elaborate. “When I first started having sex, it hurt. A lot. But I always heard that it was supposed to hurt the first time. So I just kind of put up with it. It was bad though. I always tapped out, couldn’t go for more than a couple minutes. It felt like this really intense stinging. Like a rugburn all inside me. And it didn’t stop, even after I started doing it more. It never went away… I ended up googling it, and it’s actually something that a lot of women struggle with. I made a doctor’s appointment and was lucky enough to get diagnosed the first time. Lots of women are told they’re making it up. My doctor gave me these dilators, told me how to use them, and said that with enough time and physical therapy, I could have painless sex one day.” When you finished, you turned to look at him. He was staring intently at the dilator, thinking.

“So, you have to like… stretch yourself? Were you just born too small?” He phrased it delicately, but you knew what he meant.

“Basically, it’s an anxiety disorder with very physical symptoms. My pelvic floor muscles constrict when I try to put anything inside me, which makes it super painful. It’s like an involuntary reflex. Like blinking when something flies near your face. And I have to condition my body to learn that penetration doesn’t hurt, and that it doesn’t have to tighten up like that. The condition is called vaginismus. You can google it yourself if you want.”

“Oh.” A pause. Paul knew you had some anxiety, but he never guessed it could cause something like this. He knew you were embarrassed. He could tell. And the last thing he wanted was for you to feel like you couldn’t be open and vulnerable with him. Did you think he would leave you? Or get mad? “Why didn’t you tell me?” Was the question that came out.

“It’s humiliating. I could tell you were getting antsy about us not having sex, and I guess I didn’t have the heart to tell you that it’s not going to happen anytime soon. This physical therapy, it takes a while. I’ve already been doing it for almost a year, and I still have three sizes after this one.” A tear fell. You wiped it away quickly, hoping he Paul wouldn’t notice, but he did. He moved to wrap his arms around you, putting the dilator back on your nightstand. He embraced you, and the reassurance that he wasn’t going anywhere was more than you could handle. You burst into tears as he pulled you onto his lap and rocked you both, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You guys stayed there until you stopped crying, and then he finally spoke.

“Y/N, I don’t ever want you to feel like there’s something you can’t tell me. I love you. And yeah, I would love to have sex with you one day, but I’m with you because of who you are. I don’t care if we never do it. You are my person, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make you the happiest you can be. This? This thing you think is such a problem? It’s irrelevant to me. To my love for you. And I will be here every step of the way, supporting you, cheering you on, until you don’t want me anymore.” He brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed it.

“I love you, Paul,” was all you could say. You leaned in and shared the sweetest, most loving kiss either of you had ever experienced. His hand cupped the side of your face, thumb rubbing your cheek. When you pulled away, the tension in the room was gone, replaced with you and Paul’s usual light, fun energy.

“How do you use them?” He smiled as he asked, nodding his head towards your nightstand where the dilator still rested. “Do you like… just ride them? Or..?”

You laughed, which made his smile broaden. “It’s not a sexual thing. Basically I put a towel down, cover the dilator in lube, and put it in as far as I can without pain. Then, I just sit there and leave it for like 20 minutes. And then I take it out.”

“So you just like... do homework while you do it?” His concerned face made you laugh again.

“You have to make your body associate it with pleasure, so no, I don’t do homework. Normally I’ll watch a funny show or eat some candy or FaceTime you.”

He froze at this. “You do this when we FaceTime?”

This made you blush and look away from his piercing gaze. “Sometimes. I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s just a nice distraction.”

“No, no. I don’t want you to stop. It’s just… can I see you do it?” This question shocked you. Not just the question itself, but the fact that you didn’t hate the idea. You loved kissing Paul. What better way to associate therapy with pleasure than by kissing him while you do it?

“Are you sure? Like I said, it’s not exactly sexual. Or sexy. Like at all. I literally just sit there.”

“I know, it’s ok. I want to be able to help you, but if you don’t want to we can just go back to the movie.”

“I mean I do still have to do it today.” You thought for another second, before jumping up and saying “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Paul looked happy and excited, but also lost. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, or with his eyes. Did you want him to touch you? Or just watch you? Or just sit in the corner of the room and face the wall? You were spreading a towel across the middle of the bed, and went to untie your sweatpants before looking at him.

“Guess we haven’t really gotten this far, huh?” alluding to being naked in front of each other. It did make you a little nervous, and nerves equal tight muscles, which means pain.

“Why don’t you put a blanket over yourself? That way there’s less pressure,” he suggested, and you could have kissed him for it. You smiled, nodded, and grabbed a throw blanket from the chair. He turned around to face the wall while you took off your pants and settled under the blanket.

“Ok, I’m good.” you said. He turned back around, coming to kneel beside you on the bed.

“Do you want me to just… hold your hand? Or sit here and talk to you?”

“Would you want to sit behind me?” You suggested nervously, leaning forward slightly.

“Of course! Yeah, I can do that.” He took this seriously, and you appreciated that. This was a scenario you had thought about many times, and though you knew he wouldn’t be the type to ask you to have sex with him despite the pain, it was always a possibility. The fact that he didn’t take your pain lightly, and let you be in charge so you would be comfortable, meant more to you than he would ever know. Paul gently climbed behind you, putting his legs on either side of you, and hesitantly rubbing your shoulders. You leaned back into him, as if to say I’m okay with this.

“Can you hand me the… “ You nodded your head towards the nightstand, and Paul didn’t need to hear the rest of the sentence before he leaned over and grabbed the dilator and bottle of lube, holding them out in front of you both. You muttered a “thanks” as you took them from his hands, and brought them under the blanket. After slathering the dilator with a good amount of lube, you closed the bottle and tossed it towards the foot of the bed, leaning back and shifting your hips down. Paul clearly didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, so he was slow and careful as he wrapped his arms around your torso, giving you time to say stop. You didn’t, though. He felt your body tense slightly as you dragged the tip of the dilator around your entrance, so he started to rub his hands up and down your sides, kissing your cheek. You turned your head to look at him, and he met you with a sweet kiss. You guys pulled away slightly, before going back in as you began to push the dilator in further. He kissed you with love, tenderness, and care, so as not to hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable. It was clear that you had the reigns, and Paul would stop as soon as you gave the slightest indication that you were uncomfortable. The dilator was about half way in, and you felt a slight stinging sensation, but kissing Paul distracted you. You brought one hand up to cup the side of his face, pulling him back in.

Paul kept kissing you, waiting for your lips to part so he could brush his tongue against yours. This is normally where you would stop him, but he knew everything now. There was no expectation of more, and damn. Paul was a really good kisser. He sucked lightly at your lower lip, before nibbling it and letting it go, coming back in with his lips. The combination of Paul’s kisses, the slight heat they brought to your body, and the pressure of the tip of the dilator inside you had you shift your hips, and involuntarily let out a small moan. It was barely audible, but Paul and his super senses heard it. You pulled away and slapped a hand over your mouth, your face turning bright red. He chuckled deeply, the sound going straight to your body, and brought his hand up to pull your hand off your mouth. “Don’t you dare hide those sounds from me,” he teasingly whispered into your ear. You shivered, and Paul started to kiss your cheek, down your jaw, and onto your neck. He sucked on the soft skin, hands squeezing your waist and rubbing up and down. You wanted to try something. For the first time, dilating actually didn’t feel so obligatory, so mechanical and stiff. You pushed the dilator deeper in, just about a centimeter, but enough to give you that feeling you had moments ago. You let out a breathy sigh as you tilted your head to give Paul more room on your neck. He felt you shift your hips again, and brought one of his hands to rub circles on your lower stomach. Skin on skin. And it felt good.

You kept going like this for a few minutes, and Paul could feel your skin grow hotter by the second. Your back was arched, your neck covered in light red marks, and Paul had the intense desire to see you unravel. He brought his lips from your neck up to the side of your face, getting as close to eye contact as he could in this position, and said “Can I touch you?”

You knew what he meant. The thought of it made you nervous. No one had touched you without it hurting before. It was almost as if he read your mind when he followed with “I can just stay on the outside…” Oh. You could be down with that. You turned your head to him and nodded.

“Just try not to touch the dilator,” you said softly. You trusted Paul. He was already being so kind and patient with this, and you knew he would die before he would ever hurt you. The hand that had been rubbing circles on your stomach travelled lower. Lower. Lower. Until he could feel the slight stubble of a past shave, and then your soft, wet skin. You gasped as he touched your most sensitive parts, even more so because of how turned on you were. He gently made small, tight circles over your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head as you fell completely slack against him and let out a moan. A real moan, that Paul swore he would never forget. And he made you make that sound. It only spurred him on. He applied slightly more pressure, but not so much as to overwhelm you. And he knew that when girls were feeling good, the secret wasn’t faster or harder, but to keep doing exactly what you were doing. So that’s what he did, and it had you writhing. Your moans kept coming, and your legs had started to shake. However, because it felt so good, your muscles had started to clench around the dilator, and it was beginning to hurt.

You didn’t want to rain on the parade. It was going so well. But Paul being the attentive lover that he is, noticed you begin to tense up in a new way. He brought his hand back up to your stomach, concern racing through his brain, and asked “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

“It’s kind of starting to. Not you, the dilator. I think I might take it out.” You stared down at his hand still touching your stomach. Such beautiful hands. You didn’t want it to end.

“Do you want to try a smaller one? Or do you want to stop?” He questioned.

“I really don’t want to stop,” you laughed. He breathed a laugh as well, and waited for your direction. You had a thought. Paul’s index finger was smaller than the dilator. Much smaller. If you just told him what to do and what not to do, that could feel really good. “Would you want to maybe… Nevermind.” You got nervous.

“Hey, hey. No. Don’t do that. Tell me what you want,” He brought a finger up to your chin and moved your face towards him. “Tell me. Whatever it is, Princess. It’s yours.” Your whole body shuddered at this. He’s never called you that before, and to say it did something to you would be an understatement.

You let out a breath, gathering courage, and said “Would you want to… use your finger?”

He stopped at this. “Like, put my finger inside you? That wouldn’t hurt?”

“I don’t think so. It’s smaller than this,” you said, bringing the dilator out and up. “And as long as I tell you what to do, it could be really good,” you said the last part shyly.

“Okay, Princess. I can do that. How do you want me to do it?”

“Try to do more… pressure, and less… friction? Like try not to go in and out so much, but you can move it around inside.” Your face was once again blushing intensely.

“Anything you want. You just have to promise that you’ll tell me if it even hurts a little.”

“I promise.” You said it confidently enough that Paul brought his hand back down under the blanket. He circled your clit a couple times, making you shiver and release a breathy sigh, before moving his middle finger even lower, circling your entrance. He gathered some of the lube that was there from the dilator, coating his finger, and you brought your hand down to hold it, guiding it inside you at a speed that was comfortable. It was smaller than the dilator, so he was in you in 15 seconds. He stopped, and gave you a minute to adjust. Your hips writhed again because of how turned on you were, so Paul brought his other hand down and began circling your clit again. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you began to moan again, hips moving even more now. Paul took this as his queue to press his middle finger up against your inner wall lightly, causing a loud moan to leave your mouth. You were too far gone to be embarrassed.

“There you go, baby,” he praised. God, this was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He was barely touching you, barely moving his finger inside you, and you were a mess. He had been rock hard since you guys started, but your ass was rubbing against him as you moved your hips, and he released a small growl at the feeling. This only turned you on more. He kept moving his finger in you the same way. Pressure, not friction. Pressure, not friction. He kept telling himself this. He wanted to finger bang you into oblivion, but the risk of hurting you was too high, so he kept up with rubbing the tip of his finger against that spot on your upper wall, in a “come-hither” motion. Your moans began to get higher in pitch, your body tensing even more.

“Relax your muscles for me, sweetheart,” he encouraged, and you did. Your release was approaching rapidly, and you wanted to grind against his hand, but you didn’t want to risk pain, so you trusted Paul to get you there. You were panting, hips shuddering, face scrunched, as your climax hit you like a wave. Your legs shook as you opened your mouth in a silent scream, and Paul carried you all the way through it. You came down, and lightly grabbed his wrists. He knew that that meant stop. So he slowly withdrew his finger, brought it up to his mouth, and sucked on it. Head still up in the clouds, you watched him, slack-jawed, as he popped his finger out and moaned. “So sweet,” he purred. Watching him suck on his finger like that made you think of something you’d like to suck on, and you looked down at Paul, still rock hard, and turned around in his lap.

“Let me return the favor,” you said with a smirk.

#twilight #paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote smut #wolf pack #seth clearwater #embry call #quil ateara #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #robert pattinson #bella swan #edward cullen #vaginismus #dilating #paul lahote x reader smut #twilight smut

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mywritingonlyfans · 3 years

Text

Angst fic with Damiano David

prompt: a angsty about reader being sad (dami bff) 'cause damiano doesn't feel the same way romantically. ps. there's a lot of victoria de angelis being a angel in this fic, and it's basically about reader going through it.

warnings: none? it's just a bit sad and longer than usual.

All the soft touches still tingled all over your body. His scent was until now stuck to you, you never thought you’d feel happy to have woody essence along with cigarette smoke on you.

Folding the sleeve of his sweater, you put your tea in one of the cups you always use when you were there. His cotton piece was comfortable, making you didn't regret wearing it in the morning; it was cold and wearing your tank top from the night before didn't feel right. The shorts from yesterday, that were making your legs freeze were enough trouble for you to handle. The remnants of your clothes and belongings were collected from the floor of his room and placed carefully on his headboard, you made sure you were being quiet. Damiano has always been a heavy sleeper, but your counscious prevented you from risking disturbing him when he looks so peaceful. You had already spent much time at his place so you memorized where every thing in his kitchen - and others rooms - was; baking eggs and making tea wasn’t a mystery for you. You had even separated a Tylenol tablet for Damiano, so he could have it with his tea when he woke up with a wicked hangover. He wasn't the type to get drunk and forget what he did, nor were you. Since when you were teenagers, you have gone out and been drunk together a lot of times, and although your feelings were already present, nothing never happened. This time, however, alcohol helped injecting a dose of courage on him. Being honest with yourself, you didn't remember who started it; but the kiss in the midst of the loud music, his hand on the back of your neck, the exchanging glances while dancing and the moment he took you home, they were pretty vividly in your mind. You still felt relaxed, as if his sweaty body was still over yours. Minutes with your eyes closed was enough to feel his eyes roaming your body all over again.

“Hi,” he said in a slurred voice, cutting off your line of thoughts. You jumped, briefly scared but soon turned your attention to reality; a tired Damiano scratching his eyes in front of you.

He was dressed, wearing sweatpants and sweatshirt, duly comfortable according to the weather.

“Headache?” You knew he was. He was always a good drinker, he put up with it a lot, but he was never one to get rid of the effects of alcohol on the next day. You, on the other hand, got on better with this issue; fortunately from the night before, only the good moments remained with you.

“Yeah, a bit,” he giggled. “What a night, I’d say.” He added, in a lower tone. What was acceptable, you also felt a bit weird to be in front of him.

“I got you some pills,” you pointed it out to him on the counter, trying to maintain a normal behavior; with no shacking voice or sweaty hands. Quite impossible. “I made tea too.”

“Dear God, you’re a life saver!” He smiled at you, eyes crinkled and all of his perfect teeth on display. Contagious.

You grinned, feeling your body getting lighter. “No worries. I’m glad to help.”

“Y’know, when I woke up and saw that you weren't there I thought you were gone. You know? Friendship destroyed and that whole thing. I’m happy to see you; relieved.” He took a sip of his tea, and maybe a bit of your heart with it. You were an explosion of feeling when it comes to him, you always have been. “That sweater looks good on you, you can keep it if you want. You know that’s my fave one.” And, yeah, you knew.

The tension on you was no longer intense, comforting you to let out the breath you were holding. “It’s good to hear that,” Your genuine smile managed to say many things, you wished Damiano had noticed you earlier on other occasions. “Do you remember that one time, when we were younger, that you were a bit crazy about a girl; Alice was his name.” You stopped; in need of air - nervous - and watched Dami's attentive face. “She was the first person to whom you dedicated a song, you played it to her at school break. The cutest thing I had ever seen. I think it was there that I realized, a little jealous—“

“Y/N,” his voice had been almost inaudible, causing no effect. Had he really tried?

“How in love I was with you.”

His face was paler than usual, he was paralyzed; speechless. You had never seen Damiano like this, the men was always all over the place in a sweet talkative mess.

It took a few minutes for you to be able to read his expressions and realize how fucked up you were. The dose of happiness in your blood had been able to manipulate you to believe in what you most wanted to happen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” your blood had gone up to your ears, all you could pay attention to was the pressure in your head. How had you thought that after one specific night he would suddenly decide that he was in love with you? After all of this time that you were just a good friend for him? “I’m truly sorry but I’m don’t—“

“Feel the same way?” You finished. He nodded, apprehensively. You have never felt so stupid. It was a mixture of shame, fear and insecurity. You were unable to look directly at him, you knew that there was no change in following a friendship after what you just said, much less after the night before. You had never been so screwed.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing, I shouldn’t have said a thing.” You whispered, realizing that the lump in your throat had turned into tears that you didn't even know were running down your face.

“Come here,” he opened his arms, walking towards your emotionless frame. You allowed yourself to melt in his grip.

Your tears fell freely; you could even try to hold it back but there was no strength left for you to think about it. Your crying was silent, as was the kitchen room. Your head was full of questions and cursing at yourself. Suddenly you wished Damiano had yelled at you, asked you to get out of there or said he wouldn't never speak to you again. It seemed easier to deal with it in this alternative way than to have him comforting you for loving him. “Shh, it’ll alright. I could never be mad at you.”

He talked about your friendship, but you knew that nothing would end up well. Maybe for him. But for you? It’d not be that easy. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I should have known better, you were so loving with me last night that I thought— Fuck, we slept together. Which I know isn’t your fault because I don’t even remember who—“

“Stop, Y/N. Look at me,” He was being careful. You were making a person like Damiano calculate his words, that made you feel like pure shit. You stopped talking, looking at him was still difficult. He understood that you wouldn’t be doing so. “That’s fine. I don’t feel bad about you liking me in that way, you’re wonderful. I don't regret anything, last night was great, but I just... don't feel the same. I’d never do anything to hurt you. I can't even imagine how hard it’s being for you right now.” His words sounded sweet and sincere. He had tears in his eyes as well. His ability to be so empathetic to everyone was something you loved the most about him. He was probably killing himself on the inside for breaking you.

