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mrsbarnesblog · 7 months

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I trust you

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: when Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help.

Words count: 3.5k

Warnings: angst and fluff, injury, wounds, low self-esteem, bucky has trust issues and needs a hug, touch starved bucky,

Author’s note: ugh just let me hold my baby and kiss his cute sad face omggg... anyways, idk why I rarely write angsty things, I really wanna do something new, so if you have any ideas let me know! 💘

It was almost eight o'clock in the evening when FRIDAY reported that the guys' quinjet should arrive at the compound within an hour.

Steve, Sam, and Bucky went on another mission to destroy HYDRA almost two weeks ago. As usual, none of you could get any news from them because they couldn't risk giving away their whereabouts.

It was foolish to assume that you weren't worried about them. Especially for one person. Bucky.

You and the former Winter Soldier met about six months ago when Steve and Sam first brought him to the tower. Steve was really worried about his old best friend, so before bringing Bucky to the tower, he talked with the team and asked all of you to give Bucky space.

Of course, you knew who he was from the day Steve found out that Bucky was alive. You have seen hundreds of reports and photographs on TV and on the Internet about The Winter Soldier, a ruthless killer who was always invisible but too damn good at his missions. He is the man who was turned into a weapon against his will.

When Steve introduced him, the whole team just nodded and shared awkward smiles, and Bucky himself kept his eyes on the ground. The whole situation was too intense, and no one, not even the funny and sarcastic Tony Stark, knew what to do or say. You actually thought that it might be rude to just stand there and look at him, as if he was a wild animal. Looking at this shy and uncomfortable-looking man before you, you knew that the smallest thing you could get him was to show that he was welcomed in this tower and that everyone was on his side. So, pushing away your own shyness and nerves, you stepped forward, holding out your right hand.

"Hi, my name is Y/N. It's nice to meet you. I hope you’ll feel comfortable around here." You offered your warmest and most sincere smile, trying not to show nervousness.

Bucky slowly raised his head, genuinely surprised that anyone else had actually spoken to him besides Steve. It's nice to meet you. When had he heard those words for the last time?

Your eyes met, and you could have sworn all the air was out of your lungs. His eyes were even more beautiful than in those rare, high-quality photographs. He looked truly beautiful, with long hair and blue eyes, even though you could see that he was tired—physically and even more emotionally. You stood for what seemed like an eternity, looking at each other's faces, until Bucky got a little nudge from Steve on the arm.

Only then did his gaze move to your still outstretched arm. He hesitated a bit, unsure if he wanted to be touched or feel someone’s warm skin. It’s been too long since another person wanted to touch him without causing any harm. Even Steve gave him minimal physical contact. Always through the gloves or thick jacket, and Bucky didn’t know the true reason for this—whether it was because Steve cared about his feelings or he just didn't want to do that. But then Bucky looked at you again, and he already knew that you would be his death.

You were so beautiful. Probably the most attractive person he has ever seen. It was still morning, and he assumed that you planned to have a day for yourself because you had no makeup, your hair was a little bit messy, and you looked really comfy in a big sweater and a pair of black leggings. Oh, and he definitely noticed your cute, fluffy pink socks. Your eyes were full of friendliness and comfort, so it made him want to trust you. Your lips curled into a warm smile, and he had no doubt that you wanted to make him feel comfortable on the team.

Bucky lifted the corners of his lips slightly, meeting your eyes again, and held out his right hand to you, still feeling awkward. Especially when the whole team around you watches your interaction too closely.

"Hi."

When the Quinjet landed on the territory, you couldn't calm your pounding heart. Natasha, who was standing a couple of steps away from you, of course, noticed your condition but didn’t say anything and just sent you a reassuring smile. She knew you'd calm down when Bucky was by your side.

Sam got out first. He looked tired, had a couple of scratches and bruises, but was generally fine.

"Sam! God, I'm glad you're okay." You said, running closer to him. "How is Bucky? And Steve? Are they okay?" Your worried eyes ran across his face, trying to find answers, but he only pursed his lips and lowered his eyes to the ground.

"Steve’s fine, and Bucky, um... I think you should see it yourself. And I think you need to have a serious talk with this idiot because he doesn't listen to us." Your brows furrowed, but before you could ask anything else, footsteps and stifled moans were heard behind Sam.

It felt like your heart stopped as soon as you saw him. Blood flowed from his temple and lip, and an already darkening bruise adorned his right cheekbone. Your eyes rushed down, trying to find all the damage, and then you saw it. Bucky kept his right hand on his left side. His entire palm was scarlet red as the blood passed through his thick suit and soaked through his fingers. Your mouth opened involuntarily, and your eyes instantly filled with tears.

Of course, this was not his first mission, but he always returned almost without any injuries or with something that quickly healed because of his supersoldier serum. It has never been so bad.

Before you knew it, you were already standing next to him. Tears flowed freely down your face, and you raised your hands up, wanting to touch him, but they froze in the air.

"Bucky…" You sobbed, looking straight into his eyes.

"Hello, doll" He smiled reassuringly at you, but you saw how he pressed his teeth together to ease the pain. He didn’t want to scare you.

"Bucky, God, wh-what happened? You need to go to the hospital wing. You’re losing a lot of blood!" You gently took his metal hand, but before you could lead him away, he removed it and moved away a little.

"It's all right, doll. Nothing that I can't handle on my own. Trust me, I’ve experienced worse."

"Buck, Y/N is right." You notice Steve for the first time because all your attention has been focused on Bucky since he appeared. "That punk cut you pretty deep; it needs to be stitched up."

"You know, I never go to the hospital wing." He purses his lips awkwardly, looking down.

Of course. Of course you knew it. Everyone in the tower knew that the Winter Soldier didn't like being touched or visiting doctors, and he had never asked for any kind of help. He always limited himself to a short handshake or a pat on the back from his best friend.

But you also knew that Bucky couldn't take off his clothes in front of anyone. Too many scars from bullets, knives, and other things that HYDRA used to torture him He confessed this to you one evening when you were sitting in the dark in the common room after his nightmare.

In those six months, you got close enough to him that he trusted you to sit with him in the stillness of the night and share his fears. But he still avoided touching and, of course, did not want to show his body to anyone. Even you. Especially to you.

You were one of the few good things in his life. Someone who genuinely wanted to spend time with him, who wasn’t afraid of him, and who was always kind and supportive. Bucky didn't want to lose you. And he knew that if you ever saw him with those ugly marks all over his body, you would run away without looking back. Because who would like it?

The hand that took hundreds of lives. The hand that was forever connected to his body left a big reminder that he was, in fact, just an experiment that went too well. He often looked at his shoulder in the mirror with anger and despair, wanting to get rid of this mixture of scars and torn skin. Obviously, when HYDRA put that prosthetic on him, they didn't care much about looks or pain, so they just hooked it on the way they did.

"Bucky, please listen to me." You sobbed, moving closer to him again. "I know you're afraid to go there, but please, you have to do it, otherwise, you'll lose too much blood or just get an infection." You hugged yourself with your hands as your body began to tremble with concern for the person in front of you. "It can leave a big scar." You whispered and saw that Bucky’s jaw clenched again. You didn’t want him to think that there was something wrong with having scars, but you knew that it was emotionally too hard for him to deal with them.

"I'm sorry, doll, but I can't," he pursed his lips, shaking his head, "you know I can't do it."

"Bucky…" you whispered as more tears started flooding your face. You were so focused on Bucky that you didn't even pay attention to your friends, who stood aside and pretended not to eavesdrop on your conversation.

"Don't cry because of me, doll, please, you don't have to cry." Bucky's voice lowered to a whisper as he worked up the courage to use his thumb to wipe a tear from your right cheek with a metal finger.

You took advantage of the opportunity, grabbing his metal wrist and pressing his hand closer against your cheek.

"Please, Bucky. Then let's go to your room. I can help you if you don't want to undress there.

"I don't think it's a good idea either, doll. You don't need to see it."

"James," you focused on his eyes, rubbing small circles with your thumb into his wrist, "it'll be alright, I promise. I'm not afraid of you. I won’t leave. I'll take care of you. Please do it for me."

You were hurt by his gaze. You've seen a thousand thoughts go through that head. Doubt, fear, uncertainty, and pain. He couldn't lose you. Couldn't lose what you had. Even if he wanted so much more, he was content just being around you. He couldn't lose you to a damn ugly piece of metal attached to him.

But you looked at him like your life depended on it. Tears were still running down your cheeks. You were hurt because of him. But you refused to give up and let his self-doubt win this fight. You continued to gently massage his metal wrist as you placed a light kiss on it. And he could no longer resist you.

"Fine."

"It's better if we do this in the bathroom," you said as you closed the door to Bucky's room behind you. You quickly walked past him, going into the bathroom and pulling out the first aid kit you knew was in the bottom drawer. You felt comfortable being a little bit bossy here, and Bucky didn’t mind it.

He quietly followed you, watching you with an unsure face. His blood was still soaking through his arm, but that didn't bother him as much as the fact that he'd have to undress in front of you and that at some point you would touch him.

Once all the necessary things were ready, you turned to face Bucky, already preparing to help him out. But as soon as your hands went up to help him unbuckle his suit, he staggered back, and you froze with your hands in the air. For a few seconds, you silently looked into each other's eyes, then you moved, trying to understand his reaction, and what you saw made your heart ache.

His brows were slightly furrowed, and the corners of his lips were turned down. His eyes always told you everything that he tried to hide, and right now they told you how scared and insecure Bucky actually was.

"I don't think I can do it." Bucky whispered softly, casting his eyes down in shame.

"Hey James, look at me," you said, taking his face in your hands. "I'm your friend, you know? I won't hurt you. I won’t judge you. I won't do anything against your will. But I need to help you because I can see how much pain you're in," you sighed, running your fingers over his cheekbones. "I know it's hard. And I know you're scared or shy, but I'm here for you. None of this scares me, and I'll be as gentle with you as I can, okay? You can tell me if it becomes too much, and I'll stop. I promise." You could see the tears forming in his eyes, and you couldn't help feeling the pain that this beautiful man in front of you had been without care and affection for so long.

Bucky nodded slightly, giving you permission to continue.

"I’ll clean up your wound on the ribs, and then we can take care of your face." You carefully removed your hands from his, now placing them on the clasps of his suit. You opened them one by one, and when you finally got to the last one, you helped Bucky carefully remove that piece of clothing. Next on the way was a stretchy long-sleeve shirt, and by glancing at the wound, you could see that all the tissue around it was completely covered in blood.

"So, now I'm going to carefully lift up the shirt so you can take it off and not bother your wound too much, okay?" you asked, running your eyes over Bucky's face to understand his emotions. He took a deep breath, as if preparing for the worst, but nodded anyway.

You started to slowly lift up his shirt, helping Bucky pull his hands out one by one, and then tossed that no longer needed rag into the bathtub.

"Oh god," you muttered softly, looking at the wound that seemed to be even bigger now.

Bucky thought that you said it about his appearance in general, so he lifted his head up to the ceiling to stop angry tears from falling.

Come on, Buck, we need to sew this up so it doesn't leave a scar. Do you think you can sit on the counter next to the sink?" You looked at Bucky, but you couldn't meet his eyes. You knew that he was at the edge, his body trembled a little bit, but he still listened to you and silently jumped up on the free space near the sink.

"Bucky," you said quietly, trying to be as gentle as you could. "I see you right now, and I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?" You put your hand back on his face, making him meet your eyes. Before you could think, you placed your right hand on his chest, causing his eyes to instantly widen in surprise. His skin was very warm and silky, even though there were a lot of scars from different conditions. You gently moved your hand, showing Bucky that you’re not afraid, that you’re not a threat, and that he can trust you. "You're doing well, it’s okay," you said as you started rubbing soothing circles on his shoulder.

You backed off a little, finally picking up all the necessary things, and began to sanitize and then stitch up the wound. Every time you needed to put your hand on your skin, you felt Bucky instantly tense under your touch, but you tried to send him quiet words of encouragement and praise. Bucky was very quiet, not making a sound even when the needle pierced his skin. His face wasn’t in bad condition, and Super Soldier serum almost healed them, so you decided to only sanitize and clean his skin.

"Well, you did a great job, James. I'm proud of you." About twenty minutes later, you finally tied the bandage and began to put everything back in the drawer, but then felt a touch on your arm.

You looked back at Bucky, only to meet tear-filled eyes.

"No one has ever taken care of me in a long time, Y/N." You stepped closer to Bucky again, unconsciously placing your hands on his shoulders. "I feel ashamed of my body. Of that arm. I didn't want you to see those ugly scars. God, this is so pathetic—"

"Don't say that," you interrupted him. "That's not pathetic. I understand how you feel. That you have so many negative thoughts about yourself. But Bucky… God, I don't know how to properly say it." You paused for a moment, considering the words. "You're one of the most amazing people I know. And even if many people in the tower are scared or intimidated by you, for me, you are the sweetest, most caring, and most generous person. You remember every little thing I say, make me coffee and food when I'm too busy, pretend to like those shitty movies that I make you watch with me. I'm so sorry that so many bad things happened to such a good person that you feel unworthy of good things."

Suddenly, strong arms surrounded you, and you realized that Bucky was hugging you with arms wrapping around your waist. He nuzzled up to your neck, and you could feel light sobs. Gently, you entangled your fingers in his hair, massaging the scalp with calming movements.

"I don't deserve you, doll." Bucky pulled back a little, still keeping his hands on your waist. "I wish I could be normal for you. Be who I was back in the 40s. I would’ve asked you out and given you everything that you deserved. But that person is not here any more, and I'm not worthy of you."

He wanted to ask you out on a date? Your heart stopped as soon as the words left his mouth, and you stared at Bucky in surprise. "Bucky—"

"I know…fuck—I shouldn't have said that. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm sorry, doll. I didn't mean to mess anything up between us, I promise. I know you don't feel the same— it's okay, really. Just forget about—"

You didn't let Bucky finish by leaning forward and brushing your lips against his. His flesh automatically tangled in the hair at the back of your neck as the metal one tightened his grip on your waist. For the first few seconds, Bucky was in shock, not kissing you back, but just as you wanted to pull away, his lips began to move, taking over you immediately.

It was the best kiss you ever had. He was gentle yet so passionate. There were a lot of unsaid feelings that Bucky kept to himself for too long. All thoughts seemed to have left your head as the feeling of him filled your whole body.

When there was not enough air, you moved away from each other, touching your foreheads with your eyes closed.

"Fuck" was the first thing he said.

"Yeah," you laughed, finally meeting Bucky's eyes. He looked at you with such adoration that you felt butterflies in your stomach. You just noticed how much skin-to-skin contact you had. "Are you okay with that? Doesn't that make you uncomfortable?" You tilted your head as your hands squeezed his shoulders.

"That's... that's weird. I'm not used to that kind of contact," Bucky said, studying your face. "But I trust you, doll. You are the only person I trust completely." You felt him begin to gently run his hand along your back. "I'd like to ask you out on a date. I mean, if you want to. If not, I totally understand—"

You interrupted him again, leaving a quick kiss on his lips. "I'd like to go on a date with you, James. You know, you’re so cute when you’re shy?"

You've never seen his face so lit up with happiness, with a little bit of pink on his cheeks. Butterflies began to beat in your stomach again, and you realized that it was you who made him feel that way.

"Do you want to go to bed, put on some shitty comedy, and grab some food? I still have to watch over your injury."

"Sounds like a perfect plan, doll." Bucky kissed you on the forehead, interlacing his fingers with you, and led you to his room.

Even if it still required a lot of work, cuddling with Bucky, you knew it was the best place you could be.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n

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barcaatthemoon · 2 months

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my hero || lucy bronze x teen!reader ||

you stop seeking lucy's approval.

playing at barcelona was a dream come true. the club was your childhood favorite. the players there were all amazing, but there was one in particular that you were excited to play alongside. lucy bronze was your childhood hero. you had been born in spain, but your mother was english, and she had done her best to show you as much english football as she could. that was where you had first seen lucy play, and any club she was at was a favorite while she was there.

you were instantly starstruck whenever you went to your first practice. some of the girls teased you about the way that you looked at lucy, thinking that it was just a crush at first. their jokes had stopped after a couple comments from alexia and lucy, but the damage had already been done.

lucy didn't ignore or outright avoid you, but she wasn't as friendly with you as she had been at first. still, you did absolutely everything you could to impress her at practices. all you wanted was for her to tell you that you were doing a good job, but lucy never really seemed to notice. that was why you started pushing yourself harder and harder.

"bebita has muscles," pina teased as she walked past you in the gym. you felt patri and bruna's arms wrap around your shoulders just seconds later.

"you do know that you're a centerback, not a bodybuilder right?" patri asked you. you brushed it off, continuing to do your reps even with them leaning on you. "you can slow down, mapi might get upset if you take her title of strongest player so soon after joining."

"this is the way to get better. i want to get a start," you told them. pina knew that it as more than that, but she led the other girls away from you. once you were alone again, you let your eyes drift off to lucy, who was training with the other defenders in a group. you didn't feel like one of them, so you always wandered off on your own to do your workouts. occasionally, if you went to do something big, you'd look for alexia, cata, or sandra to spot you if they weren't busy.

unbeknownst to you, pina had been watching you the entire time. she thought that it was sort of sad that you were always on your own. the age difference between you and most of the team was a pretty big obstacle for friendships. occasionally, you'd hang out with vicky, but all you really wanted was lucy's approval.

"alright ladies, recovery time and then we're watching film!" alexia announced loudly. you did one more quick set before you put your weights up. everybody went about their own recovery, and you found yourself running alongside lucy on a treadmil. neither one of you said anything, lucy not even bothering to look up at you.

you knew that she could see you out of her peripherial, so you upped your speed. you were practically sprinting, which was not really helping you recover much at all. lucy didn't mention it as she shut her machine off and made her way in for an ice bath. you weren't allowed to use the ice baths, so you went to the showers instead. you didn't like the cold, so you let the hot water relax the tension in your muscles instead.

"good job today," pina said as she nudged your leg. you glanced up from the laces of your regular shoes to see her smiling down at you. "i don't think that we tell you that enough. you're doing really well, promise me you won't run off to another team. i'd hate to have to play against you."

"thanks claud," you told her. she nodded, standing there awkwardly. you knew what she wanted, but alexia had been pretty strict about the girls not making you feel uncomfortable. they were all very affectionate with each other, but you hadn't really been in an environment like that before. however, you were getting better about accepting things like that, so you stood up and pulled her into a hug.

…

team bonding nights were a bit difficult with you around. they still had their nights out on the town, which you weren't old enough to join in on yet. however, they had also begun to have a lot more movie nights and little watch parties for shows that they could invite you to just as long as it didn't conflict with your school work.

tonight was one of those nights. the team was meeting for dinner at alexia's, which you had already been brought to. you were sitting at the table trying to finish up your last couple of school assignments for the week. alexia, irene, ingrid, and mapi were cooking, but each checked up on you periodically.

