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wheresfury · 8 months

Text

Use Me

~Pairings: Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix

~Warnings: cheating, a little bit of mommy kink, choking, f/f oral sex, vaginal fingering, marking, grinding, dirty talk, drinking, smoking, pre-widowmaker (sorry if I forget to tag something)

~Word count: 8,596

~Summary: Amélie joins her husband on a business trip hoping to spend some time together. Unfortunately business comes first so Amélie makes her way to a shady bar where she meets Ashe, the legendary leader of the Deadlock Rebels. Can this outlaw show Amélie what it’s like to be free?

~Authors note: heyy, it’s been a while 🥹 I apologize for being gone for so long and I’m also sorry this isn’t a marvel update. I haven’t abandoned any of my works but at the moment I am a little obsessed with this pairing known as ouihaw from overwatch 2. They gave me inspiration to write something and actually finish it. I’d like to think of this as a step back into writing more frequently. I know this is a mainly marvel blog but I’d like to make it variety as well with this pairing. I’d like to thank @moonixyy for being my beta reader, you’re amazing! 🩵 I do hope you enjoy and please let me know what y’all think! ♥️

~I will soon have this added to my Masterlist :3

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The boiling heat of the summer in Arizona made Amélie sick to her stomach. She leans against the railing of her motel room walkway as she surveys the view. She heard Phoenix wasn’t too bad being a bigger city but Deadlock Gorge wasn’t on the radar in a good way. It was almost desolate with only one bar, one motel, and one gas station. Her husband, Gérard, was called here on business. What kind she wasn’t sure, she never really asked what he did as an Overwatch agent. He always said it was formed to handle a terrorist organization called Talon. Personally she didn’t give much thought to Gérard’s work. Amélie wonders what kind of business one can make out here. Her husband warned her not to stray far from the motel room, as it wasn’t safe. He didn’t even want her here but she made an argument about never seeing him and well, now she's still not seeing him. Her skin sticky with sweat brings Amélie’s attention back to how awfully hot it is. With a sigh she makes her way back inside to take a cold shower. When washing up Amélie got the urge for a nice glass of red wine. The only place here that might have that would be the biker bar right across from her motel. Gérard told her to stay put but she was her own woman. What’s the worst that could happen?

Amélie takes out a short blue silk spaghetti strap slip dress and slips it on. She forgoes a bra and sticks to a black thong to not show any lines. She puts on some black 6-inch heels and gives a little pirouette. Amélie smiles at herself in the mirror, ballet in any form gives her a breath of fresh air. Besides Gérard, it was her life. Amélie decided to leave her dark long locks down and sprayed a little anti-frizz spritz into her hair. She didn’t want to put anything too heavy in because of the heat and she was just getting a drink, nothing too crazy. She puts on some light makeup, eyeliner, a little smokey eye shadow and a light pink lipstick. The motel phone rings and Amélie perks up at the thought of who it could be.

“Bonjour.” Amélie pauses and realizes she’s in America and probably should have spoken in English but she shrugs it off.

“Bonjour, mon amour.”

“Gérard, why are you calling? Are you on your way back?” Silence is heard on the other side making Amélie bite her lip in anticipation.

“I’m sorry, Amélie. I’ll have to stay here overnight. The Talon leader gets in extremely early and it would be easier for me to already be here.” A chill makes its way up Amélie’s spine. Once again work came first.

“Of course, have a nice night.”

“Am-”

*click*

Amélie hangs up the phone before she could hear what he had to say. She wasn’t in the mood. She needed that drink now. Trying not to think about how her husband is miles away and not with her, she grabs her small over the shoulder bag. It contained the essentials, her credit card, identification card, a pack of French cigarettes, a lighter, her room key, some cash and a small caliber pistol, for self defense. Amélie locks up the room and begins her short walk to the bar. Once she hits the road she looks both ways before crossing. With it being a deadbeat town there were no cars or anything like that. The bar was ominous and derelict, Amélie pushed open the door and was immediately hit with the stench of stale cigarettes and beer. Definitely a place she wouldn’t be caught dead in, her family may actually disown her if they knew where she was right now. Amélie’s nose scrunches as she walked in further to the actual bar and takes a seat at one of the little red leather stools. She reminds herself to not speak French so she’s ready. An omnic bartender makes their way from the back.

“Howdy, miss. What can I get you?”

“Do you have any red wine?” An electronic trill indicating a yes emanates from them.

“Perfect, I’ll take a glass of the driest one you have.” With a slight nod they make their way to the back to grab her some wine. Amélie looks around the place with a look of disdain. The few tables they had were scuffed and stained. A couple of billiard tables were along the back wall as dart boards hung on the wall adjacent. It had some character to it, Amélie will give it that much. The doors to the back flail open as the omnic makes their way back with a full glass of wine, much to Amélie’s amusement.

“Here you are, miss. Shall I keep a tab open?” Amélie smiles and retrieves her card out of her purse.

“Please do, thank you.” She hands them her card and reaches for her glass of red. It’s dark and just from looking at it, Amélie’s mouth waters. She brings the glass up to her nose and gives it a healthy sniff. Her cheeks heat up already at the absolute delight she has at the moment. She brings the glass to her lips and takes a nice sip. It’s very dry and it makes Amélie’s mouth pucker. It’s perfect. Amélie slowly sipped at her glass. About an hour passed and she was almost done with her drink when a thunderous sound reverberated throughout the bar. The red liquid produces waves in the glass as the bottles behind the bar clink together. Amélie sits up straight in alarm, expecting the bartender to come out in a panic. When she didn’t see them she looked around as the sound got closer. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, she reached down to grab a hold of her pistol. Within seconds it stops right outside the entrance of the bar. Her grip tightens on the handle of the gun. The door opens and a large omnic with a little hat makes its way in followed by a few others. Another tall omnic and a pair of triplets follow but what caught Amélie’s eye was the woman who was after them. A large cowboy hat sat atop stark white hair a bit above shoulder length, the other side being slightly shorter. Her outfit was very…Wild West if what Amélie could remember from cartoons she happened to catch at a young age taught her. Her lips were painted dark red and she had a beauty mark towards the corner of her mouth, the large cowboy hat putting a shadow over the top of her face. Amélie was shocked when bright red eyes captured her own golden eyes in an enchanting stare. Amélie was still slightly shaking from the unknown and her grip loosened on the gun. She didn’t feel as if she were in any danger anymore but the hair on the back of her neck still stood. The woman makes her way to the bar, right next to Amélie who is looking at the glass of wine with an intense gaze.

“Hey, Ted, can I get a round for the gang and a whiskey for me, neat.” The woman leans her back against the bar as the omnic, Ted, chirps his acknowledgement from the back. Amélie can feel the woman’s red eyes on her as she continues to stare intensely at her glass of wine. With a slightly shaky hand, she reaches out to take another sip. As she does this the woman next to her hums.

“You’re not from around here.” The deep southern drawl made Amélie shiver, not in a bad way.

“What makes you say that?” Amelie’s thick French accent easily gives her away but she pays it no mind. The woman smirks as she eyes Amélie who is now looking at the cowboy herself.

“Is that a French accent I hear?” Amélie looks away from the woman and takes another sip of her wine. She swallows and leans her arms against the bar, her hands holding her chin up as she looks at the woman once more.

“Non, I grew up here actually.” The woman laughs a full bellied laugh and it makes Amélie’s heart jump.

“Is that so? That must make me…Russian.” The woman smiles at Amélie and winks, making the French woman give a soft smile in return. Ted comes back through with a tray full of beer and sets the woman’s whiskey right next to her elbow on the bar.

“Thank you, Ted. Oh and when you’re done with that please get this lovely lady another glass of whatever she’s drinking.” The people that came in with the woman cheered as they were passed their beers and gave Ted pats on the shoulder. The large omnic stayed standing near them, unable to drink himself. Amélie finished off her first glass and pushed it to the other side so it was easier for the bartender to fill. Within a few minutes it was once again full.

“Thank you, Ted.” Amélie takes a sip and relishes in the bitter taste, her eyes close as she takes it in. When her eyes open she’s met with glaring red orbs. The eye contact startled Amélie and she quickly looks away as she feels her cheeks begin to heat up. From the wine or this astonishingly attractive stranger, she doesn’t know. The woman brings the glass of whiskey to her red painted lips and takes a heaping sip. Amélie faces her once more as a drop of whiskey slips past her lips and down her chin. Before she could process what she’s doing, her hand reaches up and wipes the liquid away with her thumb. Amélie brings her thumb to her mouth and sucks the liquid off, the burn of the hard liquor making itself known. The red eyed woman was stunned to say the least, her jaw had dropped slightly as she tried to gather herself.

“Top shelf stuff, I’m impressed.” The woman finally composes herself and clears her throat as she gets up from leaning against the bar to take a seat on the stool next to Amélie, tipping her hat a bit.

“Well, I’m not one to care much for which shelf my whiskey comes from but Ted knows my favorites.” Amélie takes another sip of her wine as she takes the time to look the stranger over. She noticed a forearm tattoo peaking out of her long sleeved shirt and wondered what it was. The two women sit and drink in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the soft country tunes from the radio and the rowdy gang with bellies full of beer. Curiosity gets the best of Amélie.

“Are you in a gang?” The blonde woman snickers as she takes another sip of her drink.

“Now what makes you think that?” Amélie looks at the woman and makes eye contact with her, her red eyes mesmerized the French woman to a degree she couldn’t understand.

“You came here on what I can only assume are motorcycles with how barbaric it sounded,” the stranger chuckles at this, “and you called them gang when ordering drinks.”

“Wait, is that all you have to go on?” Amélie blushes at how intense the woman’s stare is on her. Amélie points at the woman’s forearm where a tattoo peeks out.

“You also have a tattoo and seem to be in charge.” The woman smirks and leans the tattooed arm across the bar, her hand nearly touching Amélie’s that’s resting on the bar top.

“Well you got that right, ma’am.” The woman reaches with her right hand to roll up the sleeve on her shirt to reveal the tattoo in all its glory. Turns out it was a couple tattoos. A rose adorns the wrist as the thorns wrap around her forearm encircling a skull logo of sorts with the words Deadlock Rebels. Amélie reaches out her right hand and traces along the tattoos. The woman shivers but lets the ballerina touch her. There was something about this strange foreigner that got to her and she loved it.

“I’m not sure if I should be scared or not. I’m told it’s dangerous around here.” The woman hums as Amélie continues to trace along the tattoo, transfixed by it.

“Who told you that?” The woman leans in closer, so close Amélie could feel her breath on her face. The stench of whiskey and cigarettes present. Amélie found it charming.

“My husband.” This didn’t deter the woman from pulling away, much to Amélie's surprise.

“He’s right, you know. It's a dangerous place, the Deadlock Gorge.” It hit Amélie now, the connection of names.

“Is this your town?” Amélie’s golden eyes catch the red ones that were already looking at her. The woman smiles and reaches into her pocket to produce a cigarette. With her left arm still being in Amélie’s grasp she uses her right hand once more to fish out the lighter in her shirt pocket. She lights up the cigarette and takes a deep drag.

“I hope you don’t mind if I smoke.” Amélie shakes her head and reaches into her bag to grab her own. The woman smirks around the cigarette and brings her lighter up to light the French woman’s cigarette. Amélie takes a big inhale and continues to trace along the woman’s tattoo with her right hand.

“I’m French, I came out smoking.” This makes the woman laugh wildly, making Amélie’s stomach do jumping jacks.

“I knew you were French.” At this Amélie smirks.

“You caught me.” With another drag of her cigarette the woman clears her throat.

“My name is Ashe.” Amélie takes a hit and slowly exhales taking in the woman, Ashe, like it was the first time. Ashe fits her perfectly.

“Amélie.”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Tell me, Amélie, what’s a girl like you doing in a shithole like this?” Amélie reaches for her glass and takes a sip before answering.

“My husband is here on business and I wanted to tag along.” Ashe looks at her with her head cocked to the side.

“Yet you’re here alone, I’m guessing he didn’t want you coming along.” Amélie shakes her head and takes another drag of her cigarette. Ashe does the same as she takes Amélie in.

“No, he didn’t.” Amélie sighs and exhales a cloud of smoke.

“I don’t really care what he does but what do you do, miss Amélie?” Amélie looks a little taken aback, it had been so long since someone’s asked her about her own life. Her husband was so interesting she was always on the back burner.

“I’m a ballet dancer. The best in my company.” Ashe smiles and taps some of the ash off of her cigarette.

“Now that is incredibly impressive and I just know you’re the best.” Amélie laughs and shakes her head.

“And how exactly would you know that?” Ashe smirks and takes a drag from her nearly done cigarette. Ashe’s eyes look up and down Amélie’s figure, not at all hiding the fact she was checking her out. Amélie raises her brow and lightly scratches her nails over Ashe’s forearm.

“Well darlin’, you have a dancer's body. What else are those long legs made for?” Ashe’s smirk grows wider as her mind deviates from the subject for a second. Amélie must have the same exact thought process as her nails dig in softly making Ashe hiss slightly.

“Aren’t you being a little bold with a married lady?” Ashe chuckles and takes one last drag before putting the cigarette out in the ashtray at the top of the bar. Amélie takes a long drag as Ashe puts hers out. Amélie’s being a bit longer; she has some time left.

“Forgive me, ma’am, it’s just the way you haven’t been able to take your hand off of me makes me think you want something too.” Amélie hums and blows out a puff of smoke, twirling the shortened stick in her fingers as her other hand is still attached to the woman’s arm.

“Tell me this, Ashe. Are you dangerous?” Ashe scoots closer to Amélie and takes her cigarette out of her hand. She offers the cigarette to Amélie and she leans forward to take a drag. Once she finished Ashe pulled the cigarette away and brought it to her lips. She inhaled the French product and was pleasantly surprised with how good it tasted. Ashe pulls it away and before she puts it out she notices it has a slight pink hue at the top where Amélie’s lips meet the stick. Ashe exhaled the smoke and licked her lips, it tasted of strawberry. Ashe deposited the butt into the ashtray and faced Amélie once more, her eyes darting to those pink luscious lips, which she now knows tastes of strawberries. How she wanted to taste it straight from the source.

“I’m an outlaw.” Amélie moves closer as her hand that was practically attached to Ashe’s arm moves up, over her strong bicep and shoulder to rest on her neck, rubbing slightly.

“Is that a yes, cowboy?” Ashe inhales sharply at the name, it sounded too good coming from those lips with that delicate accent.

“Yes.” Ashe shakely breathes out. Her thighs squeeze together as she begins to heat up, her arousal growing exponentially. Ashe leans further towards the ever closer Amélie. The scent of strawberry invades Ashe’s senses as their lips brush against the other. Amélie’s eyes darted down to Ashe’s red lips, they were right there for the taking and she wanted to take them so bad. She knew her life would change if she did what she wanted to. Before she could back out the outlaw closed the gap between them, capturing Amélie’s lips in a passionate kiss. Amélie’s mind goes blank and immediately fills with thoughts of this outlaw. Ashe’s tongue pokes Amélie’s bottom lip and she opens her mouth. Ashe’s tongue pushes in and Amélie’s tongue dances around hers. The large hat Ashe was wearing bumps into Amélie’s forehead making Ashe chuckle. Amélie smiles and swallows the outlaws laugh in her mouth. Ashe’s right hand comes up to hold onto the hat as the kiss gets messier. Amélie moved her head to the side a bit and deepened the kiss. Ashe tilts her head to the side as well and once again her hat pokes Amélie in the forehead. Ashe chuckled and decided to take her hat off, putting it on the bar. Now that her right hand was free Ashe places it at the back of Amélie’s neck. Their tongues move in a well coordinated dance as their hands wrap in the other's hair. It’s passionate and it lights the fire in both of them that they long since thought they lost. Amélie can’t remember the last time she was kissed like this and actually felt something. Ashe heard Ted place another glass of whiskey by her side and she starts to pull away from the kiss, as much as she didn’t want to. Amélie captures Ashe’s bottom lip and suckles at it slightly as she pulls away, her bottom lip being pulled slightly until it was naturally let go by her movement. Ashe had to contain herself so she didn’t whimper out loud in front of her gang. Amélie wipes at her bottom lip, surely she has smudged lipstick and grabs her wine to down the rest of it. Ashe clears her throat and grasps the glass of whiskey taking it in one quick shot. Ashe reaches into her pocket and produces a handful of gold coins to place on the bar.

“Thanks, Ted. This should cover ours and the nice lady here.” Amélie quickly shakes her head.

“It’s okay, I have a tab. You can close it now, Ted.” Ashe hums and raises an eyebrow at Ted, pushing the coins closer to him.