You nodded, leaning on the counter. You wanted to ask him if he remembered that he was your first kiss at the age of seven or all the times he sent you vinyl records with some message - that he had written himself - inside the cover. How did he not feel the same, shouldn't you be everything he wanted?

“Dami?” You sighed. Your eyes were red, your face probably swollen. You then looked straight at him; that surprisingly wasn’t much better than you. “Have you ever looked at me and seen me in another way? Something more than just your best friend?”

He didn’t say a thing, just look at you standing there. You get it.

“I think I should go,” You broke the silence that had been formed. You thought about taking his sweater off, but since you weren't wearing anything underneath, you thought it was better not; you’d have to go to his room to change, and then pick up your things only to delay your leaving.

“I can drive you home,” he said in a hush, looking for his car keys.

“It’s okay, a walk will be fine.”

“It’s fucking freezing outside, I can't let you walk over there like that.”

You ignored what he said, walking around the house to the front exit. He tried to grab your arm just for you to step back.

“I know you're just trying to help, but I need to be alone right now, without you near me.” You tried to say it in the most normal way possible, you didn't want to be mean, you only wanted to be fair to yourself.

“Sure.” It was the last thing you heard him say before you left, feeling the cold wind on your body. You didn't know if he had entered his house again or if he was watching you hug yourself as walking slowly to somewhere. You wouldn't dare to look back.

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

“C’mon girl, get up here,” Upon hearing the husky, strong voice, you were relieved.

Victoria wasn’t wearing her usual jewelry and looked like she had just been woken up by force. You weren’t as close to her as you were with the other boys, however, you had never been so happy to see her.

You got in her car. “Thank you,”

“God, you look terrible. You’re fine?” You looked at your reflection in the rearview mirror and well, fine was definitely something you didn't look like.

“Dami asked you to come and get me?” Your throat was scratching, it was difficult to speak.

“Yeah,” she looked at you quickly, but due to your discomfort she backed off. More tears would come. “He didn't say why though, he just said he needed someone to come to you before you froze to death.” She said it in a way that made you laugh, even with your eyes filled with tears. “Did the two of you have a disagreement? You don't have to answer me if you don't want to.”

“Something similar.” You said shakily; due to your crying and chilly. Inside the car was heated, but your body was so cold that it didn't seem to be enough. You tried to snuggle in the passenger seat, letting your head rest against the window like in a sad film. Maybe that’d help.

“Here,” she handed you a coat, without hesitation you took it. “I brought it to you in case you needed it.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you, Victoria,”

“You can call me Vic, just like everyone else,” she laughed.

You gave her a half smile. “Okay then, thank you very much, Vic,”

The rest of the day would be crying while you curled up in your bed, you’d let yourself feel at your worst; promising that you would try and change that the next day.

———----------------------------------------------

You expected the first few days to be the hardest, but it seemed to get worse with each passing day. Damiano had tried to call you a few times and in all of them you responded dryly, using short words, pretending it’d be okay. You truly tried, but you needed time to process what happened. You told him that, and then time he gave you.

After completing a month of the incident, you noticed how 'dependent' you had become on him. He was always around since you were kids, any problem you had you would look for him to talk to, now you felt like you had nothing. Your friends were friends of his, too, more of his friends than yours. You missed having Thomas failing on teaching you how to play guitar on your couch and besides you thought about calling him - just to distract yourself - you remembered that he was more a friend of Damiano than yours. It’d be weird. None of them contacted you at that time, not even Thomas. You couldn't figure it out if Dami had told them what happened and they decided to give you space or if they just didn't care about you when you wasn’t around Damiano.

Basically, where Dami was you would be and vice versa. It had always been like that.

When you saw that just time wasn’t solving anything, you programmed yourself to live in a way that you were busy all the time. Your routine became work, home and most of the time taking the work to be done also in your home. You didn't feel energized to make new friends, and going out on dates could help momentarily but it wouldn't be fair to go out with someone in the ‘mood’ you were in; then these ideas were soon discarded. Sleeping was impossible, you spent hours rolling over in bed; both for the flashbacks that plagued your mind, but also for the fact that you missed him. The nights were worse when you visit your mother or when she called and said, "Dami never came to see me again." or something like. “Are you still talking to each other? We don't let someone like Damiano leave our lives.”

Deep down, you knew there was no way you could be in love with him forever and that no matter how much it hurt at that moment it would pass. You started to repeat it to yourself as much as you could, so when the boys got in touch with you again you didn't hesitate to answer. Nothing bad would happen, you just need to pretend to be fine. The first to send you a message was Thomas, with simple questions, he acted like nothing had happened, you liked it. Even though it was obvious that Thomas, as one of his boys, would know this in more detail than you did (which was a lie, but at least he knew how Damiano was feeling about it, which you wouldn't know). He updated you about Dami, who was great as always, and you said you were doing well when he asked. You answering him made Ethan talk to you too, although they were all polite and delicate, they seemed more to be sorry than to miss you. Pity wasn’t something you were expecting.

After five months, you still felt like crap. You had tried to stop counting the days that had passed since you last saw Damiano, but it was almost impossible. You could still remember that night vividly, but you were still trying your best to move on; leave it behind. Mysteriously, you wanted to see him, see how he was doing and find out if he had anything else to say but you were afraid to see him, go back to your place as his best friend just to realize that your feelings for him had not abated at all.

“...I haven't seen you in a while. I wonder if you're alright,” you heard when answering your phone. Your head hurt, your eyes stung. You had slept on spreadsheets that you brought home from your work.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Shit,” she murmured.

You looked at the phone screen. “Sorry Vic, I just woke up I'm still trying to copy.” You laughed to calm her down.

“I thought I didn't have my number,” her voice became softer, as if she was relieved that you had saved it. “I didn't want to wake you up, I'm sorry about that. I just wanted to know how you‘re doing, since I used to see you almost every day, y’know?”

You thought about saying that you saved her number the day Dami called to pick him up at a bar since his phone battery was dead and he was in no condition to drive, but Victoria clearly knew that. “Is Dami with you?”

“No,” her tone matched yours; Dami had told her, now she was being careful with her words. “I saved your number the day Dami needed to call you, in case I needed to call you again.”

“That’s alright, thanks for checking on me then.”

“But he would love to talk to you. He always asks the boys about you or comments on you so that someone can bring you up to the convo. He seems a bit lost when you not ‘round to be honest.”

Somehow hearing that made you happy. Still, the image of discomfort whenever you thought of talking to him scared you. The phone line was filled with silence, until Victoria's husky voice filled the line.

“Anyway, I didn't call you to talk about Damiano. We finally finished the album and decided to have a small celebration at my house,” you giggle at the formality. “We thought you should go, since you were present in more than half of the process. I‘d like you to come. We’d all like you to come.”

———

Your heart accelerated with each step you took as you entered Victoria's house. The rooms had a glow of being calm and the music that was playing helped to make the place cozy. The instrumental of the band reminded you of Fleetwood Mac, and for the little that you knew Vic you would say that the type of sound reminded you of her.

Her house wasn’t crowded, there were only a few people around; some you’ve seen before, some you haven’t. You thundered your fingers over some vinyl that were arranged in a corner, pretending to read them. You were looking for familiar faces, honestly even for Damiano, but for some unknown reason you didn't want to make that obvious. Your eyes captured Thomas talking to some girls, and soon you felt relieved to be dressed according to the occasion; or at least according to the girls who were close to Thomas. It didn't take long until he noticed you standing there, you waved and he came to you. He looked surprised, still he didn't wait for you to say anything else, just wrapped you in his arms so tight you had to ask him to let go in between muffled laughter.

“Vic working miracles! Come, I'll take you to the others.” He said in his cute form, holding your hand as guiding you through the house. “So, how's our best girl?”

Your lips parted in a smile. “I’m alright, pretty much the same to be honest,” there was no time for him to ask another question because you soon spotted Ethan and Victoria with their beers in hands. They seemed to be shocked to see you as well; and it was starting to irritate you for reasons you couldn't explain. Thomas put you behind him, hiding you from the two of them as if they hadn't seen you already. He was being such a sweetheart that he had even managed to soften the anxious butterflies in your stomach; but not enough to keep your mind free of worries and Damiano David. Thomas made a funny noise with his hands as Ethan ignored his attempt to be amusing, pulling you into a hug. Who would have thought you would have missed them so much.

“How long without seeing you, I force you not to do that again. Without you we are just another disorganized mess.” You laughed at his nonsense. Your smile was sincere, like it hadn't been for months, still you were forcing yourself a bit more to appear to be actually 'fine'. You’d like to know if they noticed, even though you were appreciating that they didn’t.

“No worries, I‘m not planning on leaving you guys alone.”

Ethan and Thomas started to discuss about something, Ethan was already under the effect of alcohol, and from time to time they asked for your opinion on how Victoria had been strangely quiet. Atypical of her, but she didn't seem to be out of place or uncomfortable, just quiet.

“Did a cat eat the tongue of my newest attractive friend?”

“Not this time,” she showed you her tongue, and then smirked. Her eyes shone in differently way under your gaze and her make up was making her look more mature. “Are you feelin’ good? Thank you for coming.” Victoria was happy to see you, you could feel that. She might be curious, but pity wasn’t something possible to see in her; different from the other boys. “You must be tired of hearing that question, I'm sorry. It‘ll no longer be asked.”

Her voice was soft, comfortable to hear. “I appreciate that. I really have heard a lot of that, but despite everything, I feel good ‘bout bein’ here.”

“I feel even happier that you came then,” she put her hand gently on your waist. The other two didn't even remember you and Vic were there. “Let's get you something to drink, we bought that red drink Damiano always says you love.”

“No way, it’s bishop cocktail?” You looked at her, a big grin on your face, even though you remembered that this was the drink you were drinking when the universe decided it would be a good idea for you and Dami to have a one-night stand. Just a lovely reminder. “Have you mixed everything up? like the rum with the red wine? or with red drink you just want to say you bought wine?” You asked, ignoring your internal conflicts. Everything would be fine, you ket repeating to yourself.

“In fact, I remember once hearing you comment you didn't mind it being mixed up in a random bottle.”

She pulled a glass bottle out of a bucket full of ice and you couldn't believe she remembered that; given that you could count on your fingers the times that you had actually spoken to her. You didn’t avoid each other, just didn’t have much of the opportunities.

“Oh my god, that’s so fuckin’ lovely.” You whispered. She was quick to pick up a glass and hand it to you, filling it with the so well remembered liquid. You took a sip, and the taste - or alcohol - made your butterflies calmer. “Thanks for that, tastes like heaven.” She took a glass for herself, by her expression she thought it was a waste of rum. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”

“If you think so, who am I to deny.”

“Don’t be a bummer,” you bumped your shoulder with hers, eliciting a cute sound from her that made you laugh as well.

You wish that sensation had lasted longer, even so when a random girl approached you to ask something, you felt heavy; like a sign. Her hair was golden in perfect waves and her face was angelic in an almost divine way. You might have been overreacting, but she was the type to catch all the attention to herself.

“You’re Y/N, right? I was startin’ to think that I’d never get to know you.” She hugged you tight and you wondered if she really didn't know you. When she released you, you felt your heart breaking right there in front of her. She was wearing Dami's sweater; the same one from that night, the same one that you wore. You wanted to be wrong, but you’d know that sweater from a distance even after years. “He talks so much about you. Can you believe we never met?” She asked, alternating her gaze between you and Victoria. She had been silent, you had forgotten that she was still there. Your head was miles away in thoughts, making you dizzy.

“Hi, Bella,” Victoria said. You remembered that name. Damiano talked about her on a few occasions, anyways he didn't seem to be in love - or you just didn’t want to see that. Maybe you haven’t been able to read him due to your stupid passion. “How’s everything?”

She started talking to Victoria and you couldn't concentrate on listening; all the alcohol in the world would not ease what you were feeling. How long have they been together? What was so special about her that Damiano gives her his favorite sweater? Were they together when you slept together? How did she end up with the same sweater you slept in that day?

She held the cup that was in your hands and handed it to Victoria. “Are you okay, hon’? You look a lil’ unwell. Do you want me to get you some water?”

“No need, I’m alright,” she patted your arm, and then checked your temperature. She was being nice, yet you couldn't pretend to be interested in being there anymore.

Thankfully, Victoria put an arm around your shoulders, asking if you want to join her to have a smoke. “It’ll be good, fresh air will do good to you.”

You agreed. Bella was worried and you felt bad about having to run away from her. She looked like an incredible person, sure Damiano was lucky to have her, that was just too much for you.

“Do this, you will feel better. We can talk later and so you can tell me everything about you and Dami, I’d love to hear you, since you’ve known each other for so long.” You looked for some irony in her voice, but you didn't found it. She was interested in you; after all, you were her boyfriend's best friend. It made sense.

Victoria guided you to the balcony, or at least halfway to it. Midway, someone stopped to talk to her, she tried to dismiss the person, however, as it was a thing related to the album, she would have no way out. “Victoria, it’s fine, I need some time alone.” You whispered to her, patting on her arm. She looked at you reluctantly, but understand. There wouldn't be much she could do for you.

Entering the balcony you felt an absurd urge to cry, your eyes itched and your legs were trembling. Was being in love meant to hurt this much, or was it just a game of chance?

You tried to take a deep breath, ease your heartbeats, telling yourself it was okay. You just needed to calm down. You leaned your body against the wall and watched the place. The plants near the fence - which you didn't know how Victoria had time to take care of them - the streets, and then the sky. Starry and moist, made for good memories that wouldn't come to you. When you felt ready enough to go out and face the party again, you ran into the one you were trying to avoid, Dami. Minutes ago you were anxious with the possibility to see him to know how he was, now you just wanted to run away and wipe these last months out of your mind.

“Y/N,” his body collided with yours while his arms wrapped around you, it was supposed to be a good thing, that you‘d feel safe as the same way you used to feel, except that was uncomfortable now. You couldn't even respond to his hug, for a second you thought you would escape without having to see him. He noticed and gave you space. “I swore that you wouldn't come. My god, it's so good to see you.” He ran his hands through his hair and you remained paralyzed in front of him.

You tried to focus on your breathing so that your voice came out without too many complications. “Yeah... It's good to see you, you look great.” It didn't work, your voice was shaky making your lie sound even worse. He looks great, you didn't lie, he seemed even happier and well rested. You wondered if it was because the album was ready or because now he had Bella.

You forced a smile, but unlike the others, Damiano knew you were acting. He didn’t judge or question, his face became tense, apprehensive. He knew that nothing was right.

“I thought about callin’ you more, goin’ to see you or something. The boys convinced me that it‘d be better not, that it could be even hard for you. I wonder if I shouldn't have done something different to help you because I know I fucked up too.” His hands were undecided between running through his hair and staying inside his pockets. He was nervous, at the same relieved to have spoken to you.

“It wasn't your fault, I’d never blame you for that,” you sighed, smiling slightly. It felt terrible to make him feel that way about it, but there wasn't much you could do. “I'm glad you gave me space when I asked, it's still hard to see you or think about talkin’ to you. It is as if everything that is tormenting me comes all at once.” It was good to say that to him. He nodded and you looked at each other for a while. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it would be.

He was a few feet away from you while you were admiring the night, with your back against the wall. You wanted to leave, maybe go cry in your bed until you fell asleep, still you wanted things to work out with Dami, you wanted that tension and fear of seeing him to get out of your head. Despite that, if it was necessary to suffer in that process, it would not be worth it.

“She’s amazing,” it hurt to say that, but it was the truth. “Bella’s amazing, lucky girl.” You smiled sadly. Saying her name and seeing Dami smiling at that made you thank God for not seeing the two of them together, hugging or kissing. He‘d probably put his hand on her waist while she was talking to one of his friends or giving lightly kisses to her temple, just because he felt like it. Damiano was the cute type, you've seen it before.

“She is, an amazing person. She was all happy to have spoken to you. I told her all about our teenage years and how you always supported the band,” He had told her about you, would he have told her about you being in love with him? You thought to ask, soon giving up. It’d be shameful if so. “If I knew you would be here I’d not have come with her.” It made you think that he had told her.

“What would you do? Would you hide me from her for the rest of your life?” You sighed. it was supposed to sound like a joke, regrettably your voice sounded too cruel for that.

“It’s not like that,” he mumbled. “I was just tryin’ to think of you and—“

“I think I need to go Dami, it’s being too much. I’m sorry.” You needed to get out of there, you couldn't stop the tears anymore and you knew it was a bad idea to talk about her with him.

You took a few steps back just for Damiano to grab at your arm, without putting strength, just like a few months ago, to stop you in front of him. You turned your face away from looking at his eyes, feeling as the tears run down your cheek. You'd never be able to face him, this situation was only proving that to you even more.

“Please, Y/N. Just tell me what I need to do. I will do anything for you to talk to me again. I need you, you know that. The past few weeks have been a mess without you around. Even little my mom misses you. I’d do anything to have you back like before.” He was about to cry, his eyes shone with tears and it was painful to watch. He could do anything for you to stay; except what would make you stay. Unfortunately, it didn't depend only on his good will.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” you said in a lack of air, signaling the space around you with your finger. “But this, this is too much. It kills me to have to be close to you or to be close to things or people that remind me of you, seeing someone else with you doesn't help at all. I still think about the fact that we slept together... I can’t just forget it ‘cause it meant so much to me and to you, to you? it was nothing.” You were out of breath, you just wanted to cry in peace, put everything out until there was nothing left.

He released his hands of you, his face red and damp. It wasn't going to be easy for either of you. Time wouldn't matter; it wouldn’t change a thing because whenever you looked at him you’d wonder about how things could have been like if he had chosen you.

He whispered one more time that he was sorry, then let you go. He could have stopped you, but it's not like he knew what to do anymore.

He watched as you walk out without even looking back.

——-

You went through the party walking fast, avoiding acquaintances and questions about why you were like that. Your body was heavy as well as your conscience. Outside the house the street was empty, the streetlights illuminated the sidewalk and along with the silence of the street you felt invited to sit there. You brought your knees close to your body, trying to breathe calmly. Pulling the air in, and then releasing it in a normal way. Your heart was beating so fast that your whole body was agitated. You tried to stay still. You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling a little dizzy when you saw someone walk out the front door of the house. You dropped your knees, trying to look decent, but gave up as soon as the person came closer to you and you saw that it was Victoria. She sat next to you, pulling you into a hug. You were happy that she went to you.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, hugging her waist and hiding your face in the fabric of her shirt.