"hola," ona greeted as she entered. the team was starting to file in, but none of them had bothered you yet. you waved at ona, but didn't look up from your work. "what are you working on?"

"chemistry," you answered. she could hear the frustration in your voice and truly felt bad for you. you were smart, none of the girls doubted that, but your school work was hard. ona was glad that she had never been placed in such advanced classes because she swore that she would have gone mad.

"good luck," ona said as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. it took you nearly another 40 minutes to finish up your homework, and in that time, you had gone into alexia's guest room. you were coming out of the room to tell her that you were done when you ran into alexia in the hallway.

"dinner is ready, i was coming to get you," alexia said. you nodded, looking absolutely exhausted. "do you feel okay?"

"yeah, i'm fine," you told her. truthfully, between practice and your work, everything was weighing down on you. you were grateful that your parents were letting you have this sleepover in the middle of the week, glad for the break from your normal routine.

"okay, well, come on, i saved you a seat." alexia put her arm around your shoulders as she led you towards the table. there were two seats open, one next to lucy and the other next to mapi. there was an unspoken rule at alexia's that you weren't allowed to eat your meals next to mapi, so you weren't surprised to be ushered in next to lucy.

"hi!" you greeted the other defender brightly. lucy sort of shrugged you off, just grunting in response. your face fell a little, something that didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the team. claudia was quick to try and cheer you up, but it didn't work. you seemed to be upset and distracted for the rest of the night, even going to bed before the movie was even halfway over.

…

it had hurt, but you finally came to the conclusion that lucy didn't like you. so much of your time felt wasted trying to impress her. nothing that you ever did would be good enough because all lucy saw you as was an insignficant little kid. you weren't her equal, she was being forced to be on your team.

"mr. jona," you said nervously. he glanced up from his computer, surprised to find you standing in his office. he had a meeting soon, one with alexia to figure out good lineups. "c-can i make a request?"

"is something wrong?" he asked. you were much more nervous than he had ever seen you before, and that was saying a lot. your first couple weeks had been a big adjustment, one that you had truly struggled with.

"i don't want to be in the backline. do you think that i could try playing in the midfield today please?" you asked him. there were no doubts that you could do it, but alexia had mentioned pushing you back in positioning so that you could learn from lucy. she knew that all you wanted was to be just like the right back, so jona was a little confused by your request.

"of course, but i can't promise that i can keep you there throughout the season," jona said. you nodded and thanked him for his consideration. you felt a little better going back into the locker room to finish getting ready. at least you had until jona announced that you'd be paired up with ingrid in the midfield for practice.

if there was anybody on the team you had trouble keeping the truth from, it was ingrid. with mapi around, you had a distraction, but one-on-one, ingrid was sure to notice that something was up. you were terrified all practice as you waited for the shoe to drop and her to begin questioning you. however, that time never came, and slowly, you started to relax.

"good practice," ingrid said as she placed her hand on your shoulder. you glanced over towards her, dropping your eyes just slightly to meet hers. "they could put you anywhere and you'd thrive."

"gracias," you thanked her. you felt a little better than you had all pre-season from that. you even managed to momentarily forget about lucy for the day. you had forogtten about the way that she had made you feel small by ignoring you constantly. and that seemed to be your big mistake.

you couldn't always have perfect practices. you were bound to make some mistakes, everybody did. jona liked having you in the midfield, occasionally pushing you forward into an attacking position. that was how you managed to get the ball at your feet during a scrimmage. you were sprinting down the line, and lucy came in at your side to get the ball from you.

"what the fuck!" it had been an accident, an honest mistake. irene stepped in between your body and lucy's to protect you from lucy's wrath. you watched the british woman slowly get up to her feet, obviously favoring her knee. "are you stupid?"

"lucy-," ona warned, only to be cut off. lucy shoved irene aside as she zeroed in on you.

"are you trying to end my career or do you just like playing dangerously? maybe you should go to arsenal, i'm sure that you could learn a lot from mccabe. she likes attention, so you can follow her around too. injuring me won't suddenly free all my time up to babysit you, understood?" lucy's words cut deep. your jaw fell open, but you quickly snapped it shut when all of that hurt turned into anger. you weren't quite sure what you wanted to do, so you just shoved lucy back as hard as you could and ran away.

"sure, run like the big fucking baby that you are!" lucy shouted after you. at her words, you started to run a little faster. everybody on the pitch was silent, but lucy could feel their disapproving stares on her as she hobbled off of the field. she went straight to the trainer's to get some ice for her knee, which was hurting worse than it had in a long time.

"what the hell is wrong with you?" of all the people that lucy expected to come after her for yelling at you like that, it wasn't ona. lucy knew that the two of you weren't particularly close at all. "how could you say those things to (y/n)?"

"don't tell me that you jumped on the precious baby train with (y/n) too. she could have ended my career knocking into me like that," lucy said. ona softened a little at the realization that lucy was just scared and had lashed out, however, that didn't last very long. ona had seen the tears running down your face whenever you ran away.

"she's not even 17 yet lucy, she is practically a baby. and don't you dare act like what you just did was mature. that girl worshipped you when she got here, now you're lucky if she even wants to play in barcelona anymore," ona said. she jabbed lucy in the chest, knocking lucy back a little. "what is your issue with her?"

"you saw her out there!" lucy huffed.

"yes, i saw you run into her. this wasn't her fault lucy, it's yours. now, go and apologize. fix this quickly because this is the only time i'll be nice about it."

…

"(y/n)," lucy said softly. she approached you slowly, careful to keep some space in between the two of you as she sat on the bench next to you. "i'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. i didn't mean it."

"yes you did. it's how you've felt since i arrived here. you just finally had an excuse to let it all out," you muttered angrily. "don't worry, i don't want anything to do with you anymore, i promise."

"(y/n), please-," lucy tried.

"no, dont! you obviously meant it lucy. i have tried to get your attention since i got here because all i've ever wanted was to play next to you. you were my hero, the whole reason that i worked so hard to get here. now i wish that i had never been signed to this club with you!" you shot up from your seat, grabbing your things as you stormed out of the locker room.

"(y/n)." ingrid and alexia followed you out to the parking lot. you were prepared to brush right past them and attempt to walk the five or so miles back to your house. instead, you were stopped by alexia's hand on the back of your neck. "stop it. would you like me to take you home, bebita?"

"yes please," you asked. alexia put her arm around your shoulders as she guided you outside. you had never seemed so small to her before, but lucy had broken you down until you were absolutely miniscule. alexia didn't know if she would be able to fix things, but she hoped that you would end up okay by the end of the season.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #teen reader #platonic fic #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader

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fkinavocado · 4 months

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in which your husband and Harry’s wife dragged you both into a situation you didn’t want to be in, but as it turns out, everything happens for a reason

Loved, heard, seen- Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings

Part Two/ alternatively, read on wattpad

Part Three (word count: 4.3k) - updated 21st Jan

Harry didn’t have the heart to leave the bed the following morning and risk waking Y/N up. He’d checked his phone, it was a reasonable hour, more than reasonable in fact. It was close to 12 and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in this late. He couldn’t remember exactly what time they went to bed either but it must’ve been past 1am. Even so, he’d surely slept well beyond his usual 6-7 hours on a good day. Recently though, he’d had trouble sleeping. Unsurprisingly so, it coincided to when this whole mess had started.

Y/N was sound asleep, still. She’d snuggled up close to his side in her sleep and he was happy for it; she looked serene, content, her face free from the sad look in her eyes he’s always seen her sporting. Harry would’ve kicked himself if he woke her up.

However, there was a situation he needed to take care of.

Something that hadn’t occurred since before this whole mess.

Huh.

In any case, seeing as he was just in his boxers he couldn’t risk her seeing and getting the wrong idea. He didn’t exactly know what that meant even, but he supposed he just didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, in any way.

So he reluctantly slipped out from underneath the covers and tiptoed to the ensuite, peeking back over his shoulder before closing the door to make sure he hadn’t woken her up.

The situation was indeed quite dire. He was painfully hard, and he couldn’t remember the last time this had occurred. Hell, last time he had sex he couldn’t even keep it up and didn’t reach full mast. He’d masturbated in the shower more times than he cared to admit, but since he couldn’t exactly sleep with his wife he decided he wasn’t going to feel sorry for himself over it. He just did it for some much needed relief; it wasn’t satisfying, but rather just a means to an end. All that pent up frustration was messing with him - his sleep, his appetite, his overall drive and energy to go about his day to day.

However, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this hard, not to mention without any intention of getting off.

He kept willing it to go down so he could pee and then brush his teeth and get on with his morning routine but if anything, it began to ache. He sat on the closed toilet’s lid and rubbed his face, sighing profusely.

“Harry?”

He flinched upright, almost knocking off the toilet roll stand. “Yeah? ‘Morning!”

“Good morning. Are you alright in there?”

Harry grimaced. Shit, how long had he been in there?

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, did you need the bathroom?”

“No, it can wait, I just heard you sigh and it sounded pretty miserable to be honest. I’ll give you some space if you want. I can go take a walk around the parking lot…”

Harry decided to man up. He couldn’t pee until his boner went down, and he’d already taken a shower before they went to bed. He just had to face the music.

Opening the bathroom door, he faced her. “Sorry. I’ve got a… situation going on. ‘M afraid it’s gonna take a while for it to die down so might as well let you use the bathroom in the meantime. Sorry, I tried willing it away. Didn’t mean to make it weird.”

Y/N gave him a confused look for a long moment, and it wasn’t until he glanced downwards suggestively that she followed his line of vision and her own eyes widened in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

Harry watched her blush and wanted to bang his head against the doorframe. Could he have made it even more awkward? Surely not. She giggled and covered her mouth trying to stifle it which only made him grin stupidly. Why was her reaction so endearing? He should’ve been mortified.

But there she was, clad in his pyjamas, the sleeves covering her knuckles of her hands she brought to her mouth adorably, her flushed cheeks turning an even deeper shade of pink that he couldn’t help but notice matched her plump lips. Her whole face was a bit puffy from sleep and it was just too cute not to smile at. Her hair was a mess but he preferred it like this, all natural and wild. He imagined that’s how it got when she had sex, too.

Wait, what?

Harry winced. His dick literally began throbbing at the mere thought of Y/N between the sheets, her hair fanned over the pillow, her lips swollen from more than just sleeping…

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. You look like you’re in pain almost. It’s just that… I dunno. I forgot this was even a thing. Haven’t seen morning wood since my boyfriend in college, I don’t think…”

Harry furrowed his brows slightly at that. “Really? I get them all the time. Well. Not recently, I guess.”

“I guess I just assumed it only happened to younger men, I don’t think I’ve ever seen– huh…” Y/N seemed lost in thought for a moment and Harry knew what must’ve been on her mind just then. He hadn’t realized her sex life with her husband was that bad that they weren’t even having morning sex. That was baffling to him. Morning sex was his favorite.

Ouch.

Y/N took note of him wincing again and cleared her throat, “Well, I mean… what do you usually do? Does it just go away?”

Harry was back to grinning. She was too cute. “No, it doesn’t just go away… it can go away, but I need to be really distracted and it takes ages. Plus it’s painful, yeah.”

“So do you need to…?”

“Ideally. I mean, well… not ideally.”

“You mean ideally you’d have sex?”

Harry chuckled at her candor. Here he was, trying to be sensible about it. “Yeah, ideally I’d fuck it out.”

Y/N’s gaze fell back on his erection and Harry was just starting to wonder why he didn’t feel weird about it but he couldn’t really follow his train of thought because what she said next threw him off track completely.

“Would a blowjob work, too?”

Harry looked at her incredulously, his mouth agape as he stammered trying to phrase a coherent reply to that. “... A blowjob? What, like– you mean, generally speaking, or–”

“Yeah. Generally speaking. But also, now in particular.”

Harry furrowed his brows taking a step closer to her. “I’m trying really hard not to misinterpret this and possibly make it even more weird, Y/N. So tell me if I’m overstepping, but did you just offer to suck me off?”

Y/N’s eyes got impossibly rounder, or so they seemed to Harry, with her pupils fully dilated. Her breathing got shallower and her bottom lip was threatening to bleed out from how she was pressing her incisors into its pillowy flesh. “Would that be the worst thing, if I did?”

Harry’s breath caught. He was fully expecting her to burst into laughter for having tricked him into thinking this was really happening, or for her to recoil and assure him she absolutely didn’t mean it like that.

But she didn’t. This was really happening. His cockhead was pushing past the waistband of his boxers. Equally torturous and exhilarating at the same time.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing at all. Far from it. It’s the best thing I could think of, actually.”

“Not the ideal thing, though.”

She was teasing him. He didn’t miss the glint of mischief in her eyes when she said that, the tone of her voice.

“In this instance it is ideal.” Another step closer and their chests were flush against eachother. “But I need to make sure it’s something you want. That I didn’t somehow… make you feel like you have to do this. I wasn’t trying to drop any hints.”

“Why not?”

Harry searched her eyes. Fuck. He was ready to burst just from the way this interaction was going alone. Hell, how did he not see it before? She was so… right for him. Such a delicate, cute little thing. He’d already felt the need to coddle her, protect her. Take her away from the nightmare she was living. Save her, in a way, even if by doing so he was saving himself as well. Sure, he’d recognized she was attractive from the first moment they’d met. It was hard not to. She was pretty, more than pretty. But then here she goes and unveils this side of her? All… mouthy and impetuous? Borderline bratty? Like she was taunting him, teasing him to take over. Give her what she deserved. Show her how good it could be.

She did tell him that first night how she’d always wanted to be dominated. He should’ve known.

“You wanted me to drop hints? Thought you didn’t like that, Y/N. Thought you wanted someone who knew what he wanted and took it. Yeah? Dropping hints would’ve been such a turn off, isn’t that right?

Y/N’s gaze dropped to Harry’s lips and watched him utter all that in a different tone than he usually used with her. She looked transfixed. Like he’d just said something that had sent her in a trance, hypnotising her.

“Answer me, pretty.”

She couldn’t manage more than just nodding slowly, and he placed his index finger under her chin, gently tilting her head so that she was looking straight into his eyes again.

“That’s what I thought. Bet you wished you didn’t have to be the one to offer, would’ve liked me to just wake you up with my cock dangling right in front of that pretty face, hm? Or better yet, sinking it right into you from behind. Bet you’d have loved that.”

Y/N whined, her hand going instinctively around her throat and Harry gently placed his over hers, squeezing slightly. “I know, baby. I know, but I couldn’t just assume, hm? Glad you were so brave to tell me. Such a brave girl. Good girl.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut at his words, and he squeezed a bit harder, groaning at the sight. She was such a perfect little thing. God, he’d missed this. His wife was never one to be submissive. He hadn’t felt this dynamic since before they got married. He felt like laughing just thinking about how he’d been ready to forgo being dominant for the sake of his failed marriage. He’d been stupid to think he could deny himself this part of him forever.

“You are, aren’t you, baby? A good girl. Wanna show me just how good? Hm?”

She nodded vigorously, and he loosened his hold around her neck. “Big girls use their words, darling. Tell me you want this. Tell me I’m not pushing it too far.”

“You’re not. I want this. I want this so bad. You look so… big. Just wanna stuff you in my mouth, gag on it. Please?”

Harry let go of her throat with a loud gasp and grabbed her hand instead, directing it to his throbbing erection. If she didn’t touch him right then and there he’d fucking lose his mind. He was in a daze, his mouth agape, panting heavily as she groped him, rubbing her dainty hand over the fabric of his boxers- her watching her hand on him, her eyes widened at the sight of his leaking tip poking out of its confines, and him watching her take it all in.

He grabbed her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged, urging her to get on her knees for him.

“Go ahead, take what you need. Know you need it, not just want it. Practically gagging for it, aren’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck…” Y/N mewled, scrambling to pull his boxers down as he threw his t-shirt off. When his cock sprang free in front of her face she looked lovestruck. The sight alone had Harry’s balls tighten up, he needed to empty them, preferably down her throat.

“Like what you see, pretty?” He was petting her hair at the top of her head now, his fingers dragging down along her face, caressing her in their wake.

“Harry… I need it. Please, please, can I have it?”

Harry chuckled darkly. “Generally speaking, or now in particular?”

Y/N whined at the way he was teasing her. “Want it anyway you’ll give it to me.”

“Fuck, Y/N. If this is just a wet dream don’t pinch me awake until you drink up every last drop, you hear me? So pretty on your knees for me. Let’s see that pink tongue now, stick it out f’me.”

Y/N did as instructed and waited obediently as Harry stroked himself - not that he needed it, he just did it to egg her on some more, and finally, finally, he tapped the tip against her tongue.

“Gonna treat it right, darling? Make me feel good? God, it aches.”

“Yes, please!”

Harry groaned at her eagerness. “Such a polite little thing. How could I say no to that… have at it, sweetheart, it’s all yours.”

Harry faltered at the feel of her warm mouth enveloping him. He promptly closed the bathroom door behind him so that he could lean against it, he was already weak in the knees.

Y/N didn’t disappoint. She worshipped him, that’s how good it felt. Alternating between gentle, feather-like kisses along the shaft and kitten licks at his slit, then vigorously sucking the head between her lips and pumping the rest in her too small hand. Harry had to will his orgasm away, he wanted to prolong this as much as possible. When she started going further down on him he braced himself, knowing what she was trying for. He cooed at her, encouraging and praising her constantly.

“Such a good girl, Y/N. Who knew that sweet little mouth could be so dirty, hm? All for me? Suck it, baby, just like that. Fuck, you were made for this, I swear. Want your mouth on me all the time. Oh, fuck, gonna take me down your throat, darling? That slender, delicate throat of yours? Will it fit? Can wrap my palm all the way around it, can’t wait to proper choke you. Fuck, keep moaning like that around me, you filthy little girl. You love that, don’t you? Wonder what other nasty things you’re into, can’t wait to find out. Just like that, gooood giiiirl, Y/N. Breathe, pretty. So perfect. Fuck, that feels amazing. Gonna come down your throat, final warning. Pull back while you can. No? Fuck, keep gagging on it, that’s right. You wanted it, so take it. Big girls don’t go back on their word, hm? That’s right, you’re my best girl, aren’t you? Fuck, Y/N, I’m coming, baby. Fuck me, you’re making me see stars.”

Harry laughed incredulously at the tail end of his climax, slamming his hand against the door behind him to find his footing. She’d sucked him clean, his thighs were trembling. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten blown this good. If ever.