“Do we have an understanding here?” Ted beeps and nods his head. He makes his way to the back and comes back out with Amélie’s card.

“Here you are, miss. Have a nice night and thank you for choosing us.”

“Thank you, Ted. The wine was lovely.” Ted bows his head and turns to Ashe as Amélie puts her card away in her bag.

“Have a nice night, Ashe.” Ashe tips her head in acknowledgement and grabs her hat.

“You as well, Ted,” Ashe turns to Amélie and the latter grabs the hat out of her hand and places it atop her own head, “why doesn’t that look mighty fine on you, Amélie.” Amélie smiles and winks at the outlaw.

“When I get too old for ballet, maybe I’ll become an outlaw too.” Ashe laughs and throws her head back as her cheeks burn in pure joy.

“I’ll tell you what, there’s always a place at the Deadlock Rebels for you. Being the boss has its perks.” Ashe says with a wink. Ashe slides off the stool and stands up to offer her hand to Amélie. Amélie smiles and takes her hand, standing up from the bar stool.

“Where exactly do you think I’m going?” Ashe pauses and brings her hand down, Amélie’s secured in her grasp.

“I was hoping you’d show me where you’re staying so I can walk you home, make sure you’re safe.” Amélie raises her brows in slight surprise at Ashe not out right saying she wants to have sex with her.

“How chivalrous of you, cowboy. Here I thought you only wanted to take me to bed.” Ashe smirks and tilts her head to the side.

“I mean, if that’s what happens after I walk you home…who’s to say I wouldn’t say yes.” Amélie releases her hand from Ashe’s grasp to push her shoulder back. Ashe laughs at the motion and grabs the offending hand to wrap around her own shoulders. With Amélie being a bit taller, Ashe has to lean up to capture the ballerina's lips in a kiss. Before Ashe could deepen it, Amélie pulls away with a small smile.

“You’re not my type.”

“I’m everyone’s type, darlin’.” Amélie rolls her eyes at the very obvious ego the outlaw had.

“I’m married.” Ashe rolls her eyes in return.

“Are you happy?” What Ashe said made Amélie pause. She hasn’t been happy in her marriage for a long time, in fact the Gérard she knew wasn’t the same man anymore. The only thing that made Amélie happy was when she was on stage dancing her heart out. Yet tonight with this outlaw she feels…happy and free.

“I am right now.” Ashe smiles at this and pecks Amélie’s cheek placing her arm around Amélie’s waist.

“Me too, darlin’. I think you should leave with me, now let me walk you home.” Amélie nods and starts to walk to the door.

“It’s just the motel across the street, it was the only place available.” Ashe hums in acknowledgement.

“Pretty much all there is around here so I kinda figured,” As the two made their way to the entrance Ashe stopped in front of the large omnic “hey Bob make sure everyone gets back to the hideout safe. I’ll make my way back later.” The omnic, Bob, nods his head and signs back to Ashe in acknowledgement. He looks at Amélie and then back to Ashe, he signs something else to Ashe and she nods before undoing her arm around Amélie to sign back. Amélie wonders what they were talking about, she figured it was about her since even Ashe wasn’t speaking aloud. Once Ashe finished replying her arm went right back to Amélie’s waist. She begins walking to the exit and Amélie follows alongside her. Once outside Amélie turns her head to face Ashe.

“Is everything okay?” Ashe turns to look Amélie in the eyes.

“Oh you mean with Bob? He was just telling me to be careful is all. He cares a great deal about me and I do for him as well.” Amélie nodded and looked around, the sun was beginning to set and not a single soul was outside. The motorcycles that belonged to the gang were parked alongside the front of the bar. A red one stands out among the black painted ones.

“Let me guess, yours is the red one.” Ashe smiles wider than Amélie has seen that night, must be pride or even that ego of hers.

“Isn’t she a beauty! Do you want to take a ride, darlin’? She purrs like you’ve never felt before.” Amélie has no doubt in her mind it does just that, if the loud sound it made coming in was any indication however she wanted something else between her legs.

“Maybe next time, I kind of just want to get inside out of this heat.” Ashe hums and squeezes Amélie’s waist.

“Sounds like a plan to me, darlin’.” With that being said the two made their way across the street to Amélie’s motel. Her room was on the second floor and the two didn’t release their hold on the other until they were standing right in front of the door. Amélie takes her arm from around Ashe’s shoulders to dig for the room key in her bag. The clunky key ring is grasped into her palm. With a small spin Amélie leans against the door, the hand holding the room key behind her back. Amélie’s other hand grabs Ashe’s hat that sits atop her head and lifts it off. Ashe is within inches of Amélie so it doesn’t take much to place her hat back in its rightful place, on Ashe’s head. Amélie pulls the brim down slightly and smiles.

“Thank you for walking me back safely, cowboy. You were wonderful company.” Ashe blushes slightly and breaks eye contact to look at the ground, suddenly shy.

“Oh it was nothing, darlin’. Glad I could be considered wonderful company, you weren’t so bad yourself.” Ashe smiles and places her hands in her pants pockets, rocking back on her heels. Amélie offers a sly smile.

“If you’re willing, I could still use some company.” Ashe perks up at this and Amélie reaches out to grab her red tie to pull her closer. Ashe leans up to kiss Amélie firmly on the mouth, she then pulls slightly away.

“Then use me.” Ashe whispers into Amélie’s mouth and before she could say more, Amélie envelopes her in another kiss. Amélie’s tongue explores Ashe’s mouth as Ashe’s hands find purchase on Amélie’s waist. Ashe squeezes her sides and begins to get handsy. As Ashe’s hands move lower to roam over Amélie’s ass, Amélie brings her free hand up to tangle in short blonde locks free from her hat. Ashe let’s out a little moan as Amélie pulls her hair. Amélie smiles into the kiss and pulls away to moan when she squeezes her ass.

“Fuck.” Ashe laughs and moves her kisses across Amélie’s cheek and down to her neck. Her tongue pops out and trails down to her pulse point. Ashe nips at the spot careful not to leave a mark, as much as she’d love to.

“That’s what I’m trying to do, darlin’. Let’s get inside.” Ashe’s hands don’t leave the spot they have claimed on Amélie’s ass as she turns around to open the door. Ashe’s lips finding their way to the back of her shoulder. The door opens up quickly and they stumble their way inside. Ashe closes the door behind them and locks it up. They break apart for a second to get situated. Amélie takes her bag off and throws it on the table next to the door that served as a dresser and entertainment center with a big boxy television straight from the 90’s. This place really needs an update. Ashe gives the room a little look around and decides to take off her hat, placing it next to Amélie’s bag.

“Nice place you got here, I feel underdressed.” Ashe says in a teasing manner. Amélie rolls her eyes in adoration and grabs the outlaw by the flaps of her leather vest.

“I think you’re overdressed. Let’s fix that shall we?” Ashe smirks as Amélie begins to unzip her vest.

“No foreplay? Why don’t you dance for me.” Amélie tosses Ashe’s vest to the ground and begins to unbutton her shirt, Amélie begins to get visibly frustrated with all the complicated things on Ashe's outfit. Ashe brings her hands up to cup Amélie’s own.

“Let me handle it, darlin’.” Amélie huffs in slight frustration as Ashe begins to finish undressing herself. She does it slowly, not out of nerves but because she loved seeing the impatience in the other woman. Her ego inflames at the sight. This woman wanted the outlaw so bad and the feeling was incredibly mutual. Amélie’s hand go to undo the straps of her dress when Ashe clicks her tongue in response, Amélie took it as a sign to stop what she was doing. When she placed her hands back down at her side, Ashe visibly relaxed. Ashe finally stepped out of her pants and was left in her white bra and underwear. She was absolutely stunning to Amélie. Her body was tight, slightly visible abs on her stomach. Shoulders broad as ever and her arms were just mouth watering, apparently being an outlaw gives you muscles. Must be the running away part so as to not get caught. Her breasts were bigger compared to Amélie’s own. Her thin frame matched the barely there breasts she had.

“You’re so beautiful, Ashe.” A deeper shade of red makes its way to Ashe’s already red cheeks. Ashe was incredibly turned on and she couldn’t wait to get Amélie out of her dress. Ashe steps closer to Amélie and proceeds to get down on her knees. Amélie inhaled deeply as Ashe’s face comes face to face with her most sacred area. The silk dress was short and only made it half way down her thighs. Ashe looks up at Amélie after lazily trailing her eyes along her body. Her hands lift up her left leg and Amélie quickly finds herself grabbing onto Ashe’s shoulders to keep her balance. Ashe removes the high heel with ease and proceeded to do the same with the other. She left little kisses along every ounce of skin she could find. Amélie shivers as Ashe makes her way up her thighs, gathering the silk dress in her rough hands. She slowly drags it up, over her thighs, her stomach, Ashe’s lips leaving nothing untouched. Ashe barely pays attention to her breasts, knowing she needs to see all of Amélie first. Amélie raises her arms as Ashe takes the dress off the rest of the way, leaving Amélie in just her black thong. Ashe stands up fully and is happy to see she’s not too much shorter than Amélie anymore. Her eyes take in everything Amélie has to offer, her hands making their way onto the ballerina's body.

“You are absolutely gorgeous, Amélie.” Instead of answering, Amélie brings Ashe in for a kiss by burying her hands in the outlaws hair. Tongues dance as Ashe explores Amélie’s body. Her hands grab Amélie’s breasts and squeeze them firmly, twisting her nipples slightly. Amélie moans into Ashe’s mouth at the feeling.

“Harder.” Ashe smirks at this as she pulls away, Amélie’s mouth moving to Ashe’s neck, kissing and nipping lightly.

“You like it rough, baby?” Amélie moans at the term of endearment.

“I do, unfortunately it’s not something I get.” Ashe looks offended at this as if Amélie is insulting her personally.

“What else do you not get, that you want?” Amélie pulls away from Ashe’s neck to look her in the eyes. Her right hand comes up to trace Ashe’s lips. Two of her fingers prod at the slit and Ashe obliges and opens her mouth. Ashe’s tongue swirls around the long slender digits as Amélie takes the sensual sight in. The urge to gag her takes over but she restrains herself. All these desires she was unable to do before come crashing down. Ashe‘s tongue continues to swirl as she sucks on Amélie’s fingers, never breaking eye contact.

“I had a girlfriend in high school who loved going down on me. I haven’t felt it since.” At this Ashe’s eyes widen then grow thin in anger. Amélie takes her fingers out of Ashe’s mouth so she could answer.

“You’re telling me that your dead beat husband doesn’t eat you out?” Amélie shakes her head.

“He told me he tried once when he was with a previous partner and it did nothing for him.” Ashe’s mouth drops open and she scoffs.

“Men are disgusting. Lucky for you, I reckon, I’m an expert and eating pussy is quite literally the best.” Amélie’s fingers, that were still wet from Ashe’s mouth, grasp Ashe’s chin in a firm grip.

“Expert? Are you trying to make me jealous thinking about all the previous women you’ve done this to?” Ashe smirks and maneuvers Amélie onto the bed. Amélie scoots up so her head is on the pillow and Ashe climbs on top of her til she is face to face with the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

“Is it working?” Ashe smirks as Amélie glares at her.

“If you think you’re the one in charge, you’re wrong. I’ll punish you for being a brat.” Ashe bites her lip then plants kisses along Amélie’s face, down to her neck.

“Yeah? What are you gonna do? Spank me?” Amélie’s hands find one of their favorite new spots in Ashe’s hair, pulling the luscious locks.

“Wouldn’t you love to know.” Ashe groans as Amélie’s thigh finds itself in between Ashe’s legs, pressing up into her cunt. The heat Amélie finds is absolutely mesmerizing, she just knew Ashe was completely soaked underneath. Glad to know she was in the same boat as her.

“Remind me to misbehave sometime.” Amélie giggles at this.

“It could be a reward too, cowboy.” Ashe blushes and nuzzles into Amélie’s neck. Ashe’s right hand moves down Amélie’s body and rests atop her covered pussy. The move made Amélie moan and Ashe groans at the heat radiating off of her. She was soaked and she couldn’t wait to see for herself. Ashe trails kisses down Amélie’s body, stopping at her breasts. She takes the right one into her mouth as her left hand finds Amélie’s other breast, squeezing roughly. She nibbles at her nipple and bites down a bit too much, to Amélie’s pleasure. After a few minutes Ashe switches to the other breast to give it the same amount of attention.

“Baby, please.” Now it’s Ashe’s turn to melt at the name. Amélie’s nipple slips out of Ashe’s mouth and she blows cool air onto it watching as Amélie squirms at the feeling.

“I wish I could leave my mark on you,” Amélie’s eyes roll back as Ashe trails kisses down her taught stomach “but what if your husband sees? That’ll be just awful, hm. Seeing how much of a slut his wife is.” Amélie moans as Ashe’s hand peels off her thong, moving it swiftly down and off her legs. Amélie’s pussy lay completely bare and Ashe can see the slight sheen of her wetness at the base of her mound. Ashe's hand glides along her bare cunt as Amélie spreads her legs some more, giving Ashe room to cup her pussy. The heat made Ashe bite her lip. Ashe kisses Amélie’s mound and looks up at the disheveled woman.

“Did you expect to be fucked? Is that why your pussy is waxed?” Amélie groans as Ashe squeezes her cunt lips.

“N-non it’s all the tight shapewear I have to dance in, makes it easier.” Ashe hums and kisses Amélie’s hips.

“I’m not so cleaned up, miss ballerina.” Ashe licks a stripe down to Amélie’s mound, moving her hand in the meantime. Ashe scoots a bit further down the bed and situated herself between Amélie’s thighs. Ashe grabs Amélie’s legs to bend them at the knees for easier access. Ashe looks up to see Amélie looking right back at her.

“It’s just body hair, I don’t mind.” Ashe smirks and kisses Amélie’s pussy lips. Amélie throws her head into the pillow with a moan. Ashe pushes Amélie’s legs further apart to help spread her pussy and keep it nice and open for Ashe to devour. Amélie’s pretty pink cunt glistens in the low light of the motel room. Ashe was in awe, it truly was the best she’s ever seen. Not that it’s a competition because everyone is different but she could stare at it all day.

“Fuck, please Ashe. Do something.” Ashe bites her lip at the need dripping from Amélie’s words and moves to lay on her stomach. Once she was comfortable Ashe licks a broad stripe up her pussy, making Amélie moan louder than before. Ashe groans at the taste of Amélie, she already knew she was a goner the minute she saw her alone at the bar but now, now she’s obsessed. Ashe kisses Amélie’s clit and with a smirk comes up with a plan.

“Alright I did something, my turn.” Before she could move to sit up Amélie’s thighs locked Ashe’s neck in place. Ashe’s face squished into Amélie’s pussy. Ashe would happily die right now.

“You’re such a brat. Do what mommy says.” Ashe’s eyes widen as Amélie slowly releases her with a smirk on her face.

“Mommy huh? You just might get me to call you that someday.” Amélie rolls her eyes and nudges Ashe with her thigh.

“You just did, foolish girl.” Ashe chuckles and plants kisses along Amélie’s thigh.

“That was a freebie, baby.” Before Amélie could retort she suckles Amélie’s clit into her mouth. A loud moan emanates from the back of Amélie’s throat, her head thrown back once more. Ashe’s tongue flicks over the hardened bud as her hands reach up to grab Amélie’s breasts. They were small but Ashe loved them, her nipples a light shade of pink, slightly red from Ashe’s rough treatment. As her fingers twist Amélie’s nipples, her tongue begins rapidly flicking her clit. Amélie’s back arches, making it harder for Ashe to palm her breasts. The sight was breathtaking in Ashe’s eyes. A light sheen of sweat glistened on Amélie’s alabaster skin. Ashe gives Amélie’s nipples one last twist causing Amélie to groan in pleasure. Ashe smirks with Amélie’s clit snuggled in her mouth. Ashe pulls away from her clit and before Amélie could say a word, Ashe grabs Amélie’s thighs and holds them open as she moves lower to lick at Amélie’s entrance. Amélie’s wetness trickles out at a steady pace, Ashe’s face wet with her juices. Ashe licks her lips and sucks the folds into her mouth, lightly nibbling them. She pulls away and kisses the petals as she spreads Amélie’s thighs wider, her pussy now on full display. Her arms encircled Amélie’s thighs holding them steady as she dived in to slurp up the wetness, her tongue moving fast yet steady. Amélie makes more noise when she brings her teeth into play so Ashe nips her folds lightly after every few licks.

“Ashe, please.” Ashe looks up to see Amélie staring at her intensely. Ashe pulls away slightly from Amélie’s pussy to answer.

“What do you want, baby?” Amélie moans as Ashe moves her right hand from Amélie’s thigh to rub at her dripping folds, puffy from all the action it’s getting.