“Stop saying that you’re fine when you’re far from being fine, I won’t judge you sweetheart,” she comforted you, giving you a extra squeezing. You were far from being alright, but it helped, having someone there helped.

She placed her chin on top of your head, soothing you until your crying softened. She rubbed your back and whispered that it’d be okay.

“Did Damiano send you here?”

“No, darlin’. He said that you had talked, and then you had to leave, he didn't look well, I thought you wouldn't be either.”

“And then you decided to look out for me?” You laughed, still tucked in her warm arms.

“Yep, sounds like you need me, don’t you think?” She laughed too, causing the vibration of her chest next to yours make you feel taken in.

“Why’s love so painful?”

Victoria didn't answer, she was thoughtful for a few minutes, and then she stood up, holding out her hand for you.

“What?”

“I won’t be taking no as an answer, you’ll get in the car with me and we will do something, anything, drink milk shakes, fill up our bellies with pizza ‘til we can't take it anymore, or even rob a bank.” She held you by the waist, lifting you up for her. “Please,”

You didn't see why not to accept. There was nothing worse that could get even worse at the moment, maybe going somewhere would do you good. “Even rob a bank?” She nodded, pointing to where her car was.

A smile spreading across her lovely face as you realized you’d go anywhere she wanted with her. “Yes, even robbing a bank.”

#damiano david #damiano david x reader #måneskin #victoria de angelis #victoria de angelis x reader #damiano david fanfiction #damiano imagine #damiano angst #maneskin #fanfic #fiction #imagines #maneskin x reader #writing

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azaleavi · 3 years

Text

Woman like me - Part 3

Summary: Y/n and Bucky get a little closer while in Latvia

Word count: 2.8k

Warning(s): language(?)

Author’s note: Part 3 is finally here! I hope you’ll like reading as much as i liked writing it. The text in italics are y/n’s thoughts. Also I changed from “she” to “you” I hope you guys don’t mind.

Feedback is always appreciated and don't forget to reblog and like if you liked it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

(gif is mine)

The four of you were sitting in the private plane, going wherever Zemo was taking you. Bucky was sitting across from you, cleaning his vibranium arm. You were watching him intently, fascinated by the arm. Your had heard stories of the man of course, but he seems so much different just sitting there than what you were told about the ruthless assassin. Bucky noticed you watching, but he didn’t let you know. Instead he flexed his hand and because of that you slightly moved in your seat, feeling weird inside. You want to touch the metal and run your finger along it. You grabbed your own hand instead as if to physically stop yourself from moving. Bucky stopped and looked up at you.

“You okay?” he asked. You panicked for a second and tried to come up with something normal to say. You didn’t understand why you were feeling this way around the man but you needed to stop.“Yeah, it’s just…” you went silent for a second, eyes going down to his arm then continuing much quieter “it’s just cool” your eyes widened. You didn’t want to say that out loud. I’m supposed to be a super-soldier for god’s sake how can’t I just keep my mouth shut around him!

“Cool?” Bucky leaned forward, thinking he heard you wrong “You think my arm is cool?” he was trying to hold back a laugh. He must be thinking that you are an idiot. You cleared your throat and tried to change the subject.

“So where did you get it from? In the older pictures I think it was silver” seriously that’s the best thing you could come up with? You scolded yourself. Bucky was still trying to hide his smile.

“They gave me a new one in Wakanda” he answered. Your eyes lit up.

“Wakanda? Isn’t that where the Black Phanter is from?” you smiled, scooting forward in your chair with child-like wonder clear in your eyes. You loved the stories about that part of the world and the technology they used, and to get a chance to talk to someone who has seen it in real life was truly amazing.

“Yes, T’Challa.”

“Oh, you know him?” your smile became brighter at the mention of the king. Bucky decided he loved to see your smile so he told you about the king and the people. He liked to talk about his stay there because he never was so peaceful in his life like he was in Wakanda. You hung onto every word he said, giving him your full attention. Sam watched the two from where he is sitting with a smile on his face. He has never seen his partner this talkative but he was glad Bucky finally has some normalcy in his life. Even if it’s with another super-soldier.

“It must have been so nice to live there” you mused. Bucky was looking at you with a small smile on his lips. Talking about Wakanda always lift his mood and to have someone who is is excited to hear about it makes him so happy “So they gave you the arm as a gift?” you went back to the original topic of the conversation.

“More like to fight. You know the whole Thanos situation” he thought back to those times. It hasn’t been that long ago for him, but for the people who stayed behind it had been more than five years. You faltered a little at that.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked” you said looking down. you didn’t want to bring up bad memories.

“No, it’s okay. It already happened, we can do anything about it” he reassured you. You looked up into his eyes, just now noticing how beautiful they were. Funny enough, Bucky thought the same about yours. Averting your eyes, they landed on his chest. The jacket he had on looked way too good on him and you could see the outline of his dog tags under his shirt. You moved in the seat again. You have never even kissed a man but here you were wanting to jump his bones. You suddenly stood up.

“I- I need to use the bathroom” stuttering you walked away as the men watched. Sam looked at Bucky and raised his eyebrows knowingly.

“What?” Bucky asked, not understanding why he was looking at him like that.

“Nothing” Sam said, turning away so the other man didn’t see his smile.

Meanwhile you were in the bathroom, splashing your face with water. You need to get it together y/n. He is just a man. A very sexy man and I would do anything to have his di… you shook your head, leaning against the sink. Okay we are not going there while he is right outside! Why were you so obsessed with him? Yes he was handsome but it’s not like you haven’t seen handsome men before. He was the first to be this nice and make you feel like a normal person though. Maybe that was it. But it doesn’t matter because he would never look at you like that and you really didn’t have time for feelings. There were super-soldiers on the loose, who needed to be stopped. You shook your head again and dried your hands. This would be a long journey if you couldn’t keep your emotions in check around him.

The four of you were walking in the streets of Latvia when you noticed Bucky looking on the ground for a brief second. Following his line of sight you saw a little silver ball. You opened your mouth to ask him about it, but he spoke up first.

“I’m gonna go for a walk” he said as you stopped in front of a pretty old building. You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling like something was wrong. The other two men walked up the stairs while you stayed in the same place, looking at Bucky with worry in your eyes. He looked back at you and smiled a little.” It will be a few minutes, you can go up with them” he tried to reassure you. You nodded and walked after Zemo. Those little balls had to mean something, you just hoped it was nothing bad. You walked into the nice apartment that Zemo had, deciding to wait for Bucky on the couch.

You listened to Sam and Zemo argue about the serum when Sam brought up the man who has been occupying your mind for the last two days.

“What is taking Bucky so long?” he spoke up from where he was sitting at the bar and just like that the mentioned man walked through the door. You let out a quiet laugh which made Bucky look at you.

“The Dora Milaje is here and they are looking for Zemo” he walked over to you and sat down on your right so close that your thighs were touching. You stiffened and you were sure he felt it because he turned to you. You thought he would move away but instead he put an arm on the back of the couch behind you so he basically had his arm around your shoulders, all while looking straight into your eyes. You could feel your cheeks heat up, but couldn’t move your eyes away. He continued talking while keeping the eyecontact.” I bought us some time, but we need to be quick” Sam cleared his throat which broke the two of you out your haze. You turned around to him, only to see him smirking at you. You looked down, embarrassed that they both saw that. Tuning out their conversation you leaned back, forgetting that Bucky’s arm was still behind you so you accidentaly put your head on his arm. He didn’t seem to care so you tried to act like you didn’t either and closed your eyes. You were tired from all the fighting and flying.

A few minutes later you felt the arm under you move and you opened your eyes. What you did not expect to see is Bucky’s face a few inches from yours. His right hand was almost touching your cheek. Your eyes widened, but you were frozen in your spot. Why was he always so close to me? Your eyes moved down from his beautiful blues to his invinting lips. Oh god, he was so close. If I leaned forward a little I could kiss him. Before you could continue that thought he backed away from you.

“We need to go” he cleared his throat, his voice a little raspy. He stood up, pulling his arm from under you and started walking to the front door. You followed suit after him.

Meeting John Walker was not something that was on your bucket list. The dude was an asshole and the way he ordered around everyone was making you quickly irritated. You lied about being a super-soldier, to him you were just a friend of Sam’s. Him not knowing about your powers meant you couldn’t help the boys when everything went south. Bucky told you to stay back, but you needed to help in some way after all they had done for you. They saved you from Madripoor after all and even if the codes were still in your head they trusted you enough to keep you around.

You met up with Sam and Zemo back at the house, Zemo looked like he got a pretty bad headache. Most likely deserved. When you couldn’t find Bucky anywhere in the house you started to panic. Sam saw it and calmed you down, saying that he could be here any minute. After a few minutes Bucky walked through the door, taking his gloves off.

“Something is not right about Walker.” he said as he walked over to the bar while taking off his jacket. Why was that black shirt so tight?

“You don’t say?” Sam answered him, a smirk evident on his lips.

“I know crazy when I see one, ‘cause I am crazy” Bucky opened the cupboard and took out a whiskey bottle.

“Are you trying to get drunk in the middle of the day?” you asked, standing up from your seat, walking over to him and sitting on a bar stool.” Is that what crazy entails?” you joked. He lifted the glass to his lips while looking at you.

“We can’t get drunk darling. The serum prevents that.” he drowned the drink in one swift motion and poured himself another one. ”you want some?” he motioned towards the empty glasses.

“S- sure” you stuttered, brain going into overdrive from the pet name he just called you. You definitely wanted some, but it wasn’t the whiskey you were thinking about. His black shirt was not helping either. Bucky seemed to notice how your mind was somewhere else and he walked around the counter to stand next to you. He lifted his glass that had already been refilled by him, and tapped the edge of the glass to your lower lip. You stared at him, eyes wide, your mouth slightly open.

“So are you gonnna drink it?” he smirked, clearly seeing the effect he had on you. In your hazy mind you didn’t register that you should lift your hands and take the glass from him. Instead you put your lips around the edge of the glass and waited for him to tilt it while still looking into his eyes. He stared at you for a second, swallowed and then tilted the glass so the liquid reached your mouth. You took a sip. It did not taste good so you grabbed his hand that was still holding the glass and pushed it away.

“This definitely won’t be my favorite drink” you coughed a few times. Bucky let out a little laugh, putting his hand, that wasn’t being held by yours, on your thigh. Is he trying to kill me? You gulped, your grip thightening on his hand. He leaned closer to you, the smirk still evident on his lips. The lips that were once again very close to yours. You could feel his breath on your face. If he doesn’t kiss me right now I will lose my mind. You didn’t know what Zemo and Sam were doing but at this point you didn’t care. You just wanted his lips on yours. Something about this man made you very needy and as the day progressed it got harder to hide it. His sight slipped down to your lips and just as you thought he might do exactly what you wanted John Walker burst through the door. Bucky backed away immediately and you looked down clearing your throat, blush tainting your cheeks.

“All right, that’s it, let’s go” John said as he and Lemar walked to the middle of the room. “I am now ordering you to turn him over” he pointed at Sam while Bucky walked to the chair next to you and sat down.

“Okay slow your roll. Shield or no shield, the only thing you are running in here is your mouth.” you turned away from them and towards Bucky so John wouldn’t see you laughing. Bucky on the other hand had a clear view of your joy. “Now I had Karli and you overstepped” Sam continued “He has actually proven himself useful today” he pointed at Zemo who walked towards the two of you.” And we’re gonna need all hands on deck for whatever is coming next”

John put down the shield and started running his mouth again and the next thing you knew there was a spear lodged inside the wall next to him. A woman in wakandan clothes was standing in the room and other two walked in through the front door. You raised your eyebrows impressed. That was cool. Bucky sighed next to you. The one who seemed to be the leader started speaking wakandan to Bucky. You didn’t understand a word of it but it must have been nothing good because he looked down like a child who was being scolded.

“Release him to us now.” she said in english. John couldn’t keep his ego in check once again and Sam tried to get him to back down but it was no use. As soon as John touched the woman he found himself on the ground. These women are amazing. They started fighting and you just looked around, unsure what to do. Sam walked closer to you and Bucky stood up, making you look at him.

“We should do something” Sam said to him as you walked over to them.

“Looking strong John” Bucky shouted at the man still getting his ass beaten. You snorted. Sam called his name in warning so Bucky intervened, grabbing the woman’s spear. “Ayo, let’s talk about this” Sam went to the other side of the room, also trying to stop what was happening. You were still standing in the same place, still not knowing if you should help or stay out of it. Your problem was solved when a spear flung at you and you had to step to the side and catch it with one hand. The wakandan woman studied you for a second then ran towards you, clearly wanting to fight. You flipped the spear around in your right hand so the sharp end was aimed at the ground. You didn’t want to harm her but that didn’t mean you would let her beat you. She threw a few punches at you, but you managed to block them. You tried hitting her with the spear, but she caught it, making your faces get close to each other. She pushed against you but she wasn’t stroungh enough to get you on the ground. You saw the realization in her eyes at your strenght. She tilted the metal so it hit you on the head and you stumbled backwards in pain. You heard something heavy hit the ground next to you but you didn’t have time to look as the woman came at you again, now with the knowledge that you were a super-soldier. She fought harder and faster than before, but still couldn’t hit you hard enough. You grabbed her weapon again, pulling it with all your strength. When she couldn’t hold it anymore you lifted your right leg and kicked her backwards. She fell over and you pointed the sharp metal at her neck, panting. You looked up just now noticing that everyone in the room was looking at the two of you. Sam was on the ground while John was pinned to a table by a spear and Bucky was holding his metal arm in his right hand, eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place. You dropped the weapon, realizing your mistake. No one should know that you are a super-soldier, especially not John Walker and he was looking right at you with wide eyes.

Oh no.

Taglist: @geek-and-proud @ferxaniti

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #tfatws #bucky #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #bucky barnes x female reader #the falcon and the winter soldier spoilers #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader

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lovingrosewho · 3 years

Text

The Executioner’s Song (rewrite, sort of)

NOW, ONTO THE GOOD STUFF, and that means, the new stuff :-) I’ve been rewatching all Supernatural seasons and just had to write this. Disclaimer: English isn’t my first language, feel free to give any feedback/suggestions! <3 Ily all, thanks for reading <3

ONE SHOT

Pairing: Crowley x Reader, sort of Castiel x Reader but in a friendly way

Rating: T. Angst, fluff

Word count: 3.1k+

Summary: the title pretty much explains it buuut, basically, Reader gets upset about Dean betraying Crowley

Warnings: SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVEN’T WATCHED SEASON 10, signs of depression, dialogues taken from the series at the beginning, a few curse words I guess?

When Dean handles the First Blade over to Castiel instead of Crowley, your eyes open wide in shock.

“You lied to me” Crowley says, you can sense the hurt from the betrayal in his voice.

“It’s not the first time today” Dean makes a pause with the demon’s expectant eyes “Cain’s list? You weren’t on it” Dean says and with this, Crowley vanishes.

You begin to feel dizzy, nauseous even, a void made of uncertainty taunts your heart and your stomach, you try to hide it behind being worried about Dean, which is partly true and you let that show as you hug him, relieved he’s alive, in one piece and, mostly, or so it seems, sane. Castiel looks over at you and you just know, he knows.

The four of you get to the bunker. Not a word from anyone. At the very arrival, you excuse yourself pretending a headache along the tiredness of the whole trip, so you practically run to your room.

The minute you close the door you dial Crowley’s cellphone, your hands shaking as you do so.

Straight to voice mail. You dial again.

“Damn it Crowley, pick up the fucking phone” you pray lowly.

Voice mail again. You’ve got to be kidding. You dial a third time.

“What is it that you want?” he finally answers, voice tone a bit raised, taking into account it’s you and he never raises his voice with you, either way, you can’t but let a breath out of relief at hearing him.

“Can you come over here? Please, I’m in my room” you’re not finished telling him and he hangs up.

“Damn it Crowley!” you exclaim again while you dial his number a fourth time, the second ring hasn’t sound when he appears standing in front of you.

“What?!” he almost screams, locking the door of your room with his demon powers. He’s not afraid about Sam and Dean coming in, all guns waving and pointing at him, no, he fears for you, aware that if the Winchesters hear you, not only will they scold you, but could also stop trusting you, hell, they could even lock you up thinking it was his doing the fact that you were friends with him.

“I didn’t know!” you confess instantly, body trembling and feeling like you’re going to puke any minute. You know how Crowley feels about treason, you know damn well and you just can’t let him think you had anything to do with it. He takes a few steps back and looks at you up and down.

“Why should I believe you, (Y/N)? And how? How am I supposed to believe you? Tell me” he raises his voice once again, he doesn’t like doing that with you but this time he just can’t help himself “If you four had only told me the truth I would have gladly agreed and helped you!”

“I know, I know!” you whimper, knowing that is a big-ass declaration from Crowley, and that he wouldn’t normally admit to it, he’s just doing it because it’s you, and he’s hurt. You try to maintain your posture and not let your voice crack weeping “I swear, I had nothing to do with it, if I had known I’d have tried to convince Dean to tell you the truth! I swear!”

Crowley is about to vanish, tired of listening to you, tired of the lies, of the doubts; first his minions being influenced by Abaddon, then his mother, next the Winchesters and now... he never thought he would doubt of his most beloved hunter. A single tear escapes your eyes and Crowley stops dry from disappearing, the temptation to remove that single tear being more powerful than him, the King of Hell.

You’ve known Crowley since he was a blood junkie, locked up in the Winchester’s dungeon. Your friendship started as a naïve excuse to pass the time, at first with just a couple of hostile phrases a day when you found him, and obviously discovered he was a demon, not just any demon but the King of Hell himself, and soon after it turned into something else. When you broke your arm in a fight and had to spend a couple of months skipping on hunts, the boredom increased your time in the dungeon with Crowley while the boys were gone, and you began to admit you liked the guy, perhaps a little too much. Months kept passing and the habit of sneaking into Crowley’s room while the boys were out, stayed, sometimes you would even take the cuffs and chains off of him and let him walk and stretch inside the devils trap, he would always behave and let you put the chains back on. When he managed to free himself from the brothers, he would visit you in your room when no one else in the bunker could hear you; you would talk about anything, his life, your life, Hell, current or past hunts, funny anecdotes... you were not ready to lose that. Not now, not ever.

Crowley stares deep into your eyes as he holds your face in both his hands and wipes the tear off your cheek.

“Look at me... and tell me if I’m lying” you say slowly. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, Pet. I can’t” and with this final sentence, he leaves the room, disappearing and leaving you alone.