He let her have her fun, cleaning him up with gentle licks while he recovered, but once he felt confident in his footing he grabbed her, pulling her up to her feet and pushed his tongue down her throat next. There was no room for gentle, tentative first kisses. He devoured her mouth in gratitude, and she had no choice but to keep up, poor thing. He could tell her jaw muscles were strained but he couldn’t get enough of her. “Best fucking head I’ve ever gotten. Mmmmm. Gonna ruin that pussy. Just as soon as I recover.”

Y/N could hardly catch her breath. And Harry intended on keeping it that way, intended to hear her cry out as he first tasted her and then filled her up to the brim. He briefly considered taking a break for breakfast, some much needed sustenance, but it could wait. He felt he could go on forever with her. Couldn’t wait to spread her out and treat her right.

A shrill noise put a halt to his rampant thoughts though, and she flinched out of his arms before he could stop her.

“What’s that?” he asked, panting both in exertion and escalating anxiety as to what her answer could be. “Y/N?”

“It’s my phone.”

He grabbed her hand before she could pull away completely and turn to pick it up. “Your phone? The one you turned off? We both turned them off. What’s it doing ringing?”

“It’s… my alarm, I think–”

“Bullshit. Why did you turn it back on?”

“It was just for a moment… just to check… and then I heard you in there and came to see what was wrong, and–”

“Y/N! Don’t lie to me, not now, not after all that. Did you text him? Call him?”

“No!”

Harry was livid. He let go of her hand and she hesitated before going to retrieve the phone. She stared at the screen and let it ring until it went silent. He watched her pained expression and felt it stab him in the heart.

Of course. How could he be so foolish as to think she’d forgotten all about her husband. What, did he really think his dick would push its way far enough into her brain, erasing every thought of him? He was big, but not that big.

He rubbed his face, wincing at that stupid visual. He was such a man, especially after getting off, that he wanted to slap himself silly.

She didn’t owe him anything.

He combed his hand through his hair, pulling at the strands to get a grip. He then took a few breaths, willing himself to calm down, pulled his boxers and t-shirt back on and slowly approached her. She was still staring at the now turned off screen.

He gently had her sit at the edge of the bed, and he crouched in front of her. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I guess… it’s not a valid excuse, but I guess I just felt betrayed… we promised we’d go through this together, and I refrained from checking my phone. You’re absolutely entitled to do as you wish though, of course. You can pick up. Or, call him back, if that’s what you want. Don’t feel like you need to do anything on my account…”

It was a blatant lie, or at least it felt like a lie. He was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that she’d just been putty in his hands and the next moment she’s rushing to answer the phone to none other than her husband.

He knew he was being totally unreasonable, but he just felt like he wasn’t enough. Never enough. Not for her, not for his wife. He would always play second fiddle.

“Don’t be cross with me, but I need some air. Are you going to be alright? I’ll be back soon, I just… need to clear my head a bit.”

Y/N nodded slowly, not meeting his gaze, and Harry felt even worse but he grabbed his trousers and made for the door before he could change his mind.

Normally, he’d never dream of leaving someone after a scene like that, aftercare was sacred to him; but he needed some aftercare too, and she clearly wasn’t going to offer any. She was too preoccupied thinking about her husband. Which, again, was valid, but also, he wanted to punch a hole in the nearest wall over.

After what felt like not enough time doing laps of the motel’s parking lot, he returned to the room and found Y/N curled into a fetal position on the bed. He winced at the sight, feeling responsible for it, but doubting he was. She was probably upset over what she’d talked to her husband with over the phone.

“I’m back,” he announced, careful not to startle her, closing the door gently behind him.

She looked up at him and he could see she’d been crying. He grimaced and approached her side of the bed, crouching in front of her once more to be eye level with her. “What happened? Did he yell? I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

He hadn’t meant to say any of that. God knows what came over him, he just felt so protective over her that he couldn’t help these caveman reactions.

Her eyes glazed over. “He didn’t call, Harry. That was work. You can check my phone… I’m not lying. He… he doesn’t care I’m gone.” She inhaled shakily, a tear rolling down her face. “Doesn’t care I left him, wouldn’t care I just went down on another man… hell, he wanted me to. That’s how this all started, right?” More tears. “Just so that he could go ahead and do what he wanted guilt free.”

Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew exactly what that felt like. His wife would’ve probably gladly watched him fuck Y/N’s throat, proud of him for finally going through with it. Not a trace of jealousy. Not a dent in her cold heart.

“Is this why you wanted to do it, then?... To try and get back at him? Give him a taste of his own medicine?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand on his pyjama’s sleeve. “What? Do you honestly think that’s why I did it?”

Harry grabbed her hand gently, caressing her knuckles through the fabric. “You know what I meant. I’m genuinely asking what fueled it… I can understand if that’s what it was. But I need to know… I deserve to know, don’t I?”

“Is it why you went along with it? To get back at your wife?”

“No. Honest to god. If anything, I never once even thought about her, during. Is that terrible of me? Does that make me… like her?”

Harry hadn’t meant to, but those words at the end came out without him even realizing he was thinking those thoughts, feeling that guilt. His eyes glazed over, suddenly overwhelmed.

He’d just cheated on his wife.

Something he’d never wanted to do.

He hadn’t been coerced into it, far from it, he’d been more than willing, even if it hadn’t been at his initiative.

So, what did that make him? A cheater? Did it make him just as bad as his wife?

Had he been “good” all this time just because an opportunity never presented itself before?

Y/N pushed herself up, leaning on her elbow and reached for his face. “Harry. Oh, Harry.” She thumbed his stray tear away and scurried to the end of the bed so she could have him place his head in her lap, caressing him reassuringly. “What have we done? We’re no better than they are, are we?”

Harry hated how it sounded out of her mouth. In his mind, Y/N was innocent still. He knew she’d practically been the one to initiate, but he also knew all that went down in her life before she got to that point. No, she wasn’t a cheater. She’d been mistreated, unloved, disrespected for so long. She finally did something for her, and she deserved it. And he’d be damned if she started comparing herself to their spouses. This was entirely different.

“This is so fucked up, Y/N, all of it. But don’t ever compare yourself to them. I won’t allow it. This is nothing like what they’ve been doing all along!”

“But you just said the same about yourself!”

“I’m not thinking straight!” he pushed himself upright, taking her hands in his. “We had the opportunity to do this back then, at the hotel, and we didn’t. Instead, we went back and endured even more of their crap, let them walk all over us and our love for them, and for what?! What we did just now didn’t feel wrong, it didn’t feel like cheating, because guess what- it’s not. Not when there’s no one to cheat on. They left us long ago, Y/N. We were just hanging on to false hope that maybe they’ll come back, maybe they’ll realize they love us and only want us. But that’s not the truth, is it? So why the fuck should we feel guilt over it? Fuck that. Did it feel wrong to you?”

“No. No, it didn’t. And I definitely didn’t do it to get back at him!”

Harry smiled at that and slowly, she smiled back. “I’m so glad to hear that. My narcissism can only take so much.”

Y/N giggled but then caressed his cheek longingly. “You joke about it, but I know how that hurts. Rejection. Feeling less than. Not enough. I’m in the same boat, Harry. I know exactly where you’re coming from. But you’re more than enough. And I don’t just mean that in the literal sense.”

Harry bit his lower lip to stop his grin from reaching his ears. He plopped his head back in her lap and let her resume caressing his curls, combing her fingers through them. “I know it may not seem like it, especially when I’m in a dominant headspace, but she’s really made me doubt my self worth, and not just in bed. I can’t believe I managed to push all those thoughts aside enough to fully enjoy myself in the moment with you. It’s all your merit. You made me feel so good and wanted, I forgot I hadn’t felt like that in ages. Thank you. It meant more than you know.”

Y/N bent to kiss the top of his head at that.

“You’re very welcome.” After a beat, she added, whisperingly, “You made me feel good and wanted, too. Whenever you’re ready, I’m still waiting. Make me forget, Harry.”

A/N: yeah so, there's definitely at least another part to this 😅😅 i just can't get enough of these two!

💕 like & reblog if you enjoyed this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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#harry styles smut #swingrry #harry styles concept #harry styles prompt #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles reader insert #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

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jazzythursday · 1 year

Text

Wylan leaves in the morning.

He doesn’t plan to, not exactly, but he definitely doesn’t plan on staying, either.

Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go.

Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time.

He has a good time, for the most part, and it’s always a welcome break from the awful chemical smell burned into the Tannery or the staleness of the empty rooms in cheap boarding houses (when he can afford them) that Wylan is used to. Wylan likes the freedom that comes with it, too. It’s liberating to go where he wants and do what he pleases; to not worry about who he’s seen with or sleeps with or what they might think of him after. And he likes feeling wanted, for a little while. He likes being reminded that he exists.

So Wylan does not make a habit of falling asleep with the people who take him to bed.

He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.

He doesn't remember, and yet, Wylan wakes up with his head pillowed on Jesper’s chest. With Jesper’s arm draped over him. His breath is warm where it ghosts over the top of his hair, and if Wylan glances up he can see the way Jesper’s mouth— those lips— fall open in sleep.

It’s the best morning he’s had in months, possibly. Certainly the most comfortable.

He knows it can’t last.

Wylan looks at Jesper, still sleeping peacefully next to him, and he panics.

He’d woken up in Jesper Fahey’s arms.

He’d slept with Jesper Fahey.

Jesper has a reputation, and Wylan knows it, even new to the Barrel as he is. He’d heard about Dirtyhand’s second and resident sharpshooter plenty— Can’t resist a gamble, never misses a shot, and not just with bullets. Jesper Fahey is an excellent marksman, they say, with terrible luck with the cards, and a soft spot for pretty girls and even prettier boys.

Jesper’s played the field— multiple fields— went on a seismic world tour of fields.

Wylan is very good at not being noticed. He’s also very good at listening. People tend to look past him, they never pay any mind to the too skinny boy with the wild hair and the hunched shoulders and the grime that never seems to wash off completely after his long shifts at the Tannery. Wylan knows this, knows he’s very adept at being able to disappear, when he needs to.

So by the time Wylan actually meets Jesper, he’s well aware of his place in Ketterdam’s booming rumor mill. Jesper has many, and Wylan thinks by now he may have heard them all.

And yet, none of them do a thing to prepare him for Jesper.

They’d met in a tavern.

Wylan had been nursing his drink for the better half of an hour, trying to come up with reasons not to go back to the sad cot he had waiting for him in a rented room, with the only window overlooking the brick wall of a dark alley.

So far, he’d only come up with the one.

Wylan had seen the tall Zemeni man from across the room and hadn’t stopped looking since. He was flirting with a girl at the bar, twirling one of his guns in one hand demonstratively with a drink in the other. The girl— a curly haired blond— was giggling, hand pressed to her mouth with eyes that had very clear and direct intentions.

Wylan had almost resolved himself to a night of wasting the few kruge at his disposal with little to show for it, when the man had looked up and caught him staring. The man had smiled, twirling his gun with an extra flourish and then tipped his hat. Wylan smiled back, and gave a little wave. Embarrassing, He’d thought, stop it, he’s already with someone else anyway. He’d looked down, and stared at the near empty contents of his drink until someone sat down next to him and said, in a voice like apple butter and sweet syrup, “Can I get you another of those?”

Then Wylan had looked up into the eyes of the handsomest man he’d ever seen, and thought, he has the most perfect lips.

Out loud, he’d said, “I, uh, well—” His mouth was wide open, he’d realised, and shut it quickly. Again, the man had smiled. Again, Wylan had smiled back. “Yes, please.”

And that's how he’d met Jesper.

Afterwards, they’d stumbled through the streets— I know a place, Jesper said, If you want to take this somewhere more private— until they’d passed a corner where a vendor was selling traditional Kerch sweets out of a cart.

“Stroopwafels!” Jesper had stopped. “I love stroopwafels!”

Wylan was tugging him toward the cart without really making a conscious decision to move, and Jesper had laughed, surprised and delighted.

Wylan bought them both stroopwafels and handed Jesper his with a shy smile and a shrug. “For the drink.”

Jesper looked at him consideringly, head caulked to the side, and Wylan felt himself blushing in the low light of the lamps. “You’re sweet,” he’d said eventually.

“Is that bad?” Wylan had asked, sheepish. Jesper was already shaking his head.

“It’s good. Just not that many sweet things to be had in the Barrel. It’s refreshing.” He’d bit off a piece of one of the waffles and smiled. “These are sweet too,”— he’d leaned in, smile still earnest but with something decidedly different underneath— “I like sweet.”

Jesper had not touched him like he’d been expecting to be touched. Jesper made no assumptions; he’d asked, about everything, in a way that was near gentlemanly if it wasn’t for the fact that he radiated trouble through his pores. Jesper was— not quite gentle, because Wylan had expected hot and heady and everything deep, and Jesper was all of that and more— but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t bruise, not if Wylan didn’t say yes first, and afterwards he’d laid back down and settled Wylan into his arms in a way that he had no real way of protesting— didn’t want to protest, anyway— and kissed him.

It was that that had scared Wylan the most, he thinks. Because Wylan is rarely kissed for the express purpose of it. It was always the promise of more— the rush of what was to come. But people do not generally tend to kiss Wylan for the sake of kissing Wylan. It’s different. Jesper is different, and Wylan can’t afford to be stupid enough to do something like get attached. Can’t afford much at all— really.

But Jesper had kissed him, pleased and lazy and warm, and at some indeterminate time later they had both apparently fallen asleep.

And it was nice.

It was too nice. It hurt with how nice it was.

Wylan peels himself slowly out of Jesper’s arms, careful not to wake him, and decides then that he cannot stand to be here any longer.

Jesper Fahey is not what he’d expected, he’s better.

Jesper Fahey is lovely, and beautiful, and kinder to him than anyone has been to Wylan for almost as long as he can remember.

Jesper Fahey is more than he could have ever hoped for, and he isn’t going to stick around for someone like Wylan.

So Wylan leaves, and he doesn’t look behind him as he closes the door.

#wesper #inspired by the tweet about what kit said about their first meeitng #wesper drabble #wesper ficlet #wesper fanfic #wylan hendriks #wylan van eck #jesper fehey #shadow and bone #six of crows #shadow and bone fanfiction #Jazzy writes #jazzy writes fanfic #a drabble for your troubles?

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writingforatwistedworld · 6 months

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oooo ok ok ok

so what bout a platonic deuce, epel, and lilia with a gn reader that kinda talks out loud to themselves when they play?

like they say how much they want to be this character's brother, or how they bet this character would be a good parental figure, etc. or even when another character says/does something they don't like they kinda just, voice their opinion on it?

just their reaction to reader talking out loud/voicing their thoughts lmao srry if this doesn't make sense

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, violence, description of violence, obsessive themes, religion, war (if you squint)

Deuce Spade/Epel Felmier/Lilia Vanrouge-Player voicing their thoughts whilst playing (PLATONIC!)

Deuce is a calm guy, they said. Deuce is a chill guy, they said

Well whoever they are haven't seen him when you are around, behind the screen or not

This guy is just happy that you confide in him enough that you voice your thoughts to him

Don't mention that you are just on venting-you-thoughts mode when you play… Like seriously, don't.

He is always more than happy to listen whenever you are talking.

Could be about how much you like his newest card design but could also be about what you want for dinner. Idk? I would recommend something light like banana muffins with blueberries. It's very tasty. Trust me.

If you could see through the coding he would be like “Oh really.” and “You don't say.” or “What? Really?”

What I am trying to say is that he is probably more engaged in this “conversation than most would be

If some poor NPC “interrupts” (aka not heating what he is hearing and starting to talk) he will show them how fragile the ordinary human nose is. In other words, fist meet face. Nose make crack. NPC is screaming.

But on another note, should you voice wishing to be a family member of his, say for example his sibling, he would be over the moon

He is in lalaland, imagining how he and his younger siblings would enjoy their free time together. Heck, probably taking care of some chicks

Oh, and what if you were his older sibling? Like, wow, you would be such a cool role model! You probably wouldn't be a thug like him so that makes you even… cooler (?) in his eyes

Dude over here is having such a great time imagining being your sibling he is low-key looking like he ascended

But then he starts to imagine the darker sides of life

Like how his younger sibling could be bullied in school whilst he is stuck on this island

Or even worse if you are the older one of you two, you might start dating!

I don't know if it is funny or sad that he is feeling a sensation of loss over a sibling he never had

Like bro, chill. Don't beat up that student that looks similar to the imaginary partner you just made up in your mind. They can't be held accountable for your min-OH NO DON… Didn't he want to stop with this?

Epel is literally frothing at his mouth when he hears your innermost thoughts

Now now, I know this is creepy (like wtf get yourself together man) but I promise he is totally normal (who am I kidding he looks like he has rabies) and is also a totally chill guy (is it obvious that I am lying?)

Religious indoctrination or whatnot

Imagine, you are already isolated in a village filled with religious zealots, always hearing how great that person (you) is

And then they spill everything on their mind to you

Give him a day or two and he will be back to normal… if we ignore that poor student in the corner

Like man, you noted one single time how much you liked this NPCs design and the next thing he knows he is seeing red

It's kinda like seeing your favorite family member favoring that one annoying cousin who is related to you over five corners

Has a notebook and writes everything he deems important down… which is a lot to be fair (but let the guy have his weird hobby, ok?)

But then you mention how you wish you were a family member of his and oh my god I think he is this close to breaking the fourth wall for real this time

This hits home to him

Remember how I told you about his village's eight lines higher than this one? Yeah.

There had been others his age but they were little to none and his village is in the middle of nowhere so…

But we also know how much he loves his grandma so it is a given that he would cherish you as well

Also, his god saying that they would want to be related to him. Ugh. He is honored so much that it is disgusting

But I could see this isolation and certain closeness you only get with a sibling also being not so good for you

What if you like the other villagers your age more than him? What if his girly appearance drives you away from him? (Bro u probably more dangerous with those looks than without them bc no one expects you to be able to throw hands but go on)

This leads to more and more self-doubts until he more or less bursts and just turns into someone no one wants to be around because of how aggressive he is

Thank god for the fourth wall or else you wouldn't see him like his old, not-so-destructive self anymore

Lilia is… something

His interest in you isn't purely romantic. It started out as something more like him holding onto something so he wouldn't go mad during “those days” *add fire noises and screaming in the background*

So it's more of a “I BETTER BELIEVE IN SOMETHING OR ELSE I MIGHT LOOSE MY MIND” than “Omg I am such a good follower te-he” situation

Little to no one has had access to the Overseer's thoughts and he is just randomly hearing them whilst thinking about what to make for dinner

Like Epel, he is pretty intense when it comes to you. Difference is that Epels “interest” in you stems from a place of… let's say religious views and Lilias from “those days” *fire noises and screaming in the background intensifies*

But unlike the guy who more or less shares his height and is a cotton candy version of himself concerning their hair he doesn't write down your thoughts

Oh no

This guy listens to it like he is hearing the world's greatest opera singer perform live in front of him

Thank goodness no one other than the other Diasomnia students mention your ramblings or else there would be heads flying

What? Can't a guy hope to have some special link to his deity? God, you all are so cold. Can't you even try to see his perspective? (I am joking please don't do what he does your reaction is totally valid)

But then you once mentioned how much you want to be part of his little family and whoops- there went his sanity

What if he had adopted you and Silver at the same time?