“I need you inside me, cowboy.” Ashe groans as Amélie brings her hands down to grasp at Ashe’s hair, pulling slightly at the blonde strands. Ashe kisses Amélie’s thigh and goes back to her previous position. Her right hand, sticky with Amélie’s juices grabs her thigh once more. Ashe’s tongue lashes out and prods at Amélie’s entrance. Ashe pokes her tongue inside and grips Amelie’s thighs tighter. Amélie’s pussy pulses around Ashe’s tongue causing her to roll her eyes back at the feeling. Ashe’s head begins to slightly hurt from Amélie’s grip but she didn’t mind, it shows just how good she was doing. Ashe closes her eyes and her nose bumps against Amélie’s clit as her tongue pumps in and out of her wet cunt. Amélie hasn’t stopped moaning and Ashe is determined to make her scream. Amélie’s thighs begin to quiver, telling Ashe she was closer to release. Ashe opens her eyes and moves her tongue back up to Amélie’s clit much to her dissatisfaction.

“Ashe-” Amélie was cut off by Ashe’s right hand moving to her entrance, sliding two fingers in easily. One of Amélie’s hands leaves Ashe’s hair to grab at her own breasts. Ashe takes Amélie’s beauty in as her fingers pump steadily in and out of Amelie’s cunt. Her walls clinging on as if she never wanted to let go. Ashe needed to be closer to see the pleasure on her face. Ashe pulls her mouth off of her clit and immediately replaces her tongue with her thumb. Ashe leaves a trail of kisses up Amélie’s stomach, across her breasts, her neck, til she reaches her face taking her lips in a kiss. It was sloppy and downright disgusting. Ashe’s face was covered in Amélie’s slick and it made them both insane for the taste. Ashe’s tongue enters Amélie’s mouth as a third finger makes its way into her pussy. Ashe straddles Amélie’s thigh grinding slightly to lessen the pain in her own pussy. Amélie notices and applies pressure as best she can. They both swallow a moan as their pleasure grows exponentially. Amélie pulls away from the kiss taking a deep breath in, she was close and she was struggling to keep up with Ashe’s kisses. Ashe sloppily kisses Amélie’s cheek and moves to her ear, nibbling the lobe softly.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, tell me who fucks you so good?” Amélie hiccups as Ashe’s fingers pick up their pace, her thumb rubbing circles over her clit. Amélie’s eyes roll as her head seeks out Ashe’s lips, leaning against the woman’s mouth.

“Only you, cowboy. You fuck me so go-od!” Amélie ends her sentence with a screech as Ashe bites down on her neck. That’s sure to leave a mark to deal with later. Ashe licks the new bite and kisses it softly, she pulls her head back to look at Amélie’s face. Her eyes closed in pleasure, mouth slightly open; the most beautiful sounds falling out.

“Look at me, Amélie.” Amélie’s eyes open and dark red meets pleasure filled golden orbs. Ashe smiles as her fingers begin to cramp. Ashe keeps her pace steady knowing Amélie is incredibly close, her forearm burns slightly.

“Cum for me.” Amélie’s hands find a home on Ashe’s back as her body begins to vibrate in pleasure. Her nails drag down Ashe’s back as her hips lift off the bed. Amélie slightly screams out a moan as her orgasm hits. Ashe takes in the sight of Amélie’s face in pure bliss as she reaches orgasm. Ashe winces a bit at the scratching of her back but she can’t wait to see the aftermath. Ashe slows her pace helping Amélie ride out her high. Amélie whimpers as she slowly pulls her fingers out. Ashe lifts them up and takes them into her mouth, Amélie’s own mouth slightly drops open at the sight. Once she deems her fingers clean she pulls them out with a pop.

“Made you scream, darlin’.” Ashe smirks and Amélie rolls her eyes at her cockiness. Ashe's newly saliva stained hand reaches out to rest on Amélie’s stomach. Amélie hums and closes her eyes as Ashe begins to massage the area in small circles. A few minutes pass by like this with Ashe lazily kissing her cheek that’s closest to the outlaw and Amélie almost feels like she could fall asleep until she notices Ashe begin to rock on her thigh. Amélie opens her eyes and rests her left hand on the one making circles on her stomach. Ashe pauses her ministrations and looks at Amélie, her face slightly puffy and her lipstick smudged to bits. Amélie intertwines her fingers with Ashe’s, bringing them up to kiss the back of her hand. Ashe squeezes Amélie’s hand in return. It was very intimate for two strangers to be and yet it came so naturally to them. Ashe looks into Amélie’s eyes and sees something switch in them when she looks back. Eyes once again filled with pleasure. Ashe is more than ready to give Amélie another orgasm, she would happily do it all the time in fact. Ashe begins to crawl her way back in between Amélie’s legs when she’s stopped by a squeeze on her hand.

“Non, it’s your turn now.” Ashe smiles crookedly and looks at Amélie’s slightly pouting face.

“We don’t have to worry about me this time, I’m okay.” Amélie raises a brow and lifts the thigh Ashe currently has between her legs making Ashe moan at the sensation. Ashe looks away in a rare show of shyness and Amélie brings her right hand up to cup her cheek, her thumb rubbing across the top of her cheek.

“Take your underwear off and then sit right back down on my thigh.” Amélie left no room to argue and Ashe broke away from her to stand up and unclip her bra, her generously sized breasts now on full display bringing much joy to Amélie. Ashe tosses the bra onto the floor and slides her underwear down her legs, the shine of her slick present on her thighs and fair colored pubic hair. Amélie bites her lip and takes a deep breath, she sits up and scoots back to sit up against the headboard, her legs still splayed out. Amélie pats her thigh that’s slightly sticky from what Ashe could do covered up and it was seconds before Ashe straddles her thigh sitting herself on the bare skin. Ashe moans as her soaked pussy meets Amélie’s muscular thigh. Amélie leans forward and takes one of Ashe’s nipples into her mouth, her left hand taking the other in its grasp. Her tongue swirls around her nipple and sucks the bud harder when Ashe brings her hands up to tangle in Amélie’s long black hair. Amélie switches to the other breast giving it equal attention as Ashe begins to rock her hips along Amélie’s thigh. Once Amélie was done showering Ashe’s breasts with attention she sucked deep bruises on her neck. Ashe moans loudly as she’s marked up, she loves it.

“What’s that popular saying of your kind?” Ashe is taken aback as Amélie sits back to look at her.

“My kind?” Amélie tilts her head as Ashe looks confused.

“I saw it in a show once…about riding a horse, save a cowboy.” Ashe chuckles at Amélie’s revelation.

“I think you mean…save a horse, ride a cowboy. Which technically speaking should be when you ride me, not the other way around.” Ashe smirks as Amélie’s cheeks heat up.

“Yes, well, maybe next time.” Ashe grins at the thought of a next time and brings her hands up to cup Amélie’s cheeks bringing her into a soft kiss. Amélie moans into the kiss as her hands grab onto Ashe’s hips, she slowly begins to guide the cowboy to pick up a pace against her thigh. Ashe pulls away to moan as she speeds up her movement.

“I like the idea of a next time, darlin’.” Amélie smirks at the visual in front of her. Ashe’s juices covered her thigh in no time, making her movements become harder to be consistent.

“Me too, cowboy. Now ride me, just like that.” Ashe groans as her clit hits her thigh at this perfect speed. She needed something more. The thought of spanking definitely helped but she grasps Amélie’s left hand and brings it up to her throat. Amélie’s eyebrows raise at the gesture. Her hand encircles Ashe’s neck and squeezes slightly. Ashe whimpers at the feeling.

“You can squeeze harder, baby. I trust you.” Amélie’s eyes droop in pleasure as her hand squeezes a bit harder making Ashe struggle a bit to keep her movement up.

“Such a dirty little slut, wanting to be choked out like this. Come on, cowboy, you can ride faster,” Ashe picks up her pace as her hands come up to grab onto Amélie’s arm that’s currently around her throat, her eyes begin to water as her release inches closer, “rub your clit for me, baby. I know you’re close, crying like the whore you are.” Ashe’s eyes roll back as one of her hands drops down to rub circles at her clit. The hand around her neck tightens more but not enough to cut off any air, Ashe is in heaven. Ashe’s moans become slightly muffled due to the fact Amélie has quite the hold on her and it’s fueling the air, hot with pleasure. Amélie brings her right hand up from Ashe’s hip to tug at her breasts.

“Cum for me, cowboy.” Within seconds Ashe’s back arches as she struggles to let out the moan her orgasm makes her feel. Her cum leaks out over Amélie’s thigh and Amélie quivers at the sight. Ashe’s chest heaves as she tries to breathe in deep. Amélie releases her throat and Ashe takes a deep breath. Her hands slump forward by Amélie’s hips and her head nestles itself into Amélie’s neck. Amélie brings her hands up to run her fingers through blonde locks and traces them up and down her back, careful of the scratches from earlier.

“You did so well for me, good girl.” Amélie kisses the top of Ashe’s head as Ashe makes a cute noise. Amélie smiles and peppers small kisses across any area of Ashe she could. A few minutes pass and Amélie almost thinks Ashe fell asleep.

“So good.” Amélie giggles as Ashe lifts her head up to kiss her. They kiss lazily for a few minutes, enjoying the afterglow once more. Fully satiated and content to relax in the other person. Ashe pulls away from Amélie’s kissable lips to unstraddle her. Ashe almost looks embarrassed at the mess she made on Amélie’s thigh. Amélie runs her hand down Ashe’s arm, the one with tattoos and hums.

“Why don’t you clean up your mess, cowboy. Then we can sleep.” Ashe bites her lip at the thought of falling asleep next to the gorgeous woman and bends down to lick up her cum that was beginning to dry on Amélie’s thigh. She licks it all up and nibbles at the flesh, much to Amélie’s delight. Ashe makes her way back up her body and sits next to her, bringing Amélie into a kiss. They both scoot down and rest their heads on the pillow as the kiss deepens, Ashe’s tongue exploring Amélie’s mouth. Amélie pulls away and Ashe opens her eyes to see Amélie admiring her.

“Good girl.” Ashe looks away as a blush rises to her cheeks and Amélie smiles at the adorable cowboy and brings her in once more for a kiss. Maybe, just maybe, Ashe has a thing for praise. The two get underneath the covers as Ashe switches off the light next to the bed. After a few more lazy kisses Amélie turns around in Ashe’s arms. Ashe kisses her shoulder as she sighs in contentment.

“Goodnight, darlin’.” Amélie twists her head back slightly to accept one final goodnight kiss from Ashe.

“Goodnight, cowboy.”

━━━━━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━━━━━━

Forever tag list: @cheethos , @kello-unknown , @domromanoff , @stuckys-whore , @marilynroselleprentiss , @captainwonderwidow , @wndamaximov , @awrykai , @tribblemakingalicorn

I know it's been a while and I remembered I had a tag list, I hope y'all don't mind. If you would like to be removed just let me know and if you’d like to be tagged in non-marvel works as well (or even my marvel works), don't be shy, I'll gladly add you! ♥️

#ashe x widowmaker #ouihaw #overwatch #(n)sfw #overwatch fanfiction #widowmaker x ashe #overwatch 2 #widowmaker #ashe #super soft #and gay #🩵

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quotidian-oblivion · 6 months

Text

✨Out of context lines shitpost Pt. 8✨

Part 7

Quo: This is it... our last day of childcare course. And... *sighs* I'm getting choked up. I met @mispeltnostalgia and got to know her well through this course and she's been the best irl fanfic buddy and older brother despite being a year younger than me ever.

Nog: These out of context things have made me so happy and its fun to look back and remember the funny shit that we have said and done this year. this deffo won't be the last though. Quo and I will forever be saying and doing stupid shit. Quo is the best little sister ever and while I'll miss our fridays together she cant get rid of me. I know too many of her fanfics and she's beta-ing my works.

Quo: You beta-ed a couple of mine too!

We'll still be posting the out of context lines, but there are going to be longer gaps since we're not gonna meet on Fridays anymore :( There's still our weekly study sessions that we dubbed TEAS on Wednesday!

Tim: *holding a ball of wool to Jason’s face as a pretend mic* What do you say about the Curse you just found out you have Jason: *clears throat* I hope it kills me. ~ Jason: What do you have to say about your Curse? Tim: …I’ve had it since I was fucking born. ~ Barbara: So I bought a pack of quick oats because I love oats. And then I bought another pack of overnight oats because it had yoghurt, and now I’m just realizing that I really am just a horse. Little Shit Young!Jason: THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING. ~ Damian: I’ve been able to find a knife, I’ve been able to find a fork, but I can’t find a spoon. Jon: You have all the stabby objects in your bag Damian: I also have a fuckton of crochet hooks and— a pocket watch?? *pulls out pocket watch* Where the fuck is my spoon. ~ Steph: So I was getting pumped up for this song but then I just hear this tiny Alvin and the chipmunks voice say “Party Rock” and it just dashed my hopes. Listen to this *Plays Party Rock Anthem”. Damian: … Steph: Like, imagine getting pumped up for one of your childhood songs then you just suddenly hear “party rock” in this high-pitched voice and I felt like killing myself. Damian: … Steph: And hear me out— Damian: I don’t think i want to hear you out anymore. Steph: *Continues to play Bad Romance covered by the Alvin and the Chipmunks” ~ Tim: *Watching a video of Bruce* Bart: Wait, your dad sounds American. Bart: And he speaks kind of like you too! Tim: Yeah, I wonder why my American dad who raised me sounds and has the same speech patterns as me. Hmm, good question. Bart: I just wasn’t expecting it. I forgot that American dads were a thing. ~ Steph: i am granting you the honor of waffle ~ Barbara: *looking for a place to put popcorn. Places the popcorn against Dick’s lap* Dick: hell yeah crotch popcorn! Omg crotchcorn! Barbara: Please don't. ~ Bruce: You have to be very careful out there. These racist attacks are getting worse. Dick: Don't worry, Pops. I'm with a white person, I'll be fine. Barbara: *chokes on her drink with laughter* ~ Tim: *mixes soda water, energy drink and trace amounts of tea together in a tumbler* For funsies. *chugs it* ~ Jason: *falls to the floor, crumbles and silently screams in a public library* Barbara: Stop it, you’re embarrassing yourself Jason: I’m a drama kid, I can do whatever I want ~ Steph: *singing* I am not a quitter Tim: *singing with her* Pocket full of glitter Steph: Yarn balls, I’m a knitter! Steph and Tim: *singing together* I’m the whole package, baby! Tim: I haven’t met you Steph: But if you’re staaable Tim and Steph: Then here’s my number! And call me Mabel! ~ Alfred: *grabs Bruce by the shoulders and shakes* BE PRODUCTIVE! ~ Steph: IS THAT A PURPLE BALLOON??? Steph: *walks over, picks it up, and carries it like a baby* *whispers* I’m pregnant ~ Damian, high on pain meds: *giggling while he draws Tim falling off a roof* whee whee, hee hee, I’m so funny. Hee hee hee. He’s falling off a building.

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kithtaehyung · 2 years

Note

Hey ryen 🤗 I took some notes while reading 3tan9 yesterday. The fic dropped at 1am my time and i had to clean my notes up a little so i would not be too embarrassed by the MESS I wrote but be warned because this is still messy😄 (did not want to get rid of my real live reaction I guess) also the last paragraph I wrote at 4am so… yeah. This is kinda long so take all the time you want with reading and replying😊

heart lifeless next to his shoes

Nooooo but also sooo well written!!!!😩

Kicking My FUCKINGGG BLANKET HEEE DOES NOT THINK IS IS HIIIIMM SHE IS SEEING. AAAAAAAHHH (okay after finishing the scene he thought it was him but not wanting her to confess? I am confused did he get it right away or was he doubting himself and just played it off?)

Your voice cracks as your stars burn out. Your universe collapses in on itself, plunging into your throat and choking you in an instant.

This is sooo fucking hurtful but so beautiful worded

But I’m really fucking into you, doll. I have been for a long time.

YOU DONT UNDERSTAND THIS HAS ME SCREAAAAMING AND GIGGELING ROLLING AROUND IN MY BED LIKE A MANIAC (even just rereading these worts now makes me giddy. I am sooo close to giggleing like a school girl. I am unwell)

Her CONFESSION AND HIS HOLD GOT TIGHTER I AM DYING THIS IS SOOO ADORABLE (also love love love that oc ignored her insecurities to reassure him💕💕😭)

Whatever you want it’s yours- I AM SOBBING MA’AM HOW DARE YOUU

Insecurities last. This is soo amazing feels like reading poetry

Ohhh my god it is nooone of them bro is none of them I thought it was namjoon for sure!! But i loooved this story. Really really amazing and i just flew through it!! I want to know what went down with kook exactly but i feel like this is a great point for your break. Bc my babies are HAPPY AAAAHHHH

Love love loved this chapter!!! not gonna lie you had me in the first half. I was anxious that this was gonna be suuuper angsty but it wasn’t it was sooo adorable and sweet and I was so happy reading this!!! The way you compared love to the deep blue sea and the moonlight and stars comparisons 🥰and ahhh it felt so poetic and made me feel the love and oh my GOD i am so happy! this was so sweet!!!