You swallow hard, your steps conducting you backwards until you hit the end of the bed and are able to sit. At last, you break down in tears, sobs and whines flooding you from the inside out when you hear a knock at the door.

“(Y/N)?” it’s Castiel “(Y/N) are you okay?”

You don’t respond, and Cas is forced to unlock the door and come in. He stares in shock at you but immediately locks the door back so Sam and Dean won’t come up asking questions. He sits next to you and doubtfully touches your shoulder for you to look at him, which you don’t do.

“He won’t talk to me ever again Castiel” you say in between sobs.

“Who won’t?” he asks confused, but having a mild idea of who you might be referring to.

“Crowley! He thinks I knew about Dean handing over the blade to you and not him...” you keep whimpering “He won’t believe me, whatever we had it’s over”.

Cas nods understandingly and reaches out to hug you, your face covering his chest with tears.

“(Y/N) maybe it’s for the best... Crowley is...” he begins but you interrupt him, separating from his grip.

“No you don’t understand. He’s changed. I know it seems impossible but he has. And he truly believed he could be friends with us, I know it, I know him. Castiel I...” your voice breaks.

“(Y/N)” he intertwines his hand with yours “I know”.

He holds you again, and you cry and cry for hours in that same position with him until you fall asleep. Castiel lifts you up and leaves you laying across your bed, he takes your shoes off and puts a few blankets on top of you.

When he comes down everything is quiet, the Winchesters have surely gone to sleep, or at least get some rest after the day they’ve had.

The following morning you don’t come out of your room, not for breakfast, dinner, research, anything.

“What’s up with (Y/N)?” Deans asks, looking towards your room.

“She...” Castiel tries to explain “Wasn’t feeling very well. I’ll go check on her”.

The brothers look at each other and nod at Castiel’s offer.

“Hey, could you please bring her something to eat?” Sam asks politely.

“Yes. Of course” Cas answers.

When he enters your room, he notices you haven’t changed your clothes, and you’re in the same position he left you last night.

“(Y/N)?” he says, leaving a tray of food on your desk “How are you feeling?”

“Not hungry” you say without facing him, smelling the hot breakfast he just left a couple of feet away from you.

“Well... you need to eat. You’re human” he reminds you.

“So? Not hungry” you repeat. He sits beside you and slightly caresses your hair.

“Okay then, we’ll be downstairs if you need us... or just, you know, pray for me” he tells you before getting up and prepare to leave your room until you jump all of a sudden.

“Wait! Castiel!” you say, startling him.

“What? Whats is it?”

“Please... don’t tell Dean what this is about... he’ll just... he wouldn’t understand” you beg him. Cas nods his head in agreement.

“Of course”.

When Cas comes down, both Winchesters are looking at him, raising his hands as asking what is going on.

“It’s... like I said, she’s not feeling very well” he tells them when he’s at the table with both.

“Well what does she have?” Deans asks demandingly.

“I... she wouldn’t say” Cas lies, which gains him a weird look from Dean.

“Ok that’s it, I’m going up” declares Dean and Cas gets up sharply.

“Dean! No! She said she didn’t wanna be bothered” Castiel exclaims worried.

The weird look on Dean remains until he rolls his eyes, says “fine” and heads for the kitchen instead.

Sam has stayed silent the whole time until Dean leaves.

“Cas” Sams calls him in a low voice “Is this about Crowley?”

Castiel sighs and nods.

“Guess she’ll just have to pull through with this one” Sam follows Castiel’s sigh.

You don’t go out of your room for two days in a row, sadness consuming you. The third day you decide you’ve had enough and come downstairs to help the boys with research, no one says a word but Dean.

“Hiya there kiddo, had us worried sick but Cas said you didn’t wanna be bothered, everything okay?” Dean tells you, making you smile softly.

“Yeah, yeah. Just you know, some headaches, it felt like I was hungover the whole day, guess that tension from the last adventure really took a hit on me” you lie marvelously.

“Yeah. But you’re back, we are back, and that’s what matters” Dean tells you and you smile nodding, containing your tears again, you know you are not fully back.

It’s been a couple of weeks and Crowley won’t answer any of your calls, hence you stop calling him.

You miss him, you miss his voice and spending time with him. The boys notice even if you’re back up enlisting on hunts and helping them, something’s definitely off with you. You don’t eat enough, you practically don’t sleep, you barely smile or laugh anymore, and you seem distracted half of the time. It hurts Castiel more than anyone seeing you like this, so he decides to break his vow and talk to Dean.

“You have to call Crowley” he tells Dean when he and Sam are alone in the bunker whilst you are in your room “You have to tell him it was your idea to give the blade to me, you can even mention Sam but not (Y/N)”.

“And why would I do that?” Dean asks confused and a bit angry.

“Look around you Dean” Sam tells him “Something’s off with (Y/N) since that day, it’s not even 9pm and she’s already locked in her room, she didn’t even eat when we got back”.

Dean looks at both of them and grunts.

“How are you so sure this is about Crowley?”

“Because she told me” Castiel confesses “Now, call him”.

Dean looks impassive at Cas and Sam but takes his phone out and dials Crowley’s number.

First call goes to voice mail.

“Well that’s it, I’m not calling that dickbag again” he declares and Cas catches his arm, grabbing and stopping him from putting away his cellphone.

“Try again” Castiel threatens. Dean rolls his eyes but agrees.

“Squirrel, long time no see” Crowley finally answers “How are you?”

“Listen you son of a bitch” Dean begins “I don’t know what you did or told (Y/N) but...”

“Oh I didn’t tell, much less do, anything to her”.

It hasn’t been easier for Crowley. He’s got the advantage he doesn’t eat nor sleep, but distraction has definitely been present. Every time his mother or his minions call him he’s just thinking of you, about answering your calls, about calling back. He misses you, your voice, your laugh.

“Well she hasn’t been okay and the only thing I know is it has to do with you” Dean tells him “She hasn’t anything to do with the fact that I didn’t handle you the blade, that’s on me, Sam and perhaps Cas, but not her. She knew nothing, you hear me? Nothing. ‘Cause see here’s the thing, we didn’t tell her ‘cause I knew you two got along and if I had told her she would have put up a fight and claim it was unfair. Now she won’t sleep, nor eat enough, she’s distracted on hunts and that almost got her killed a couple of times already, so you either fix it or I’ll come down there looking to kill you Crowley I swear”.

With this last phrase he hangs up and throws his phone away, without expecting Crowley to answer, this is non-negotiable.

The King of Hell’s stomach suddenly fills with hope and excitement, it’s not the fact that Dean called him about what happened, no, it’s just that he did not know you cared that much for him, he’d figured after a while you would stop calling and move on.

You wake up in the middle of the night and... what time is it exactly? Phone says 3am. Great. You sit slowly, yawning, still sleepy, and turn on your bedside lamp.

Suddenly you see Crowley standing in front of you and you almost scream whilst reaching for your gun.

“Crowley! For the love of... what the actual hell are you doing in my room?!” you hiss at him, exasperated, tossing the gun aside.

“Well hello to you too, love” he exclaims sarcastically.

“Answer the question, what are you doing here?” you ask again, tired and afraid this is just some sick joke.

“I was bored. Thought I’d pay you a visit” he says walking, or more like snooping, around your room.

“And you needed to do that at 3 in the morning? When I’m sleeping? And when you haven’t returned my calls in weeks?” you reclaim but he stays silent, still going through some of the stuff placed at your desk.

You exhale sharply.

“Whatever, I need to pee, do not touch anything, you understand me?”

“Yes, yes. Understood, Pet. I’ll be right here”.

You get up from your bed and walk barefoot towards the restroom. When you’re sit in the toilet, your mind begins wondering what truly brings the King of Hell to your room. Perhaps he’s aware that you miss him. Perhaps he misses you too. Or maybe it’s a dream. Maybe he is telling the truth and was just bored of all the meetings.

You get back to your room to find Crowley laying across your bed.

“Everything alright, Pet? Was beginning to wonder what took you so long” he tells you. Deep, dark stare into your eyes.

“Yeah” you say, approaching the edge of the bed, staring back at him “I do everything slower at this time. Now, scoot over”.

He slides a few inches to the side of the bed, letting you lay down next to him. You turn a few degrees facing him, while Crowley keeps looking at the ceiling, but paying attention to every and each one of your moves, that is until you place your arm across his chest and your hand begins mindlessly caressing the thin fabric from his suite shirt, while you breathe in his scent, the sulphur, the ash, the expensive scotch and fresh cologne.

“(Y/N)?” he begins carefully, voice low “What are you doing?“

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Yes, beg your pardon, why are you doing it?” Crowley asks but cautiously places an arm around you and starts stroking your hair.

“I... I’ve missed you” you confess as you bury your face in his shoulder “Does... does this bother you?”

Your question puts a soft smile in his mouth while he turns to look at your half-hidden face.

“Not in the slightest, kitten” his declaration is greeted with a relieved and dreamy sigh from you “I’ve missed you too, you know?”

“You have?” you ask incredulously “I thought you didn’t care...”

“Of course I care. But here I thought you were the one who didn’t care...” that’s when your engines start rotating and it hits you.

“Did you speak to Castiel?” you interrogate him, fully facing him now.

“Castiel? No. I spoke to Dean though” he says guessing what happened. Knowing you, you wouldn’t have let Dean figure out what you were so upset about, Cas must’ve told him “He wanted some intel on someone, don’t know, don’t care, and it slipped the fact that you weren’t feeling so well”.

“What else did he say?” you ask him, going back to your task of running your fingers across his chest. In this moment, you couldn’t care less how he found out, he’s here, with you.

He inhales deeply.

“That you had nothing to do with the idea of lying to me...” he feels your body tense underneath him “Which, by the way, I figured a couple of hours after our little discussion”.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?” anger beginning to creep on you, body still stiff.

“Because I thought you didn’t care that much” he admits “I thought it was for the best. To be honest, I was unsure about what to even tell you after the tantrum I threw that day”.

He places a hand under your chin for you to look him in the eyes.

“I am sorry, (Y/N)” the King of Hell apologizes and you relax, hugging him a bit tighter.

“I love you” he’s taken aback by your declaration but after a few seconds he smiles gently.

“I love you too, Pet” with this sentence he brings your chin up and lowers his lips sweetly onto yours. He tastes like honey, citrus and scotch, and all you ever thought he’d taste like.

The kiss is so tender and so slow that you’re able to wander your hand towards his hair and then his cheek.

When the two of you break the kiss, you spend an exaggerated amount of time looking at each other, assimilating the reciprocated love. After a while you start talking about everything and nothing, just like old times, cuddling until you fall asleep, and Crowley, the King of Hell, has the honor to be the one to hold you in his arms.

MASTERLIST

#supernatural #crowley x reader #crowley #crowley supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #castiel x reader

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farouchelyoptimistic · 4 years

Text

HyunJi: Yours

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I have no intention of throwing shade at anyone, so if someone was portrayed in a mildly bad way please know that it is only so the story could follow through with its flow.

The usually quiet and calm cafe is filled with loud chatters of the director and the actors, the equipment causing clatter as the staff set it up. The bystanders were being briefed in one corner, the cashiers and the waiters being instructed with their cues and sequences on another. The assistants, managers and other representatives stood by the monitors, ready to jump into action when needed.

It was basically a typical day for the PBIO cast and staff, rehearsing and filming scenes for the upcoming episodes of the drama. The day had started quite early for everyone, especially for the two main leads, who were already on set as soon as the sun rose up. They had finished quite a few scenes, and now they were having a quick break as the staff rearranges the positioning and angling of the cameras and the mics.

“Tired?” Soo Hyun says, standing awfully close to Yea Ji who was standing in a corner, sipping from her third cup of coffee for the day. She chuckles, taking another sip. “Just a little sleepy.” Other than the drama they were filming, she also had a few ad shoots to finish, giving her a little more than thirty minutes of sleep. With all the fatigue and the emotional deposit she had to put in for her role, along with the mild insomnia, there was pretty much a million thoughts that keep her up at night.

“Maybe I should come over tonight? Hmm? What do you think? We can have take out for dinner, wine, and I’ll stay until you fall asleep.” He says with almost a whisper, inching a tad bit closer, his hand secretly rising up to run over the back of her arm, stopping right at the base of her elbow, gently squeezing. She smiles at the thought, turning to him with a glint in her eyes. She nods lightly, making him grin, squeezing her arm once more before he lets go of her at the sight of a staff member coming towards them.

It has always been like that the past few months ever since filming began. Sure, a few of the staff probably knew about the truth of their status, cast members who’ve grown close to them, the director; but they were professionals. They weren’t going to blatantly hold hands every time they want to and parade their affection to the public. Work is work, and they plan to keep it that way. Their manager was already on the brink of losing it at the inevitable stares they shared and the actions that were so natural to them that it was hard to hold back when they got carried away.

Their company was already doing a marvelous job bending their backs just to conceal and protect the privacy and secrecy of their relationship. They weren’t exactly oblivious of the fact that they give their bosses at least two skull-splitting headaches a day because of the old habits that had become so natural to them that they do it so unconsciously they forget they were so supposed to be holding back. Sometimes Yea Ji forgets not to link her arm around his when they walk together, forgetting to stop herself from fixing the creases on his shirt, to fix the strands of the hair over his forehead. Soo Hyun was getting forgetful as well. Sometimes he doesn’t remember not to inch closer to her after every scene, to ask her if she’s okay. He forgets that’s he shouldn’t keep going to her, to wipe her sweat and to carry her things. Some days were too hard not to get entranced with each other, despite being together for years, they still get drowned in the sea of each other’s orbs.

“Yea Ji, let’s rehearse the scene?” Director Park Shin Woo calls for her with a smile, motioning for her to go over to them at the table where their guest star already sat. Daniel Choi was invited to make a cameo for the episode, and they were about to film a scene of him with Moon Young and Gang Tae. Daniel stands up to greet her as she approaches them, shaking her hand, his hold lingering a little longer than normal. She walked in a room and brought light with her, brightening up the place. She was like sunshine that diminished dark heavy clouds. Anyone who wouldn’t be mesmerized in awe with her presence would be a fool. And Daniel Choi apparently wasn’t one. He was entranced by the beauty she possessed in front of him,

Yea Ji was oblivious of his small advances, offering her a seat, lingering his hand, staring at her longer. She was being naive of the intentional chivalry, mainly because she was uninterested. Soo Hyun doesn’t fail to notice everything though. He was a man too, and he was familiar of the way he acted towards his girl. He was, because he had been like that towards her a good few years ago. He immediately feels his blood boil through his veins, invisible hot steams gushing out of his nostrils.

The punk was trying to test the damn waters.

His eyes set in fiery ablaze as he fixes his eyes on them as they rehearse the scene, the director guiding them about the sequence and correlating reactions. He couldn’t look away despite being given instructions to rehearse his part, giving him the phone prop to use. At that point, it was almost literally impossible for him to divert his attention, because the way that man beside her stole glances at his woman was making him grit his teeth.

“Okay, put your arm around her.” He snaps his head to the director and then to the pair who was seated down. He watches carefully as Daniel puts his arm around her, hand resting on the base of her shoulder. He huffs out a breath as he catches him squeezing her skin lightly.

He swallows a lump in his throat as he walks around, pretending to take photos of whatever as he continues to watch them on the corner of his eyes. He tries to go nearer, flailing his arms wider, making louder noises. He himself has no idea what he was trying to achieve. To make a scene, to distract the directors, to stop rehearsal, he doesn't know. All he knew was that he was trying to alleviate the brewing storm of anger inside of him.

"Soo Hyun-ssi, move a bit." The director slides past him, moving closer to the pair on the table. He slowly backs away, eyes fixed on Yea Ji. She was intently listening to the instructions, nodding her head, smiling and trying to pitch her own ideas. It was as if she was completely oblivious to the treacherous advances, but he knew she wasn't. Of course she noticed, but she was too kind for her own good. He knows she was trying to convince herself that it was only for the scene, that the skinship of their shoulders pressed against each other was essential for the time being. He knew it too, but he was just too jealous to admit it.

But he was on the brink of losing it. The punk was talking to her too closely, smiling at her too intentionally. And the small talk he was trying to initiate was making his nerves tremble in annoyance.

Making his way back, he catches Yea Ji's eyes on him and he takes the opportunity to give her a knowing look. The wildfire that spread over his pupils immediately sent her the message. She knew he was bothered with the close proximity and invading touches on her. She didn't mind it initially, it was part of the scene, but she wasn't totally blind of his added intentions. It made her slightly queasy, her sense of awareness multiplying tenfold. He didn’t seem like someone who would intentionally harass her, he was just merely showing his interest. But she had to be professional about it, just until they finish the scene.

She inches further away at the sight of Soo Hyun's glare, it was the least she could do to ease his discomfort. She glances at him, telepathically telling him it was okay. He lets out a sigh and walks the other direction, making his way to stand in the corner.

"Okay, hands on waist." Soo Hyun watches carefully as Daniel's hand slides down the back, reaching just below her breast, too high above her waist. His head almost explodes in fury.

"Ah, chincha. This punk is asking for it." He takes heavy steps towards them, fueld with nothing but agitation at the sight if his violating touch. Before he could go any further though, Manager Ryu was already in front of him, lowkey pushing him back.

"You don't want to be in the news tomorrow for beating up a guest star, Yea Ji wouldn't appreciate it also. Back down." His manager whispers, giving him a serious look. He let's out a breath and looks up, biting the bottom of his lip as he backs away.

Their manager was right. They've gotten this far without anyone exposing the truth of their relationship, thus being able to enjoy each other's presence without worry of their privacy and safety. Too many people have worked hard for them, both of them, had worked hard to keep this relationship as discreet and as private as possible. They wouldn't have survived this long, not getting as strong as they are if it wasn't for all their efforts. He wasn't about to waste all of those just because he was jealous and burning with anger and utter resentment.

He tries to cool himself down, giving his attention on his emotions. He had to be Gang Tae right now, he had to be professional. He is a professional. When they started filming, everything thankfully played out smoothly, but Gang Tae may have displayed a tad bit more jealousy than what was needed of him. He couldn't help but let a part of him lace through his acting as he took the damned photos of them, Daniel's hand still positioned on an area he definitely did not approve of.

"I think you went a little too much, but I think it's good. It highlighted Gang Tae's hidden feelings for Moon Young that were surfacing out of his control. Good job." The director pats his shoulder, filling him with accolades for his stellar performance, as usual. "Okay, I think that's a wrap here. Let's prep to move to the next location." His voice thunders, sending everyone on synchronized movements as they pack up.