Wouldn't that be the cutest?

Sebek is almost screaming when he suddenly hears *ahem* LILIA-SAMA cooing at nothing out of nowhere

You two would be so cute growing up together and he would be the one honored to be this close to some kind of reincarnation of his God

But- but what if he was the only one knowing who you truly were? The other Faes (Malleus and Sebek being the exceptions) can't hear you so what if… what if you were also seen as some sort of weird outsider like Silver?

Don't get him wrong, the Faes have never shown hostility to his son but there was always that certain distance, Sebek and his family being one of the few accepting the young silver-haired knight as he was

Suddenly Lilia feels a certain kind of rage bubbling up to the surface like he hadn't felt in a long time

Silver… uh… you better hide that meatclea- *coughcough* I mean, legendary sword from your father

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drawlody · 1 month

Text

My list of Adam ships♡ n my opinion bout them (also fics rec :D)

Adam x Luicfer (Adamsapple/Duitarduck) 10/10

Need i say more:)))??!?! started out as a "haha funny slip-up ship" to "hey they got really good angst potential". The friends/lovers to enemies to lovers is STRONG with this one n i am eating up everything i could found on ao3. Smth bout this macho-ass man finally getting to stay back n not take charge for once feel nice, also princess Adam supermacy wooooo. Whoever came up with the ship name i applaud u cause that's like a 3 layers name(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

It's not an Adamsapple fic without Adam having at least 1 mental breakdown n Lucifer have his guilt eating him alive:)))

Very fucked up torture but i swear it worth the pain:D The dove is so dead it start to rot so plz read the tags properly (plz check out the AngeliaDark other works too they got good shit)

This one have a splits so check out both the fics (beware the author have a skrewed sense of what is considered wholesome:))))

I didnt think a smut scene could be this sad

Adam x Lute (Guitarspear/Guardrock) 10/10

Litteraly my first Hazbin ship, assholes in love is an underrated dynamic we desperately need more off:))) That with a dash of evil dude x loyal subordinate (which i havent seen since the Deathglare days) n opposite attract (look they have one main thing in common is that their extreme bloodthirst, other than that she's stricter than ur mom n he's lazier than the Sloth ring itself but that the beauty of it no? He convince her to chill tf out n not to burst a blood vessel, she keep him on track n make sure Sera dont come on their asses)

They're just being silly enabling each other terrible behaviour n i love that for them (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) Litteral besties i tell ya

Heavy non-con shit involving Val but Lute will revenge our boi i promised u that

Cool idea n they r just made for each other damn

First hazbin fic i read which is a really cool smut:D

Adam x Micheal (we need a ship name people ) (update: it's Songbird/Guitarhero) 10/10

I like how we dont even got a proper comfirmation of Micheal design/personality yet the ship is here already ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ( im using the Nakariiale's design as a base here love their design)

Hit me with that rebound love x "u look like my ex so im using u as a replacement but ill fall for the real u eventually" x co-workers in heaven. I'm thinking smth along the line of "after Lucifer fucked off with Lilith, Micheal became Adam guardian angel n they just hang out" ya feel me here? (✿◕‿◕✿)

Shout out to Bloog_b for dragging me into this ship:DDD also im on the Adam x the archangels ship as a "gotcha" to Lucifer of sort. Like bitch u stole my wives imma steal your brotherS

Look it's Adamsapple endgame but trust me u will be feed well on this ( u know how good u gotta be for people to ditch the main ship?)

I'm giving yall 4 fics here cause i can only found 4 rn(._. )

this one is uhh non-con so beware

Micheal is indeed Adam guardian angel in this one:D

Adam x Eve (Flowertunes) 8/10

I dont care what yall said they love each other throughout Eden n Earth , might have a falling out in heaven but that doesnt change the fact that they were once IN LOVE. Honestly why cant we just have a couple that have the same bright-eyed innocence like one another.I refuse to believe Eve like willingly cheat on Adam with malicious intent n all, simply she was indeed ''tricked'' or just not fully understand the sistuation, n Adam love her way too much to think that she would do that to him like Lilith. Hell the dude was heartbroken after L left , starting the abandonment issues, so he would have cling to Eve, doing everything so that he aint alone again, even if that mean leaving Eden

Honestly it pisses me off that the Adam/Eve tag on ao3 most of the time is just 1 dialouge between them back when Eve bit the apple n thats it no elaboration on the couple whatsoever >:(((

Lots of switcharoos

sinner eve woooo

look its hard trynna find a fic focusing on them ok?

Adam x St. Peter (Guitargreeter (bet ya didnt see that coming:))) 7/10

Base on this fanfic alone Joe my dude u r on the path of becoming THE Adam crack-ship writer n i am here for this:)))) just so u wait this dude gonna whip out a AdamxNifty , AdamxHusk fic later on ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

From within the fic itself the ship its 2 bros in love with homophobia standing in the way >:( also when did we have a name?!?!?!?

I just like Adam x anyone in heaven alright:D like bro famous n he got that ancient rizz, u telling mr he cant bag a hottie or 2-100+ hmm?

Adam x Alastor (Angelicradio) 8/10

I DONT EVEN KNOW WHAT ABOUT THEM THAT I SHIP I JUST DO φ(゜▽゜*)♪ i blame YOU honestly rn this ship is either Adam found Al after the fight n they make a deal or they're in heaven n they chillin this ship is confusing:D

They're angels on heaven

Adam gone back into eden n do shit differently

This is both Adam/Eve n Adam/Alastor kinda

Adam x Alastor x Lucifer (Angelicradioapple/ Charlie's dads (only me call them that lol)) 9/10

''Hey Charlie u know how u r sad that your mother left? Wellllllll i got you 2 new dads suprise:DDDD''

Look 3 miserable men who hate each other + hell's greatest dad + my love for Dadam = Messy ass old men yaoi :DDDD n it work perfectly with Alastor Asexuality too!!! Like Adam n Lucifer could fuck each other brains out before Al joining in for the cuddles lol

Chaos ensue

Not exactly a love triangle but a love corner but hey we barely got food here :D

I cant believe how hot this shit is lol

Adam x Eve x Lilith x Lucifer (Eden poly/ applecore?) 8/10

They could have been all married to each other(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻ But as much as i go "OooOooo Poly yay'' i just cant vibe with EvexLucifer, like the cheating vibes is wayyyyyyyyy too much i just cant man . I mean with the interpetation that Lucifer came to Eden to hang out with the humans they all know eachother, they're a throuple yes but BUT when Eve came into the picture it was only with Adam n him only so the other 2 is ehhhh. Im fine with EvexLilith cause im seeing it happening later, not hidden from Adam while LuciferxEve got that deception going on .So uhhh in this ship they're more like bestie than lovers to me¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also AdamxLilith is an underrated pairing like everytime i saw this applecore thing going on these 2 r at most tolerate each other like cmonnnnn we already twist this to hell n back, why cant we make it so their arguement was a petty non-malicious one n they still cares for each other hmm???

They're one happy family

IDK what to tell u bittersweet reunion n loving family is the only typa fic u get with this ship

Not that im complaining i need this wholesomeness

Adam x Mammon (Adammon/Madam/Greedyguitar/ 1st chirstmas.... hasnt had an offical name yet) 10/10

They r litteraly same person different font idk what to tell u. More insults thrown around than Guitarspear but they're pretty similar. Adam is just " sinners suck ass but this dude is the worst in the best way". Also they're both big bois (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ , they love towering over others

I'm sorry but there r barely BARELY

any fics of them :(

The art side is more plentiful tho :D

Adam x Angel Dust (Holydust/guitardust) 5/10

THEY ARE BESTIES YOUR HONOUR n that the exact reason why i cant see them be together as a couple 100%, like the shit-talking bff vibes r wayyyy too strong XD Angel finally got someone who have the same vulgar humour as him n if Adam got married in hell Angel would 100% be his best bitch of honour (≧∀≦)ゞq(≧▽≦q)

They're best friends who have casual no-string attached sex that is ACTUALLY no-string attached:)))

I came to ship them due to those "What if they're co-workers under Val' scenarios ive been seeing on Tumblr

I got like 1 fic on ao3 i mean if u r looking for just platonic friendship between them then rest asure most Adam's redemption fics have that

I got 1 fic on tumblr

Adam x Charlie (Charadam/Guitarprincess) 5/10

U know this ship give me a pretty bad first impression since a good chunk of the fics r either heavy non-con shit or lean wayyyyy to much into the daddy kink, ya know how Charlie got suppose daddy issues n all that jazz?:))) yeah that... that

But after seeing the art side of this ship im chillin with them now, since the art r pretty wholesome, usually having them decked out in punk-rock clothings hanging out. It's a big "Fuck you" to Lucifer n i live for these mf argueing ╰(*°▽°*)╯

So uhhh stay away from the fics if ya want an actual functional couple instead of wtv messed up shit we got there:))) But here's a fic anyway, the only one where it feel bearable n actual trynna go into said messed up relationship i already warn you

We got cracks like Guitarmaid (AdamxNifty), Valadam (AdamxVal) which i dont have enough materials to decied, Classicalrock (AdamxSera) sound interesting but also havent found anything , Guitarhalo (AdamxEmily) is an unexpected find, find i deem them to be more familial than romantic so we'll see if there's a fic good enough to convince me

Edit:i forgot to add Blitzo like Mammon already there why did i forgot

Adam x Blitzo (i dont think anyone even ship this but me:)) 7/10

I cant find a single fic where they has anything more than a 1 nightstand n 1 interaction where they hit it off , i live off imagination alone (;´༎ຶД༎ຶ`) but like fr fr they would match so well, like their bloodlust n general jerkiness would make them the 3rd asshole x asshole ship on this list :DDDD

Tho as much as i wanna see them go further i feel like an on-n-off relationship/friends with benefits fit em more ya know ( *^-^)ρ(*╯^╰) If ya have any fic but the 2 here that have them interact lemme know cause a bitch need food :)

This is a lot of tag(._. )

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discordantwritings · 3 months

Text

The Sand Dragon and I Pt. 1 (Dragon! Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Part 1 / Part 2

Warnings: this chapter is SFW but the next one won’t be so still MDNI 18+, gn afab! Reader, Dragon Shifter! Sir Crocodile, the power dynamics are whack in this one not gonna lie, canon typical violence, Crocodile calls you pet

WC: 4.6k

Summary: You’re set to be sacrificed to the fearsome Dragon of the Sands as a tribute for your town. When you get down to the caves and get face to face with him however- you make a different choice.

Notes: this fic is for me ngl this is just me fully shoving my monsterfucking dragon loving desires onto sir crocodile and I hope other people like it

You knew long before your name was called that you were going to be the tribute to the sand dragon. No living family, you worked a non-essential job, healthy enough to make the journey to his cave- you checked all the sacrificial boxes. No one else seemed surprised either, very few people made the effort to even look sad for you. It was something that you were used to since you never made the effort to connect with anyone in your town.

You were independent- a symptom of your parents dying young and you having no family to take you in. No one else made the effort to help you, so you made no effort to help them whenever situations came up. You didn’t hate anyone, and no one hated you, but there was a large gap that you accepted a long time ago.

So when it was time to select a human tribute for the terrifying sand dragon that made his home in the caverns miles from your town- a ritual that happened once every 5 years to appease him on top of the annual gold tribute- everyone knew it was you. You had your bags packed at home already- not that you needed to pack much. The journey would take a day on horseback and as you strapped your bags to the horse’s saddle you couldn’t help but feel bad for her.

A sacrifice to be eaten, just like you.

A few people saw you off, mostly to be polite. A small token of appreciation to the person who was going to die so they could live worry free for another few years. It meant nothing to you.

The journey was painfully uneventful. Miles of sand dusting over craggy rocks with no other life in sight. You had hoped for something- anything- to keep your thoughts away from your impending doom but you never got that reprieve. So you stirred, and thought, and stewed until resentment and anger came bubbling up.

Why did you have to die? Just because your life sucked already? Because there was no one to stick up for you? Years of being alone suddenly tore through you- sadness hardening over into anger.

And then something else.

You don’t know what it is yet but it drives you to continue your journey until you reach the giant cavern opening jutting out of the dunes and rocks. You leave the horse at the entrance just underneath the lip of the cavern for some shade. Giving her your remaining water you leave her untied, hoping she’ll have a better chance than you.

It’s a long and dark journey down into the caverns below the desert, a single torch lighting your way. At first it was just rocks and sand lining the path down but soon it turned to bones and dented armor. You don’t look down for too long, knowing you’ll lose your nerve if you have to look at the discarded bodies knowing your skeleton might soon reside with them.

It takes you an hour, maybe, time is hard to gauge down here, to get to the first opening. Your torch lights only a fraction of the vast cavern but you quickly find you don’t need it- golden braziers line the stone walls and flicker with fire illuminating the space.

Initially you wonder if you were somehow transported somewhere else- because a place this nice existing in a deep underground cavern was vexing. The stone floor was covered in the most luxurious rugs you’ve ever seen. Deep reds, golds, and blacks overlap and you fight the urge to run your hands over the fabric. Mismatched furniture liters the space- all expensive in their own rights but seemingly misplaced as none of them are quite set up in a logical formation. A pleasant humidity hangs in the air and you look and see a small natural fountain in one of the far corners of the cave. On the opposite side of that there’s another tunnel that seems to continue down further into the earth.

What use does a dragon have for a living room?

“Seems like a little morsel has arrived at my doorstep.” A low voice echoes off the dark stone walls and practically shakes the ground you’re standing on. It’s hard to deny the deep instinct to run away- all of the cells in your body signal to you that this is a predator and you are prey.

From the far tunnel you hear the distinct sound of claws against stone and you know he’s coming. You hold your breath as a giant crocodile-esque head slides into view. If it wasn’t for the sheer size of this creature you think you could mistake him for a crocodile- the long flat snout and smooth scales resembling a mosaic across dark green skin. But the way the scales shine like emeralds flecked with gold set him apart. As his legs come into view your eyes are drawn to his front left leg. In contrast to the dark green of the rest of his body his front left leg from the elbow down was a bright shimmering gold. It almost seemed liquid the way it connected with his body but the way it landed with a hard thud with each step solidified its hardness. A deep gash ran across his snout, dull and long healed over. Bat like wings folded against his long body as he finally made the last few strides into the cavern with you.

It’s hard not to be in awe of a creature so terrifying yet stunning- fear overloading and loosing all meaning and giving way to appreciation. Colorless eyes lock in on you and his pupils contract into slivers. You truly and deeply feel like prey under his gaze.

“Your heart is beating so fast little tribute. Will you run? Will you fight? Or are you just going to stand there and let me eat you? I do love seeing how your little human brains scramble…” His maw opens and you see large, shining teeth- each probably as big as you. You’re not sure if a dragon can smile but you get the impression from his voice that he is, there must be something deeply amusing to him to see you falter under his gaze.

You don’t know what comes over you. That emotion that had puzzled you for the last day now rips up and into your throat, saying works your brain hasn’t even processed.

“What if I can make myself useful to you.”

Defiance.

That catches him off guard, his large head tilting slightly. He’s only confused for a second before he chuckles, a deep sound that shakes your ribcage. “Well this is new. And what do you think you could possibly do for me?”

And now your brain has caught up, desperately searching for good answers. “I can cook, I can clean, I can organize- I’m sure a dragon as important as yourself has much better things to do than worry about the day to day.”

There’s a painful silence as the dragon mauls over your answer, terrifying eyes dragging over your form. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself grounded.

“I have to admit, it is an interesting proposition.” He steps closer and lowers his head to the ground, jaws only a few feet from you. “It wouldn’t be a good life, serving under me.”

“It would be a life.”

“I guess it would.” You feel the heat of his breath wash over you. “If you ever underperform I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“I understand.”

“And you will do whatever I ask?”

“I will.”

“Then we have a deal.”

You feel like you’ve just sold your soul to the devil. In a way, you probably have. But you don’t feel bad about it at all.

His head swings up and away from you, standing up and nearly scraping the ceiling. “You’ll stay in here until I clear out a space for you. I’ll lay out where you can and cannot go and what your daily routine should be.”

You nod, knowing he probably doesn’t need to hear much more from you.

“Get some rest. I’ll start working you to the bone tomorrow.”

And with that he leaves you, thundering steps disappearing into the depths of the further tunnels. When you can no longer hear and feel the steps you collapse to the ground, exhausted from bargaining for your life. Every muscle in your body had been tensed and you work your way through your body, individually willing your body to relax.

This was your life now. You needed to get used to this fucked up situation very fast.

Gathering yourself you find the largest couch and drag it over by the fountain and begin putting together your makeshift bed. It was surprisingly comfortable and the sound of running water did a lot to block out your worst thoughts.

You shut your eyes and before you know it a sleep of sheer exhaustion catches you, dragging you down into unconsciousness.

You’re not sure how much sleep you got, there was no way to tell the time this deep underground. But you feel as rested as you probably could get under the circumstances and quickly move the couch back to where you found it before the dragon could come and see you’ve disturbed his room. Piling your stuff neatly behind a rock on along the wall of the cavern you wait for your instructions.

You pace the heavily rugged floor trying to keep an ear out for the distinctive sound of a dragon approaching. You don’t have to wait too long for some noise- but it’s not what you expect. You hear regular human foot steps echo through the far tunnel- are you not the only human here? Did someone sneak past you in the middle of the night? All your questions are stopped in their tracks when a man walks out of the tunnel.

Well, not quite a man.

He’s mostly human, standing on two legs with tanned skin and slicked back black hair. Dressed in an immaculate suit with a fur lined cloak covering his broad shoulders. But of course- there were the other features. You first notice his hands- one covered in green scales and ending in sharp claws, the other a molten gold molded into similar claws. His ears are longer and more pointed than a humans and across his face is a long dark scar. And of course you can’t miss the thick crocodile tail dragging behind him, the same deep emerald green scales of the dragon you faced yesterday.

As he walks closer you notice that he’s still so much bigger than you- towering over your form by three feet or more. His eyes had the same reptilian slit to them as he looked you up and down.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d think you’d be remiss not to call him handsome. But the fear for your life drowns out most of those traitorous thoughts.

“Surprised to see you didn’t try and scamper off during the night.” His voice, while certainly not as loud, still resonates deep in your chest as it echoes off the tall stone walls of the cavern.

“I made a deal, I intend to see it through.” You make the choice not to look him in the eyes out of fear of disrespecting him.