Oh my good i am so happy that this turned out so sweet although it hurt a lil bit (or a lot) for a while there.❤️‍🩹 but its okay bc it tured out good. (And even if it did not, these are your storys and you can do with them whatever you want) Also Ryen what are you talking about „long wait“ you have been keeping us fed this whole time with all your work.

Wait just remembered you spoiler out of Context what was that about? I don’t remember a green tote was that oc overnight bag? I thought she had a backpack i am confused. Was the trash when oc wanted to throw the tangerine peel away?? there was so much going on so I think i missed it. 🙈

This was such a great read!! it was a whirlwind of emotions I love it so much and thank you so much for sharing this story with us.

(Also I think there is definitely something going on or going to happen between bro and yuri)

Ooooh and I loved the „It’s been a year“ line when it has been almost been a year since 3tan dropped and this was such a meta moment 🤭

I hope you can relax during your break, enjoy your time and get some well deserved rest!!!🍀✨🍊

-🧶🍁

AHHH BABY this is incredibly special and thoughtful of you?? holy hell! i love the note taking and all the thoughts don't mind messes at aLL. let me put my response under a cut my gosh i am so excited to dive into this

the heart next to his shoes. ah, yoongi... you old, silly man.

in the kitchen, you got it right the first time: yoongi was being cheeky and making reader say it. he knew what she meant, but he didn't wanna lean into it so easily. he wanted her to say it, so when she didn't outright, he went cheeky with it as an out for her to take. it's funny but it's also sad.

"Your voice cracks as your stars burn out. Your universe collapses in on itself, plunging into your throat and choking you in an instant." yeah this one def was a punch to the gut, but i'm glad you think it's good :(((

"But I’m really fucking into you, doll. I have been for a long time."AHH I WAS KICKING AND SCREAMING AND BLANKET KICKING DURING THIS ONE TOOOO MY GOD LIKE REALLY YOONGI?? REALLY.

the confessions. all the confessions. my god i love them so damn much and his little actions and tendencies have me wanting to wrap him up and never let him go. him and reader honestly, since she was so, so strong in this chapter. the growth is honestly amazing.

"Whatever you want it’s yours-" YEAHHH IM NOT OK EITHER WHO TOLD HIM THIS WAS OK TO SAY??

"Insecurities last. This is soo amazing feels like reading poetry" thank you so much, babe! i'm touched that you think it flows like poetry ugh i love you.

"Ohhh my god it is nooone of them bro is none of them I thought it was namjoon for sure!! But i loooved this story. Really really amazing and i just flew through it!! I want to know what went down with kook exactly but i feel like this is a great point for your break. Bc my babies are HAPPY AAAAHHHH" ITS NONE OF THEMMMM i know most people thought namjoon, but to that i say: you can just imagine a joonie clone or something kdjsfhsf if you flew through the chapter then that's good for writing sake! means it read well and wasn't bumpy. good feedback. and i'm glad you think it's a good spot for a break!

"Love love loved this chapter!!! not gonna lie you had me in the first half. I was anxious that this was gonna be suuuper angsty but it wasn’t it was sooo adorable and sweet and I was so happy reading this!!! The way you compared love to the deep blue sea and the moonlight and stars comparisons 🥰and ahhh it felt so poetic and made me feel the love and oh my GOD i am so happy! this was so sweet!!!" it was still pretty angsty! but then it wasn't. it beautifully wasn't angsty afterwards - we just had to get through the muddy water first. and i'm glad you liked the deep sea and moonlight and stars! i love imagery like that bc the moon also controls the tides, so i wanted to tie those all together.

"Oh my good i am so happy that this turned out so sweet although it hurt a lil bit (or a lot) for a while there.❤️‍🩹 but its okay bc it tured out good. (And even if it did not, these are your storys and you can do with them whatever you want) Also Ryen what are you talking about „long wait“ you have been keeping us fed this whole time with all your work." AHHH thank you so much, babe. i have a no sad endings policy but that means i get too drag us through hell first LMAO and i guess you're right about the wait! i think i just meant from the last main part since that came out in august? late july? something like that.

"Wait just remembered you spoiler out of Context what was that about? I don’t remember a green tote was that oc overnight bag? I thought she had a backpack i am confused. Was the trash when oc wanted to throw the tangerine peel away?? there was so much going on so I think i missed it. 🙈" the green tote was signifying the bag reader brought tangerines in, and then the trash was from her almost throwing the tangerine (a metaphor) away.

"This was such a great read!! it was a whirlwind of emotions I love it so much and thank you so much for sharing this story with us. (Also I think there is definitely something going on or going to happen between bro and yuri)" glad it was a good read! the emotions were plenty, for sure. and you're so welcome, and thank you for reading<33 and you think something about bro and yuri, huh? even though rohan is with yuri?? oh nO

"Ooooh and I loved the „It’s been a year“ line when it has been almost been a year since 3tan dropped and this was such a meta moment 🤭" YESSSS i thought that was so fitting honestly. glad you noticed LOL

"I hope you can relax during your break, enjoy your time and get some well deserved rest!!!🍀✨🍊" thank you so much, baby. i shall have a good time during break and we will still have fun! :D this was amazing feedback and i am so so grateful. it made me happy and all the hard writing days so worth it.

#you are incredible #🧶🍁 anon #lovely people #asks:3tan #3tan9 #3tan spoilers #3tanbro #*ryenfictalk #long post #mailbox💌

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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Note

hi! request for one where reader struggles w depression a lot but hides it, tho it’s been getting worse recently and only bucky has noticed the small signs. then one night after no one seeing her the whole day or maybe something happened he went to check on her but she wasn’t in her room and he panics only to find her on the roof and just talks her down <3 all the love

Of course! I hope you're okay love❤❤❤. I saw another anon request something a lil similar in my ask box but I can't find it, maybe it got eaten, but I hope you like this!

Word count: 3,400 (ish)

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, depression, close to an attempt, Bucky talks about HYDRA, feelings of worthlessness.

A/N: This deals with very heavy subject matter, please do not read if you are in a dark place. I am here to talk if you want but I encourage you that if you feel this way in ANY way, no matter how severe, to reach out to someone. I also just wanted to say that the way someone talks someone down is never the same, some people may find a different approach more helpful or realistic. I wrote it this way because this is what I feel in my experience would have been helpful to hear. So please, if you don’t think it’s the way someone should talk someone down - please don’t come at me for it.

Overnight

People often don’t notice the small signs. The smiles that don’t reach the eyes, the dark circles from lack of sleep, the laughs that slowly become more forced. People don’t often pick up on those things right away. They happen slowly, as depression will often manifest. It’s rarely ever a flip of a switch shut down, happy one day and sad the net. Anxiety was like that, small things can trigger panic attacks. But with depression, it was this slow ache that grew in your chest, this dull cloud that made everything darker day by day.

These things rarely happen overnight.

You don’t know what caused this episode. You had struggled with depression and would go through some really low episodes before returning to baseline. It was never great, but it was...manageable. Most of the time. Some things could help you predict when you would go into another episode but you felt yourself slipping and you weren’t quite sure why.

You started withdrawing from the team. Subtly, not all at once. That would cause too much concern and the last thing you wanted was to be a burden. Especially with something like this, you didn’t even have an explanation.

It started slow, training on your own, missing team dinners, that sort of thing. If they were going out to celebrate or staying in for a movie you would slip away to your room where you didn’t have to worry about hiding it.

You didn’t want to be alone, you already felt so goddamn lonely. But somehow being lonely and surrounded by people who loved you hurt more.

The team chalked it up to you wanting to be alone, a bad day, being tired, etc. Whatever recycled excuse you gave them didn’t phase them. At least, not at first.

See, people who have experienced similar things will pick up in the small signs that others show. Someone who knows what anxiety is like will often be the first to pick up on nervous habits and tics. Often people notice when someone’s energy is coming from adrenaline and caffeine rather than sleep when they’ve done the same thing. Someone who knows what it’s like to feel hopeless and not want to reach out - they notice the small signs of withdrawing.

He noticed pretty early on the change in your demeanor. You had always been one to keep to yourself but this was different. You always seemed exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t ever fix. Your laugh wasn’t quite the way it used to be, now forced and short, not the usual bubbly laugh it was.

Most people are able to just live and go about daily functions - eating, sleeping - it just came naturally to them. Surviving was natural to them. But it seemed like you had to put thought and effort into surviving.

Which, you were.

Slowly it became hard to motivate yourself to do the basic things to take care of yourself. You would do the bare minimum because you had to, but even that was starting to take more effort than it should. You were eating less because you just weren’t that hungry, but you still did because you knew if you didn’t you’d get sick eventually. You spent as much time in your bed as possible, but not much of it was sleeping.

Bucky picked up on these things and came up to talk to you about them, but you’d smile and shake your head.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little tired I guess.”

You weren’t lying, you were tired - emotionally more than physically.

Tired of more than what the day brought - tired of yourself, of your emotions. Tired of the way you felt so out of touch with yourself, out of control. Tired of how you wanted to get better but no matter what you did, it still came back. You were so tired of being exhausted all the time and there was nothing you could do about it.

You were tired of living this way.

You weren’t necessarily suicidal, it wasn’t that you didn’t want to live. You just didn’t want to live this life, not like this. You were so utterly exhausted day in and day out, every day was about getting to the end of it. Everything seemed pointless and you felt like you were watching life go by but you weren’t living it.

You were surviving. And you didn’t see much of a point to it anymore.

Your mask was cracking. And people were noticing.

Maybe it was when you were falling asleep during mission briefings, or nearly passing out in training because you had forgotten to eat. Maybe it was how no one saw you anywhere that wasn’t necessary. The team passed it off as a bad day or week, something you would get over because you were strong.

But apparently not the strong that you needed to be. You could fight off agents, assassins, you could run for miles. But you couldn’t stop your mind from telling you that life was pointless and you were a waste of space. But the team wrote it off as a bad week. But Bucky knew that this had been going on for much longer than a week.

These things rarely happen overnight.

Too many people were asking you if you were okay, and you weren’t, but you didn’t know how to say it. But you thought that if you had to choke out one more “I’m fine,” you would shatter. And you weren’t ready for everyone to see that.

You stopped coming out of your room unless it was for the bare necessities. You would come out at night for water and food, picking at it in your room so that no one would see you.

But that only made Bucky worry more.

The team, again, wrote it off as you needing some “Alone time” because maybe you just had a “bad day”. Of course they worried about you but they thought that if things were bad, or if there was something you needed help with, you would speak up. Because that’s what you did.

But Bucky was worried. He knew that when someone pushes people away, they may think being alone will help, but it only makes it worse. You may not want to talk to anyone, you may think being alone is what’s best. But it rarely is.

Being alone makes it harder to fight your demons. They can run rampant when given the chance. Being alone is the darkest and loneliest hell, and he knew that all too well.

He wasn’t going to leave you alone in that.

He came up to your room one night, wanting to check on you. He knocked on your door, being met with silence. He knocked again, calling your name, but was again met with silence. He tried the doorknob and found it unlocked, opening the door to an empty room.

Where the hell were you?

You weren’t anywhere else in the tower, so where were you?

Bucky stood there for a moment, confused before he remembered the AI system. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.Where's y/n?”

“I believe that they were heading up to the rooftop about a half-hour ago.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as he sprinted out the hallway and towards the stairs.

---

You looked out over the street, arms crossed over your shivering body. For now, you just looked down at the city below. You chuckled bitterly to yourself. There must have been thousands of people down there, thousands of lives, and you wondered how many people felt the way you did right now. So much hustle and bustle, things to do and places to be. You didn’t know a single person down there, it was just a blur of movement. Yet they all had their own personal stories and hells and blessings and shit that made them who they were.

You wondered how many of them pretended like they were fine.

You were standing closer to the edge than you should’ve been. You weren’t doing yourself any favors. You really shouldn’t be up here, but you didn’t know what else to do. Everything hurt all the time and it was just getting worse. You didn’t know whether or not you were gonna jump but here you were, teetering on the edge. Because no matter how much this hurt you still couldn’t bring yourself to fall forward.

You were scared.

You felt tears sting your eyes, angry, exhausted, everything - you couldn’t do anything right anymore, you felt no purpose, you were tired and scared all of the time. You felt so utterly done with everything, yet here you were with a way out and you were too scared of that too.

You were trapped in your body, trapped in your life, and while you didn’t want to die, you didn’t want it to hurt anymore. It wasn’t that you had nothing to live for. It wasn’t that you had nothing left. You knew you did, you knew the team was there for you. You had more support than you could ever need. But you didn’t know how to use them.

You didn’t even know how this happened. How did things get this bad? You remembered when you were happy, the person you used to be. The person everyone still seemed to think you were. Where did they go? What happened to them? And would you ever be able to be that person again?

Did it even matter? Would anyone even care or notice? They did a great job at ignoring what had been happening. Not that you wanted them to find out in the first place. It was so confusing, you wanted to scream for help, you wanted someone to just fucking notice or something. But didn’t you also answer every single “Are you okay?” with "Oh yeah I’m fine, just a little tired.”

So did you truly want them to know? Did you actually want them to notice or help?

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head a little to yourself. It was all so confusing, so frustrating. You didn’t know what to do. You felt completely trapped within yourself.

These things rarely happen overnight. And they never get better overnight either.

You took a breath as you looked down, toes slightly off of the ledge. One step or losing your balance would be all it would take. And then it would be over. Forever. It wouldn’t hurt anymore.

“Y/n?” you heard a calm, albeit nervous voice speak from behind you.

You felt your breath catch in your throat. As you squeezed your eyes shut. “No,” you whispered to yourself.

“Y/n, can you come down from there?”

“Why are you here?” you asked, voice strained with pain.

“Because I’m worried about you,” he said, voice sounding closer.

“I don’t want you to be worried about me! I never wanted anyone to worry about me!” you exclaimed.

“And where did not talking about what was bothering you get you?”

“No one would ever have to worry about me again. Not anymore.”

“No one on the team would ever be able to stop thinking about you,” Bucky started, walking closer to you. He spoke gently, worried he would scare you or you would suddenly jump off. “About how we should’ve worried about you. Everyone would blame themselves and ask themselves if they could’ve helped you if they had seen you were hurting.”

You heard his footsteps stop.

“This isn’t going to solve anything.”

You took a shaky breath. “What else am I supposed to do, huh?” you turned around, back facing the streets below as Bucky stood a few feet in front of you. “Pretend like this is gonna get better? Because it isn’t. I’m so sick and tired of pretending like one day everything’s gonna be okay again. It never stops hurting, it never turns off, and I can’t do it anymore!” you yelled, tears streaming down your face. You shook your head. “I know this won’t solve jack shit and it probably makes me weak, but I’m okay with that. Because I’m past the point of wanting to solve anything. I just want it to stop! Is that too much to ask?!”

“It is if your life is the price!” Bucky exclaimed. “We can’t lose you. You’re a part of this team - this family,” he said a little more calmly, trying to keep his own tears at bay. No one should go through feeling so hopeless, and you were one of the kindest people he knew.

But some of the most kind-hearted people are the meanest people to themselves.

“I’m not here to judge you or try to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do. I’m not gonna tell you life is all beauty and grace because it isn’t. It’s okay to be in pain but this is not the way to fix it. I just wanna help you.”

You shook your head. “No one can help me.”

“At least let me try,” he said gently.

“You don’t understand okay? It never stops hurting,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “It always hurts and it's this ache in my chest and I feel like I’m suffocating. No one told me that life was going to hurt, no one fucking told me! They say life isn’t fair, or that life may sometimes bring you down, but they never said that existing would be torture. And I don’t want to keep living if it’s going to hurt this much.”

You saw Bucky’s face fall and you shook your head. “Please just go - You weren’t supposed to see this.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’d rather see you at your worst than not see you at all,” he said. “You don’t have to do this yourself. I know it may seem like you do but you don’t. You never had to, and you never will have to. You have me, us, the team - we’re all here for you but we can’t if you don’t let us. But I’m not leaving you. You’ve been alone for too long already.”

You felt a new lump in your throat, feeling overwhelmed. Trapped between death and your worst nightmare. You never wanted to be vulnerable, you never wanted to hurt anyone with your own pain. But hearing Bucky’s words, seeing the panic in his eyes -

You had already hurt him. And he was right - killing yourself was only going to hurt the team more.