"You were really great." Daniel muses at Yea Ji, offering a hand for her stand up. She politely takes it, smiling at him as she mutters a soft thank you. “You did pretty great yourself. Thank you for agreeing to guest in the episode.” She smiles at him, talking to him formally and being mindful of their safe distance. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.

“Oh, it was a pleasure. It’s an honor to guest in such a great show, and to act alongside with such a beautiful woman like you.” He smiles at her, coy giddiness in his eyes. She only nods politely. “Thank you, Sunbaenim.”

“Sunbaenim? Oh, you should speak to me informally. Uhm, I was also wondering if----” Before he could even push through with the courageous move he was finally making, Soo Hyun cuts him off when he slides right in between them, hand stretching out to reach for Yea Ji’s micro bag on the table. He glances at her once, and then turns his full attention towards Daniel.

“Choi Daniel, it was a pleasure to have you.” He pretends to be fond of his presence despite the storm of anger and fury surging through his being. They shake hands, exchanging a few accolades and thanks. Daniel attempted to pick up from he left off with Yea Ji but Soo Hyun was already, very obviously, grabbing her hand and taking her with him as he leaves. “Yea Ji-ah, let’s go.” Giving emphasis on the casuality of his tone.

“You’re holding my hand.” Yea Ji whispers as he brings them to a hidden corner, behind the black curtains and the monitors. He doesn’t speak as they stop, huffing a steamy breath as he turns to her with pure frustration in his eyes. The vexation buried deep in his face stuns her for a second. He was clearly so agitated his ears were blushing red. “Kinchana?” She asks, her eyes looking at him nonchalantly.

“Kinchana?” He throws the same question, pointing to himself in disbelief. “Don’t ask me if I’m okay, are you okay?” He huffs a breath, looking away for a second as he bit the inside of his cheek. “He was obviously trying to make a move on you, he’s staring at you like you’re red meat. And damn it, this is your waist.” He places his hands on her waist. “Not here.” He raises it up to the same position Daniel was touching a while ago, just below the side of her breasts. “What, was he trying to cup a free feel?” He huffs another breath, flicking his tongue against his chest, backing away as he places his hands on either side of his hips.

“Soo Hyun-ah, it was just part of the scene. And you know me, you think I’d allow him to violate me?” He looks at her again, another huff of a breath escaping his lips. She was right though, she wasn’t some damsel in distress. She knew how to protect herself mentally, and physically. He’d got his own fare share of her physical strength a few times, and he personally knew how hard she throw a punch and maybe a kick as well. But it still doesn’t change the fact that he was fuming mad.

“Was ‘you should talk to me informally’ part of the scene too?” He raises his eyebrows, huffing through his nose. “It took me so long to have you speak to me casually, and this guy just tries to have you calling him oppa after spending barely an hour with you.” He mumbles under his breath, looking down at his feet before he looks up at the ceiling as memories of the early stages of their relationship fill his mind. He had to endure almost a year of being ‘friends’ and being called sunbaenim and then to Soo Hyun-ssi before she started to withdraw from the formalities. He wooed her for so long, he’s not gonna let some punk to just sway him away.

He bites his lips, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to calm himself down. He looks at her, calm wavering over him when he sees her smile. “Boya? Why are you smiling?” She grins, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re jealous.” She says coyly, her gummy smile emerging. He huffs another breath and furrows his brow, defensively looking away. She wasn’t wrong, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “Whatever.” He mumbles, stealing glances at her as she maintains her cheeky grin.

She raises her brow and chuckles, walking over to him closer. Running her hands carefully over the back of his red ears and down to his neck, she smiles at him, tilting her head. “Calm down, Mr. Kim Soo Hyun. It’s nothing.” She slides her arms around his torso, holding him close as she grins at him. “Your ears are so red they might just explode.” She chortles, looking up at him. She looked so small against him, his height towering over her petite figure. Seeing her close like this immediately calms the turbulent vicious waters in him. She was his tranquility, his warmth in a cold stormy day.

He releases a sigh and hugs her back, holding her close and tight. He leans in and buries his face on her neck, snuggling in her skin, inhaling her sweet scent of flowers on a spring day. “I’m not jealous.” He mumbles, pressing the side of his face against hers. She chuckles, playfully rolling her eyes. “Uhuh.”

“Yea Ji-ssi, you’re car is. . . .ready.” One of her assistants stammer at the sight them, finding them in their small corner after looking for her. Yea Ji mildly jolts in his hold, letting him go, slightly pushing against his chest. He reluctantly lets go of her, the sight of his manager’s stoic face welcoming him. “I’ll be there.” Yea Ji attempts to make her way when he holds her hand in his, tight and secure. “She’s riding with me.” He announces authoritatively, pulling her with him. Manager Ryu could only sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

Seated at the back of his car, he leans against the door on the far side from her. He had the most obnoxious pout on his face, arms crossed over his chest, brows furrowed as he spaced out. Yea Ji could only grin and chuckle, shaking her head. Letting out a breath, she reaches for his shoulder, squeezing. “Are you sure, you’re not jealous?” She playfully raises her brow and smirks at him. He looks at her, his chest heaving up and down, trying to repress himself until he couldn’t anymore. He grunts, flailing his arms, hitting his thights. “Fine! Maybe a little.” He leans back against his seat, slamming hard, arms back across his chest.

“What would you feel if you see someone holding what’s yours?” He mumbles like a sulking toddler. She smiles, inching closer, pulling his arm so he was drawn against her. Sighing, he surrender to her, basically curling up against her side, burying his head on the crook of her neck as he drapes his arm over her thin torso. She giggles as she cradles him like her big baby, running a hand over his defined arms.

“There, you said it. I’m yours.You’re stuck with me, you can’t get rid of me anytime soon because I’m all yours.” She chuckles as he holds her tighter. Her other hand rises up his head, her fingers caressing his hair as she presses her cheek against it. “Chill, baby. We’re going to have dinner tonight, right? Take out, wine, and maybe I might not let you go home tonight.” When he looks up at her, she unleashes a cheeky wink, making him chuckle. Completely calm, he shakes his head and brings her closer, smothering her neck with light kisses. She chuckles. “I almost forgot I have to take care of a jealous big baby.” She smiles, pinning his hair back from his forehead, pressing a warm kiss.

#Kim soo hyun #seo yea ji #hyunjicouple #hyunji #Its okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay

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notjanine · 3 years

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2020 in books!

the only kind of new year’s resolution i made as a naive baby last january was to try to read 40 books for the year. (i read 37 in 2019, for context.) well, with all of my commuting time eliminated and an increased need for immersive escapism, i ended up surpassing that goal three times over lmao (thanks library ebooks!)

idk how to summarize my year in books in a way that makes sense but

(f) = fiction, (nf) = nonfiction, (p) = poetry.

books that rewired my fucking brain:

braiding sweetgrass by robin wall kimmerer (nf)- GOD?!?!?! good. dr. k is right. ostensibly a book about plants, but actually a book about shut up and go outside. consumerism and capitalism are doing their damnedest to fuck you up, but you can just choose to value different things. take care of yourself by taking care of your environment. etc etc.

wasp by richard jones (nf)- lissen. when i got this book, my wasp-phobia was so severe that i had to put it away face down on a high shelf because there are wasps on the cover and i couldn’t bear to RISK even GLIMPSING them. now i am like... a wasp evangelist. (also due to the bugs 101 course on coursera it’s so good.)

wag by zazie todd (nf)- i have a dog, but i am NOT a Dog Person (i.e. i love my dog, but please keep yours away from me, thanks.) this book helped me understand my little guy better, plus it gives actionable tasks and activities to do with and for your pup! plus, y’know, learning about things you’re scared of helps to lessen that fear. i’d recommend this to anyone who has, wants, or regularly interacts with a dog.

a closed and common orbit by becky chambers (f)- is this series complete fluff? absolutely. am i fundamentally different after reading this one? maybe.

the best we could do by thi bui (nf)- this is so far outside of my personal experience but somehow still made me come to peace with my relationship with my mom?? and it’s barely even about that?? idk. this is probably objectively the best book i’ve read this year.

books that were just fun as hell:

mexican gothic by silvia moreno-garcia (f)- this book made me YELL out loud

death on the nile by agatha christie (f)- i grew up on agatha christie shows, but never actually read her before this year! she really was That Bitch. read this before the movie comes out

cosmoknights by hannah templer (f)- i read this in one sitting through the worst headache i’ve had in years. it is a goddamn DELIGHT. this book has everything: spaceships. mech suits. fighting the patriarchy. a perfect otp. fun art in bright colors with clean lines. onomatopoetic WAPs from before the song gave that hilarious context. 800 lesbians. this is an antidepressant in graphic novel form.

stiff by mary roach (nf)- ms. roach is like the 4th most represented author on my bookshelf because she 1. stays writing about shit i’m interested in and 2. manages to talk about gross and ridiculous things without resorting to sensationalism. it takes skill to write a hilarious book about corpses.

black sun by rebecca roanhorse (f)- excellent sexual tension between a horny siren pirate and a hot doomed... monk, kinda? set in the pre-columbian gulf of mexico with magic and shit.

cuisine chinoise by zao dao (? n/f)- this graphic novel about chinese food history/mythology is BEAUTIFUL.

the color of magic by terry pratchett (f)- you’d think a hardcore douglas adams stan would have gotten to this sooner, but no, i had to date a nerdy white boy to get here. it’s fun though! i’m not gonna read them all, but this one was good. bonus: contains one (1) great himbo.

gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir (f)- like 500 pages of action and mystery and jokes and space necromancy. harrow the ninth gets a special mention bc it has a meme reference that took me out so hard i had to close the book, lie down, and groan for an entire minute before continuing.

other minds by peter godfrey-smith (nf)- i love octopuses. on one tma bonus ep, jonny sims says that if a creature can choose to do evil, then it’s a Person. octopuses are People. but anyway frfr this has an explanation of the evolution of consciousness that is cool af. (this one is much better than the other recent popsci octo book which i will not name out of politeness.)

the perfect predator by steffanie strathdee and thomas patterson (nf)- i read this bc my microbiology prof recommended it and it’s cool as heck! it’s got adventure, drama, mystery, Science-with-a-capital-S. i’m biased bc i’m a bit of a microbes nerd, but i had a blast with this. (but only bc we know going in that everything works out okay; if i hadn’t known that, i would have been TOO stressed!)

books that were a little less fun but still very readable:

my sister, the serial killer by oyinkan braithwaite (f)- i couldn’t find this as funny as other people bc i, too, have a beautiful sister who’s an insufferable narcissist, so it hits a little too close to home, but. it is a wild ride.

piranesi by susanna clarke (f)- idek what to say! i went into this one blind just bc it had a cool cover and title, so i guess i’d recommend that for other people too.

the sixth world series by rebecca roanhorse (f)- monster hunting! a post-apocalyptic take that doesn’t feel tired.

the shades of magic trilogy by v.e. schwab (f)- easy escapism. some ideas feel a little first draft-y, but idk, it’s also a pretty simple premise (which isn’t a bad thing). it’s a decent urban fantasy set in ~georgian?-era london. very actiony. suffers from a bit of i’m-not-like-other-girls disease, but i didn’t even notice until book two or three, so.

the only good indians by stephen graham jones (f)- starts off a little ??? (and reeks of being Written By A Man) but picks up. the pacing’s great and there’s just a super fucking cool monster.

robopocalypse by daniel h. wilson (f)- this reads like a tv miniseries so much that i can’t believe it isn’t one yet.

confessions of the fox by jordy rosenberg (f)- not my usual cup of tea, fiction-wise, but still compelling. a fresh take on the white-male-english-professor-self-insert? but not insufferable. gets weird!

spinning silver by naomi novik (f)- rumplestilstkin, but make it interesting! a great, richly-told fairy tale, but like, large scale. good to read on a cold day while you’re wrapped up in a blanket with some hot tea.

interior chinatown by charles yu (f)- compulsively readable. a couple things bugged me, but not enough to make me dislike it. a fun companion piece to how to live safely in a science fictional universe. i like this guy’s style.

cannibalism by bill schutt (nf)- COOL. mostly covers the animal kingdom (fun), spends too much time on the donner party (less fun), ends with a SPICY take on prions that i cannot get out of my head!!!

buzz, sting, bite by anne sverdrup-thygeson (nf)- BUGS! broad but not overwhelming, neither dumbed down nor overly scientific, short enough to finish in a day or two. recommend this to literally everyone.

books that made me want to read everything else in the author’s ouevre:

the time invariance of snow by e. lily yu (f)- this FUCKS but it’s too short!!!

an unkindness of ghosts by rivers solomon (f)- okay this book is SO good and so well-written and interesting and blah blah blah all the good things, but... the whole time, i was just like?? why???? why is this what you’re choosing to write about??? (i did also read the deep and blood is another word for hunger after this one, and i did like them both, especially the latter, but i think they can do better! like i think they could write a perfect book and i am gonna be *eyes emoji* until then.)

the space between worlds by micaiah johnson (f)- a fine debut novel, but i want to see her do something a little more... idk, refined? i think she overreaches here, like it’s a little... idk looper? this is how you lose the time war? there’s a better comparison, but i can’t think of it, but you get the idea. and then halfway through it shifts gears to mad max. there’s something weird about one of the central relationships, like it’s not complex enough to take as long to resolve as it does. idk idk. there are just a lot of little nitpicky things. it’s not bad! but i think she can do better and i look forward to finding out.

postcolonial love poem by natalie diaz (p)- thinky! like i tried to read this before bed, but it’s not the sort of thing to parse out while you’re falling asleep, it requires more attention than that.

books that Learned Me Somethin:

smoke gets in your eyes by caitlin doughty (nf)- i am a self-professed death obsessed weirdo, fascinated by death and mourning, but i didn’t know all that much about what happens to a body between the dying and the funeral! this book isn’t big, but it covers a lot and doughty’s writing style is engaging and honest. it’s very memorable.

queer by meg-john barker and julia scheele (nf)- i’m gonna be totally honest and say Queer Theory is above my intellectual pay grade, but this book takes you by the hand and explains the basics.

vitamania by catherine price (nf)- LMAO my fellow americans, never take a supplement. this book is great and well-researched, but normal folks don’t need to read it, just listen to season two of the dream podcast, which definitely cribbed from this.

vegetable kingdom by bryant terry (nf)- this is a fine cookbook, my favorite of his that i’ve read so far. gets a special mention bc i had a religious experience just reading one of his kohlrabi recipes. absolutely gutted that i didn’t have an opportunity to try it this year, since the pandemic put the kibosh on all family bbqs.

the best american food writing 2020 edited by j. kenji lopez-alt (nf)- this really is just a great collection.

are prisons obsolete? by angela y. davis (nf)- yes.

i moved to los angeles to work in animation by natalie nourigat (nf)- before reading this, i had basically zero knowledge of how the animation industry works. now i know like three things.

the secret lives of bats by merlin tuttle (nf)- BATS! okay this book is more about the adventures of being a bat scientist than it actually is about bats, but there are bats in there. insectivorous bats basically shit glitter, you should know this.

books from valuable perspectives:

hood feminism by mikki kendall (nf)- a breakdown of who’s getting left out of feminist spaces, why that’s happening, and why it shouldn’t be happening.

all you can ever know by nicole chung (nf)- a (transracial) adoptee’s take on adoption and learning more about her birth family. the personal storytelling of this one really stuck with me.

motherhood so white by nefertiti austin (nf)- a single-mom-by-choice’s take on the foster system/adoption process. walks you through some things i always wondered about and some things i wouldn’t even have thought about.

this place by kateri akiwenzie-damm et al (? n/f)- i, like a lot of non- native americans, only know that history in broad strokes. getting this many highly specific stories in one dense and beautiful book felt like a lucky find. and taking that perspective into the future in the context of that history is v good.

empty by susan burton (nf)- eating disorder stories are important to me bc i care about food so much. this one is so relatable- not in its specificity, but rather its generality. it’s easy to empathize with her perspective because it’s like, Oh, i don’t have that exact problem, but i struggle with different problems in a very similar way. (feels like the opposite of roxane gay’s hunger, in a way.)

obit by victoria chang (p)- this exploration of grief is... woof.

short story collections are hard to evaluate bc you’ll never read one where every single story hits but i generally enjoyed these:

a thousand beginnings and endings edited by ellen oh and elsie chapman (f)

how long til black future month? by n.k. jemisin (f)

her body and other parties by carmen maria machado (f)

books i revisited:

the broken earth trilogy by n.k. jemisin (f)- i read the series backwards this time and like... i can’t really find any faults in these books, man. they’re just the best.

everyone’s a aliebn when ur a aliebn too by jomny sun (f... but is it really?)- half of this book’s sales are from me buying it for other people bc it’s the only way i know how to say i love you. i reread it every time just to make sure it still feels right and it always does.

other honorable mentions:

white is for witching by helen oyeyemi (f)- not to pit two bad bitches against each other, but this book does what akwaeke emezi’s freshwater was trying to do. it’s a little weird, a little haunted, a little of a lot of things. read this only in the dead of winter. (and with stephen rennicks’ score for the little stranger playing in the background.)

homie by danez smith (p)- there’s a lot going on here, but this just made me crack a smile a couple times in a way that no other book of poetry has ever done.

the murder of roger ackroyd and murder in mesopotamia by agatha christie (f)- That Bitch!

blues by nikki giovanni (p)- she sure has some Things To Say

the three-body problem by cixin liu (f)- interesting concepts, but... idk something’s missing? felt weirdly soulless to me. i’m probably not gonna read the sequels. but it did make some points!

the sisters of the winter wood by rena rossner (f)- i’m a slut for shapeshifting, okay. but this is a good fairy tale, it works!

parable of the sower by octavia butler (f)- i read this in march, when the pandemic was just kicking off and boy that was not the right time. def my least favorite of hers so far, but an octavia butler i don’t love is still better than a hell of a lot of other books. no idea when or if i’ll get to a good enough headspace for the sequel.

faves:

saturnino herrán by adriana zapett tapia (nf)- i got to learn new things about my mans and see some of his paintings i’ve never even seen online! GOSH.

on food and cooking by harold mcgee (nf)- yeah yeah, i’ve already mentioned this book half a dozen times on here this year, but i don’t care. this book lives off the shelf in my home bc i reference it like every other fucking day. this book is a part of me now.