“Good to see you have some sense. Here.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a rolled up piece of paper. You take it and unfold it and see a map. “This is your map of my lair. I’ve labeled the caverns you can go in and which ones you can’t. You step a single foot into somewhere you’re not supposed to be- I’ll kill you.”

“Understood.” You reply, looking over the map. You knew this place had to be massive but looking over the paper in your hand it was so much vaster than you imagined. Dozens of caves and tunnels interlinking, going over and under each other. It made your head swim.

“I’ll guide you to the important rooms so you don’t get lost. But after that I expect you to be able to navigate on your own.” He starts walking and you follow close behind as you try and track where you’re going on the map.

You travel down deep, following him as he quickly navigates the tunnels. Thankfully everything is lit by the same type of flaming braziers that are in the large entrance cavern.

“You don’t need to worry about preparing food for me- I only eat every few months and I eat more than you could possibly physically handle. You’re here to keep my lair neat and organized. Initial cleaning of the caverns I indicate and then if you do a good job- and only if- you can begin cataloguing my hoard.” He doesn’t make any effort to speak directly to you or to make sure you’re matching his pace.

“Yes my… lord?” It comes off more of a question as you quickly realize you have no idea what to refer to him as.

He stops in his tracks so abruptly you almost collide with his tail, but thankfully you’re able to stop just short. “This is the dry food storage, silly human foods that they leave as tribute. Should be enough for you to live on.”

You peek in, expecting a sparse and dingy space but are pleasantly surprised when you see all manner of foods. Beans, grains, dried fruits, spices, and probably more in the dark wooden cabinets and shelves. You only have that brief moment before he is walking off again and you hastily follow.

“Sir Crocodile. That’s the best name you humans have given me, so you can refer to me as such. My true name is unpronounceable for human forms.”

You nod, not like he can see you but better safe than sorry. Only a few tunnels later he stops again and points to the smallest cavern yet. It’s not actually small by most definitions of the word but as you gaze in you might actually call it cozy.

There’s a mismatch of elegant furniture piled in there- a dresser, a cabinet, a large bed, and rugs covering the stone floor. The bed is unmade but linens sit on top of it and even from this distance you know they are higher quality than you have ever even seen.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping and existing when not performing your duties. I don’t want you out wandering when I haven’t assigned you something.” And then he’s back to walking. You were expecting to just be thrown in a bare room but seemingly he put forth some effort… you’re not sure what to think about that.

The next stretch of your journey is long and you purposefully make sure your eyes don’t wander into any caverns you’re not stopping at. You focus on tracing your path, finger dragging along the rough paper of the map as you go.

“This is the last cave you’ll be allowed in until you prove yourself trustworthy.” He stops and finally fully turns around to face you. “This is my surplus- the stuff left to me that I deemed not worthy of my hoard. It’s been sitting and collecting dust for too long. I need to know what exactly is here and if I should keep it in storage or dispose of it. After you’re done cleaning the previous spaces and the tunnels between you can get to work on organizing and cataloging everything in here.”

To call this place a mess would be kind. Layers of junk and books haphazardly thrown into a cave that you honestly can’t tell the size of. There’s only room to get maybe five feet through the entrance before the wall of stuff is piled nearly as high as the ceiling. And on top of everything is a thick layer of dust and dirt. This might take your lifetime to sort through.

You turn your glance back to Sir Crocodile and realize he’s been carefully watching you this whole time, sharp gaze dragging over your body. Suddenly it’s ten degrees hotter in the tunnel and you force your eyes back to the ground. Did he purposefully make his human form attractive or was that just the default? And why did you even find the creature that could kill you without a second thought attractive. Stupid stupid base instincts.

“I suggest you clean the tunnels first so you learn your way. Then the entrance, food storage, and lastly here. You clean your room on your own time. I expect you to work at least eight hours a day- keep track with this.” That golden clawed hand extends out and you see a pocket watch settled in his palm. You reach out and take it, fingertips gliding over the cold metal of his hand.

“Thank you sir.” Pressing the small button on the top you find out what time it is- just before noon.

“Do your best not to make too much noise. If there is something so completely wrong you cannot deal with yourself just yell. I will hear. Just like I will hear if you try to leave, understood?”

“Yes.” Silence hangs awkwardly in the air and you look upward for a second to see him glaring down at you.

“Yes sir.” You correct, and his face returns to neutral.

“Alright, don’t make yourself too comfortable. I’ll check back soon.” And with that he turns and walks away, down a tunnel that you don’t have permission to tread into.

You let out a long breath, taking in all of the information he’s just given you. Using your map you (slowly) make your way back up through the tunnels to where you started. As you passed by the few spaces you were allowed in you couldn’t help but think about how much better this whole situation was than you expected.

Sure, scrubbing rock for weeks wouldn’t be fun but you expected much worse like cleaning his scales or butchering meals. You even had a space of your own that rivaled your room back home. Of course there’s no sunlight and you have the hanging threat of being eaten alive but you can’t help but feel a weird sense of relief. It’s not like you have anyone that you miss or responsibilities that you’ve left behind. This was just the newest (and incredibly bizarre) chapter in your life.

Well.

Time to get cleaning.

It takes you two weeks to clean the entrance, food storage, and the tunnels connecting them all. You worked more than your mandatory hours- what else were you going to do anyways, stare at stone walls? The work wasn’t fun by any means, dragging water to and from the fountain in the entrance cave was a serious workout, but there was something fulfilling once you were completely done with a space.

The entrance was the easiest given the water source was right there. You had taken one of the worse looking rugs and ripped it up to use as you cloths figuring you shouldn’t pester Sir Crocodile for cleaning supplies when you could figure out something on your own. Once everything had been as cleared of sand and dust as it could get you got to organize out the room- something actually a little fun.

You matched together furniture and set it up perfectly for gatherings. Not like there was actually ever going to be a gathering but at least your arrangement will never be messed up. You made sure to leave ample room for a dragon sized being to make it from the far tunnel to the exit- he probably leaves at some point.

The food storage wasn’t that bad either. You worked your way through it in between cleaning the entry cave and the tunnels, mostly when it was time to eat. There was a huge variety of food, most expensive and long lasting. It made sense, given that it was meant for Sir Crocodile and that no one would offer him anything less than their best for fear of being eaten. You were eating better than you had been in a while.

Throwing yourself into the work you could nearly forget why you were here in the first place. You hadn’t seen Sir Crocodile since he gave you that initial tour- you hadn’t even heard or felt movement deeper in the tunnels. Despite having no signs of him you could still feel his presence somehow. Every time you turned around you expected to see him standing there, judging you. But he never was. Maybe it was a sign you were doing a good enough job but you had no confidence in that.

No matter if your job was up to the correct standards or not you were onto your final task- cleaning and organizing the overstock. Far away the most daunting task. You have your bucket and cloths but honestly you have no idea where to start.

“From the top.” That deep voice comes from right behind you and the yelp that leaves you as you jump is mortifying.

You whip around and see Sir Crocodile in his humanoid form, clearly pleased with the reaction he got from you. He’s got a nasty grin, showing that his teeth are just as sharp as they are in his draconic form.

“I’m sorry sir?” You do your best to return your heart rate to its normal rhythm as you straighten yourself out.

“You were trying to figure out how to start here. From the top. Taking anything from the base even if it seems loose might cause the whole pile to collapse and crush you to death.” There’s a few terrifying seconds where you think he can read your mind but you shove that away- it was probably incredibly obvious how lost you were.

“Thank you sir.” It was probably simple advice but getting a clear starting point was relieving.

“Of course, I couldn’t have my new pet getting killed after they’ve done some decent work.”

Your brain struggles to process that statement, a weird mix of emotions swirling in your stomach at his words. You shove it all down for now- you can parse through that later.

“I’m glad my work is up to your standards sir. Was there something you needed?” Your hands grip your water bucket tight as his gaze bores into you.

“I’m just making sure that you are still aware of my presence. For a human though, you do seem pretty competent. You haven’t even tried to run away once.” He steps closer to you, invading your space. “Why is that?”

“I-“ You suck in a breath as you try and fight the urge to cower. “I have nothing to go back to.”

His pupils are narrow slits as they rake over your face for a few painfully silent moments. He then straightens up, barely exiting your personal space. “Interesting.”

He turns and slowly walks away, a clawed hand waving in the air. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

You finally exhale when he leaves the space, able to relax just a bit. Shoving down all your thoughts for now you focus on cleaning in a way that doesn’t destabilize the pile and crush you. It works for a while as a distraction but you slowly lose your focus and need to stop for the day.

It wasn’t until you were tucked in bed that you allowed your emotions to surface.

“I couldn’t have my new pet getting killed after they’ve done some decent work.”

It should disgust you to be called a pet. It should be dehumanizing and humiliating to have someone else look at you and see you as something so small, something they own. You search and hope that’s what’s churning deep in your stomach.

It’s not.

A shameful realization washes over you as the words repeat in your head, that low, terrifying voice somehow praising you while putting you down. You weren’t disgusted.

Heat pools in the pit of your body, a sick reaction you couldn’t will away.

You loved when he called you his pet.

You were fucked.

For the next few weeks your work slowed considerably. Not because you were less motivated- but because the overstock room had so many wonderful things. Sure there was a fair share of junk- broken porcelain dishes, rotting wooden statues, things that are so beaten you can’t even hope to identify. But the things that aren’t junk are fascinating.

You find trinkets and toys that spin and dance in ways you can’t figure out. Jewelry that despite being dusty, rusted, or dented was still gorgeous. Hand woven blankets and rugs that you could see the time and energy put in despite the holes and fraying edges. And then there were the books.

Most were non-fiction and on topics you could have only ever hoped to have learned about. From science to history to mathematics and everything in between every single page was fascinating. Every day you collected all the new books you would find and saved them for yourself later.

You’ve made yourself a reading corner in that cavern- cast off rugs and blankets folded and placed over the stone so you can sit somewhat comfortably. You fall back to only working your exact hours so you can spend the rest of your time reading. Pages old and new fill your head and you can only wonder that if these were the books dismissed by the sand dragon- what books lay in his true hoard?

“And what are you doing?” How someone so large continues to sneak up on you you’ll never understand.

You jump up, fear gripping your chest as he catches you decidedly not working. His face is decidedly unamused and you think that maybe you’ve really fucked up.

“I-“ For a second you debate lying, debate saying that you were thumbing through the pages to properly organize the book. But you aren’t the best liar- certainly not in the face of someone so terrifying. “I’m spending my off time reading through some of your books sir. I figured asking if I could read through some of your spare books was a question I shouldn’t have bothered you with.”

“Smart move pet.” Your body relaxes slightly, having made the right move. “What are you reading?”

That question catches you off guard, not expecting him to care. “Oh, this is a book on astronomy.”

“And is that interesting to you?” You can’t tell if it’s just his natural tone that makes it sound almost like an accusation or if he’s judging you.

“It’s something I never had the chance to learn about before so I decided to take the opportunity to educate myself.”

Crocodile nods, seemingly pleased with your answer. “A good use of your spare time. Just don’t get carried away.”

“Yes, of course sir.”

And like that he’s gone again. The conversation lingers in your mind until the next day when you come back to the cavern to see a plush chair situated where your rugs had been set up.

You can’t stop yourself from flushing as you look over your gift. You try not to let your thoughts and emotions get away from you, there was probably a banal reason he put a chair in here for you. I mean, sitting on the floor was probably bad for your back and if it was bad for your back then your work could be impacted.

It’s that and not that he might care about you.

No matter what, reading is a lot nicer when you’re not sitting on a stone floor.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #discordantwritings #x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #dragon x reader

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hom3landr · 8 months

Note

homelander + bear hugs? 🥹

Apple Pie

A short interlude between Homelander and his favorite baker.

1 2 3

Homelander fights the urge to throttle Ashley as she follows behind him like an anxious chihuahua, yapping some nonsense about some Gala he’s contracted to show up to this evening. He can’t even remember what it’s for, just that it's more of Vought sucking its own dick while he endures hours of buttering up senators and shooting bright smiles at the ever present cameras. He’d been excited at first because he thought you might be there. He could just escape to whatever sad corner you would be working in if it all got to be too much. Except you won’t be there because someone approved your request for time off. He shoots Ashley a sideways glare.

The leather of his gloves creak as he clenches his fist. You won’t be back to work again until Monday and it is still only Friday. You’ve already been gone since last Monday. It’s driving him insane. The two of you don’t even get the chance to talk everyday normally but knowing that you won’t be there if he needs you… It makes him feel itchy and out of sorts. He misses you.

He’s so close to snapping as Ashley prattles on but the rapid sound of running footsteps has his brow wrinkling. His heart flutters in his chest as a familiar scent wafts through the hallway. It can’t be…

He turns.

Eager arms wrap around his neck, warm and soft and so so so incredibly close.

He doesn’t notice Ashley scurry off out of sight. He doesn’t notice much of anything other than you. He’s vaguely aware that he’s in a public hallway and that anyone could turn the corner and witness this. He frankly doesn’t give a shit.

He’s never been this close to you before. He can see every freckle, every pore, every imperfection and blemish. He doesn’t concern himself with any of that. As far as he is concerned, you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. He’s holding you tight around the waist, your legs dangling, heartbeat pressed against his. Your chapstick smells like warm apple pie.

It’s like he manifested you from thin air by sheer wanting. Perfect. Soft. You.

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you beam at him. He spins you around just so he can hear you giggle. He’s pathetic. He’s pathetic and whipped and fuck…He can’t fucking think when you look at him like that.

“Surprise!” You grin.

“It certainly is.” His answering smile is blinding.

He commits every inch of you to memory. You’re not wearing your typical work clothes, instead you’re in shorts and a top with straps so thin that it wouldn’t take any effort for him to grab one and tug it apart. The previously hidden expanse of deliciously smelling skin has his mouth watering.

He should put you down. He should.

But you aren’t pulling away or wiggling around. You seem perfectly content to be held in his arms, fingers shyly brushing the nape of his neck. He doesn’t know why you’re back early. He doesn’t care.

“I wanted to bring you something from my trip.” You respond shyly.

“Aren’t I the lucky one?” He winks and there it is. He’s flustered you. He loves flustering you.

He feels himself beginning to harden in his suit and it takes a second to realize that you’re pressed so closely that it won’t be long before you’ll be feeling it too. It’s so tempting to stay just like this. He wants you to feel what you do to him. He needs you to know that he wants you too.

But the timing and setting isn’t right. So with a burdened sigh, he lets you go. He laments the loss of you against him. So he reaches out to lay a steadying hand on your shoulder, although he handled you so carefully that you felt no jostling at all. The contrast between the crimson of his glove and your soft skin only serves to fuel the fire burning inside him. His suit is becoming uncomfortably tight but he’ll have to take care of that later.

“So I went back and visited my home town. Every year they have this HUGE baking contest. I’d always wanted to do it but I never had the confidence,” Your words are spilling out like water from a jug. You’re talking way too fast but you’re too cute for him to interrupt, especially when your hands start getting involved too as you gesture. “Well this time I did it! I entered my chocolate cake recipe, the one you helped me with. Guess what!!!”

You pull something out of your back pocket and happily show it off. You’re bouncing on your heels as his eyebrows wrinkle in slight confusion. You’re holding out a cheap blue ribbon. The fabric is polyester and one of the tails is already starting to fray. The plaque is flimsy plastic with a bold #1 printed on it. But you’re looking at it as though it was made of silk and gold. You gesture for him to take it and he does, regretfully removing his hand from you.

“I couldn’t have done it without you! So I wanted you to have the ribbon. Since we both kinda won it. I don’t want to take all the credit.” You beamed.

You… You came all the way back to the Tower when you still had time off to give him a shitty ribbon? He appreciates the gesture even while he looks at it with barely veiled disdain. What he really enjoys is your words. They were absolutely correct of course. Your old recipe was a stinker. He doubted you’d have even gotten an honorable mention without his impeccable palate helping you. But the real gift you brought him wasn’t the ugly ribbon. He’d just wanted to see you.

It wasn’t until later, after you’d had to leave, that he truly appreciated the ugly little ribbon. He ran it through his fingers as he lay naked in bed. It was cheap but it meant something.

We both won it.

He sits straight up as a realization hits him. He remembers painfully that stupid fake house they’d made for his fake childhood. How his bedroom had been so infuriatingly “perfect.” He remembered how much it hurt to talk about all the trophies he’d won. Well…

He looks down at the ribbon in his hands. It looked exactly like that fake shit they’d put in his room. Except this was real. He’d won this. You’d told him so. It was his, ugly as it was.

He clears off the table next to his bed, just to make a little spot for his new trophy.

Yeah he fucking was.

#homelander #x reader #homelander x reader #homelander headcanons #I missed them #bakerverse

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lukall705 · 1 month

Note

Hii!! Can I req Chuuya x SH reader? Can be both angst and fluff, you don't have to tho if you don't wanna <3

𝓒𝓱𝓾𝓾𝔂𝓪 𝔁 𝓖𝓝! 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is another thing i didn't expect people to request, and it brings me so much comfort when i find sh comfort fanfics:(

If you are struggling with sh please know i'm always open to talk if you want:) and i'll try to comfort you to the best of my ability! (i'm usually not on here during the day so you can ask me for my discord in dms)

I'M SO SRRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE I REALLY NEEDED A BREAK SINCE I WAS SO STRESSED FROM SCHOOL 😭

Also, English isn't my first language so please dont mind any spelling errors!!

TW: SH, gore? Talk about fresh SH cuts, Might be ooc😓 please tell me if i missed anything!

Words: 1,3k

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sometimes in life things don't go the rigth way, is what people say, they say "sometimes in life things don't go the way we want, but thats just how it is"

But right now it felt like absolutely nothing was going the right way, you felt like the whole world was against you, like you were some useless peace of garbage that could be thrown out at anytime, like there was no one in this damn world that would sit down and listen to your pityfull problems. you were at your abselut worst.

And the only thing that could help the with it was the razor in your hand, which is cutting your thigh. you move almost like a robot, you don't even feel the pain of the razor anymore. everything seems like a dream, all the blood coming out of your cuts and dripping and mixing in with the water of the bathtub, your vision being slightly blury.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you bring your razor to your Radial vein. you shake slightly as you look down at your wrist debating if you should cut it or not.

As you start breathing faster you look at the suicide note you left on the chair next to the bathtub. you wondered how long it would take for chuuya to find you, would he even care if you died?

you feel tears start to run down your face and you start to sniffle uncontrollably.

As you're about to cut the vein you hear a loud knock on the door, "[name]? baby are you in there..?" your boyfriend chuuya asks in a quiet voice.

You quickly wipe your tears and panic a bit as you didn't lock the door since you weren't expectinc chuuya to come home this early, "Y-yeah.." you say trying to not sound sad, but knowing chuuya he most likely heard the saddnes in your voice.

"Darling.. is something wrong..?" He asks in a conserned voice, "i'm just.. washing my hair" you try to come up with an exuse while your whole body is shaking. "Darling, you washed your hair yestarday tho? are you really okay in there..?"