But it just hurt so much.

You had heard it so many times - “think about the impact you’ll have on those you love”, or how “suicide is selfish” and shit - made you feel like a horrible person. Because you did care about everyone, you cared too much. And it wasn’t that you didn’t care about hurting them with your decision - it was just that the pain of staying alive began outweighing the fear of hurting those you loved.

And it was torture.

You wanted to say everything that was on your mind - scream and cry and curse the universe, you wanted to break something, you wanted to be hugged, held, and told it would be okay - you wanted to get everything out.

You didn’t want to be alone anymore.

You’ve been alone for too long already.

You let out a broken sob, knees going weak as Bucky caught you and pulled you into his chest, away from the edge.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you said between sobs.

“I know you don’t, I know,” Bucky said, holding you tightly as if he feared you would disappear if he let you go.

Sticks and stones can break your bones but words can never hurt me was utter bullshit. Because the next words that came out of your mouth hurt Bucky more than anything HYDRA had done to him.

“Please just let me die. Why won’t you let me die? I just wanna die, please just let this be over.”

People didn’t realize what depression could do to a person. Someone who was full of life could end up like this. You don’t know what went wrong or when it happened, but you just felt absolutely broken inside. The kind of broken that can’t be fixed.

Bucky felt his heart shatter, tears falling down his own cheeks at how hopeless you had sounded. He had never been overly close with you, but you were always kind to everyone on the team. And the team had failed you by not noticing sooner.

“I’m gonna bring you inside okay?” Bucky said. You didn’t hear him, crying so hard that you couldn’t focus on anything else. He picked you up, carrying you back into the tower. Bucky brought you back to your room, sitting down on your bed with you. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, holding you tightly as he tried to help you calm down.

Exhaustion overtook you, your body becoming worn out from all of the crying and emotions. You never let your guard down like that in front of anyone, and shame began to overtake you.

“I - I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have seen that I’m so so sorry -”

“Don’t,” he started. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“No one was supposed to know,” you whispered.

“Why not? What’s so bad about asking for help?”

You paused for a moment, unsure exactly why. “I don’t know - I just feel really weak sometimes?” you said, more of a question to yourself. “Like I know everyone needs help and shit but I didn’t have a reason to need it. It hurts but I don’t know why, I cry when I’m not sad, I just - I’m not in control of myself and I don’t know why and if I can’t explain it to myself then how am I supposed to talk to anyone about it?”

“That makes more sense than you think. All of us on the team, we all go through shit. We see so many horrible things, we’ve been through so many things. We all have something. You have this. It’s okay if you don’t know why you feel the way you do but hurting yourself isn’t going to help anything.”

“I know what it’s like, wanting a way out,” Bucky said and you immediately knew what he was talking about. “Days that I wished Pierce or Rumlolw or whoever would just finish me rather than punish me over and over. It wasn’t that I wanted to die, I just wanted it to stop.”

You looked at him. “I know. But what I didn’t know then was that it would end. I never thought it could ever end or that it would ever end, but it did. And if I had died back then I would’ve died only knowing that pain. I wouldn’t have known that it could get better or that it would. And I’m not saying everything is perfect now because it’s not. But it’s better than it was. Okay?”

You nodded, fresh tears spilling out of your eyes. You knew the torture that Bucky went through, everyone on the team did. It had taken him a long time to speak about it on his own and move through it. But he did.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” you said.

“Talking about it, getting it out is a great start. Talking about it never hurt anyone.” When you seemed a little apprehensive, Bucky added, “I felt alone for so long. Battling these thoughts and memories in my head. They never stopped. But when I started talking about it with someone, and they helped me work through it - I don’t know. It helped me a lot. It wasn’t just me and my thoughts anymore. I wasn’t alone.”

I wasn’t alone

“You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’m not going anywhere. Whether you like it or not I’m gonna be right here with you

These things rarely get better overnight. But maybe with someone else, they could get better a little bit quicker.

You gave a small nod. “Okay.”

---

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extasiswings · 3 years

Note

“Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.” for Buddie

I needed an excuse to post finale-spec fic and this was conveniently in my inbox. So...

The harsh glare of hospital lights is familiar. It burns Eddie’s eyes when they flutter open, so he slams them shut again just as quickly—his head is foggy, weighed down and clouded over, and the rest of his body feels similarly. His legs are like lead, but he’s pretty sure he can wiggle his toes, and there’s a dull ache that throbs through his torso whenever he takes a breath.

Eddie’s pretty sure he would be in a world of pain if not for the very good drugs they have him on. That explains the brain fog at any rate.

His throat—that aches too, rough and torn like he’s either had a tube shoved down it or spent too long screaming—

Or both.

He thinks he might remember shouting. A lot.

His hands—

Red, red, red, slick and staining as ribs cracked from the force of desperate compressions and a heartbeat vanished under his palms—

Eddie forces his eyes open again, vaguely away of the heart monitor at the side of the bed picking up. He turns his head with some difficulty, looks at his hands—

They’re clean. Clean, but also sticky, like someone used a wet wipe that did the job but left residue. He remembers, though. He thinks—there was blood on his hands because he was in the parking lot at the station, the probie kid right next to him, and he saw the glare off the sniper rifle in the sun in the mirror of the truck—

He remembers. Blood on his hands and compressions and then pain ripping through his own torso—

The monitor gets louder, Eddie’s breathing comes quicker. A nurse rushes into the room.

“Mr. Diaz? Mr. Diaz, I need you to calm down for me. Take some slow breaths—can you do that?”

Eddie nearly chokes, but he manages one, then a second. The beeping levels out.

“Do you know where you are?” The nurse asks. Eddie swallows dryly.

“The hospital.”

“Good Samaritan,” she acknowledges. “Do you remember what happened?”

“I—I got shot.”

She nods. “You’ve been out for awhile. You had emergency surgery yesterday morning. Overnight you woke up very briefly because you were fighting your breathing tube, so we removed it. You’ve had some visitors in and out, but—is there anyone I can call for you?”

The irony is somewhat darkly hilarious. He broke up with Ana the night before that shift. Not that he would have wanted her to see him like this anyway. He thinks about Christopher, but he doesn’t know if he can touch his son while his hands still feel stained. His aunt, his abuela—he doesn’t think he can manage that either. Which just leaves—

“Buck,” Eddie rasps. “He’s—he should be my emergency contact.”

“No need to call,” Buck interrupts from the doorway. “I’m already here.”

He looks worse than Eddie’s ever seen him. Worse than after the ladder truck, after the tsunami, during the lawsuit—there’s at least a day of scruff on his jaw, and there are deep shadows beneath red eyes—

Eddie clears his throat roughly as he stares. He barely notices the nurse leaving the room.

“Did they—did they get the sniper?”

Buck nods once. “Yeah.”

“Well that’s...something, I guess.” Eddie looks back at his hands, feels the stickiness when his fingers curl into his palms. “He died, right? The kid.”

“There wasn’t anything you could’ve done, Eddie, even if you hadn’t—”

Buck goes pale so fast Eddie’s half-afraid he might be sick. Or pass out.

He looks like a ghost.

“Sit,” Eddie says quietly. “Please?”

Buck blinks and seems to come back to himself, finally crossing into the room and pulling up a chair next to the bed.

“Christopher,” he stammers out, “Carla and Isabel are with him. I was with him while you were in surgery, but I thought—he needed to go home and sleep and I promised him I would be here if you woke up. I didn’t—he didn’t want you to be alone.”

I don’t want to be alone.

Eddie bites it back.

“Was he scared?”

“Was he—?” Buck blows a breath out his nose and looks up at the ceiling. This close, the red in his eyes is more prominent, the normal bright blue dulled and bloodshot. “Of course he was. He was scared, Isabel was scared, I was scared, you almost—”

Buck cuts himself off and drags a hand over his face.

“I should have been there.”

“So you could have gotten shot, too?” Eddie replies. “So it could have been you bleeding out under my hands?”

“I’m supposed to have your back—”

“—and if you had we’d both be here, or worse,” he interrupts. “I for one am glad that—”

“You died,” Buck bites out, and Eddie stops. “In the ambulance. Your heart stopped. Hen told me. And I hadn’t even seen you since that stupid fight—god, Eddie, I’m so—”

“We both said things we didn’t mean,” Eddie says. “And—I’m sorry, too.”

Buck takes his hand and Eddie almost pulls away because it’s too gentle and soft and his skin is smeared with guilt and sin and failure that he can hardly bear to smear Buck with, but Buck’s lacing their fingers before he can. And then he can’t bear to pull away either.

Buck knows where his hands have been. But he doesn’t care. There’s something—something in the back of Eddie’s mind trying to whisper through the lingering fog, but Eddie can’t quite catch it.

He thinks, though, that he might like holding Buck’s hand.

“You have to stop dying on me,” Buck says finally, his voice a choked whisper. “I can’t—”

Eddie doesn’t have a lot of grip strength at the moment, but he squeezes Buck’s hand with everything he can manage.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

#chapel writes #buddie #prompt fill #yes I'm choosing violence yes I'm sorry

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lemon-boy-stan · 3 years

Text

SINGULARITY

summary: a millennium ago, your heart was broken by the only boy who loved you. a forever later, his heart was broken by the only girl he ever loved. genre: angst, vampire and witch!au (y/n is a witch). warnings: none, heartbreak. a/n: listen to/loop ‘singularity’ while reading.

The old birch door swung open with a creak, the rusted sign clattering in the eerie wind. You sighed. This place was old, and there might not be any Wi-Fi here. But it was your only shot at getting a good night’s sleep without the possibility of being murdered or robbed.

The empty road was dangerous at night and you were almost out of fuel, deserted in the middle of nowhere, miles away from Seoul. It was spooky so quiet.

There was a soft ring as the door shut and a different kind of ambience filled the velveteen walls with a ghostly light and you felt at home. A pale woman with a hunched back and greying hair appeared at the front desk - which was also birch. Birch and rusting. Like the wood was so old it rusted like metal.

A cold breeze blew and the lady frowned, raising up her tortoiseshell glasses to her face. “We haven’t had any visitors for a long time... especially since... gosh, it’s been a while. He’ll be very happy, yes, you do look quite like her. Perhaps... perhaps the time has come... a millennium, she said... perhaps it is now time for me to rest... if only...” she appeared to be talking to herself.

You took a step back. You didn’t like this place as much as you originally did. It wasn’t as fancy, more scary. It didn’t help that the woman was really, really creepy, either.

Despite your discomfort, the lady smiled, clearing her throat, the attention of her gazed eyes turning to you. “But of course, it’s far too dangerous for you to stay outside! Especially not at night...” she shivered, like she’d been reading your earlier thoughts.

“Follow me, dear, there’s a room down the hall. Unfortunately, you will have to share, as the other six have been occupied for quite a long time, if I do say so myself...” she chuckled at her own joke, though you didn’t really understand it. The place looked kind of empty. “We can move your things inside once you’ve settled in.”

“Oh, no,” you interrupted her quickly, “thank you, but I’ll just be staying overnight.” you might not even stay the whole night. You’d probably find a way to sneak out later without offending the old woman, she looked lonely.

The lady chuckled sadly, “that’s what they all say, isn’t it? He always lures them here, looking for her. Poor man. Feasts on all those pretty girls. In and never out, just like clockwork. Leaves the rest for his hyungs. You’re different, though. Perhaps there is something about you, he might like, hmm? I wish you farewell and good luck, dear, this is your stop. I hope you enjoy reading.” with a tilt of her hand she waved, and then she was gone.

The door swung open by itself, whistling in the air. It was pretty spooky, and it wasn’t even Halloween yet, it was May, but the interior designers obviously didn’t think so.

The Victorian walls were laced with black swirls that looked like cobwebs. The mirror on said wall was round and coloured an ominous black shade. The bed was black and ghastly, with black and red sheets. Above it hung a black clock that seemed to be broken.

You checked yours, and it appeared to have stopped as well. You clicked your phone but the screen remained dark. You began to back out of the room, instincts shouting danger. The door slammed shut. The candles, scattered all over the room in black mantles, flickered, their flames swaying in the breeze as a lump formed in your throat. Whoever was here was trying to scare you, and it was working.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” a thick, chocolatey, hollow voice oozed out with warmth, making you jump. The voice chuckled at your surprise obnoxiously. You turned to the corner of the room, where a man with dark hair, pale skin and a ruffled white collar sat at a writing desk, returning his fountain pen to the pot of ink.

The beautiful man smiled, getting up. “Chaewong really outdid herself this time...” he murmured the words quietly, taking a step forwards, approaching you carefully. “What a brilliant witch she is, hmm?” the woman at the front desk was a witch? Now, that didn’t make any sense.

“Am I high?” you didn’t mean to say. The man glared at you and you were afraid you’d offended him but thankfully, he sighed, uncrossing his arms.

“Your generation... you’re all so naïve.” he scoffed at his own words, prancing around you like a predator stalking his prey; as if he were some kind of higher power. You frowned. What did he mean, ‘your generation’? You were the same age as he was, if not a few months younger. Anyone could tell.

“Look,” you went with your guts. “I get that this is a joke. So, you got your eomma into it somehow, and got a bit of technology for it, too. I gotta say, great job on the set. But this is getting really creepy, and I just really need a place to stay. I don’t mind sharing a room with you, but if you don’t mind just backing off for a bit -”

Your own eomma had always said you were bad at choosing words of speech. The man growled before huffing and uncrossing his arms again. “You always were the same, weren’t you? Stubborn. Forgetful. Ignorant.” he laughed at forgetful and you clenched your fists; you really didn’t like this guy’s vibe.

“Alright, that’s it. I’m going to call the police. You’re going to jail for harassment. See here? I’m going to call the police on you.” you wove your phone around even though you’d been having trouble turning it on.

The man sighed sadly, “that won’t work.” he hung his head low, sniffing. The voice that dripped confidence now dripped misery. “I’m sorry, Y/N... I learnt my lesson. I really did. I love you forever. I didn’t mean to court her. I only ever wanted you; only you.”

“How do you know who I am?” these serial killers were dangerous on a whole new level. The black-haired man sighed, pushing back his dark locks. “Magic doesn’t stop time,” he murmured sadly, “but love does.” He stepped closer, hoping, praying, that you recognised those words. All you recognised, however, was that you needed to get out of here, and fast.

“Magic always came with a price,” the man continued on, “but you won’t remember that.” you felt sorry for him, perhaps he had a bad case of amnesia. “You’re the one under a memeory spell! Your own, if I do recall.” could everyone here read your thoughts? “Yes,” he crossed his arms, “yes, we can.”

“‘We’?” you thought out loud. The tall man grumbled loudly. “You used to know them. And it’s your fault you forgot them. They are members of our kingdom’s court.” now he was talking nonsense. “I am not talking nonsense,” he retorted, “merely the truth. You knew them, once, and you left them. But nevermind that. You’re here now, and right now all that really matters, is us. You and I, together again.”

He advanced, and before you could object, hooked an arm around your waist, and placed a kiss on your lips. You gasped, but not from the kiss. A white light flashed through your mind at an instant; a thousand memories tumbling into you all at once, pouring the heart back into your soul.

The boys at the palace were brats. They had you set the table only for them to mess it up again. They would send you to fetch things, only for them to tell you to return them shortly after. You went to school, hoping to make friends, only for them to have spread a rumor about you weeks before.

They did get better throughout the years, though, and began treating you as an equal. As their friend. And you didn’t mind, being the only girl in a group of eight. You liked it.

But you liked one of them in particular, more than the rest. He was kind, quiet, beautiful, and he felt absolutely heavenly. His soft voice always sung you to sleep. His warm heart always comforted your broken one. He was the closest that you’d ever been to someone. He was -

“Kim Taehyung.” you spoke into the breath, gasping out the tears. You felt like someone had torn you open, pulled out your heart, thrown it away for years, only for you to find it again. “I’m sorry,” he choked, “I didn’t mean to. She. I was helpless, she...” only to find it broken again. “Please, please forgive me.” the words stung. “You let her,” your voice broke, “you let her make you a monster.” Taehyung flinched at your words.

“She made me,” he insisted, still holding you tight. “She made me. I couldn’t let her get to you, I couldn’t. I couldn’t let her turn you into...” he choked again, “into what I am.”

Suddenly cold, you turned around, back facing him, taking a step forwards. “No!” his voice towered through the walls. Chairs and tables worked together to form a barrier that trapped you in with him. “Please,” his thick voice was shaky, “please let me love you.”

A single tear bit your cheek on its way down. That was as much as you would allow yourself over this man. He’d broken your heart one too many times. “I’m sorry, Taehyung,” you shook your head, shaking silently with tears. “But I love you too much.”