#long post #final total for the year will be 120 by the end of the day!#and i had a pretty good hit rate. would probably recommend at least half #and only outright hated four

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jjeangrey · 5 years

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Blame It On Love (pt. 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’re a HYDRA agent, and Bucky’s an avenger and a SHIELD agent. You’re both assigned to capture each other. The question is, who’s gonna get who first? Especially when feelings get in the way.

Warnings: Explicit language, angst, mentions of abuse

A/N: As requested, here’s part 2. This isn’t my best work but the next parts will be better!

Part 1

As soon as you hear Bucky groaning, you rushed back into the cell you were holding him captive and stood in front of him, your batons still on your hands.

“Had a good night’s sleep, soldier?” You asked him and smirked.

He was out cold for almost an hour, and you were patiently waiting for him to wake up so you can start torturing him. The tools you’re gonna use are already laid on the table, ready to use.

Bucky opens his eyes, constantly flinching because of the headache you gave him from smacking his head with your baton. “You knocked me out?” He asks, still pretty confused from what just happened.

“I did. You were out for like thirty minutes.” You giggled, walking towards the table and started picking up each tools, mocking him with it. “So, which one of these would you like me to start with?”

“Why don’t you just kill me already? Seems like a waste of time torturing me. Didn’t they teach you to be ‘quick and easy’ when it comes to murdering someone?” Bucky said, his eyes following your every move. He can’t help but be very fascinated in you.

You scoffed. “Believe me, if it was up to me, I would’ve snapped your neck a long time ago.” You walked back to him, holding a small knife and pulled out a chair to sit in front of him. “But unfortunately, Strucker wanted to see you alive first.” You slowly dragged the knife across his cheek, carefully not to slice it open but just enough for it to bleed a little. “But, surely, he wouldn’t mind me ruining your pretty face just a little bit.”

Bucky decided that was enough. As much as he secretly liked you calling his face ‘pretty’, he needed to get out of there. There’s a cut on his lower lip, he got a bump on his head and now his cheek is bleeding. He slowly pulled his pocket knife out and started cutting the rope.

“Why do you want to kill me so bad?” He asked, trying to stall you so hopefully you wouldn’t notice what he’s doing.

You dropped the knife and started twirling your batons on your hands, which made Bucky nervous. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere near those again.

“I’ve been training to kill you since the day you escaped,” You stood up and answered, still keeping your focus on him. “You betrayed HYDRA and...” you hesitated for a second but you took a deep breath and glared at him. “...killed my parents.”

Bucky stopped cutting the rope for a short while. He feels really bad, but he can’t do anything about it now. He thinks he’s probably the reason you agreed to work for HYDRA.

“That’s why I escaped from HYDRA. They brainwashed me, and I couldn’t do their dirty work for them anymore.” Bucky leaned closer to you which made you flinch and step back, just how Bucky suspected. He started cutting his rope again as he tries to stall you for a little bit longer. “Look, I don’t know you, but I can sense that you’re done with them too. Help me get outta here and i’ll bring you back to SHIELD. Not as a prisoner, but you can help us take down HYDRA once again. You’re a great fighter, strong and smart.”

That made you think. Maybe you can fight for the good guys now, and just leave HYDRA be. You never wanted to be the villain in the first place. You were brainwashed just as much as Bucky was, and the worst part is, you were a child when it first started.

You thought about helping Bucky and escaping with him, but then you came back to your senses when you noticed him finally finished cutting his rope and he quickly stood up, throwing his chair in your direction. You barely avoided it, but it hit the wall behind you.

You chuckled, getting in position to fight him. “Wow, you stalled me. Good job, Barnes. Now you’re gonna die. I don’t care what Strucker says anymore.” He just smiled and pulled out a red button in his pocket. “What’s that? I thought I destroyed your silent alarm already?”

“You destroyed my car alarm, not the silent alarm that will trigger SHIELD’s systems.” Bucky answered and clicked the button. “Now, they’re coming.”

You exhaled, trying to calm your nerves down. Your top priority is Barnes, and beating the shit out of him for stressing you out. You raised your batons and threw one at his direction, but he quickly dodged. You pulled the baton back with your magnetic bracelet that’s connected to them. He kicked the door of the cell open and ran with you behind him.

You two started fighting. Kicking there, punching here, occasionally throwing him at walls and vice versa.

“How are you so strong?” He said as you throw your arms around his neck while he struggles to get out.

You kicked the back of his knee so now he’s kneeling, and you took his pocket knife away and threw it somewhere. “I guess we’re more alike than you think.” He elbowed you on the side and you groaned in pain, making you loosen your hold on him a little bit, so he took that chance to flip you over and now he’s pinning you down to the floor. “Our only difference is, I fight for the good side now.”

You bit his arm and twisted it but he saw an opening and quickly got away. You ran after him and suddenly, there was a voice speaking on your earpiece. It was Baron.

“Y/N, what are you doing? Where’s Barnes?” He asked as you followed Bucky, knocking everyone and everything that comes your way.

“He got out. I’m running after him now, so can we please talk later?” You got closer to Bucky and you slammed your batons on to him but he avoided it and tried pulling the staves from your hands. You managed to kick him a few times in the stomach and on the face. “Kinda busy here.”

You heard Baron angrily yell at his agents on the other line, probably ordering them to find you and Barnes. “You idiot! How could you let him get away like that? You better kill him before I kill you.”

Oh now he crossed the line.

You were used to being threaten by him. He does it to you almost everyday along with torturing you, abusing you and beating you up, but you’ve had enough. You technically completed the mission. You got Bucky the first time you encountered him, and now you just gotta get him again and finish the job. Baron should be praising you, not insulting you.

You threw the earpiece on the floor and stepped on it. Bucky comes at you and you tried kicking him, but he got your feet mid-air, resulting to you being dragged by your feet on the floor.

Bucky felt you getting angrier every second, and he thinks it’s not about him anymore. After your chat with Baron, he noticed that there was a single tear on the side of your eye. You were hurt, and it wasn’t the best time and place, but he was concerned.

“You know, I meant every word I said back in that room.” Bucky said as he tried to catch his breath, giving you an opening to get out from his grasp and punch him in the jaw. He caught your fist, twisting it to your back and kicked you in the back so hard you flew across the hallway. “I know they’re giving you a hard time. I’ve been there. My offer still stands. Come back with me to SHIELD, and let’s figure this out.”

You snorted, picked up one of the HYDRA agents that has been following both of you and threw it at him. “You don’t know anything, sergeant. And don’t lie to me, I know that when you successfully capture me, you’re just gonna throw me in a cell.”

“I’m not lying. I promise you. Just help me get outta here, and i’ll let you live the normal life that you’ve probably been dreaming of for ages now.”

For a second, Bucky saw a glimpse of hope in your eyes. He saw the real you. The ‘you’ whi was tired of being HYDRA’s ‘clean-up person’ like he was a few years ago. The ‘you’ who didn’t want anymore blood on her hands. The ‘you’ who just wanted to go home, a real home, without psychopaths experimenting on you and twisting your mind.

But that was interrupted when a HYDRA agent threw a ticking time-bomb on your direction, and you thought you wouldn’t make it so you closed your eyes, but you felt someone pulling you away. Bucky held you into his arms as he jumps out the window exactly when the bomb went off and blew up the whole building.

And everything went black.

———

You slowly opened your eyes and look around. Your head is still spinning and your foot aches but you started observing where you are.

The room looked like one of the holding cells in HYDRA, but this one seemed more intense and advanced. It has metal as a wall, no windows, no doors. There was a table and two chairs across from you but that was it. It was a very small and compressed room.

You looked at the corner and saw a surveillance camera. You quickly tried to stand up but you realized you couldn’t, not just because of your probably broken foot, but also because your hands are chained to the bed. You took a deep breath, trying not to panic. Why should you be? You’re a trained agent. You were trained, basically tortured, into learning how to deal with this kind of stuff.

You stared directly at the camera and started talking. “Hey, I know you can hear me. Where the fuck am I?”

There was an abrupt squeak and you turned to see what happened. A door appeared, and you hear buttons being pressed outside until it was open, revealing three people. A man wearing a suit, another man whose blonde and holding a shield, and Bucky.

“Hey, princess.” The first man said and you quickly realized it was THE Tony Stark. He entered the room, along with the two other men and closed the door, making it disappear again. “Glad you could finally join us.”

“I’m at SHIELD?” You asked, trying not to groan from the sudden pain your feeling on your head. You’re trying to remember what happened, but all your brain could process right now is that there was an explosion.

The blonde man steps forward with his arm crossed. It was Captain America, standing in front of you. “Yes, you are at the SHIELD headquarters. You aren’t in prison. Yet.” He removed the chains and pulled you up but you quickly sat back down, your eyes twitching in pain.

“Stop trying to fight it. I’m just putting you on that chair.” Captain says, pointing on one of the chairs across the room.

“I’m not trying to fight it,” you tried lifting your broken foot up and it resulted you to almost screaming in pain, but you just bit your lip instead and leaned back on the wall behind you. “My foot is broken, and you probably could’ve noticed if you aren’t glaring at me like i’m some kind of murderer.”

“But you are a murderer.” Tony interrupted and you rolled your eyes.

Bucky sighed and steps forward to your bed. “I’ll get her.” He knelt down and picked you up bridal style, which made you very confused and uncomfortable. “What the fuck are you doing?” You asked him as you hold on to back of his neck, afraid that he’s just gonna drop you on the floor.

“Relax, i’m not gonna throw you to the wall.” He whispered, putting you down gently on the chair.

You didn’t know why he was being so nice when you literally tried to kill him multiple times today. Bucky doesn’t have a clue either, but when he entered the room and saw you sitting on the bed with your hands chained and your foot turned the way it isn’t supposed to, he felt guilt and concern. You looked helpless, and when he was watching you through the surveillance camera when you were sleeping, he realized you look innocent and angelic, when you’re not going around doing a murder spree.

Captain America sat in front of you, his hands folded on the table. “Why did you wanna kill Bucky?” You didn’t really feel like answering because your head is spinning and your foot is throbbing, but you figured you didn’t wanna piss Captain America off, especially when you’re currently helpless and in their property. “He’s my mission.” You said shortly.

“For how long?”

“Since the day he escaped from HYDRA.”

“Why?”

“I’m just following orders.” You shrugged and Bucky chimed in. “She also said I killed her parents.”

Tony’s facial expression softened up when he heard that. He knew what it was like having your parents murdered. He definitely knew what it was like having Bucky as the killer. He understood what you’re coming through, so he decided not to be too hard on you anymore.

“I can relate to that.” Tony said and chuckled. You looked at him and saw him smiling at you for a second, and then it was gone. You figured he wasn’t joking, and he really does relate to you.

Steve sighed and stood up. He whispered something to Bucky:

I think you gotta handle this one on your own, bud.

Bucky slowly nodded and after a few seconds, Tony and Steve left the room, leaving you two alone. Bucky sat on the chair in front of you and studied your face. You looked tired and depressed, and he knew it wasn’t just because you’re injured and currently trapped into some room, he knew it was deeper than that. Like you’re already like this way before he came into the scene.

You noticed him staring so you cleared your throat, making him flinch. “So, soldier. What happened? Why is my foot broken?” You asked him.

Bucky told you the story after you blacked out, which isn’t really that much. He pulled you away from the bomb, placed his arm around your waist, then jumped out the window. Your foot apparently caught in a tree branch while he was running to the quinjet, still carrying you.

“And now we’re here.” He said after telling you the story. “I answered your question, now you answer mine.”

“How about we alternately ask each other a question? Because I’m not done yet.” You smirked and leaned on the table.

Bucky gulped. Having your face really close to his makes his heart beat very fast. If it wasn’t clear before, he definitely has a crush on you, and it’s hard to hide when he’s sweating like he just ran a marathon. If a stranger looks at your situation right now, they’d definitely think he’s the one being interrogated, not the other way around.

Bucky gently pushed back his chair, hoping you wouldn’t notice. “Fine. It’s my turn anyway.” He straightened his back. “Do you really wanna kill me? Or you just want to because Strucker said so?”

It took you a moment to answer. You thought about it really hard and it finally hit you: you really didn’t wanna kill Barnes. You just thought you wanted to because you were trained to think like that. And now that you’re not in HYDRA’s property, you felt like you’re ‘you’ again. And you haven’t felt that way since before Strucker took you away from your own home.

“No, I don’t want to kill you. I thought I wanted to, but that now I realized, that wasn’t me speaking.” You answered. You saw Bucky’s expression changing so you immediately changed the topic. “My turn. After this, where am I going?”

“Into a highly-advanced SHIELD prison.”

“Hmm, that sucks. I liked spending time with you.” You said and noticed Bucky’s cheeks turn pink for a second until you laughed. “I’m kidding. I’m probably just a huge burden to you.”

Bucky shook his head in tried to hide his smile. Although you tried to murder him, he wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. After all, you told him you didn’t wanna kill him. It was HYDRA planting evil on your mind. And he liked spending time with you, too.

“Are you still loyal to HYDRA?” He asks out of the blue that caught you off guard.

You bit your lip and looked away, trying to find words. “I... I don’t know. I’ve spent my whole life with them, it’s not that easy to just let it all go.” You took a deep breath as you blink back tears. “As fucked up as it seems, they were my family. It’s hard giving up on family, no matter how murderous and psychopathic they are.”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, I would know.”

After what seemed like forever of silence and staring at each other, Bucky spoke again. “I should get going. Dr. Cho will be checking you soon.”

“Yeah, yeah it’s cool. Thanks for keeping me alive and...” you pursed your lips. “Sorry for trying to kill you.”

He nods and starts pushing buttons until the door shows up again. As he was about to walk out the door, he turns again. “I didn’t get your name, by the way.”

You’ve never told anyone your real name before, besides HYDRA. You always tell people a fake one. But with Bucky, you felt no need to hide who you are. You felt safe with him, even if you only knew him for a few hours.

“It’s Y/N.” You carefully raise your hand, trying not to break the chain or hurt yourself in the process, and saluted to Bucky. “Goodbye, soldier.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t goodbye, yet.”

And he closed the door.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list is still open, for anyone who wanna get tagged in the next parts!

Also, if you wanna be on my permanent tag list where you will get tagged on all my future works, let me know!

Tags: @dusthas-beenbitten @cheshiremaninapinksuit @m-a-t-91 @auraliqhts

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poorlilbeans · 6 years

Text

The Grossest Day of Yuuri’s Life

I haven’t figured out how to submit a post to the official page cause i’m an idiot, but here’s my fic for day one of sick days!

Summary: Yuuri, Victor, Phichit, Chris, Yuri and Otabek are stuck in an elevator together and Yuuri is hella sick. (2600 words)

WARNINGS: Vomit, poop, accidents, mild anxiety, crying, fever/delirium, confined spaces, hospital/ambulance mention. Really, this fic is fucking disgusting. Also there are a couple of lines in French, and my French is probably very rusty. Proceed with caution.

Years later, in an interview, Yuuri and Victor would be asked, “What’s the grossest thing that’s ever happened to you?” Yuuri would blush to his toes, laugh bashfully, and Victor would take his hand as the two did their best to recount a somewhat television friendly version of the story. It was just a memory, maybe a little funny in hindsight, and absolutely embarrassing. Currently, however, it was not years later. It was nearly 10pm, and Yuuri was stuck in an elevator with the Stomachache to End All Stomachaches.

They were in Quebec City in the dead of winter- some of the biggest names in figure skating had showed up for this invitational competition. It was a grand two day event, not a part of the grand prix series but still as competitive as ever, all in the name of fun, skating, and good sportsmanship. After free skates were done Victor and Yuuri had gone for a walk around the city, and shared a poutine for lunch before being invited by Chris to a Quebecois sugar shack for dinner. It had been loud and crowded, the cozy restaurant absolutely packed with hungry athletes. Yuuri was absolutely determined to be normal tonight; yes, he had been around people all freaking day, and yes, he was stressed, exhausted, and fighting to ignore a headache. But damn it, he was going to be normal, and he used up all the energy he could muster to socialize, and tuned out J.J’s boring rant about how awful American beer is compared to Canadian beer, how he’d drink a whole litre of the stuff if he didn’t have to drive home tonight, and joined everyone else in indulging in servings of tourtiere, pancakes, and Canadian maple bacon. He suffered in the cold with everyone else learning to roll sticks of snow taffy, and left for the hotel feeling uncomfortably full, but also pretty proud of himself for participating in all this social activity. With some of the younger skaters having left early to go to bed and J.J heading home with Isabella, Yuuri, Victor, Chris, Phichit, Yuri, and Otabek arrived back at the hotel together to spend some time relaxing in one of their rooms.

All of the skaters for this particular competition were housed on the ninth floor. Huddling into the elevator, Yuuri found himself burying his face in Victor’s scarf, dreading spending any time in someone else’s room, or worse, having other people in their room. His stomach hurt. His head hurt. His fingers and toes were tingling, and he felt cold sweat building and dripping under his jacket. In the cab home he’d assumed it was just anxiety- it had been a big day, after all- but now he felt sick and weak, and was feeling symptoms of his anxiety entirely separate from all of that. The lift started moving and Victor was stroking his back, always in tune with how Yuuri was feeling, but somebody else in the elevator knew him at least as well, and wasn’t interested in subtlety the way that Victor was. That somebody poked Yuuri on the butt with a selfie stick to get his attention.

“You don’t have to keep hanging out with everybody if you don’t feel up to it,” Phichit reminded him, poking his butt again when he hesitated to respond. Yuuri managed a half-smile and hip checked the device away from him, biting his lip when the movement sent a ripple of discomfort through his stomach. Phichit’s slightly-louder-than-intended voice had summoned all eyes on him, and Yuuri was working his jaw around an excuse about being tired when the elevator came to a creaking halt, stuck between the seventh and eighth floors. Everyone startled, and Otabek was the first to get his shit together and press the call button. Yuuri gulped, feeling his heart (and stomach) drop straight to his ass. There was a pause, and then a crackling voice sounded through an overhead speaker.

Bonsoir, Hôtel de Jardin Royale. All eyes rested on Chris, and noting he was already absorbed in tweeting about the stuck elevator, Victor rolled his eyes and spoke up.

“Allo, nous avons six personnes dans l’ascenseur, et il ne bouge pas. Aussi, nous sommes internationel. Parlez vous Anglais?” There was another brief pause, followed by:

Un moment, s’il vous plait. There was a clunk as the employee put them on hold, and Chris glanced up from his phone.

“His accent was fucking disgusting,” he commented, before busying himself again in Twitter.