'Damn i forgot about that' you think while trying to find a place to hide the razor. While you panic you some how bump into the soaps and knock them down making a loud noise. "Baby are you okay? i'm coming in" he says and opens the door, "NO WAIT!" but before you can stop him, he has already opened the door and seen your cuts.

.....

After a few moments of silence and staring at each other, chuuya finally makes a move closer to you.

"...Chuuya.. please i'm sorr-.." You try to explain but your voice starts to shake and you feel a lump in your throat. "...shh.." He quitelly walks closer to you and wipes the small tears that have started to for in your eyes.

"...I'm so sorry.. i k-know i said i'd.. try to stay clean for you.. i tried my best.. i swear.. i'm sorry.. please.. p-please don't get mad.." You sob as more and more tears start falling from your eyes. Your vision is starting to blur from all the tears, so much so that you can't even see chuuya anymore.

"....shh... darling.. i would never be mad at you.. what could ever make you think that..? i understand how hard it is to recover from something like this.." He whispers into your ear while holding you close, not even caring about the blood staining his clothes.

All you can do is cry and cry, you cant even manage to answer his question, all that came out if your mouth were pityfull sobs and 'i'm so sorry'. Chuuyas shoulder was becoming wet form all the tears but he didn't mind, he would do anything just so that you could feel better.

After some time of Chuuya trying to comfort you and trying to get you to tell what happened, did you finally calm down slightly, just enough for you to able to answer his questions.

....

Chuuya starts washing your cuts gently, you both sit there in silence with the only sound beinf your small sniffles and some small choked sobs.

After a few seconds chuuya decides to break the slience, "..Darling, please.. what happened that made you relapce..?" he asks with a gentle tone while holding your shaking hands in his. For a moment you stay slient, wiping your tears. "...i... i-i've...", you say in a shaky voice trying to break out into a crying mess again. Right at this moment you didn't know what to say, you really didn't know how to say what made you do it.

"...take your time..", Chuuya's soft voice snaps you out of your trance, you feel his thumbs rubbing on top of your hands in a comforting way.

"...its hard to say.... i-i don't know how to put it into words..", you whisper, hoping chuuya wouldn't be mad. You're scared he'll be mad at your answer, scared he'll force you to talk, force you like your mother would always do. You remember the first time you relapsed she got mad and forced you to talk, even when you were crying.

"..thats fine.. its not always easy to put something like this into words.." Chuuya caressed your back in a comforting way, making you want to just cry, cry so hard and let everything out, everything that has been bothering you, all your worries and troubles. You felt so comfortable in his arms, like you were safe. "would writing it help?", he asks and runs his fingers through your hair.

You burry your face in his neck and nod, feeling him pick you up and carry you over to your bedroom. He gently puts you on the bed and you slightly whine from the stinging pain that came from your cuts, holding back your tears. '..i'm sucha an idiot..' you think while watching chuuya leave the room to go get paper.

....

Chuuya comes back after some time with a piece of paper and a pen. He gives you the stuff and sits down next to you while waiting for you to write on the paper.

You sit there for a second before starting to write about how you've been feeling really insecure about yourself and thinking that you arent enough for him and that he should be with someone else. Once you're done writing you hesitate to give the paper back to chuuya for a bit, but you decide to just do it.

Once its in Chuuyas hands, you look away embaressed about the thngs you wrote, hoping he wouldn't judge you for it.

After a bit of silence, chuuya finally says something, "Darling.. why didn't you tell me..? i could've helped you feel better.." He says quietly and you just look down ashamed feeling like everything is your fult. You knew you should have told him, maybe then you wouldn't be in so much pain at the moment.

You felt like you were about to cry again, you felt weak. You just wanted to lay down and forget about the world around you.

"...i was scared.. i'i was so scared you'd be mad at me..." Your voice breaks as you try to explain everything to him. Chuuya sit there with you in his arms listening to you with a worried look on his face.

"...darling i would never hate you.. you're the most important person in my life, i would never be mad at you for relapcing.." He says while stroking your hair and rocking back and forth slowly. you hug him tight, like your scared he'll be gonne once you let go of him.

For the rest of the night chuuya keeps you in his arms while he comforts you and tells you how much he loves you.

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Grr the end was rushed 😓😓

Anyways, pleae give me some feedback, it really helps me when people tell me what i should try to be better at.

Do not repost this on any other website without asking me first and giving me credit!!

Requests: Closed for now

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 10: How Did It End Up Like This?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter ten of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: References to sex, Kind of depressing, Cursing, Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, this one is really sad y'all, like REALLY sad, I'm serious this one is really sad.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

**********************************************

1980

“Ben, stop.” You shout.

“Move damn it!” Ben’s eyes blaze a dark green sending a tremor down your spine, but you don’t budge.

“No.”

“Get the fuck out of my way.” He snarls louder.

You stand defiantly in front of him, where he towers over you, eyes narrowed, and shoulders tensed. His broad shoulders block the fluorescent lights that hang overhead and illuminate the gym, dramatizing his imposing figure.

“I’m not going to. So you’re either going to have to move me yourself or you can go cool off.” Your retort your voice icy.

The heat from Ben’s anger vibrated through the air between you, but you weren’t going to move. Not when he was being ridiculous.

Noir was angry, angry that Ben took a movie role that he wanted. In hindsight you also thought it was ridiculous that Ben needed to star in all the movies. He was already America’s First Superhero and the Golden Boy and America’s Sweetheart, but it wasn't enough for him for some reason. You often thought his obsession with fame had something to do with his dad. Ben had a lot of problems when it came to his father, all of which made Ben compensate other ways, such as, feeling the need to be in charge, feeling the need to be loved and accepted by others he didn’t know, being unable to express his emotions, and the current problem which was feeling the need to claim the dominant role as most popular superhero.

Aka when he turned into Captain Toxic Masculinity.

Honestly, you were exhausted. All of this was exhausting. Ben was exhausting. As someone who’d loved him this long you couldn’t help but see the shift from the boy you used to know into something unrecognizable. Occasionally you could see Ben, the old Ben, your Ben, who laughed with you, but those moments were few and certainly didn’t happen in public.

You shoulders tense with the force of your own anger and frustration, standing tall between Ben and Noir who lays on the ground behind you. Noir hadn't made an effort to get up, still stunned from the blows he took from Ben. The first few punches you hadn’t stopped, but it was when Ben felt the need to continue despite Noir’s pleas to stop that you had to step in.

You didn’t know where that came from, Ben’s need to beat people who were conceding. When he was younger you'd seen Ben get in a fight before, but those few times he hadn't continued to beat the other person when they gave up. The smell of whiskey and reefer floats off his clothes and you wonder how much he’s had to drink. Ben had two moods when he was drunk angry or clingy, and right now the anger was winning. You could hear the mad pump of his blood through his body and you wonder what else he might have taken today.

Because whiskey and reefer isn't enough? If he wasn't so damn indestructible he'd probably be dead from overdose.

Ben’s lip is curled back in a sneer, eyes flashing from where Noir lays on the ground then back to you. You know that he's ten seconds away from ripping Noir in half, and that's why you don't move. Noir didn't deserve that.

The way Ben's eyes burn through the space between you is hauntingly familiar as the memory of the night you hid Ben from his father settled over your mind. You fight the shudder at the comparison.

Ben wasn’t anything like his father. The thought is immediate, but then the memory of the past forty years begins to settle over your mind. Or maybe he was.

“Fucking pussy. Having a woman stand up for you.” Ben snaps at Noir.

Ben leans around you to spit at him, then raises his gaze back to you one more time before he stomps off, slamming the door of the gym so hard that it breaks the glass.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. Everyone on Payback was watching you like you were crazy and you partly were. Getting in between Ben and someone else was beyond stupid. It wasn’t the first time, but you knew that you were the only person that could do it. If Countess or Gunpowder had stepped in Ben would not have relented. It had to be you. It always had to be you.

And you hated the weight of that burden on your shoulders.

You turn towards Noir, holding out a hand to help him up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He sighs taking it . “You didn’t have to do that.”

“He’s just being… well. Him.” You mutter.

You hated that this was the new harsh reality, the new Ben that was born when he took the serum and became America’s First Superhero.

“It was incredibly stupid.” Countess sniffs from where she stands with the TNT Twins. Gunpowder is leaning back against the outer ring with Mindstorm who stares unblinkingly at you.

“Well, guess I took a page out of your book then.” You say, narrowing your eyes at her.

You couldn’t stand her. Ever since she joined Payback all she’d done was try to catch Ben’s eye and get between the two of you, but he never gave her the time of day. She had quickly won the favor of everyone else on Payback, which only made you even more angry because it always seemed like you were the odd one out wherever you went.

Countess only sneers back in response, flipping her red hair over her shoulders. Despite Ben's exit the tension in the room is almost choking. Your so-called team was watching you with unreadable expressions and you suddenly got the impression that you were trespassing or interrupting. It had happened before, when you came to a training session early and you walked in on the rest of the team, sans Ben, talking in hushed tones and they immediately broke apart when you appeared.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that despite the fact you stood between Ben and Noir, the rest of the team still didn’t like having you there. Probably because they associated you with Ben. It made you uneasy.

Because despite Stan’s efforts to keep you all together Ben's continuous outbursts drove you all further and further apart. And you worried what would happen the day when the shoe finally dropped.

*************************************

One look at the clock on your wall showed that it was almost one in the morning, but you weren't tired. All you could think about is what almost happened to Noir. It wasn't that you particularly liked anyone on Payback other than Ben, honestly the whole superhero thing was getting tedious and you had considered more than once getting out.

But you couldn't. Sometimes you felt responsible for Ben, like you were the only thing keeping him on the straight and narrow. Of course every single damn day that road was getting narrower and narrower and now it was more like a balance beam than a two way street.

Ben's new outlook on life that revolved around drugs, women, more drugs, and more women didn't make it easier.

You frown at your sketchpad remembering when Ben founded Herogasm. You'd gone the first time, regretted walking through the door, stayed ten minutes, and then left.

Sex without feelings never appealed to you, but that wasn't why you left, it was watching Ben with other women that hurt you. You could barely get through it when he mentioned something in passing, but watching him there with them made you uncontrollably angry and not to mention frustrated. You didn't understand him, couldn't understand why Ben was different around you. Didn't know why whenever you were alone he would give you hope, just to take it all away again.

How could so much change? How could everything go to shit so quickly?

You think of all the years that followed the night that Ben asked you to come with him, how you thought that Ben was telling you that he loved you in his own way. But he didn’t. You were realizing that now, as painful as it was to admit to yourself, Ben only saw you as a friend, would only ever see you as a friend.

When you decided to come with him you thought that the change would be your friendship into something else, but it never came, the only thing that changed was Ben.

A loud banging at your door makes your entire apartment shudder and pulls you out of your memories of the past.

There's only one person who can do that.

Your home was a small two-bedroom apartment in New York City, but you loved it. It was quaint and comfortable and each time you came home you felt relaxed because you were able to shut out the life you lived everyday. The small kitchen was barely big enough for two people to stand in, but it made it more intimate and cozy. The living room had a soft leather couch, but no tv despite Ben’s complaints that you should get one. He hated that you couldn’t watch his films when he came over. You liked listening to music more anyway. Your collection of vinyl lined the living room wall in clean bookcases next to a small record player. The spare bedroom served as your studio, not that you were trying to sell your art, but because you needed a place to exist where you weren't a supe and where you weren't in love with Ben. There were stacks of sketchbooks in the studio closet from when you were a child, but you couldn't bear to get rid of them. Sometimes you imagined living here with Ben, cooking in the small kitchen while he read the newspaper, lounging on the couch and listening to music together, and falling asleep on his chest with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

You sigh, pushing away the warmth of the thought, and wave your hand to telekinetically unlock the front door behind you. The familiar purple glow from your abilities fills the apartment. Ben had a key, but you figured he just wanted to make an entrance.

Always the drama queen.

“Got anything to drink?” He asks as he enters the living room.

You glance over the back of the couch to look at him. He's more casually dressed now, wearing a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt the same color of his suit.

“What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d stop by, see if you’re still pissed.”

“As I recall it was you that was pissed.” You roll your eyes at him.

“Only because you were getting in my way Sweetheart” The way he says your nickname is harsh and mocking, so different than the way the old Ben used to say it. When it sounded genuine, caring, almost special.

“Because you were about to rip Noir apart!” You gesture with the pencil in your hand, snapping your sketchpad shut.

“That pussy deserved it. Thinking he was better than me. I’m fucking Soldier Boy and he’s nothing more than a-“ Ben scoffs rolling his eyes.

“Ben I can’t do this if you’re gonna be like this right now.” You interrupt pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingertips, still annoyed from earlier. You hated that he did that, when he made you feel like his babysitter, when he made you feel like you had to make apologies for him.

“Like what?”

“High, drunk, acting crazy-“

“I’m not acting fucking crazy!” He snaps.

“Ben-“ You begin with a sigh.

“Fine.” He spits. “We don’t have to fucking talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.” You wave a hand haphazardly towards the kitchen. “There should be some whiskey in there somewhere. Though I don’t think you need anything else to drink.” Your nose wrinkles as you inhale, the smell of stale alcohol wafting back, followed by the unmistakable scent of perfume and sweat.

The super senses really sucked sometimes. Smelling the women that Ben had sex with was an unfortunate skill you had acquired.

“Fuck off.” He rolls his eyes, but waits for a minute eyeing you. “You’re not going to get it for me?”

You ignore his sharp tone and turn back to your sketchpad. “Nope. I don’t want to enable you.”

Ben stomps into your kitchen. It's immediately followed by the loud banging of him searching the cabinets for booze.

He should know where it is, spends enough time here.

“If you break anything, you’re going to fix it.” You shout opening your sketchbook back to the page you were on. You were drawing the Philadelphia of your youth, the familiar streets, the cars, and the women dressed in beautiful outfits.

“My hands are better suited for other things Sweetheart.” You hear him mutter under his breath and you try not to snap your pencil in half. His taunt made you think about Herogasm and the scent of perfume on his skin, and that was the last thing you wanted to think about.

Ben comes back and slumps onto the couch beside you, a large whiskey gripped in his hand. He sighs loudly to get your attention when you don't look up from your drawing.

"Alright, what is it?” You ask continuing to draw.

"Nothing.” He grumbles drinking from his glass.

“Ben, I’ve known you for over fifty years I can tell when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Well I doubt it’s over what you said or did to Noir today. So what is it? What are you not upset about?”

"I just thought it would be different." Ben swirls the glass in his hands.

"What?"

"Being on Payback."

"What do you mean?" You continue to sketch the shape of a woman walking down the streets.

"When I first started doing all this fucking superhero shit it was different. Felt like I was promoting something, now it kinda feels like I’m just here. And no one respects me.”

“They’re not going to respect you if you keep threatening them and beating up whoever pisses you off.” You mutter.

“They might.” He snaps.

They won't.

"Well the way things are going with Russia I’m sure there will be another war." You sigh, thinking about the recent newspaper headlines. Everything was devoted to the Cold War, everyone was afraid of what Russia was doing or what they were planning. Stan Edgar and Legend were talking about some Anti-Communist campaign videos and posters that they wanted you to pose for, but you weren't sure you wanted to.

"You think so?" He sounds optimistic.

"I’m not gonna hope for one, but probably. I get it though. You’re doing all those movies and premieres and photo shoots, it doesn't feel real."

It was exactly how you felt. You felt that all this supe shit was coming to a head and what did you have to show for it? A few pictures of you holding up a car or a painted caricature of you on the side of a jet or a short film with stupid prerecorded lines that made no sense and even more ridiculous outfits that Legend tried to get you to wear. When you got the serum with Ben you thought you’d be contributing something to society, but no. It was just like when you were a child, dressed up like a China doll, made to be looked at but never used.

"I like those movies."

"I’ve noticed." You breathe remembering earlier when Ben almost killed Noir over the movie role.

Noir technically started that, but Ben just took it way too far.

"What about you?"

The question catches you off guard. “What about me?”

"You haven’t done any movies lately. Legend said that you turned down a few films." Ben takes a swig from the glass in his hand.

"Aren’t you afraid that I’ll steal some of your thunder Soldier Boy?” Your taunt. “Because I already saw what you tried to do to Noir today. And I’d rather you not beat me to a pulp-“

“You’re not like Noir. You’re different.”

“Mhmm. Sure.” You sigh rolling your eyes at him.

Ben sits there for a minute. You can feel his gaze on you. “I’d never hurt you y/n.”

The softer cadence of his voice makes you pause your pencil against the page. You knew it was true. Even when Ben was pissed off it was the line he never crossed. Ben never touched you when he was angry, but it never made it any easier to deal with him.

“Hey.” Ben whispers to get your attention, but you continue to look down at your paper. “Look at me.” His thumb comes under you chin to lift your eyes to his.

“You know that right?” Ben’s gaze is soft, you hadn’t expected it to be given the way he entered you apartment and his sullen mood. “You know that I’d never hurt you?”

The look in his eyes makes your throat tight, makes you see the Ben you used to know, who promised to look out for you and who promised to be strong for the both of you. And it hurts more than you thought it would, because you weren't sure that boy was still there.

“Yeah. I know.” You nod, but you don’t smile. You knew it was what he wanted to hear. “You’ve been talking to Legend about me?” You say to make the warm feeling of his touch fade.

He shrugs satisfied with your response, the softness fading from his eyes as he drops his hand. “I was worried.”

You fold your legs up under you. “I don’t know, I didn't love any of the scripts. And I’ve been thinking about getting out. I’ve been doing this so long-"

It was the first time you'd said it aloud to Ben. You'd mentioned it once to Legend and then made sure he never said anything about it. You weren't sure how Ben would react to you leaving.

"What?" Ben's eyes widen in surprise.

"Come on Ben, you’re telling me that you don’t want to have a normal life? Meet someone, have some kids, settle down? We’ve been doing this shit for years. Doesn’t get any easier."

"Sometimes.” He smirks at you. “So who’s the guy?”

“What?” You raise your eyebrows in confusion.

“The guy you’re going to settle down with.”

“What makes you assume that I’ve met him?”

“I mean, I’ve never seen you with anyone. And I’ve never walked in on you fucking anyone. Plus, you never come to Herogasm-“ Ben pauses. “It’s not Noir is it? Is that why you were protecting him today?”

“No.” You scoff, shading the side of a building to avoid his gaze, because how do you tell him that you met the only person you’d ever wanted when you were 8 years old?

“Good.” Ben drinks from his glass. “I do think about it sometimes.” He says it quietly.

“Huh?”

“The house, having a few rugrats.” He shrugs. “Might be nice.”