He moaned with such misery that you wanted to break down and cry on him, just like you used to all those years ago. “At least break the curse,” he pleaded, “none of those girls are anything compared to you.” your heart screamed at you. Your lip trembled, “it’s already broken.” you knew he was frowning, “true love’s kiss.”

BTS MASTERLIST // TXT MASTERLIST

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Text

Tedious Joys - Chapter 8 - END

- Ao3 link -

“You’re not going to like what we’ve decided,” Lao Nie said.

Lan Qiren could have guessed that from the way that the other man had marched into the room and promptly used Lan Qiren’s thigh as a pillow, primarily, Lan Qiren suspected, because he didn’t want to have to look Lan Qiren in the face.

It was a common tactic of his these days. The Nie clan had always been inclined towards tactile behavior and a certain lack of personal boundaries – personal information was too much to share, but apparently bodies were free game – and Lao Nie had very quickly transitioned from embarrassment to taking advantage of his newfound dependency on regular physical contact with Lan Qiren. Much to Lan Qiren’s relief, they had managed, with some experimenting and considerable effort on all parts involved, for Lao Nie to form a bond directly with the jade pendant. Now, as long as he carried the pendant, he was able to be by himself for a shichen or so without experiencing any degradation in his mental state – and that, in turn, enabled them both to separate and allowed them both some measure of privacy.

Unfortunately, after that shichen was over, Lao Nie would begin to become irritable and irrational again, his eyes slowly becoming bloodshot as the rage and resentful energy contained now wholly within him, rather than in the jade – in Jiwei, rather – began to need to be excised. Exercise and cultivation with a heavy training saber helped slow the effects, as did Lan Qiren’s musical efforts to calm and clear his mind, but Lao Nie’s cultivation was simply too high for it to last for very long. It was as if half his meridians had vanished overnight and yet he continued to cultivate as he did before; it was as if his dominant arm had been abruptly cut off, and yet he instinctively continued to try to do everything he previously could. He needed his saber to complete even a standard circulation of his qi, and short of suppressing his spiritual energy entirely (another experiment that met with some limited success, getting them another two shichen of time apart if they really needed it, but which was not a long-term solution given the unfortunate side effects), he had to have access to it.

Currently, that access was through Lan Qiren.

“If you’re warning me in advance, I’m quite certain that I won’t like it,” he said mildly, continuing to play uninterrupted. He wasn’t cultivating anything at the moment – the piece he was working on was actually a refinement of the music he’d inadvertently created in his grief at Cangse Sanren’s death, the one that had made his normally very stable nephews burst into tears, and he didn’t want to add spiritual energy to it until he’d worked out exactly how he wanted it to go. He reached an appropriate stopping place, noted down a few revisions to the score, and put his guqin aside. “You should tell me about it regardless.”

Lao Nie exhaled. “Well, good news first – the smiths have finally finished conferring and they’ve concluded that they believe it’s possible to try reforging Jiwei, so they’re willing to give it a try.”

“Good,” Lan Qiren said. He hadn’t really understood the spiritual weaponsmiths’ reluctance on the subject, but he respected their expertise as craftsmen, just as they respected his as a musician. “Once the saber has been remade, I can reestablish the resonance between them and, in theory, Jiwei should be able to use that pathway to return - and with greater ease, as she would be returning to her more familiar self.”

“Not that easy, unfortunately,” Lao Nie said regretfully. “Jiwei was shattered. To remake the blade, they will need to – for want of a better explanation – melt her down and start entirely afresh. It will be like having a wholly different saber, albeit with the same metal that she’s used to.”

Lan Qiren frowned.

“There, you see the issue. If it’s a new saber, the familiarity will be absent. We will need to work on reestablishing the resonance the way we did with the pendant, and that means –”

“Slowly.” Lan Qiren’s frown deepened. It had taken him years to establish that initial resonance, and knowing how it was done could only reduce the process by so much. “That is indeed a problem. I cannot stay here as long as that would take. In all truth, I am surprised that I have not already been summoned back by my sect…”

“Oh, you have,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “A-Jue burned the letters and told the messengers to fuck off.”

Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped. “He did what?!”

“Did we not say? You’ve officially been kidnapped! Well, no, really it’s more of a hostage exchange situation, since they have A-Sang with them…oh, don’t look so horrified, Qiren,” Lao Nie said, starting to laugh. “Your sect elders have indicated that no offense was taken, under the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?!” Lan Qiren spluttered a little. “You’re not serious! What circumstances could justify one sect kidnapping another sect’s sect leader, acting or otherwise?!”

Lao Nie stopped laughing, the sound cutting off as if he’d been choked. “Yes, well,” he said, closing his eyes. “That’s the part you’re really not going to like.”

Lan Qiren determinedly prodded at Lao Nie’s shoulder until the other man, grumbling, sat up and took a proper seat so that they could have this discussion face-to-face. Their knees remained touching, which was good enough, and about all that the scoundrel deserved at the moment.

“Explain,” Lan Qiren ordered, and Lao Nie dipped his head into a nod.

“There are several relevant points,” he said crisply, dropping into the familiar pattern of a report. “First, Hanhan has clearly decided that he wants me dead –”

“Must you?” Lan Qiren interjected, even though he had not meant to interrupt.

“Oh, I must.” Lao Nie’s eyes were flinty. “He decided that if he couldn’t have me – and no one said he couldn’t, except his own paranoia – that if he couldn’t, no one could, and I’m not about to forgive him for that, don’t worry. But he’s still my Hanhan, my A-Han, underneath all his madness, and for my own sake, I’m not going to let anyone, whether him or me, forget it. No matter how necessary, some things have to hurt, and to their fullest extent...However, that’s not what’s relevant now. May I continue?”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“He wants me dead,” Lao Nie said, resuming his narrative. “Now that he tried once, he may try again, and I currently lack the capability to defend myself – the doctors, and you, have all agreed that I should avoid any excessive use of qi, and fighting a battle with a saber that isn’t Jiwei is a recipe for disaster in the best of times. I can’t exactly swing the pendant around, can I? Moreover, it may take years for us to establish the resonance, re-transfer Jiwei, and for me to re-familiarize myself with the new saber.”

Lan Qiren did not like the way this was going.

“There’s also the matter that I can’t be without physical contact with you for extended periods of time, and you of course have your responsibility to your sect,” Lao Nie continued. “Kidnapping you is, at best, a temporary fix. We will need something more permanent, and your sect elders have already indicated that they won’t let you marry out until your nephews are grown – and obviously we can’t wait that long, even assuming you’d want to marry me.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth.

“Don’t say that you’d be willing to make the sacrifice to marry me, because even if you would, I wouldn’t. Putting aside the fact that you wouldn’t be happy leaving the Cloud Recesses and as much as I adore you, having been married before, I’m quite certain that I only want to marry my lovers, thank you.”

Lan Qiren had, in fact, been about to make an offer just like that, but he kept his mouth shut. They could discuss it at length at a later point.

“In short, the best solution to all of these problems, therefore, appears to be to allow events to play out as Hanhan would have wanted: for me to die.”

“You cannot be serious!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, abruptly furious. “After all the effort we put into saving your life, you would just throw it away?”

Lao Nie held up his hands. “Forgive me, I spoke unwisely – ‘do not take your words lightly’, right?”

Lan Qiren was usually very easily distracted by the mention of the Lan sect rules, but he resisted the temptation and glared.

“I didn’t mean I’d actually die,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Only that that would be the story we put out to the world. The process has already begun – that’s why your sect elders aren’t kicking up a fit about A-Jue being so rude to them about refusing to return you.”

“They think he’s in mourning,” Lan Qiren realized. “Whether actual, or merely preemptive.”

He could see how it might appear that way: Nie Mingjue showing up late in the evening, depositing a shaken and terrified Nie Huaisang, using up all the medical supplies in Lan Qiren’s personal possession, and then asking Lan Qiren to return home with him…

Due to Lan Qiren’s friendship with Lao Nie, Nie Mingjue had grown up especially close to the Lan sect; Lan Qiren had been his teacher, and in the end he was only fifteen, even if most people didn’t know that. Even in a world where Lao Nie could not have been saved, he might have refused to let Lan Qiren go home so quickly, seeking comfort from the sole familial authority, however informally constituted, that he had remaining.

“But Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “If you are supposedly dead, then Mingjue will need to become sect leader.”

Lao Nie grimaced, but nodded.

He’d been right about one thing, at least: Lan Qiren did not like what the Nie sect had decided.

He didn’t like it one bit.

“You know what that will do to him,” he said. He himself knew it better than anyone.

“I do,” Lao Nie confirmed, looking pained. “But it’s the best out of a short list of very bad options. If I stay on as sect leader in my current state, someone will kill me – probably Hanhan, but maybe someone else, one of the many small sects that have ambitions of taking the Nie sect’s place – and if that happens, A-Jue will have to become sect leader in truth, without my support. At least this way, I can act as an advisor, aid him with paperwork…that sort of thing.”

As much as Lan Qiren would have liked to argue, he didn’t have a good rebuttal to that.

Lao Nie’s position within the Nie sect was as secure as anything, and the Nie sect’s position as a Great Sect was nearly as unshakable, but there were always smaller sects looking to see whether that could change. If he were known to be so critically weakened...Wen Ruohan might not even need to kill him personally. He’d just need to wait.

And the rest was true, too. There were many things Lao Nie could do from a distance - his month at the Lan sect had shown that much - and having someone reliable to turn to for advice and hard choices was the ideal sort of transition for a new sect leader.

Still, the sect conferences alone would be horrifying, and those Lao Nie would not be able to aid Nie Mingjue with, even if he could help with all the rest.

He hated it.

But he couldn’t argue against it.

“Moreover, without the bulk of the responsibilities of sect leader on my shoulders, I’ll have more opportunity to focus on healing.”

That was true as well. Lao Nie had been hurt very deeply by Jiwei’s destruction. His cultivation had fallen, his usual cultivation pathway denied to him, his trust in his own mental well-being betrayed…in an ideal world, Lan Qiren would recommend seclusion for a few months, maybe even a year, for him to focus on reestablishing his connection with himself, re-centering his foundation so that he could climb up once more. But for a sect leader, that was impossible.

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said, although he made sure by his tone to make clear how much he disapproved. “I understand the basis for your decision.”

“I thought you might.”

“There’s only one flaw I see with your plan.”

“Oh?”

Lan Qiren folded his hands together in front of him. “You still need me, don’t you? Even with the excuse of mourning, Nie Mingjue can only request my presence for so long before the demands of my sect become paramount over their respect for his filial piety and grief.”

“Oh, we’ll let you go back eventually,” Lao Nie said with a shrug. “And I’d go with you.”

Lan Qiren had been expecting that. “And how exactly do you intend to keep the story of your death intact if you’re living with me at the Cloud Recesses? Even if we increase your tolerance such that you can stay home at all times, my home is often visited by my students, including those from other sects – and while there may be a rule against talking behind people’s backs, it is one of the most commonly broken.”

Lao Nie winced in a way that suggested both that he had thought of an answer to that question and also that Lan Qiren was going to hate it.

“Whatever you say, I cannot dislike it more than A-Jue becoming sect leader at fifteen,” Lan Qiren pointed out.

“I don’t know about that,” Lao Nie said. “Given that to this day you despise the smell of gentians.”

Lan Qiren’s brain came to an abrupt halt.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Qiren…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a good solution,” Lao Nie argued. “No one in your sect goes to that house – most of them don’t even know it exists! It’s within a short walking distance of your home, protected by arrays to enhance silence and protect privacy…”

“I am not locking you in He Kexin’s place!” Lan Qiren bellowed.

“You wouldn’t be locking me anywhere,” Lao Nie said, for once the reasonable and calm one in the face of Lan Qiren’s fury. “I would be going willingly, and I would be free to leave at any time. You’re not your brother, Qiren, and I’m not He Kexin – not least of which because I’m neither capable of nor interested in bearing two sons for you as a means of passing the time.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “A bit of a pity, that. I’m sure they’d be cute.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes at him, although the reassurance and humor had helped douse the worst of his terror at the mere idea. Irritatingly, it was a good solution: he had made the trek to He Kexin’s home hundreds of times and no one had ever raised any questions. In the unlikely event that they did so now, he could claim he was merely tending to the garden to maintain it for his nephews; more likely, however, they would simply not notice – the path between the two locations was short and purposefully discrete.

“You’ll need someone to clean the place,” he pointed out. “Even He Kexin had servants, and if you don’t want anyone from the Lan sect finding out about it…”

“I have some servants that are loyal to me personally, and which are not Nie sect disciples,” Lao Nie said. “They can seek employment at the Cloud Recesses on the basis that they didn’t want to remain here after I’d gone – literally true, if you think about it in a certain light. Your sect would snatch them up in a heartbeat.”

They would, too, even without Lan Qiren interfering: properly trained servants who knew how to serve cultivators were a precious commodity that often had to be raised up from a young age or recruited with great caution from the ranks of rogue cultivators, and ones with the skills and experience that came from serving at another Great Sect were even more valued than most. And once they were part of the Cloud Recesses, there would be no difficulty in Lan Qiren adding the task of caring for He Kexin’s house to their list of duties.

“It’s a good plan,” he finally conceded, and Lao Nie sniggered.

“You look as though you’ve bitten into a lemon, Qiren. Did it hurt to say?”

“It hurt to think,” he retorted, and turned back to his guqin. “Will you visit my brother while you’re there? He might enjoy hearing your voice and knowing that you are close.”

Lao Nie had always refused in the past, and he shook his head now. “Not all of us are as forgiving as you, Qiren. Qingheng-jun made his choices.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“He makes them again every day,” Lao Nie disagreed. “He may have declared that he would stay in seclusion for the rest of his life to make amends, but that was his decision. He could break his oath and come out, do the right thing, but he doesn’t want to.”

It was an old argument, and an unproductive one. Lan Qiren shook his head, signaling that he would no longer engage.

He had other things to be concerned with, and would for some time. There was helping with Lao Nie’s recovery, creating the new resonance, playing calming music for him, keeping his secret; he would also need to help support Nie Mingjue as much as possible during his transition to sect leader, whether through correspondence and advice or through active intervention during the discussion conferences. He would need to manage his nephews, who he had taught so carefully not to lie, and yet they would need to learn to keep this secret, too.

Taking care of Lao Nie would also be an additional set of duties, on top of being sect leader and being a teacher and being himself, but Lan Qiren didn’t mind it.

It wouldn’t be so bad, actually, now that he thought of it without prejudice. To have someone close by to take tea with in the afternoons when his nephews were too busy and it wasn’t the right time of year for students, someone with whom he could speak on any range of subjects, including his occasional frustrations with his sect, stories about his students, the political troubles of the day – a friend close by, rather than at a distance. Someone who would probably encourage him to take more exercise than he usually did, to try things outside of his comfort zone, someone who would listen to his ideas on music or the rules without judgment, someone who would share his burdens and support him…it would be a little like having a wife, but without all the inconvenient aspects that he so thoroughly disliked.

“It’s not too bad, as such things go,” Lao Nie said, his thoughts clearly moving along a similar line as Lan Qiren’s. “Whatever the world thinks, I’ll be the first Nie sect leader to live to enjoy a retirement, however premature.”

This was true.

“I’ll miss my boys, of course,” Lao Nie added. “But I’ll write, and you can invite A-Sang to your lectures when he’s old enough. A-Jue can come visit you, sect leader to sect leader…I wouldn’t be the first father to only see his children a few times a year.”

“Nie Huaisang will probably fail my classes,” Lan Qiren said, having been acquainted with the individual in question for some time now. A clever child, even very clever, but he was also lazy, hated reciting facts, and was as stubborn as a rock – as stubborn as his father. “You’ll probably have the joy of him for several summers in a row.”

Lao Nie smiled.

“Well, I can’t say this was what I expected when I wrote to you for help all those years ago,” he joked, leaning down and playing with the jade token that now hung from his belt rather than Lan Qiren’s. Wen Ruohan would probably have a fit if he ever saw it – indeed, Lan Qiren was already looking forward to that day in the future, however distant, where Lao Nie would regain his saber and his former strength and re-emerge to make his feelings on the subject of Wen Ruohan’s actions clear. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“As am I, my friend,” Lan Qiren said. “As am I.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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chalkrevelations · 3 years

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SO. Back to the beginning, Episode 1 of Word of Honor. This is likely to be a little bit different experience than the prior posts, when I was watching the eps as they aired, compared to now approaching the show as whole and complete. May be rummaging around for things I missed the first time through, stuff that takes on new meaning set in additional context – we’ll see how it goes.