“Your face is fucking disgusting,” Victor replied. Yuuri whimpered in discomfort and Victor brought a gentle hand up to his hair, gently petting him and scratching his scalp.

“What did you say?” Yuuri asked quietly.

“I just told him the elevator stopped and we’re all stuck in here. I think he’s getting someone who speaks English for us.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re claustrophobic,” Yurio snapped. He leveled Yuuri with an accusatory, if a little concerned, look.

“I’m fine, I just-

Hello, this is the hotel manager. Are you all alright up there?

“Hi,” Phichit chirped brightly. “We’re stuck.”

Yes, the engineers are already on their way.

“How quickly can you get us out?” Yuuri asked, and everyone raised their eyebrows. After all, this was basically a phone call, something Yuuri usually Did Not do.

It depends. The engineers will evaluate the problem and whether it’s safe to pull you all out before they get to work. If there is a medical emergency, and it is safe to do so, we can call the fire department to get you down.

“Are you okay?” Victor whispered, meeting Yuuri’s eyes.

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Yuuri wailed. He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d just blurted out. “I mean- I…” Yurio was howling with laughter, but everyone else at least looked sympathetic.

“So that’s what’s wrong with you,” Chris chuckled. Yuuri could swear he heard the manager holding back a snicker as well, but maybe it was just his imagination. He hoped.

Unfortunately that doesn’t count as a medical emergency- I couldn’t legally call 911 because you need the washroom. However we’ll do our best to get you out of there as quickly as possible.

Yuuri turned and buried his face in Victor’s scarf again. The pain in his stomach was quickly turning into nausea, and he was feeling weaker and shakier by the second. He zoned out as the manager gave them a generic hang in there and hung up the phone for the time being, only tuning back into reality when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

PHICHIIIT<3- Are you really okay?-

Yuuri glanced up, giving a short nod when Phichit met his eyes. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t look convinced. There was silence for a moment, but Yuri was in the elevator too, so of course it didn’t last.

“So, you need to piss, Katsudon?”

Time was crawling. Yuuri had long since sat on the floor, too exhausted to stand, and Victor sat beside him, helping him out of his coat when he noticed how sweaty he was. Before long everyone else followed suit and made themselves comfortable. At this point Yuuri was swallowing convulsively, and they still had no idea how long their imprisonment would last. Weirdly enough, it was Otabek who finally spoke up.

“Victor, I think Yuuri is going to throw up.” Yuuri felt the weight of everyone’s eyes landing on him, but he just couldn’t muster the I’m fine this time. He was too tired. His stomach hurt too much. He heard Victor sigh, felt him rub his shoulder. He didn’t sound surprised.

“Does anyone have a bag or something?” Victor asked. His voice was low, worried. It was Yuuri’s fault.

“Here, use this.” Yuuri slit his eyes open and watched Phichit pull a couple of maple leaf and fleur de lis keychains and some maple candies out of a shopping bag and pass it to Victor. Victor took Yuuri’s hands, moved them so they held the handles of the bag.

“Just if you need it, okay?” Being given something to puke in instantly made him ten times more nauseous, but Yuuri bit his lip, desperate to suppress it. There was no way he would throw up in front of five other people. No wa-

Fuck.

No.

Yuuri was gagging uncontrollably, desperately swallowing back wave after wave of sick. Victor’s hands were on his back, in his hair, on his hands, making sure the bag was open. His voice was in his ear whispering “just let it out, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He pressed his hand against his mouth and Yuri’s voice floated into his consciousness.

“If he pukes I swear to god.” A wet burp escaped and tasted sickeningly like maple syrup, and that was the last straw. Vomit splashed forcefully into the shopping bag. Yuuri coughed and heaved, and he genuinely didn’t know if the tears pouring down his cheeks were from the strain or the humiliation. Maybe both. He tried taking a deep breath, but it turned into a retch halfway. His entire abdomen clenched against his will, and as he heaved again, hot lava loudly and painfully exited him, straight into his pants and onto the floor. By the time he caught a break everyone was silent, staring in horror. Half delirious, Yuuri wondered if it was obvious he’d just shit his pants. Then there was a crackle above him, and the speaker buzzed to life again.

The engineers are here, and they’re working on fixing the problem. Unfortunately you are stuck between floors, so it looks like they’ll have to repair the elevator to get you back down here. How’s everybody doing up there?

“One of us is really sick,” Phichit answered frantically. “Are you sure you can’t get us out to help him?”

Unfortunately it isn’t safe to try and pull you out, but if you need it I can call an ambulance and have it waiting for him when we get you down.

“He doesn’t need an ambulance, he needs a bed,” Victor sighed. He was running his hand through Yuuri’s hair. It was so cool. So nice. He almost felt like he could fall asleep…

RING RING!

Everyone jumped, and Yuuri snapped awake as Phichit rushed to silence his ringing phone.

“Oh, it’s Ciao Ciao,” he mumbled, sheepishly raising it to his ear. “Hey.”

“Hi, Ciao Ciao!” Yuuri sang. He felt drunk. The unrelenting pain and fever was intoxicating, and somehow, covered in sweat and shit, holding a bag of puke, Yuuri was suddenly feeling surprisingly social. Phichit glanced at him, making no effort to hide the concern in his eyes. Not that Yuuri minded; even high on a boiling brain, he was pretty well aware of what he looked like right now.

“Do you want me to put him on speaker, Yuu?” Yuuri grinned dopily, and Phichit pressed the speaker button, letting the hand holding his phone fall to his lap.

“Where are you two?” came Celestino’s voice, and Phichit rubbed at his eyebrow.

“We’re in a stuck elevator. In the hotel. Say hi, everyone.” Four voices chimed in with a hello, followed by a loud belch out of Yuuri, and a responding gag from Yurio.

“Text me next time, you’re always on your phone after all. Is Yuuri drunk?”

“No, he’s sick, and we’ve been stuck in here for almost an hour,” Phichit sighed.

“I’m not sick,” Yuuri defended, having no idea why he suddenly felt inclined to lie about this. “I just have to go to the bathroom.”

“You already went to the bathroom,” Yurio spat. Yuuri threw him a halfhearted dirty look, but it felt a bit ridiculous given the disgusting mess he was sitting in. Looking up, though, he realized everyone in the elevator looked pale and uncomfortable. Otabek was hiding his nose and mouth in his scarf. Chris had his knees brought up to his face so only his eyes were visible. Yuri was blatantly holding his nose, and Phichit was grimacing as he talked to Ciao Ciao in a low voice. Even Victor was breathing shallowly, coughing to himself as he cuddled Yuuri, hugging the source of the nasty smell like a trooper. Guilt flooded Yuuri’s being all at once, and he was crying before he had a chance to realize how upset he was. Time was racing and crawling at the same time. He could hear Victor talking in his ear, Phichit talking to Ciao Ciao, Yuri saying something to Chris and Otabek in his biting voice, but it all morphed into overwhelming white noise. He could hear his stomach grumbling inside of him- something was still definitely leaking out of the back end of him, and he felt his hands tremble at the thought that he might throw up again. He cried and cried, desperately wanting to stop but unable to even remember what it was like to not be crying. He cried so hard he threw up, and it caught him off guard- only about half the puke actually made it into the bag, the rest coating his hands and lap. Then Victor was wiping his hands with tissues from someone’s bag, but it didn’t even matter because Yuuri felt so utterly disgusting. He was sticky and wet and smelly and after all of this nonsense his stomach was STILL hurting. It wasn’t fair.

By the time the elevator groaned to life the cramping had become too much to handle, and Yuuri had felt everyone’s glares as a second wave of mush filled his pants. He was so dehydrated he ran out of tears, but his hiccupped sobs wouldn’t stop, as hard as he tried to hold them back. Everyone else cheered when the elevator started moving. Yuuri just gagged miserably.

Everyone stumbled desperately out onto the first floor, gasping for fresh air. Yurio ran and puked in the fancy trash can in the lobby. Otabek actually stepped outside for a few minutes. Victor carried Yuuri out, and Phichit carried the sacrificed shopping bag at an arm’s length, depositing it in the garbage once Yuri was out of the way. The engineers were now holding their breath as they continued to work on the faulty elevator. Obviously the cleaning staff would have to be called down as well. The manager was apologizing profusely, offering them all coupons they didn’t want.

“So,” Victor spoke up, “Can I get him up to our room in the other elevator, or is that one going to break down on us too?”

“The other elevator is working just fine. Although given the state of this one, I’d have to request that you do your best not to… make a mess in the working one.

“I won’t,” Yuuri groaned, probably surprising the manager. He looked like he was asleep in Victor’s arms. “I just want to go to sleep.” He felt Victor kiss his head and start off toward the working elevator.

“I’ll come with you,” came Phichit’s voice. Victor startled.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. He’s really not well, and… well, we’ve lived together before. I know it’s hard taking care of him, ‘cause he gets so sick. I can run a bath and buy some ginger ale from the vending machine while you wipe him off.” Yuuri listened and felt affection for his friend well up in his chest. People were so good to him.

“And we’ll take the stairs,” Chris announced cheerfully, prompting quick agreement from Yuri and Otabek. The six split up and Yuuri settled in Victor’s arms, exhausted and ready to be clean and in bed.

#sick days #bodily fluids #w!oi #sick yuuri #sick!yuuri #tw vomit #tw diarrhea #fever #stomach flu #whump #yoi whump #yuuri katsuki #victuuri #my writing

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heddofon-akuta · 7 years

Text

This Evening

Characters: Takane, Haruka Ships: HaruTaka Genre: Hurt/comfort, romance, fluff Rating: K Word count: 4000+

Tomorrow story about a girl who, finally, tells the truth.

Today, I was tired.

I was so tired, and I wasn’t even sure why. I mean, yeah, I stayed up late—but this kind of tired was way worse than normal (which was saying something, at least for me.) I wanted to cry at the simple idea of opening my eyes; I’d long since decided I wasn’t getting out of bed today. However I was soon rudely provoked otherwise by a voice that had entirely different plans in mind.

“Good morning, Takane. ♡” That soft, however cheerful sound echoed in our otherwise silent room. I didn’t need to look to know whom it belonged to. If the sun was up and about, so was he. “Or should I say, afternoon!”

My boyfri— I, I mean, my, lov—wait. My, romantiii—…? Ugh. My…

Haruka.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” he said in a sing-song voice. Normally, I’d have just ignored him, but he pulled the window’s drapes open, and the sun rays poured brightly across our formally darkened room. Loudly, I hissed—then shielding my face with my blanket.

“Leave. Now.”

He emitted a small disappointed sound as I felt him sit on the edge of my bed. “Don’t be like that,” he said softly, making my feelings of resentment seem almost trivial. “You should really get up—at least for a while, okay?”

“No,” I said adamantly, “I’m tired.”

“You’ve been asleep for fourteen hours.” He pulled the covers off my face, looking at me with a worried sort of expression that was hard to say no to...

But, being myself, I found a way.

Again hiding my face, I growled. Appearing on the wide-screen TV mounted across the room, a drastic change in my voice was heard. “Ahhh, you’re so needy!” Floating upside-down, I lazily kicked my feet (or rather, lack there-of) back and forth. I wasn’t keen on any measure of consciousness right now, but at least I wasn’t on the verge of physical exhaustion like this. “Are you happy now?”

“You know what I meant, Takane,” he replied, sounding concerned. “It’s not good for your body to stay in bed for so long. Inactivity breeds inactivity, you know?” (Pul-lease. I was inactive for two straight years. I’ve all but perfected the art of being dormant; at this point, I’m basically a pro.) “You should get up, and get some exercise.” (No.) “We should go somewhere, or do something fun!” (No, no, no.)

“Yeah, and we can do that with me in your phone!” I brushed off his suggestion. “And besides, don’t you think I’m just so much cuter like this?” I tried to bait him—using my hands to frame my face as I bat my eyelashes in his direction. Vague attempts at flirting were a lot easier behind a screen, I had to say.

“Hmm…” He looked back and forth between my real body and the screen a couple times, eventual to conclude, “Nope. Because Takane’s always adorable.”

Y’know...?

It didn’t matter if I was real or virtual—when he said stupid things like that, he never failed to make me flustered. “Y-You—!” I puffed out my cheeks and pouted at him in annoyance, and he seemed to preemptively know I was about to fuss at him, because he cut me off.

“In fact, you’re so adorable,” a somehow innocent sort of smirk (an expression only he could manage,) flickered across his visage, and he leaned down to hover over me slightly, “I think I could just kiss you.”

“…W-Wha—?!”

Even though it’d been a few months now, since we’d gotten into a… relaaation—this… this, relay—ugh.

It had been a few months since we’d gotten, eh-hem… together, (—was it possible for a human-turned-anime-esque virtual entity to throw up in its mouth a little bit? Because I’m pretty sure I just did—) but I’d had yet to find the courage to so much as kiss Haruka’s cheek thus far. My virtual head started spinning just thinking about it.

While he certainly gotten close (what with his face being not an inch from mine,) I stopped him before he could do anything. My eyes snapped wide open, and with my heart racing a mile a minute now, I clasped my hands over his mouth and pushed him away.

Did he really just embarrass me into waking up?

“A-Alright, alright! I get it!” I glared.

With his mouth still covered and his voice muffled, he was cheerful to ask, “So you’ll get out of bed?”

I nodded in defeat, to which he seemed delighted. I soon realized that any sort of movement provoked a headache from my irrational sleep deprivation, but I could only groan and sit upright. He was sure to give me a good-morning/afternoon hug—which I specifically didn’t return. I wanted him to know just how inconvenient he was being.

But, of course, he didn’t seem to get the message as he went on without concern, “I’ll make you breakfast.”

“Not hungry.”

“You should eat anyway.” (What are you, my babysitter?) “And you should change out of your pajamas. I’ll even help you brush your hair before we leave,” he told me, putting his hand atop my head before running his fingers through my waist-length mess of tangles. I felt my face heat up, but as I was still too out-of-it to complain; I could only stare in annoyance as he soon disappeared out the doorway.

After he was gone, I put my fingers to my lips, reflecting on what’d just happened—both his gracious attitude... and my bitter one. Despite technically being together, ours hardly seemed to qualify as a real relationship. There were still so many... things, we’d yet to do, and, perhaps more-so—so many things I’d yet to say.

I groaned, pushing all related thoughts to the back of my mind before flopping back down on the bed. Despite everything, I somehow only felt more tired than before.

Regardless of my constant whining for an alternative, he eventually convinced me to go for a walk. He’d said he’d had a nice place in mind—that place being fairly peaceful and quite with all things considered, as it was somehow isolated from the rest of the city. Naturally, to that—I didn’t argue.

However when we got there, I could only look upon this place with a vacant visage, as if surprised. I got a strange kind of feeling upon gazing at the sky projected above the green landscape; it felt like it wasn’t the first time in my life, that I’d stood in this exact spot. I mean, I guess... it probably wasn’t?

After all, it was that little hill next to the high school we used to attend.

As Haruka made his way to the hill’s peak without me, my confusion shifted something resembling distress... or desire—but I could only cant my head to the side, trying to understand the situation. It was as if there was something important to be remembered here, but I just wasn’t quite sure what that was.

“Aren’t you coming?” Haruka asked, looking back at me.

“Ah,” I responded softly, “Yeah.”

Regardless of was escaping my mind, the area was otherwise tranquil as promised. It’d be a good place to kick back and listen to the radio for a while, but... glancing over to Haruka from the corner of my eye, I couldn’t quite bring myself to physically put my headphones on.

Regardless, still resentful, I didn’t engage him in conversation, but he didn’t seem to notice or mind. As per usual wherever he went, he brought it sketchbook, so he was occupied.

Shifting my gaze, I glanced down to the paper. He seemed to take notice, as he hid the picture against his chest, wearing a distinctly guilty expression. Quite fittingly, in fact, as I’d seen enough to know what he was doodling.

“What have I told you about that,” I narrowed my eyes, to which he, naturally, grew downcast and discouraged.

“But… I love drawing you.”

I felt a sudden fluster, having never quite realized the fact for some reason. I growled at him, visibly angered—then crossing my arms with a huff. I turned away, so he couldn’t see my face. “Well, I don’t care! Draw something else!”

“Hmm…” he pondered for a moment, not letting my mood get to him too extensively. From the corner of my eye, I saw him look around, eventually setting his sights. It wasn’t long before I heard the sound of his pencil tracing across the page—but just to be safe, I waited a few minutes before looking back to him (...but I swore to God—if I looked over and saw the back of my head on that page, I’d smack him right in the fac—)

Oh? “What’s that?” I asked bluntly. It was a strange sort of picture that I couldn’t quite make out yet. (Oh, gosh—don’t tell me it was an abstract picture of the back of my head?) However he didn’t seem discouraged by my untrained eye, as he only smiled and held his sketchpad out at arms length—comparing his picture to the original subject.

“It’s the sunset, see?”

“…Oh. Oh, yeah, I kinda see now,” I replied.

Suddenly, I realized how late the day had gotten. I must’ve slept a really long time… and yet—

I was still so tired. Why did I have to be this way?

The thought only proved to make me more upset, so naturally—throwing some of that pessimism Haruka’s way—I asked, “Isn’t it kinda impossible to draw something like a sunset with just one color?”

“Eh? You think so?” he tilted his head a bit. “Well, I say it’s only as impossible as you make it seem,” he stated in contradiction, pointing his finger in the air.

I shrugged, because, well—what did I know, right? Guess that’s why he was the one with the sketchpad here. Though I was pretty sure it had more to do with my sour attitude (which, naturally, didn’t stop there.) I only continued to discourage him, or maybe I was just testing how far his optimism went. “It just seems boring to me.”

Even though I’d all but insulted him just now, he hardly seemed phased; he just laughed my comment off. “Then I’ll make sure to bring colored pencils next time, so you like it more—okay?” To which I narrowed my eyes—feeling oddly annoyed as he suggested going out of his way to please me. Regardless, he went on to explain, “I just wanted to draw the sunset today, too. Since I couldn’t draw what I really wanted, I picked the next best thing,” —he could’ve sufficed in saying, but naturally—that wasn’t enough for him. He laughed quietly to himself, as if he preemptively knew how I’d react to his next statement. He smiled, timidly holding his sketchpad against his chest.

“It’s close, but even the sunset couldn’t be as beautiful as Takane.”

“Eh?!” I shouted... to which he laughed once more, and I instantly smacked his sketchpad out of his hands. I hissed in his direction, fixating a harsher kind of glare. “Stop laughing, idiot!”