“Yeah.” Your throat is tight imagining Ben with someone else like Countess, sitting at his wedding, watching him say those vows to someone else. You didn't think you'd be able to just sit there if it came to that.

“How about you and I get married?” He says it nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean it. He was just saying it to joke with you like always. Ben never saw you that way, you were realizing that more and more each day, even though it hurt to think it.

“We’d kill each other before we say I do.” You quip staring down at the page.

“Maybe. But really, we’ve known each other long enough-“

“That’s not a reason to get married. Plus, we both know that you’re not a one woman kind of guy and if you're actually being serious about this it would mean that you would have to change-“

You think about it. If Ben actually did want to commit, could he do it? His wandering eyes and hands would drive you crazy if he finally did want to start a relationship. You definitely did not want an open relationship. You wanted Ben to be wholly yours as much as you would be his, because you knew that if you devoted yourself to Ben, he would probably cheat, but then be furious if you spent any amount of time with someone else. You remembered all the ways he acted around Howard. Ben was crazy around him, and you and Ben hadn’t been together.

Imagine what he would do to someone else if we were.

“I can be a one woman kind of guy-“ Ben scoffs. “I can do anything.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” You mutter, but you know he can hear you.

Ben puts down his glass on your coffee table before his hand lays on top of yours against the sketchpad in you lap.

“Y/n.” He whispers. You can smell the whiskey on his breath, but you don’t look up at him, you can’t. Because you know as soon as you look into his eyes you’ll do whatever he wants.

But you didn’t want to be his consolation prize. You didn’t want Ben to marry you because he was bored, drunk, and he thought he might as well marry you. You wanted Ben to marry you because he was 100% head over heels for you as much as you were for him.

He tilts your chin upwards to look at him. Electricity thrums in your veins when you lock eyes, the look in his gaze is open, gentle, almost tender.

It reminds you of the boy you used to know. Lately you hadn’t seen him. If you were being honest, you hadn’t seen him much since the night he came to ask you to come with him, before the serum, when you thought he finally realized that he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

The only time you’d see the real Ben was when it was just the two of you, not the angry, macho, vengeful fighter for justice that he put on whenever he was in front of the team or in front of the cameras. You didn’t understand that. He said that showing emotions made him less of a man, but he never seemed to have a problem being different when it was just the two of you.

You hated that. In those quiet moments you felt your heart clench tight in your chest because each time you thought that he would finally admit that he loved you, that after all these years you were the one.

But he never did.

“I could change.” Ben whispers. “I could be with one woman.”

“Ben.” You take in a deep breath to clear your head, fighting the ball of emotion that has begun to burn at the back of your throat. “You’re drunk.” You breathe.

He blinks a few times as if he can’t comprehend what you're saying.

“You always get like this when you’re drunk. You know?” You pull back from where his hand rests on your chin. “But you can stay if you want. There’s some pizza in the fridge and I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed.” You stand and step around him, the urge to cry building in your chest.

“Okay.” Ben whispers to the air, because you're already gone, fleeing down the hallway before he can see you cry.

When you step into the shower you allow yourself to break. The soft sobs drowned out by the sound of running water. You wished you could move past this, all of this and more importantly you wished that you hadn’t fallen in love with him.

Memories of the past lodge themselves in the back of your throat. You remember the day he begged you to come with him to get the Compound V injection, when you left your life behind and chose him. You thought that was his way of saying he loved you, that he couldn’t live without you. You were wrong. It hurt to admit that, but you were wrong. Ben didn’t try to build on the relationship you had, he kept it the same, the friendly banter, the hugs, hanging around with you whenever he couldn’t stand to be alone. He still slept over, but that’s all that happened. You thought that day meant something, that it was the beginning of something, some wonderful romanticized future filled with warmth and love.

You never thought it would be like this.

You didn’t regret going with him often, but on nights like this when it was late and Ben was drunk and he acted differently you did. Because it made you think that there was a chance of a future with him, but then when he woke up the next day sober, it started all over again with him being short tempered and a dick to everyone who was around him.

It was exhausting. And you didn’t know how much more of it you could take.

The only thing you regretted about the serum was that it made you immortal, invulnerable, and that meant whoever you decided to make a life with would die. There was only a handful of others like you and you hadn’t liked any of them except Ben. You wondered if this was your penance for saying no to Howard, your mother's last laugh when she said that Ben would never choose you and now you had to go on like this forever.

You remember the fear that you would be trapped in a marriage with Howard, you never thought that you'd feel trapped with Ben.

But now…

When you walk back into your bedroom, Ben’s already in your bed, laying on his back, smoking a blunt and looking at the ceiling. He's wearing a pair of sweatpants, that you bought him forever ago so he didn't have to sleep in his jeans, and the same t-shirt as before.

“What did I say about smoking those in here?” You sigh, getting into bed beside him, but being careful as to not touch even though it’s all you want.

“It’s a free country doll.” Ben mutters, but he puts it out in the ashtray that you left for him on the bedside table. Because you knew that he would continue to do it even when you told him not to.

The amount of times he ended up here at night always surprised you. Ben might have been bed hopping, snorting, and drinking himself into a stupor but the amount of times you woke up with him in bed next to you was astounding. He’d let himself in with the key you made him for emergencies while you were asleep. It was almost like he didn’t sleep in his apartment anymore and you hated how much you depended on him being there in the morning when you woke up. But the truth was, Ben was all you had, and the thought of losing him scared you. Which meant you continued to put up with the man he became, trying to hold tight to the image of the boy he used to be.

You lay on your back beside him, looking up at the ceiling. The inch of space between your bodies is almost too obvious. “I’m going to go to Philadelphia for a few days.” You breathe.

“Why?”

“My brother isn’t doing too well. His son called.” You say, your throat thick. “He said he thinks that it’s time.”

Your parents had passed a few years ago and Ben had gone to the funerals with you. When Ben’s father had passed, he hadn’t gone to the funeral, he’d drowned himself in the 21st annual Herogasm. And after he showed up on your doorstep smelling like sweat, drugs, booze, and cheap perfume. You’d made him take a shower before getting into bed. The next morning you had woken up in his arms, but more surprising was the fact that he had woken up before you and hadn't pushed you away, in fact he had held you closer to him. You figured that he needed someone there with him. His father had done and said horrible things to Ben, and you kept him company if that’s what he wanted, but couldn’t admit it.

“I’m sorry.” His hand finds yours on the bed. The gesture surprises you.

“Yeah. But that’s the way it is now, I guess.” You whisper, squeezing it.

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t age. Everyone else does. Means that we’ll always just see everyone else go.”

“But not us.” Ben says it like he’s trying to cheer you up.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

Does that mean it’s always going to be like this? Me waiting for him to come here after a 24 hour non stop orgy or after he’s had one two many? Just because he can’t stand the thought of being alone?

You didn’t want that future. You knew that he wanted to be there with you, but it wasn’t enough and it wasn’t the same thing you wanted.

Maybe getting out of this would be good. Put some distance between me and him, let me try to find me again.

Ben is quiet for a minute, the only sound you hear is the thrum of the blood in his veins and his heart steadily pumping it.

“Do you want me to come?” He says it slowly, his thumb rubs against the back of your hand in a soothing motion.

The question breaks something inside of you, because you wanted nothing more than to have him there with you, but you didn’t want the version of Ben who was Soldier Boy, the loud, angry, short tempered version who was always high or drunk. The one that you felt that you needed to apologize for.

“Nah. It’ll be okay. I’ll get to see my great nephew. He’s supposed to be walking now.” You try to force cheeriness into your tone, but it doesn’t stick.

“Okay.”

You can’t help but wonder if Ben is hurt by your rejection. You did not often say no to him.

He doesn’t let go of your hand though, in fact he brings it up against his chest while he looks at the ceiling.

"Do you regret it?” Ben says in almost a whisper

"Hmm?”

“Coming with me.”

You pause for a second and think about lying, but finally settle on the truth. “Sometimes."

"Why?” Ben's voice rumbles against where your hand lays against his chest, and for a second you think he sounds almost pained.

"We’ve changed so much than who we were back then. Sometimes I don’t recognize myself.”

You didn’t want to say that it was him you didn’t recognize. Or that it always felt that you were running after the boy he used to be. The one that made you feel safe, comforted, made it feel like home.

"I don’t think change is a bad thing."

Of course you don't.

"It is if it’s in the wrong direction.” You whisper, but know he can hear you.

“So that’s why you want out? Because you don’t recognize yourself? Seems like a shitty reason."

“I just think it might be nice to try something new. I’ve been doing this for such a long time-“

“That’s why the films would be a good idea. If you want I can talk to the director about you being a co-star in the one we start filming next week. He won't say no to me-“ It was the closest you’d ever heard him come to pleading, besides the night he asked you to come with him to get the serum.

But why? Was it his way of keeping me with him? Was it because he didn’t want me to leave because he wanted me here? Or was it because he just wanted someone there to sit with when the silence was too much? The silence that seems to follow when he's not with me.

“Ben I’m okay. It’s okay I just want something different.”

“Like what?” You hand is still clutched in his where it rests over his chest and you can't help but wonder why. It was surprising. Sure Ben tolerated the occasional hug, but holding your hand for this long was unusual. You attributed it to the booze. When Ben got drunk he tended to be more clingy, he never admitted that, but you saw it.

“I don’t know. I just want a family again-“

“You have a family. You said you’re going to see your great nephew-" Ben says it like he doesn't want you to leave and it breaks something inside you.

How can he not admit that he cares about me? That he loves me? He has to after all these years doesn't he?

“I know. I mean I want a family. Someone to come home to every night, someone I love, someone who loves me-“ You fight to keep the frustrated tears from falling. The dream of him and you inhabiting your apartment together washes back over your mind in shades of gray. You wanted that so badly.

“Oh.”

“You don’t want that?” It’s taking everything for you not to tell Ben that you want it to be him, that you always wanted it to be him.

“Maybe.”

The silence grows between the two of you as you lay there and Ben still hasn't let go of your hand.

“Did you want to marry him?” He says after a few minutes.

“What?” You look at him confused. Ben isn't looking at the ceiling like you thought, he's looking at you. He almost looks, sorry. And you wonder again how much he's had to drink.

“That asshole." He clarifies.

"Howard?"

"Yeah."

“It’s been 40 years-“ You sigh as if it doesn’t matter. But it does. You chose Ben that night and you thought that him asking you to come with him meant that he was choosing you as well.

“Come on.” Ben squeezes the hand that rests against his chest.

“Why does it matter?"

“Because you’re saying you wanted a family. Someone to come home to and that pussy would have given it to you.”

You pause for a second trying to read his expression. “I like the idea of marriage. Of saying those vows to someone else.” You say slowly. “But I didn’t want to say them to Howard.” You don’t say that you wanted to say them to Ben, don’t say that the night he told you not to marry Howard you thought he was trying to tell you that he wanted to marry you instead.

“So you want to say them to someone?”

“Yeah. One day.” You frown, turning back to look at the ceiling. “You never want to say them to someone?”

Ben doesn’t answer immediately. “Maybe.”

Probably Liberty.

You sigh to yourself thinking about one of your least favorite supes that you’d come across. She wasn’t terrible, just pushy and into supes being united together. You also didn’t like that she felt that supes deserved to be worshiped, that supes were gods, but you knew you weren't. The powers were not random, the gifts were not given by God, they were given by the devil and all those deals came with a price. Even if you tired to walk away, you wondered if Vought would let you go. You also hated how much time Ben spent with her.

The thought of her leaves a bad taste in your mouth, and despite how good it feels, you pull your hand free from Ben's grasp and turn your back to him, cuddling into your pillow. Your grip is so tight on fluffy material you wonder how it hasn't ripped, but you need to stop talking to him. Talking to him when he was like this made it harder and right now it was taking everything not to cry again.

And you were just so tired of everything. You wondered if one day it would be different.

“Goodnight Ben.” You whisper.

“Goodnight.”

And just as you drift into a dreamless sleep, you think you feel him put his arm around your waist and pull your back into his chest, but when you wake up the next day you forget and Ben is gone.

*************************************************

n/a: Yeah, this chapter is really sad. And I wish that I could say it gets better, but honestly, it's gonna get a lot worse before it gets better. 😭😭😭

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist, please let me know :)

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badgerbl00d · 1 year

Text

one piece boys confessing their feelings

☆ characters: zoro, mihawk

☆ up next: what are we? (law x reader)

☆ a/n: my two favorite swordsmen.. i didn't realize how much i missed writing for zoro so definitely expect more marimo content in upcoming posts. enjoy lovelies!

zoro

“Let’s go fishing, Usopp,” Luffy laughed, “Oi! Zoro! Wanna fish with us? I heard there’s Sea Kings in these waters!”

Zoro waved a hand in Luffy’s direction to dissent, though he wasn’t really paying attention to anything happening around him.

A third bottle of beer found its way into the hands of the scarred swordsman, and was happily chugged within seconds.

His head was buzzing, though not from alcohol.

He was nervous.

He wiped his sweaty palms against his shirt for the umpteenth time that night, trying to work up a sense of courage.

To his satisfaction, no one else had seemed to notice his behavior,

You were flipping through a magazine with Nami, suntanning in the tiniest bikini he’d ever seen.

He couldn’t think straight when you were around and he really needed to- now more than ever.

For weeks now he’d been trying to think of how to admit his feelings to you- a harder feat for him than most.

To completely let down every wall he’d spent years and years building up for even just a moment or two of vulnerability.

He’d come close to telling you several times already, and he was pretty sure he might have let something slip before when he was drunk, leading to more than one awkward morning after. He’d avoid you, beat himself up over it, get drunk again that night to forget anything ever happened, and repeat the night before.

It was a disaster.

“You know,” Sanji had said one particularly awkward morning after- more to himself than Zoro, “You’d have a better shot if you didn’t ignore her completely the morning after a horrendously drunk and half-assed confession.”

Zoro had ignored him and stormed out to cut something in half but his advice- if you could call it that- stuck with him.

So here he was now, looking for a quiet place so he could rehearse what he was going to say.

What did he want to say? He paced back and forth, muttering lines he’d written down from movies or famous love quotes.

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more,” he’d tried, turning towards a mirror to see how he looked.

Absolutely not. You’d definitely read that book.

“You have bewitched me body and soul- No. No way, I’m not saying that.”

He crushed the piece of paper in his fist and opted to take a nap and have a drink, failproof support systems that had yet to fail him.

“I don’t know, Nami,” you said, “I mean he’s been drunk every single time and it’s starting to really piss me off.

It’s like… every time I’m stupid enough to believe it! Even though I know he’s drunk he gets so sincere for a moment or two and says stuff like ‘You're really beautiful you know that?’ or ‘I feel… a connection with you’. And I’m dumb enough to believe it every damn time.”

“And then he ignores you the next day and pretends nothing happened.”

“Yeah. It’s so weird though, ‘cause I swear- it’s like he gets possessed by rationality and calm in the midst of being a drunken idiot and he says these things with such intent! It’s jarring. I mean he goes from a moron to a Jane Austen romantic hero. What the hell is that?”

“I mean, no offense,” Nami started, your stomach churned with dread before she could even continue, “But maybe he’s just.. you know, trying to hook up. Drop some half assed compliments and hope that’s enough to get him laid.”

An uncomfortable feeling of sadness swallowed you whole. You sighed, taking a sip of your drink.

“I know. I don’t think he’s lying about the attraction, but it would save me a lot of grief if he was just straightforward. That way I could just hook up with him and get it over with.”

Nami laughed, “Gross! You know he showers like once a week right?”

“I can fix him,” you said, laughing with her.

The boys had caught a mountain of fish and sea creatures, so Sanji had promised you all a feast.

Brook had started playing before the sun had set and Robin and Franky were dancing.

You played some beer pong with Luffy and Usopp, while Nami helped Sanji in the kitchen.

You loved nights like these, but as much as you wanted to enjoy yourself you knew that with parties and fun came booze.

And with booze came a certain drunken swordsman promising you sweet nothings.

You tried to focus on the game but were getting badly beat.

You walked into the kitchen to sit with Nami who was sipping on a piña colada, special treatment from Sanji, of course.

“Make me one too Sanji-kun! Please,” you asked.

He gladly obliged.

The three of you talked and laughed while Sanji cooked, enjoying the music and sight of the younger boys playing with Chopper.

The kitchen door swung open and in walked Zoro, who had been very clearly napping. His hair was matted in some places and his eyes still carried the sag of someone who’d been involuntarily woken up from a nap.

“Smelled food,” he said, rubbing his eyes.

You finished your drink and got up out of your seat.

“Leaving, Y/n?” Sanji asked.

Zoro turned to look at you, like he was about to say something.

“Uh, yeah, I’m gonna go read for a bit. Thank you for the food!”

Nami shot you a sympathetic look and waved bye to you.

Zoro sighed, not totally oblivious to the timing of his entrance and your departure.

Sanji and Nami glared at him.

He rolled his eyes at them, “I’ll fix it.”

And he walked out to join Luffy.

Amidst the general excitement that had spread itself throughout the crew over the course of the night was Zoro who was making his way toward the crow’s nest, in hopes of finding you.

You were tucked into a corner of the room, reading a book.

Your knees were up on the sofa and you seemed to be nearly asleep.

He felt somewhat guilty interrupting you.

But it was now or never.

He walked in, not saying anything.

You sat up, closing your book.

Your stomach was in a knot.

The swordsman sat next to you, close enough that his knee touched yours.

He was sitting up straighter than usual, and seemed restless, fidgeting with his hands until he finally set his left hand on top of your right one that was resting beside you.

Your eyes widened, you were surprised by this, but didn’t say anything.

“Y/n, can I tell you something? I’ve been meaning to for a while but I- Well, I’ve never done anything like this before so I fucked it up. More than once. So I’m going to fix it right now.”

You nodded hesitantly, caught somewhat off-guard by his unusual behavior.

“I love you.”

Your heart stopped.

Everything around you momentarily stopped as your brain tried to catch up to speed with everything that had just happened.

In an instant you were suddenly hyper-aware of everything- the strong pulse of your heartbeat, the sweat that had gathered on your palms, how you felt suspended in both motion and time as he sat waiting for some kind of response.

But you knew Zoro, and recognized that rosy glow on his cheeks. You knew that when he approached you after midnight with unusual confidence and gusto, on a night when you’d all been celebrating.

How he always sat next to you, closer and closer every time, this time placing his hand on top of yours.

You broke eye contact to look down at your hands.

“I love you, too,” you chose to interpret it as a friendly drunken slip-up, “Make sure you tell everyone else that you love them too, or they’ll get jealous.”

You turned back to your book, trying to ignore the ache in your chest, covering it up with an unconvincing smile.

“No.”

You turned, confused, “N-no?”

“I meant it.”

You didn’t say anything, just stared at him.

“I love you.”

The air around the two of you was completely stagnant, full of tension.