With that in mind, spoilers for not just this ep but possibly for the entire series. Get out of the car now and come back later, if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

First thing to strike me, right up front: You know, I think we tend to lose sight in later parts of the show – when we’re getting Laopo!Zhou Zishu pouting so he doesn’t have to cook dinner - how terrifying ZZS is in his own right (and by “we,” I actually mean the show, too). One of the things the first few episodes gets right, I think, is the sense of eerie inevitability and dread created by both the falling lanterns of Tian Chuang and the blowing paper figures of the Ghost Valley, and how similar they are. I think it’s easy to lose that - when the lanterns and the paper figures are gone and our charming and adorable couple are busy being charming and adorable at each other, in between varying rounds of being wracked by guilt and PTSD – easy to lose that this is there too, part of them – both of them - under the skin. I think it’s particularly easy to lose that for ZZS, when he’s already done a lot of work, off-screen, pre-Episode 1, during the 18 months he was putting in those first six Nails, to come to some kind of equilibrium, and meanwhile we watch Wen Kexing’s entire torturous process play out on-screen. Wen Kexing’s story is one of reaching an equilibrium, but Zhou Zishu’s story is one of maintaining it, which I think may be less showy, but is equally valuable, just as I value the Four Seasons Manor arc, especially, for giving us a vibe of two adults comfortable in an already intimate relationship, as opposed to the veritable sea of will-they-won’t-they tug-of-war coming-together-for-the-first-time-as-emotional-AND-plot climax relationships that we’re usually awash in.

Anyway, straight up we’re introduced to an assassin who, we discover, doesn’t like to get blood on himself. It looks like metaphorical blood is fine, just not actual blood, but then we discover, well, maybe he’s not as OK with metaphorical blood as he schools himself to look. Also that conversation with Li Jingan about her dad having to die because he’s a traitor to the country – I now wonder how much of that particular conversation Zhou Zishu mentally brings to the table in later conversations about his own father being executed for the same reason. Also, wait wait wait. Zhou Zishu tells Jingan that he took Jiuxiao’s body back to Four Seasons Manor and buried him next to their shifu, but I don’t remember seeing another grave there, other than Qin Huaizhang’s and his wife’s. Script inconsistency, or are you supposed to be lying, ZZS? I mean, would you be so downcast at the state of Four Seasons Manor when you arrive with your husband and son for your honeymoon, if you’d actually been there only a couple of years before? It didn’t fall to pieces overnight. Also, HAIRPIN FORESHADOWING ALERT. Our first sign of how important the hairpin is, the way ZZS’s impassive face cracks wide open when he sees the hairpin that Jiuxiao made and realizes he must have given it to Jingan. Clearly important!

Mmm. Here’s a point for the “Prince Jin is a f’kn asshole” list – Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with Bi Changfeng personally when Bi Changfeng requests to leave Tian Chuang. And OK, ZZS is the leader of Tian Chuang. But you’re never going to convince me Prince Jin wants ZZS to deal with it personally because Prince Jin is actually so very furious that Bi Changfeng made a mistake. You will never convince me this isn’t a … it’s not even a test of loyalty, at this point, because Prince Jin has no reason to think yet that ZZS is anything other than the faithful hunting dog on a leash that he’s been, lo, these many years. Putting ZZS in a position where not only is he losing the last of the direct disciples of Four Seasons Manor, but he’s being asked to (as good as) kill him with his own hands - it’s just cruelty for the proof of your power and influence over someone. Also, given Prince Jin’s later diatribe about how everyone leaves him OMG (have you considered it’s your personality?) (But also Beiyuan! I know who you are now, and yeah, I would have let Wu Xi bride-kidnap me away from this jerk, too), I have to wonder if Prince Jin isn’t trying to make ZZS feel exactly as isolated as he, himself, feels, as part of his overall desire to make sure that ZZS has no one other than Prince Jin so that their positions are parallel – only having each other in the whole world. I also have to wonder if he’s not hoping for precisely the reaction ZZS has to Bi Changfeng – you’d rather be dead than be with me? Because that hurts, you can see it on ZZS’s face (thanks already, Zhang Zhehan), and I rather suspect Prince Jin wants it to hurt. I notice we get an echo of this later in the ep, with Prince Jin saying pretty much the same thing when ZZS asks for the final Nail. GOOD. I hope it hurts you just as much. I wonder if ZZS realizes this while he’s kneeling there in the throne room. It’s probably too late for him to get any satisfaction out of it.

OH, HEY. That’s HAN YING already, one of the two people accompanying ZZS to put down Bi Changfeng, looking super-pained like he knows what this is all costing his beloved. Han Ying, I really hope you got to tap that at least a few times before ZZS made his break for it. Is that one of the reasons Prince Jin seems to have such antipathy for you, or is it really just that he can’t stand the idea of someone whose loyalty to ZZS is greater than their loyalty to Prince Jin, himself? (Seriously, y’all, why is there not much much more Han Ying/ZZS fic?) Meanwhile Duan Pengju, omg, this asshole, is already looking smug and punchable. Really, he’s kind of enjoying the Seven Nails placement a little too much. Showing your hand pretty fast on the petty evil thing, show.

So, one thing I didn’t catch the first time around, is that ZZS isn’t just self-injuring to punish himself when he takes the knife to his chest – he re-opens wounds on all the places where the first six Nails have already been placed, so it will look like the placement is fresh. If you can’t tell he hasn’t just put them in, there’s no reason for anyone else (read: Prince Jin) to suspect he’s bought himself some time before he loses his senses. As far as anyone knows, he’s going to fall over with locked-in syndrome any day now. Which just makes the implications of Prince Jin vowing that he’s only letting him go for now EVEN ICKIER. For all Prince Jin knows, what he’s going to get back is a flesh doll that will just lie there, although I guess on the plus side, ZZS would never leave him again. Thanks, show, I need a shower, now.

ZZS says all the right things to argue his case to Prince Jin – he’s only good as a weapon, he has no skills nor utility for building and governing the country – and I think partly this is because he just knows the right things to say. I mean, you don’t become the Number Two guy in the country, with thousands under you and only one above you, if you can’t play imperial politics. But I also wonder if deep down he doesn’t actually believe it – he was successful at building Tian Chuang, but he couldn’t maintain Four Seasons Manor and even drove it to ruin. So, I’ll just be over here, clutching my chest, over my heart. Fortunately, Zhang Zhehan provides quick distraction from this pain, and I … Y’all. I can’t. I just. I CANNOT. When ZZS drops to his knees and starts stripping in the throne room. Just. Mmmmmrgh. THIS VISUAL. Although, you want to know what one of the hottest parts actually is? That pair of leather bracers hitting the floor on top of his belt, and ZZS isn’t even in the shot at that point. OK, fine, I am willing to read some dirtybadwrong fic with this whole scene premise at its heart, even if it does include Prince Jin. Zhang Zhehan, you are KILLING ME. I might have rewound this part. More than once. You can’t prove anything.

Aaaand then we get that gorgeous, painful shot of ZZS riding out into the snow that I know I’ve talked about before (including the way I get an odd echo of Lan Xichen off of it). There are several places in this ep where the cinematography is to die for, and this is one of them, the bleakness of the landscape and Zhang Zhehan (and his FACE) deep in that shadowing cloak against the stark snow as he rides out into freedom and the unknown. Then cut to somewhere green and forested. Interesting that the show starts with snow and ends with snow. That parallel with the imperial cage says some things about immortality that could stand to be unpacked – but later. Because ZZS is putting his face on – literally – and I am once again in pain, only it’s not the good kind of pain. It’s caused by that dreadful fake facial hair. There are some things that could be unpacked here, as well, about the fact that making ZZS supposedly unattractive involves a clearly fake goatee, a single aesthetically placed scar, and darkening his skin. I’m going to try to step carefully here, because this is kind of out of my lane, but it is … a noticeable thing. That probably ought to be noted.

So, ZZS takes just a moment to turn his (fake) face up to the sun and feel the warmth on it … and then with 10 minutes left, we’re on our way to Ghost Valley, where there’s some chaos and then Hanging Ghost gets got by a Mysterious Stranger To Be Revealed Later, who chokes him out (remember this). The Mysterious Master of Ghost Valley appears dramatically on his High Ledge to Make Some Pronouncements while playing with some walnuts omg (rolling two of them in one hand – remember this), and we see his eyes, which are partially obscured by chunky sidebangs, which are farther forward on his forehead than we’re going to see later, not only hiding some of his face but making it look more angular. The troops get berated, shit rolls downhill, and another dude gets choked (remember this) as Ghost Valley Master’s hair continues to artfully hide most of his face and he worries about his manicure post-kill (remember this). War is declared on Hanging Ghost for stealing the Glazed Armor, and more chaos is set into motion.

All of that takes literally two minutes, and then we cut to three months later, and no one realizes it yet, but the fam is getting together. ZZS is tits out in the gutter - only beginning his career of being a minx who flashes his collarbones an awful lot for someone who has Very Secret Scars He’s Hiding On His Chest - happily drinking himself to death in the sun (we really need to talk about this correlation of snow and immortality vs. sun and happiness …). Meanwhile, slo-mo shot of Wen Kexing looking precious and perfect, with delicate pink lips and dove-grey robes, as he checks out the rough trade in the gutter. Oh, the expectations this show is getting ready to smash. We cut from a shot of pristine precious WKX to ZZS holding up his hand, and we get a shot of the sun through ZZS’s fingers looking an awful lot like some shots of characters halo’d in light that we’ll get back to much much later in the show. Chengling appears out of nowhere to be Best Boy. A-Xiang is purple and smol and ready to brawl, and I already love her. I already love them all! So much! Here are my delicate and precious feelings, show, go ahead and stomp all over them!

#zhou zishu #prince jin #han ying #wen kexing #gu xiang #zhang chengling #word of honor #word of honor episode reax

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amchara · 3 years

Text

Talking Bodies - Kit/Ty/OFC fic (Explicit, 1/5)

Ty has been observing their friend Ellie during her unexpected stay at the Herondale townhouse and believes he has found a solution to her problems - or at least, her problems with men. And Kit is usually up for his plans, even if this one is a bit unorthodox.

Yes, this is an Kit / Ty / OFC fic, set five years post-The Wicked Powers, while Kit and Ty are living and working in London. Ty POV. Part of my London Files ‘verse but you don’t need to have read them to read this mostly pwp story ;) Ellie is a school friend of Kit’s and has been in other stories of mine - and if you like the idea of Mari the werewolf, maybe you’d like this story? 😊)

While this chapter and the next don’t have any actual sex in it (talking and consent is important, yo) be forewarned, it’s going to get smutty from chapter three onwards, so has an overall explicit rating. Those chapters will not be posted on tumblr but will be linked to Ao3. Thanks to @dontmindmyshadowhunting for the feedback on the story so far!

Chapter One: Talking Bodies

Ty was again mulling over a problem that had been nagging at him for several months now. A problem that had just entered the kitchen from the downstairs flat that had previously been used as the servants’ quarters in the Herondale townhouse, and was padding across the cold floor in fluffy pink slippers. And hadn’t yet noticed him.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ty!” Ellie yelped, as she turned around from where she had put on the coffeemaker. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Upstairs,” Ty shrugged, as he sat down at the table, watching her carefully. As she finally took in what he was wearing- or wasn’t wearing, as was his case, being only clothed from the waist down. He watched as her eyes surreptitiously lingered over his shoulders and trailed down further. He lifted his arms up, in a casual move he knew showed off several muscle groups in his upper chest and her jaw moved slightly as she swallowed, trying to remain casual. Ty took another couple mental notes.

Ellie noticed his gaze and she quickly looked away, stretching for the laundry basket and launched something at him.

He grabbed the soft t-shirt - one of Kit’s - out of the air before it could hit his face.

“Put on a shirt, you’re blinding me with that glow-in-the-dark chest,” she scowled as she busied herself with putting on the kettle. But her voice held that tone that after three months of living under the same roof, Ty knew didn't actually mean she was annoyed. Well, fairly sure- but as he had confirmed the reaction he expected, he pulled on the t-shirt, just as he saw Kit come into the kitchen, all sweaty and flushed after his morning run.

“Pretty sure that’s one of mine, Ty,” he said affectionately, coming over to give him a light kiss on the mouth. “But it looks good on you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ty could see Ellie’s eyes snapping back to them, almost unwillingly.

“Ellie’s request,” Ty said.

Kit looked over to her. “Oh- and what pray tell, is your reason for protecting his modesty? From one of your conquests?” he teased, his eyes flickering to the open door downstairs.

“Yeah, that’s it,” she replied, a fleeting smile crossing her face. “I’m used to the Shadowhunter genes but I’m worried my one night stands might find Ty irresistible and decide to use me as an excuse to see him again, and no one wants that, believe me.” Her voice was light but Ty could see a small crease form on Kit’s brow, and Ty thought he was also recalling the incident from a few nights ago when Ellie had ejected an angry, drunk Irish guy from her bedroom and Kit and Ty had had to escort him out the front door.

But Ellie had already apologised profusely the morning after and Kit wasn’t about to give his friend more grief about it. “Very noble of you,” he said, winking at Ty. “I’d hate to add more bloodstains to my clothes defending Ty’s honour.”

He sauntered over to the counter, his face brightening as he saw the coffeemaker light go off. “Ah coffee- my love,” he stopped short as Ellie poked him in the stomach. Ty straightened up to watch the interaction.

Her eyes were glittering as she held her hand out in front of the pot. “I made this for myself, angel boy- get your own.” Kit bent his head down, close to her face, giving her his sweetest smile. “Yeah, but you’re not about to drink it all,” he said, in a wheedling tone.

“Oi- your Herondale charm does not work on me,” she informed him but Ty could see her smile widening and her breathing had sped up, just a touch and he wished he had his notebook out. But he couldn’t risk it and so he turned his attention instead to Kit’s reaction.

Kit had grabbed a coffee mug and was feinting, trying to get around as Ellie - who had been to the Academy, even if she had dropped out - put up a good defensive shield.

Despite that, they all knew Kit could have easily gotten around her, if he wanted to. He instead put down the coffee mug and grabbed her in a big hug, squishing her close to him.

“Oh my god, you smell,” she complained.

“Pour me a mug and I’ll go away,” he said, looking over to grin at Ty, who just smiled and shook his head. Originally, it had been an unwanted addition to his and Kit’s routine but now he was used to their occasional morning antics. Although they had been few and far between recently, as Ellie had retreated downstairs more often. And it did kind of remind him of chaotic mornings at the L.A. Institute.

“Go shower and I’ll put another pot on for you,” she countered.

“Deal,” Kit said, instantly letting go, although Ty could see how he subtly moved his eyes away from where Ellie’s low-cut top was peeking through her dressing gown.

After Kit left the kitchen, Ellie turned and held out a cup to him, filled with steaming tea. She always remembered.

“Thanks,” Ty said, taking it.

She sat down with her own large mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal and nodded at the pile of files he had left on the table overnight. “Busy day of work ahead?”

“Kind of,” Ty replied. “We have a few days of senior Clave members visiting so we’re preparing summaries and presentations of all the recently-closed cases.”

“Sounds important,” she said, looking over the files with a critical eye.

“It’s not really - they all get reports sent when we close them out, they just choose not to read them. It actually takes up time we could be spending working on new cases,” Ty said, trying not to let the irritation color his voice - he had promised Anush he would try to be more polite this quarterly meeting and he might as well start early before he headed to the Centurion office at Whitehall.

But he could see that Ellie had caught on. “Sounds annoying, then,” she clarified. “Do you- do you need-“ her voice suddenly went softer, shyer. “Anything I could help out with on the ground, while you’re stuck impressing the senior brass?”

Ty wished there was - she had been extremely helpful in the dragon scale smuggling case - but he had to be truthful. “No,” he said and he could see her face fall. “But if there’s anything Shadow Market related that you could help with, I’ll let you know.”

She nodded, catching his drift but she still looked sad. “Great, just let me know.”

After Ellie had left to get ready for her university classes, Ty pulled out his notebook from the middle of the pile of files and wrote down that morning’s interactions. He tapped on the table with his pencil as he thought, and then expanded further on his conclusions. He was almost entirely sure they were correct, and that he had found a course of action he was happy with.

Problem was, he still wasn’t entirely sure how Kit would react and he was key to anything progressing further. He watched as Kit returned to the kitchen table, running his hands through his still wet hair and figured now was as good a time as any to let him in on it.

“I think Ellie needs something to boost her confidence,” Ty said, without any preamble. “And find someone who appreciates her. Someone she can sleep with and not worry that they won’t call again or handle her moods.”