He didn’t. “But, I mean it!” he said.

Bitterly, I tried my hardest to hurt his feelings. “W-Well—! I hate the sun!”

Reading me like a book, he was forward in explaining myself to me with a smile. “When you say you don’t like something, I know it means you love it.”

I was caught off-guard and was without words for a moment. “I… I do not,” I finally said... perhaps only furthering his point. “Whatever! You’re just an idiot!”

“And when you act mean like that, I know you don’t mean it either.”

“Wh-What?!” I stuttered, offended, as if I had no idea what he was talking about—to which he only smiled as if he’d proven me right. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I think this is what the “Haruka” equivalent of smugness looked like. I grit my teeth, growling at him. Even though he was just being honest, it made me bothered. I leered at him and stood abruptly. “Whatever,” I muttered in frustration. Turning back in the direction of the base, I’d decided I’d had enough “physical activity” for today. “I’m too exhausted for this.”

While I didn’t want him to try to stop me, in the back of my mind… I was silently hoping he’d follow. And as if on cue, he seemed to have known that—as I heard him pick his things up before soon trotting at my side.

Without permission, he reached for my hand to hold. Though I was kinda relieved by it, I jerked my arm away regardless. I could’t let him think he was off the hook. But, again, he didn’t seem bothered by my behavior at all—as I was surprised to feel him reach for my palm once more. I gave him an apparent questioning look, as if I was saying, “What are you doing, don’t you know I’m mad at you?”

But acting as if nothing was abnormal at all, he only smiled sweetly in reply—a smile that still resentfully made my heart race to this day. In fact, it made me feel… kinda light-headed. Regardless, I only made myself feel worse, as I tore my hand from his once more.

And again, he reached for it.

...Why? Hadn’t I been nothing but a rotten brat to them like I have today? I mean, hadn’t I done everything in my power to push him away all afternoon. With a glare plastered to my visage, I didn’t give myself the chance to think before shouting my first reaction in his face. “Can’t you take a hint for once?! God, I just can’t stand you some days!”

I expected my words to injure him, but he just stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes in a way that looked somewhat pensive, or maybe just blissful. Acting like my rage had no validation, he gave me that angelic smile once more.

“I know, Takane.” I recalled our prior conversation; as if on cue, he put his hand to my cheek. “I love you, too.”

Hearing him say that, feeling the gentle touch of his hand—it sent chills down my spine, and a drowning wave of emotions over my head.

How can you excuse my behavior so easily? It makes me so mad; if you acted this way to me, I’d punch you in the face and never speak to you again. Your attitude makes me furious, outraged, disgusted with anger. You’re such an idiot.

I just wanted to start screaming at him like I often did—shouting my frustrations for him to hear. But, just like always, that didn’t feel right.

Instead, tearing my hand away again— I said something even worse.

“Then why didn’t you know I was in love with you two years ago?”

And to that—suddenly, terrifyingly, that look of understanding had all but disappeared from Haruka’s face, replaced with his utmost confusion. “Wh… what—?” he stuttered—to which I looked off to the side, and once more toward the peak of that hill, though he no longer stood at the top. I took a step back from Haruka.

“You’re such an idiot...”

And... at the same time, you make me so happy, I feel as though I’m about to cry. What did I do to ever deserve to be so happy, with you?

Unable to slap any kind of filter over my mouth at this point, I didn’t have the willpower to control anything I said.

“Maybe if you weren’t so stupid, I wouldn’t have been so stupid!” He flinched a bit as I smacked the sketchbook out of his hands once more. “Maybe we wouldn’t have died if you had just realized it sooner—!”

“T-Takan—”

“—because you know I basically died because of it, right?!”

His eyes widened with fear; mine was a statement to which he took a visible step back. Hearing myself after a momentary lag—tears now burned on the corners of my permanently unpleasant eyes.

Truly, however, my death was the farthest thing from my mind right now.

Even now, I was just looking for yet another way to pin the blame on him. He’d done nothing to deserve such harsh words—not this evening, yesterday evening, and even tomorrow’s too. Ever single day, he was doing everything in his power to make me happy. He did that just by being himself…

And there would never, ever be an evening where I deserved any of it.

I knew the reason, that ours hardly felt like a real relationship... and it had nothing to do what we had or hadn’t done. Believe it or not, It was because what I hadn’t said either. Of course, without the truth, our relationship hardly was one...

But, moreso, even with the truth, it hardly was one.

“You know… you died because of it, right?”

For what was maybe the first time in my life—it was nearly impossible to lie.

“I was… pretending to listen to my headphones—“ I said though the tears, and it sounded so stupid when I said it aloud, “because, I… I wanted you to notice me, to ask for my attention.”

When a person immerses themselves in their own world and someone around them starts doing something else, they can’t help but feel lonely, right? Yeah—talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

“Y-You… you had a stroke, and I could’a done something about it. B-But, I just…!” I should’ve stopped. It felt like I was going to start hyperventilating, and I needed to catch my breath—but I didn’t let myself. “I just ignored you the entire time—!”

Confessing it aloud made my chest throb, but I’d never quite know what a hurting heart felt like—at least, like he did. In response to all this, he hadn’t said a word; the moment was otherwise silent besides my audible sobs.

“Haruka. You died…” I paused, finally forcing myself to mutter through my tears, “because of me. You died, you literally died, because—”

Because I wanted your attention, because I ignored you, because I just couldn’t tell the truth.

“—because I loved you.”

Both mentally and physically, I felt disgusted. Cowardly, I couldn’t at all look his way, and I was somehow surprised to feel Haruka reach over after a moment—gently placing his hand on my shoulder. Suddenly, I felt my adrenaline start to rush once more, because for some reason, in this god-awful situation—he was the one who was consoling me.

I jerked away from him. I turned around as if to run off, but he stopped me in my tracks—grabbing my wrist firmly. “Stop it!” I demanded, and while he wasn’t anything close to aggressive, he just didn’t let me overpower him this time—and he pulled me into a secure embrace. Naturally, I did everything in my power to try to break away from him, pushing and shoving him while I hissed through gritted teeth. “Get away from me!”

God, just get it over with. Just hate me alread—

“—Takane!” he finally said, his voice cracking and sounding alarmingly distressed—so much so that I was caught off guard and I ceased in my struggling. It just enough so he could pull away and look at my face. His eyes were glowing red, undoubtably so he was strong enough to deal with the currently difficult me—but what was more alarming were the few tears that were streaming down his face.

For the first time in my life, Haruka was... crying in front of me.

And just when I though I couldn’t get any more surprised, he leaned forward as if he had no control over his actions. I froze instantly, my eyes wide and staring without focus. With a moment of realization setting in, I was instant to calm down—because just as gentle and innocent as he was a person—Haruka kissed me.

My heart raced a mile a mine. Eventually, my eyes narrowed to a close to match his, and forgetting everything that happened up until now—I kissed him, too.

He pulled away, just enough to speak—and what he said seemingly made no sense at all, but for some reason, I think I believed him.

“Takane… it wasn’t your fault.”

I’d imagine he’d opened his eyes to look at me, but upon being unable to do the same, I finally realized why I felt so tired today—and that was because, I didn’t feel much of anything at all. My body included.

After a moment, I heard him say my name quizzically, the tone of his voice suddenly growing more distressed. Just as I was about to fall to the ground, Haruka caught me before I could.

For the first time since getting my physical form back, I was having an attack... At what might have been the literal worst time possible.

He knelt, propping my body against his chest. He said my name a couple times, shaking me a bit, and the only reason I knew was because I’d instantly transferred myself to my phone. I peeked up at him from my own pocket; he seemed to take notice, giving a weak smile as he reached for me. I attempted to hide, though I didn’t have anywhere to go. I whined a bit as I held my sleeves up to cover my pouting face.

“I’m sorry.” Looking down at my unconscious self, he (almost guilty) added, “I... I shouldn’t have done that.”

With anyone else, I’d be aggressively vocal in agreement. Even with him, in most cases, I’d be in agreement. But, truly, his physical actions weren’t what caused this to happen, but rather his words.

My arms fell to my sides, I didn’t bother to flaunt my virtual persona. The tone of my voice reflected that of physical body’s. “Even if you don’t blame me, it was still my fault.”

Again, the look on his face fell to concern. He was silent for a moment, though it looked as though he had something he wanted to say. He stopped looking at the phone, only to look down at the “me” he held in his arms. He reached up, brushing the hair from my eyes.

“No, Takane, it wasn’t” he finally said. “I, I was going to die,” his words passed with slow and hesitant intonation, perhaps more serious than I’d ever heard him, “no matter what.”

My eyes widened, the pixels around my mouth shifted to a gaping expression. Confused, I could only mutter my response. “W...What?” To which Haruka gazed off to the side, as if he couldn’t bare to look at my real nor artificial face. He grit his teeth, seeming hesitant but sure to continue.

“And what’s worse, I... I knew it. I had known it for years—long before I even met you.”

I stared blankly. For a program of seemingly artificial intelligence, I don’t think I could quite comprehend the meaning of what I’d heard. Overwhelmed, it was my first reaction to blurt all the questions coming to my mind. “W-Why? Why? Since when? How? Ah, ah—“ With digital tears forming in the corner of my virtual eyes too, I could only ask in fluster, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted to, Takane—but I couldn’t,” he was instant to explain, gritting his teeth with a pained expression. “I could only tell Shintaro-kun, because something about the idea of telling you just... made my heart stop even faster.” He grit his teeth with a pained expression, as if remembering something. After a moment, I knew why.

“Maybe it’s for the same reason I didn’t… I didn’t realize how you felt. Because I knew... I was going to die, and I couldn’t be with you.”

A confession to which I choked on my words, unsure if I felt more or less guilty than before. My breath hitched, as I was unsure of what to say. Thankfully, Haruka did.

“Takane...” he exhaled my name, “if there’s one thing I’ve never wanted, it’s for you to blame yourself. Because we died together, I have the chance at a real life, with you.”

It took me a moment to understand his meaning, but the moment I did, I felt my cheeks heat up. My real cheeks. I felt my consciousness somewhat regainable. Slowly, I opened my eyes, still damp from tears, and looked up at him. He returned my gaze with red irises, which made sense as he soon stood, holding me in his arms like a bride.

His final statement left me with yet another new sensation throbbing in my chest. Without a second thought, I reached up, grabbing Haruka by the collar, pulling him into another kiss. After a moment of mutual surprise, I felt his hold around me grow my firm, as he cradled me tightly in his arms. He kissed me back.

Feeling bold for what might’ve been the first time in my life, it was all but impossible to restrain myself. But, also, for the first time in my life... I didn’t feel like I had to.

“You’re not the reason I died, Takane. You’re the reason I’m really alive for the first time in my life.”

#takane month 2017 #takane enomoto #haruka kokonose #harutaka #kagepro #harutaka day 2017 #kagerou project #my fics #HAPPY HARUTAKA DAY #THIS PROBABLY ISN'T QUITE WHAT U THINK #i get to celebrate two harutaka days this year b/c #i'm currently in the uk with my bf #and they write dates here by month second day first #SO IT'S 09/06!!! TWICE THE HARUTAKA DAYS #nice nice nice #this was also something of a character study b/c i haven't written takane in a long time much less from a first person pov hng #anyway i'm an angst machine i rarely post my writing because i'm a nervous wreck but i hope u enjoy it

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appynation · 7 years

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I'm so excited you're writing! Maybe a prompt where Lance gets sick and goes into Keith's room to ask for help, but finds Keith havin' a crisis about the stress of maybe leading Voltron some day, or about a crush he has, or something. So Lance is helping him out and they're just sitting on his floor, chatting Keith through his feelings, and Lance gets progressively quieter and makes less sense until Keith finds out he's got a fever and was here for help and decided Keith was more important?

Yeeeeeees. Thank you so much for this prompt!

My first sickfic, y’all! This takes place after the end of season 2.

Lance may not be confident about a lot of things in hislife, but he knew one thing for sure:

He was sick.

What began as a low throbbing headache a day or so prior hadsince escalated to a full-fledged migraine, accompanied with congestion, anddry clamminess of what he hoped wasn’tthe start of a fever. He had tried to brush it off, telling himself that it wasjust exhaustion from the back to back missions they’d been on, but the wayLance woke up that morning made him finally accept the fact that it was morethan just being tired. He pulled on his jacket with a bit more effort thannormal before he stifled a sneeze or two into the crook of his elbow as soon ashe got the jacket on. He groaned in pain as the throbbing in his head worsenedand he had to admit it: he needed help.

He crossed his arms, walking out of his room as the doorhissed open. Who could he go to? Allura and Coran were no doubt neck deep in plans fortheir next mission, he didn’t want to bother them. And Pidge and Hunk had beentalking about staying up all night to work on some tracking tech to find Shiro,so he assumed they were either still working or passed out by now. He walkedout of his room, his eyes half lidded as he looked down both ends of the chillyhallway. Man, what he wouldn’t give to be able to tell Shiro. He probably stillwouldn’t have, he hated to worry the team on his behalf, but his leader’s kindeyes and gentle actions were badly missed right about now. It had only been acouple weeks since his disappearance, and the loss still fell heavy on theteam. No one was resting easy, not until they found Shiro, but of course it hadto be Lance that fell ill from itall. He bit his lip glancing to his right as he walked down to the next door.

“Keith?”

Lance knocked weakly on his door, suppressing a couplecoughs under his breath as he waited for the door to slide open, or Keith’svoice to beckon him in. He heard neither. Lance frowned and glanced around, hadhe gone to the training deck? He seemed to be doing that a lot after Shiro’sdisappearance… well, even more thanhe had previously. Out of everyone, Keith had taken it the hardest. It madesense, him and Shiro had known each other before they became paladins, and nowwith him gone… well, Keith had voiced to everyone Shiro’s wishes of areplacement leader.

Lance was about to turn and go back to his room when heheard a noise come from inside the room. He frowned, so Keith was in there. Was he ignoring him? ‘Ass.’He thought to himself, his sour mood from being ill flaring even more with thethought that the one person he thought he could go to on this ship was ignoringhim and damn it, he was going to give Keith a piece of his mind. He reachedover and pressed on the button to open the door, the panel sliding open with ahiss. Lance already had his mouth open, ready to spew his thoughts on thematter before it all faltered. Keith was in his room, sitting on the groundwith his knees pulled up to his chest and his gloved hands rung and grippedinto his hair.

Lance’s eyes widened and any form of negativity flew out theairlock as he walked over hesitantly.

“Keith? Hey, buddy… you okay?”

“Leave me alone, Lance.” A muffled voice sounded from inbetween his knees. It was a little too shaky for Lance’s liking. He didn’t likehearing Keith like this.

“Hey, come on. If something’s bothering you, you know youcan talk to me, right?” Lance suggested as he sat down next to Keith, crossinghis legs as he put a hand on his head momentarily to try and stop the room fromspinning. He shook it off as he continued, “I know you think you have to gothrough all of this alone, but know that we’re all going through this too—“

Before Lance could finish his sentence he was cut off byKeith, who finally looked up at him, the threat of tears glistening in hisviolet eyes.

“You’re not allgoing through this too! You’re not the one Shiro put in charge to lead Voltron!You’re not the one who now has to make sure we all don’t die! You’re not the one who will be blamed if all of this goes tohell in a handbasket!” Keith was yelling, his breath erratic as he gripped hishair again, his voice softening if only in defeat, “I don’t know why Shirothought I could handle this… he should’ve given the command to Allura. Allurawould be an amazing leader! I… I’m just some damn dropout who relies too muchon instinct to even think aboutleading a team and—“

“Keith.” Lance interrupted, putting a hand on his fellowpaladin as he subtly cleared his throat, all thoughts of telling Keith how hewas feeling had disappeared, he needed Lance much more right now. “Calm down.Breathe.”

Keith looked down at the floor he sat on for another momentbefore taking a few breaths, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he leaned backagainst the side of his bed. “I can’t do this, Lance…”

“Nonsense.” Lance gave a grin, “I mean, obviously Shirochose you for a reason, right? I feel like we should give him the benefit ofthe doubt that he knew what he was doing.” He said in the most cheerful way hecould. “I mean, look! You basically lead us through our last two missions, andthey turned out fine! I think you’re doing fine.”

“Yeah?” Keith glanced over at Lance slightly, noting that itwas strange how pale the blue paladin seemed. But perhaps it was just the harshlighting of his room.

“Yeah! Like, holy quiznak, when you took down that droneright before it could fire at me, you saved me dude! That seems pretty leaderlyto me. And when—“ his peptalk was cut off by a string of wet, congested coughsthat he buried once again in the elbow of his jacket. “—And when—“ he triedagain. When had the room begun spinning again?

“Lance??”

He could hear Keith’s voice, but it sounded muffled. Like hewas underwater. He looked at Keith’s face, it took far too long for him toregister that the black haired boy was looking back at him with a wide eyedlook of concern. “—when—“ he tried to start once more before the room tiltedsharply, his body following along with it.

“LANCE!”

–

When Lance came to, he was in a bed. His bed, he concluded by the smell of his conditioner on thepillow. How had he gotten here? He opened his bleary eyes and brought the heelof his palm to his eye to try and rub the blurriness away when a shift from thebottom of the bed made him jump and look in that direction. At the end of thebed was the red paladin himself, his arms crossed and his head leaned backagainst the wall the bed stood against, his eyes closed. Keith opened his eyesslightly after a second, glancing at Lance like it was something he had beendoing regularly before he did a double take and sat up straight, “You’re awake.”He didn’t even try to mask the relief that coated his words.

“Y-yeah” Lance rasped, his sore voice not cooperating as hecoughed a few times into his pillow.

“No, no talking.” Keith scooted up closer, “you scared thehell out of me. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well??”

Lance opened his mouth to speak before a warning look fromKeith made him close his mouth with a frown. “You want me to answer you ornot??” he choked out.

“I just—ugh.”Keith groaned as he exhaled, “Just try to go back to sleep, okay? I told Hunk,and he’s trying to make you the space equivalent of chicken noodle soup. So…” Keith’svoice softened, “just rest up until he figures that out.”

Lance simply gave a nod as he turned on his side glancing upat Keith as his tired eyes slowly began to shut.

Keith sighed pinching the bridge of his nose, and Lance’sfinal thoughts before dozing back off was that that was a habit Keith haddefinitely picked up from Shiro over the time being spent together.

He knows Keith is going to do just fine as leader.

#talortut #voltron #vld season 2 spoilers #sickfic #lance mcclain #keith kogane #comfort

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