He’d done this before; gotten drunk, been suddenly affectionate and touchy, and then acted completely normal the next day, even ignoring you when you tried to talk to him about it.

You weren’t going to let it happen again.

Scoffing, you brushed him off, moving your hand out from under his.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to ignore the disappointment that had started to spread throughout your body, “Why don’t you get some water? Or bread? But don’t do this to me again.”

You got up and placed your book down, ready to make your way to your room and try and forget anything had happened, like he would.

A hand grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

Zoro stood up behind you and turned you around to face him.

“I’m not drunk,” he started, “Last thing I’d want to do is ruin this with some kind of idiotic drunken rant. I-I want to remember this- I want you to remember this!

Everything about this- how damn cold it is up here, what you’re wearing, what I say to you, how it ends, everything.”

His hands were squeezing your shoulders, and his stare was full of an intensity you couldn’t have reciprocated if you tried.

You’d seen him before in battle- swords drawn, back hunched, and eyes settled onto his victim like a hungry animal.

But this was different, it was vulnerable. He was being weak in front of you.

He took a deep breath.

You had never felt so focused in your life, your eyes were intently set on his and your brows furrowed in concentration as you took in everything about this moment.

“I love you! I love you and- and I don’t mean it the way we say it to each other in battle, or as crewmates.

I hate that! I hate calling you my crewmate, my friend, my companion.

You are!

You are, but I hate that that’s all I can call you.

So I came to you to tell you that I love you.

Entirely.”

He brought his hands down to interlace them with yours.

“I love you,” he said again, this time bending down slightly to level his eyesight with yours.

He looked at you with concern, lips slightly parted.

Your breath was shaky and you had unconsciously grabbed onto his forearms to stabilize yourself while you tried to process what was happening.

You stayed silent, your confusion as evident as his desperation.

Another few moments passed with no words exchanged, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath- waiting for you to say anything.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your mind racing through the millions of different things you wanted to say.

How dare you? Are you serious? I love you too! I never want to talk to you again. I love you too! What happens now?

Zoro’s grip on your shoulders softened and his shoulders sunk. A look of disappointment settled itself onto his stoic features and he let go of you, in a kind of heartbroken acceptance.

He nodded, more to himself than you.

“Goodnight,” he said, walking back out.

“Zoro- Zoro, wait! Wait, please.”

He stopped and turned around- Were those tears in his eyes?

“I love you, too,” you said, in a much calmer tone than expected, “I have since I set foot on this ship, since I first saw you. I love you.”

His eyes widened and he picked you up in his arms, wrapping them around your waist as you sunk into his chest hugging him back with all the force you could muster.

He spun you around, pressing kisses to the top of your head.

You cried into his chest, and felt a tear or two fall onto your forehead when you looked up at him as he finally set you down.

“I thought that- I thought I’d fucked everything up and that-”

Zoro was rambling, his hands holding onto you again, with a grip that reassured you he didn’t want to let go.

You interrupted him by crashing your lips into his, sending him reeling backwards.

He landed on the floor, one arm breaking the fall and the other wrapped around you.

You straddled him and deepened the kiss bringing your hands to rest on his chest as he pulled you closer into his body.

The two of you kissed and kissed, pulling away only when you were desperate for breath, before resuming again.

When you were finally tired enough, you simply sat smiling like idiots at each other.

“I should’ve been honest with you months ago,” Zoro said, bringing a hand up to your face, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek.

You grabbed his forearm, leaning your cheek into his hold.

A smile spread out over your face.

“It’s okay, I knew.”

mihawk

He’d been dreading it for weeks- months, even.

Never in his life did he think that he’d find himself in a position of having to stay on Red Hair’s ship, but here he was. Sat at a table on the deck, an overflowing pint of beer in his hand, and Red Haired pirates laughing and swearing and drinking on all sides of him. And then out of nowhere, there was you.

They told him you’d been part of the crew for 5 months now, a rookie pirate in need of a ship and some stability and had found your way onto the Red Force after winning several games of poker against Shanks.

He’d had an eye on you from the moment you walked out onto the deck, in a pair of deliciously short shorts and a tank top that hugged your curves in the most alluring way he’d ever seen.

You poured yourself a pint and played a game of blackjack with members of the crew whose name’s he didn’t know, or care to know.

He sat with Shanks and the other officers in the crew.

“She’s somethin’, isn’t she?” Shanks asked, laughing as he took note of his friend’s interest in you, much to his evident annoyance.

“I suppose I just didn’t think a woman like that would be on a crew like yours, Red Hair.”

“Neither did we,” Benn chimed in, earning a playful nudge from his captain.

A sudden eruption of noise diverted their attention towards the betting table you were sitting at.

You were smiling, graciously accepting your winnings from your crewmates who were alleging cheating.

“There’s only four jacks in a deck!”

“I saw her hand moving!”

“She was card counting!”

Yasopp laughed and called you over, “Before they start swinging!”

You approached their table, weaving your way toward them through your drunk and rowdy crewmates, before taking a seat next to Mihawk, who was clearly uneasy with your presence.

What was he supposed to do? He felt a strange desire to make a good impression on you, and realized part of him was hoping to form a friendship. His stomach churned at the unusual feeling.

“Didn’t think I’d ever meet a legend like yourself,” you’d said to him, as you extended your hand, “Y/n, pleasure to meet you.

You’re a lot less scary in person! And a lot more handsome.”

You smelled like cherries and whiskey, sweet and addicting.

He took your hand, despite his embarrassment at your compliments and against his better judgment followed up with, “Likewise.”

Shanks whistled, and put his arm around the swordsman’s shoulders, “Never seen you flirt before!”

The table laughed and you asked Benn for a cigarette, bending over to let him light it for you.

“Calm down, Shanks,” you said as you puffed a small cloud of smoke, “No one’s flirting.”

He felt his chest tighten slightly, had you not been flirting? He wasn’t experienced but he figured that you had at least professed some kind of interest.

You turned to look at him and winked.

His chest tightened again.

Lucky had started another card game, and you played as you talked. Mihawk asked about your life before piracy- a story for another time, you’d told him. He talked about details of his life that were unknown even to Shanks- small things like his garden at home, his favorite things to cook, and even certain details of his warlord duties. It was unlike him to share anything with anyone, but the way you stared up at him batting your big doe eyes with a cigarette hanging lazily from your plump glossy lips… he found himself unable to resist the urge to keep you interested in his presence.

The noise of the ship eventually faded into the background, the talking and laughing melting into their own conversations.

Hours passed and eventually music started playing, some other new crew members that had brought their instruments on board with them.

“We finally have some good musicians, don’t we Y/n?” Shanks asked.

“Mhmm,” you replied, looking through your cards barely paying him any attention. You tapped your feet rhythmically against the floor, humming along to the quick paced flamenco melody that was playing.

“Do you dance, swordsman?” you asked, turning to look at Mihawk.

You heard Shanks groan in the background.

“Occasionally.”

You set your cards down, face up, revealing a winning hand. The rest of the table threw their cards down in frustration.

“Will you do me the honors?”

A rare smile settled onto his face. He offered his hand to help you up out of your chair, and you guided him to a more open area on the deck. He placed a hand on your waist, and you took a guilty pleasure in how unyielding his grip was against you. You could feel the pads of each of his fingers holding onto your soft skin, and trailed your hand up to his face, lightly tracing a finger down the side of his neck before resting your hand on his shoulder.

People whistled and clapped.

“Keep up,” you said.

“I’ll try.”

He appreciated your warning, you were like a different person when dancing. The cool, calculated demeanor you adopted when playing cards with your poker face perfected and your breathing steady and even, was completely washed over by a fiery intent to move.

He did struggle to keep up at first, you slipped through his hold like water, your feet moving and landing between and around him like a downpour of rain.

He managed to match your tempo- catch the tail end of your movements and proved a worthy partner, but he didn’t come close to matching your mastery of the art.

By the time the song was finished beads of sweat dripped down his neck, and his heart was pounding loud enough that he could barely hear the cheering coming from the other pirates.

He wanted to give you the credit of wearing someone of his caliber out, he could take on a hundred men and barely increase his heart rate.

This was different though- the beating in his chest, the excitement in his belly, the way his eyes clung to your figure as though attached with string. He couldn’t get enough of you, he inhaled smelling your perfume again.

Another smile settled onto his face, one of satisfaction.

Three week had passed and Mihawk was grabbing the last of his things- a photo of the two of you you’d forced him to take. It was of you pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Shanks lightly knocked on his door.

“Sure you don’t want to stay another week?” he asked, awkwardly standing by the door.

“That’s what you came to ask?”

Shanks rubbed the back of his neck, “No, it’s actually about Y/n.”

This caught his attention.

“What about her?”

“Well,” Shanks walked over to sit on the bed, “I think you should talk to her before you leave, tell her how ya feel.”

“How I… feel? And how exactly do you think I feel?”

“C’mon man, it’s obvious- No offense. The way you two look at each other? You danced with her. In front of people.”

The swordsman scoffed, but didn’t disagree and chose to maintain his silence as he packed the rest of his clothes.

“She likes ya, Hawk-eye. I think you knew that though.

Don’t say anything if you’re gonna hurt her.”

He got up and gave him a friendly pat on the back before heading back out, “We’re headed to a bar right now, so you’ll have the ship to yourself. Take care of her!”

It was unclear whether he was talking about the ship or you.

Mihawk sighed, he adjusted the collar of his loosely fitting white shirt, and set out to find you.

You were in one of the common areas, one of the musicians was showing you how to play the guitar. Plucking at a few strings here and there, you laughed and sang, trying to play a song with your clearly limited ability.

Mihawk stood and watched you for a moment, before clearing his throat.

You turned, smiling when you saw him.

“What do you think? Good enough to dance to?”

He let out a light laugh, “Maybe in ten years.”

You smiled, plucking a few more strings before asking, “What brings you here? Shouldn’t you be packing?”

“I was hoping to speak with you for a moment,” he paused when you stayed put, “Alone.”

Your eyes widened, “Oh! Of course!”

You handed the guitar back to its owner, ignoring the whistles that followed you out of the room.

You took Mihawk’s arm and walked toward the deck, your stomach turning.

You stopped at the railing, leaning over it, trying to take deep breaths of the salty air to calm yourself.

What on Earth could he have to talk to you about? Shanks had promised not to say anything… Could he possibly-

“I’m… very appreciative of your company these past few weeks.

You’re a very intelligent, talented, beautiful woman, and I cannot think of a better companion with whom to have spent my time,” he started, interrupting your train of thought.

You softly smiled, a light breeze dancing around you both.

You said nothing and only looked up at him, unsure of how to pick up from where he left off.

Luckily, he continued, “You… You are a good friend. Of mine, I mean. And I hope that my departure from this ship won’t change our proximity.”

Friend. A dull, warm pain ebbed in your chest.

It wasn’t sharp like a direct rejection would have been, it felt more like a heavy rock had been gently placed right on your heart.

You nodded, looking out toward the ocean when you felt some tears well up in your lash line.

Blinking them away you turned back toward him suddenly emboldened by the memory of how he held you that night when you danced.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but can I ask if you hold me in any higher regard than that of a friend?”

He was silent. Color rushed to his cheeks and he stared down at you. His eyes were undersold in legend. To say they were hypnotizing was a disservice. They were compelling- when you made eye contact with him your entire being longed to be with him.

“I do.”

You exhaled, tension lifting itself from your shoulders.

“I like you, swordsman,” you gently wrapped your hands around his, bringing his hand up to your chest, placing it against the left side, “I’ll miss dancing with you. Please visit. Please don’t forget me.”

In a sudden motion, Mihawk wrapped you into his chest, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders as he pressed you into him.

You wiggled your arms free and quickly reciprocated the hug.

You breathed in a long, long inhale, and as you exhaled sunk even further into him.

“I’ll visit,” he promised, “I’ll write. I’ll call- I’ll think of you always. You’re quite unforgettable, you know?”

You laughed and looked up to him as his hold on you softened.

You inched yourself up onto the tips of your toes, hovering your lips just slightly over his.

A smile creeped onto his face, and his hands dispersed across your body, one grabbing onto your ass- something he’d longed to do since the first moment he saw you. The other hand wrapped around your waist to provide you support.

You brought your hands to the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him toward you.

His lips closed around yours, and you deepened the kiss- pulling him closer into you, your tongues swiping at each other as you closed your eyes and indulged.

You inhaled each other- the taste of wine and mint flooding your mouth, the smell of his cologne overwhelming your senses.

The strong grip he had on your ass was so deliciously indulgent.

You let out a soft moan into his mouth before you pulled away from one another.

He tucked some stray hair behind your ears, and you gently wiped some of your gloss from his bottom lip.

“I’ve been waiting for that for weeks now.”

He picked you up, making his way toward your room, peppering your face and neck with kisses and you laughed and kissed him back.

“Let me make it up to you, hermosa.”

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wanderingsoul6261 · 6 days

Text

Credit for gif goes to esqueciment-o

Title: Heavenly Skies

James beaufort x Reader

Warning: hella sad. Mentions of death.

The entire school could name two people who haven't been there for an entire week.

James Beaufort and Y/N.

Lydia had also been gone for a few days, and she would be seen coming and going with a large workload. But the other two have not been seen.

The entire school as a whole about where the two could have gone. The entire scandal was that maybe they had decided to elope to get away from their families. That they had been stripped from their statuses within their families and were left on their own.

Little did they know, that that was far from the truth.

Reluctantly, James parents had allowed him to stay with Y/N's parents as plans were made. Their parents had allowed an arranged marriage between the two, helping strengthen the connections between the two families. In the meantime, James and Y/N had plenty of time to get to know each other, eventually falling in love.

It was rare amongst arranged marriages, in which both parties felt the same mutually about each other on the topic of love, but the two had made it work.

James was sitting in a study within the manor that belonged prominently to Y/N. Book shelves, filled mostly with classics, lined one of the walls. His head turned to the other wall, where canvases, filled, empty, and half filled, lined the wall and floor. His heart swelled as his eyes traveled over the paintings, taking in the sight of them. Most of them he had seen already, as the two of them had spent alot of time here. He would watch while she painted, often joining in and attempting his own paintings. James wasn't anywhere near as good as she was, but Y/N always told him that he did a fantastic job no matter what.

A smile came to his face as a tear rolled down his cheek, remembering the conversations.

"You did good, James! I swear on it!" Y/N had leaned into his side as they stared at his painting. It was a landscape painting, and for a person of no experience, he did well enough. She her arm around his, her other hand coming up to rest on his bicep.

James had looked down at her, a small smile on his smile.

"I don't know love. It doesn't compare anywhere close to yours." His eyes drifted from her to the paintings surrounding the room. "And yours are astonishing." He said, finally looking back at her. The corner of her mouth quirked up.

"Do you know how many artists out there in which people thought they weren't good enough? And look at where they are at now. Sure, most are dead now. But, I'm just trying to prove my point. It might not look the greatest to you in this moment, but I adore it."

James scoffed. How ironic it was in this moment. His eyes trailed from the floor to the two paintings centered on the wall. It was the two paintings they did that day. He took a few steps close to the wall, his eyes moving over the two paintings, his heart thumping against his ribcage. James lifted his hand, his fingers gingerly tracing over the details of her painting.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, knowing that it was likely either Lydia, telling him about what everyone is saying about him and Y/N at school. Or it was quite possibly Alistair or Cyril, checking in on him.

It didn't matter, because he was ignoring his phone. And he had been all week.

James moved from the wall, never taking his eyes off, as Y/N's mother walked into the room.

"Oh, James. I didn't think you were still here." She said. The exchanged soft smiles as they gazed around the room.

"You feel closest to her here, don't you?" She asked. James let out a heavy sigh, his eyes fluttering as he gazed at the floor.

"I do." He said quietly.

"There isn't anything wrong with it, James. Me and her father sit in her often." James looked up at her, tears swelling in his eyes and in this moment, he decided that he would allow himself the ability to be vulnerable.

"Why her." His voice sounded thick. "Of all the people in the world. Out of everyone on this entire planet. Why Y/N?" He croaked, the tears rolling down his cheeks. Her mother had her own tears rolling down her cheeks. She shrugged, shaking her head.

"We ask ourselves that every night." She said, a sad smile on her face. James took a few staggered steps towards her, before allowing himself to collapse against each other. They hugged each other tightly.

"She loved you James. Don't forget that. And tomorrow, you'll get your chance to tell her how much you love her back." She whispered.

------

James had arrived to the funeral home early with Y/N's parents. Lydia and their parents would be following behind them.

He made a b-line to the casket. There she lay, herself and everything she had been on full display. Tears already began to swell in his eyes as he neared it. He thought he was ready, but with each step he took closer to the casket, the more difficult it became.

Once beside it, he stared down at her. Just as beautiful as the last time he had seen her, which was only about a week and a half prior.

She had met him on the lacrosse field before he started practice. They had bid each other a Goodnight with a kiss to go.

It was only a few hours later that James heard about the accident.

Y/N and her chauffeur were killed in a drunk driving accident.

James put his hands on the edge of the casket, unsure if he would be able to stand on his own.

"Your mother told me you loved me. Always knew you could never resist my charms." He teased quietly. James drew in a shaky breath before swallowing thickly. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes. He glanced down at his feet. James slipped his hand inside the casket, letting it rest on hers currently resting on her stomach.

"I know you know this already." He started, his thumb gently rubbing along the knuckles of one her hands. "But I love you, Y/N. And I always will." James smiled, gazing softly down at her face. Her expression was so peaceful, and it was almost as if nothing happened.

Oh how he hoped that she had only been asleep.

More tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the dress she wore.

"You'll paint some more heavenly scenery for me. Right?" His voice grew thicker, and he drew in a shaky breath. James blinked the tears out his eyes before closing them. He imagined her voice and laughter. It was followed by a gasp, as he started crying.

He leaned over the casket, his hand moving from hers to her face. James pressed his forehead to her own, his tears dripping his cheeks and onto her own.

He was suddenly aware of others in the room, and he had only expected her and his parents to have filed in. Were his parents really there for him. Or were they only there to save face? He rubbed his thumb gently on her cheek.

"Nothing at Maxton Hall could have prepared me for this." He said quietly. "Nothing could have prepared me for losing you. My heaven here on earth." James eyes drifted across her face, just hoping that it was a sick joke and she would open her eyes right then and there. That she would wrap her arms around him in that moment and console him, telling him that everything would be okay. He wanted everything to be okay. "Y/N. The one good thing I truly believed in." He brushed his lips against hers.

"You will continue to be that one good thing in my life. No matter where you are." He said softly, sniffling quietly. James stood upright, never taking his eyes off of her.

"I love you, Y/N. Paint the skies for me."

------

Taglist:

@honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @imasimptoowth @wheredidmyeyesgo

#james beaufort x reader #james beaufort #maxton hall

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