Kit gave him a quick look from across the table, a bit confused at Ty’s interest. “Agreed,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He grabbed at his cup of coffee, taking a big swig. “The men she’s recently been seeing have been trash.”

“Do you have a plan?” he asked casually.

Ty nodded.

Kit sat back up. “I’m in.” He nearly always was, when it came to Ty’s plans. “So we’re matchmaking Ellie? Setting her up with a nice Shadowhunter boy or girl or were you thinking more traditional - overseeing her swipe rights on Tinder?” His eyes danced as he started getting into the idea, pulling out his phone.

Ty skimmed his hands over the surface of the breakfast table. He knew what Tinder was - Dru had shown him it earlier in the summer, when Thais had briefly installed it to get over her latest heartbreak. “Maybe for step two. Step one is us sleeping with her.”

Kit choked on his coffee. “Um…” He refocused his attention on Ty, his blue eyes subtly darting over Ty’s face, as he quickly assessed Ty’s reaction.

Ty waited for him to finish. As it often was, he figured it would be easier to have Kit read him, rather than have to explain. He waited for a couple minutes and then prepared to show him his notes, if he needed to explain further.

Kit sat back. “You’re serious?” There were further questions in his voice but also, tentative interest, Ty thought.

“Yes, I am.” Ty nodded. “Don’t you think she’s attractive?”

Kit let out a brief, nervous chuckle. “Of course- but she’s also my friend. So that’s a boundary that we’ve not crossed- or at least, not since school. Plus, I’m with you.”

“You know I don’t mind. You can’t control who you find attractive,” Ty said. They had spoken about this early on in their relationship - Kit’s flirting with whoever caught his eye never bothered him. Ty knew he was the one who had Kit’s heart. Plus, he wasn’t suggesting they do this separately.

“My question- do you find her attractive?” Kit asked, his voice deliberately light. “I know you were with both girls and guys at the Scholomance but I wasn’t sure if you still…”

Ty thought back to the way that Ellie often held herself, her angry stance challenging the world, her blue eyes flashing when she and Ty had spotted the caged dragons in the London Shadow Market and how she had charged right in; how she flung her arms in casual exuberance around Kit when she came in after a night of drinking and dancing, how the dimple in her cheek deepened when she gave one of her rare smiles, her habit of tapping her fingers to her lips as she read one of her psychology journals in the library. He had spent the last three months observing her - and Ty knew one of his conclusions would be: yes; he found her attractive.

Ty shrugged. “Yeah, I do.” Kit took in this information, mulling it over, and then he looked up.

“Wait- but does she think we’re attractive?”

“Yes,” Ty said. He held out his notebook and passed it to Kit. “I’ve been making notes.”

Kit let out a quick laugh, as he flipped through the pages. “Ty- I both can and can’t believe you took notes on it.” His eyes widened and the flipping of pages slowed as he started to read more thoroughly. “I see you took notes on all of us…” he said, as he gave a lingering, inscrutable glance up at Ty before returning to read.

Ty could feel a small flush creep up from his neck. “Yeah, I did- I’m glad we offered her a place to stay until her loan money comes in, given the living arrangement with her boyfriend after they broke up. But it was strange at first. This was just a way to deal with that and well…” he rubbed the back of his neck, watching Kit. “Then it just seemed helpful to continue with it.”

Kit had let out a soft growl at the mention of Ellie’s cheating boyfriend, but his eyes softened as he looked back to Ty. “I know I’ve said this before - but I really appreciate you were willing to have her stay, given how much I know you hate disruption and she’s more my friend than yours.”

Ty watched as Kit traced his voyance rune, a familiar tic that he had when he was feeling nervous around Ty.

“She’s my friend too,” Ty said firmly, and he looked up to meet Kit’s face, eyes resting just below his cheekbone. “Especially after the past few months and the stuff around the Shadow Market case.”

Kit nodded, reassured. He handed back the notebook to Ty. “This was absolutely fascinating- I had no idea I had so many tells, especially when it comes to pre-jumping you,” he said, a smile playing on his lips and his normal cheerful manner returning. “But I’ve also realised - I didn’t need notes to know that Ellie thinks we’re both hot. Maybe it’s been less frequent recently, given everything but she’s made plenty of comments over the years on how attractive she thinks we both are. In very loud, complimentary terms- and…” he added, the smile mixing with a small wince, his eyes focused on past memories. “Sometimes in very inappropriate places.”

“The other thing is,” he said, speaking slower as if he were thinking out loud. “Is it - we wouldn’t be taking advantage of her, you know- her grief?”

“Her mother died two years ago,” Ty pointed out. He could see Kit about to protest and he continued. “I know, believe me, I know that grief doesn’t just go away…” Livvy was the unspoken word between them. “But also-” Ty searched for the words. “There comes a point when you want people to stop treating you like this fragile, broken thing. You need to start making your own decisions again and decide how you want to live… after,” he said. “And that’s partially why I think we should do it. I think she’s… stuck in that. Also stuck in that she dropped out of the Academy so she’s not exactly a mundane anymore but she’s not a Downworlder either.”

He paused, wondering if he needed to explain the other part but he thought Kit already knew about it.

Kit looked thoughtful.

“She can also always say no,” Ty pointed out logically.

“True,” Kit admitted. He grinned. “Okay, if she’s in, and you are, so am I.” He poked Ty’s arm playfully. “And to think I was going to just grab a coffee and head to the Institute. I didn’t expect to get a threesome proposition from my boyfriend over breakfast,” he said.

“What’s that?” Ellie had reappeared at the top of the stairs, now fully dressed and Kit looked over at Ty, the question in his eyes.

Ty shook his head, and mouthed. Tonight

Kit nodded, blushing slightly as he looked over at Ellie. She had her back to him as she went rummaging in the fridge and Kit snuck a glance at Ty, as if watching for his reaction.

Ty couldn’t help but find it hot that Kit was looking for his approval. His boyfriend didn’t blush that often, especially not almost five years into their relationship. He smiled into his tea. Depending on Ellie’s reaction to their proposition, this could be an intriguing dynamic to play with. His imagination began to play in full technicolor as he played possible scenarios in his head. He took a sip of his tea, and made the effort to meet Kit’s eyes.

Whatever Kit saw there made him blush even harder, and Ty’s smile grew wider.

(Chapter Two)

—-

Hah, this has been consuming me almost my whole holiday but I will get back to the Hadestown fic soon, as I’ve almost finished this one, just doing the edits on most of the other chapters .

Tag list: @jesse-is-spiraling maybe @thechangeling for the Ty POV? But let me know if not… and let me know if you want to be added/removed.

#tsc fanfiction #kitty fanfiction #kit herondale x ty blackthorn #kit herondale x ty blackthorn x original female character #kit herondale x ty blackthorn x ellie harris #my fanfic #my fanfiction #the wicked powers #post-canon #tw swearing #tw sex mention

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Note

BARTENDER Y/N AND THE FRAT FAMILY AT FORMAL!!! PLEASE!!!

i used a few asks to build out this scene including this, this and this. here is y/n’s outfit (it’s hot). this is connected to behind the bar.

enjoy 5.6k of fluff and smut. warning: some choking :)

You pulled the dress down as you stood in the bathroom of the hotel room you were sharing with Harry. To say you were nervous would be an understatement—you were internally losing your shit. Harry had asked you a month ago to go to his formal with him and at the time you had just thought sure, it’s just another event. But now you were here and you were wearing one of Rhea’s dresses that showed almost every inch of your skin and you were this close to feigning sickness. And not because you were nervous about what Harry would think—Harry didn’t care what you wore—you were nervous you would be wearing the wrong thing and the rest of the dates would think you were crazy.

Because the truth was that maybe your dress was a little crazy. It had a deep plunge down to the base of your breasts that showed your cleavage and instead of seams going up from the hem to the hip, there were laces, meaning you couldn’t wear underwear, and also that a significant amount of leg was showing as well as all of the tattoo on your hip. Essentially, you had to be very careful while dancing. You had asked Harry about the dress code and he had just shrugged, before pulling you in towards his chest and running his hand through your hair. That had quickly distracted you and the thought had fled from your head, meaning you had to rely on Google and your roommate, and neither of you were in sororities or had ever gone to a frat formal before.

Which left you here, standing in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror, taking a deep breath before you turned around and entered the bedroom, where Harry was waiting for you. You could hear the low rumble of music playing from the portable speaker Harry had packed with him, his pregame playlist that you knew well by this point flowing through the air. BLEACH by BROCKHAMPTON was currently playing, one of your shared favorites, so you decided it was time. You swiped the remnants of your makeup into your makeup bag and zipped it shut, leaving it on the counter for when you packed up tomorrow, and then you turned and opened the door.

“Holy fuck.”

Harry was standing a few feet away, holding a glass hotel glass filled with amber liquid and staring at you, eyes wide and jaw dropped. “Hi, babe,” you said, giving him a small smile. “Like?”

He cleared his throat and closed the space between the two of you, pressing your back lightly against the wall behind you. “I don’t know if we’re going to even make it to the venue,” he said, running his hand up the laces at your sides. “We might need to just skip the pregame and stay here.”

“Oh?” You slid your hand up his chest, splaying across his exposed chest under his sheer black dress shirt. Of course the two of you had accidentally matched, his all black outfit the perfect compliment to your dress. “But I spent so long getting ready,” you complained, scratching lightly at his skin.

His head dropped to your shoulder, resting his forehead against your leather jacket. “Fine. But I cannot be held accountable for the things I might be forced to do to you.”

You chuckled and pushed at his chest, moving him away from you. “You don’t look to bad yourself, Styles.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, gesturing at his outfit. “What do you think? Am I hot enough for you?”

“Hmm,” you said, running your eyes up and down his body. “Nearly.”

“Nearly?!”

You nodded, pushing his suit jacket back a bit so you could hold onto the pudge at the top of his pants, one of your favorite things about his body. “I wish you didn’t have to wear a shirt.”

His eyebrows lifted, the corner of his mouth lifting at your words. “Well, that could be arranged.”

“As much as I would love to fuck you right now,” you murmured, “we have places to be.” You leaned in and pressed a lipstick-tinged kiss to his jaw. “Come on, baby.”

“Not so fast,” he said when you tried to pull away, spinning you around and pressing you back up against the wall and dropping his glass to the table next to him. “This is the last alone time I’m going to get with you for a while and I’m going to fucking enjoy it.”

He left a line of open-mouthed kisses down your neck, causing your pulse to quicken and you curled your hands in his hair, the long strands sifting between your digits. “H, Matt’s expecting us.”

“Fuck Matt.” You chuckled but Harry didn’t—he just sucked on the juncture of your neck and shoulder until you pulled his head up, giving him a terse look as if to say I’m wearing a fucking dress, idiot, try to be discreet at least. And then you released him and he reconnected your lips.

Your hands dove under his suit jacket, curling the back of his dress shirt in your hand and tugging, needing something to anchor you as he slipped his tongue between your lips. His hands were pushing up the hem of your dress, desperate for more of your bare skin, and when he reached where your underwear would usually be, his breath hitched and he pulled away.

His gaze fell to where your dress sat bunched up at your hips, his hand splayed over your skin. “Are you…not wearing underwear?”

The giggle that left your lips made Harry pinch your skin softly. “No, I couldn’t with the laces.”

He groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. “I really wish I hadn’t figured that out because now I’m not going to be able to fucking think all night.”

“You’re never thinking anyways, it shouldn’t be too different.”

“Hey.” He lifted his head and pouted at you. “That’s mean. Say you’re sorry.”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p sound. “Now come on, we need to go or Matt’s going to tell everyone we were fucking again.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not wrong.”

“We’re not fucking right now.”

“No,” he said, eyebrows wiggling at you, “but we could be.”

You groaned, and pushed down your dress, stepping out of his grasp. “You’re hopeless. Now grab the whiskey—we’re going now or I’m not touching you for a week.”

That got him moving immediately, the handle of whiskey and bottle of Coca Cola you’d brought with in his hands as you made your way down the hall to where Matt’s room was. You knocked on the door, Harry’s arm hooked around your back and holding you close, nosing at your hair gently. It was adorable, frankly, how needy he got around you. It didn’t matter what you were wearing or what time of day it was, he just constantly wanted to be touching you.

The door swung open and you stepped inside, Matt clapping Harry on the back and giving you a tight squeeze. Caleb and Tyler let out hoots and hollers upon seeing you, before introducing you to their dates. Matt had brought a girl he had started seeing recently, Katie, who you actually quite liked—she was quiet and sweet, but definitely knew how to have a good time. Harry set the whiskey and coke on the console table where the other alcohol was, and you poured yourself a drink, needing some alcohol flowing through your veins. Sipping on your drink, you lost yourself in conversation, Harry’s body pressed to your back and his chin on your shoulder as you talked.

You ended up sitting on the hotel bed talking to Katie about her major and your respective hometowns. She asked you about Harry and how you’d met and you told her the whole story from start to finish. You had her laughing when you quoted things Harry had said to you in the bar and cooing as you described how sweet and considerate he was, how he’d just hang out in the bar and do his homework at the stool nestled against the wall whenever you worked an earlier shift during the week. He surprised you constantly at how much he was more than the simple frat boy you had expected.

When you finished your drink you caught Harry’s eye and raised your glass, silently requesting a refill. You watched him go to the bar and grab two Whiteclaws, one for him and one for you in your favorite flavor, Line. Tyler came over to him and asked him something and Harry shook his head before slapping his hand away, and then came over to where you and Katie sat.

“Your drink, malady,” he said, handing you the can.

“Thanks,” you replied, taking it and flipping the tab open. “What did Tyler ask?”

He huffed out a breath. “Tried to steal your Claw. I asked him if he was my girlfriend, which he obviously wasn’t, and told him to fuck off.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I’m so happy my boyfriend is so possessive over his alcohol.”

“With those two you have to be,” he said, leaning against your body and sliding an arm around your shoulders. “So Katie, what do you think of my beloved big?”

Katie’s eyes widened and then flickered over to Matt. “He’s…great, honestly. I didn’t really know what to expect when we met, but I’ve enjoyed getting to know him. I’m not really sure, like, what we’re doing, but it’s good so far.”

“Well,” Harry said with a smile, “I have it on good authority that he likes you.”

“Harry,” you hissed, knowing exactly what he was up to. “Stop meddling.”

He raised his hands. “Sorry—I’ll leave it be.” He had been trying to get Matt to pluck the courage and make it official with Katie for ages, rather than just hooking up and essentially dating without ever labelling it. Since he’d been dating you he had turned into this dating guru overnight, a wealth of knowledge that you thought was completely bullshit half the time. “I think we’re leaving soon—if I don’t get Thing 1 and 2 to the actual bar soon they’re not going to even fucking make it.”

You nodded. “Want me to help rally the troops?”

“Please. I swear, you’re the only one they listen to anymore.”

“It’s because they’re both in love with me,” you replied with a roll of your eyes and Harry scoffed. “What? It’s true.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Harry kissed the top of your head and then turned back to Katie who was watching the two of you with a smile. “Sorry, Katie, but I need to steal this one.”

You got up and went with Harry to convince his littles and their newly acquired littles, Alan and Brian and their respective dates, to start heading out. Tyler somehow ended up giving Alan a piggyback ride out of the hotel room, both of their dates following with annoyance on their faces. It was going to be a long night.

The frat had rented out a club in the town they’d selected for formal, which was one of the main reasons you were excited for the night. A legitimate bar rather than a shitty frat one? A dream. The light were flashing as you all walked inside, Mr. Brightside blasting on the speakers. Harry kept his jacket since he had all of your belongings tucked into it, and you all found a booth in a corner to stash your stuff in. You grabbed drinks and before long, you were on the dance floor, Harry’s hands on your hips and yours around his neck, grinding against him.

His fingers kept brushing up the laces on the sides of your dress, utterly obsessed with the skin you had on display. Sexy Bitch by David Guetta came on and you immediately discovered that Harry was going to taking full advantage of the songs, speeding up the speed of his hips against you, even twirling you around so your ass pressed against the front of him, his head dropped to your shoulder and bitting marks on your exposed neck. His fingers dug into your hips and swayed you back in forth on him and you just smiled and laid your head on his shoulder, letting him take over.

You had never really enjoyed dancing with a guy until you did it with Harry. He managed to be a perfect combination of fun and sexy all in one, alternating between screaming the lyrics to grinding slowing against your ass, his hands holding you as close as humanly possible, the ends of his hair tickling your skin. You never felt uncomfortable with him—you felt sexy, desired, and wanted more than anything else.

Matt, Tyler, Caleb, Alan, and Brian were hovering in the vicinity and when Jordan Belfort came on they all lost it, creating a mosh circle of some kind and turning into the peak frat boy that you knew lived inside of Harry, even if you didn’t see it all the time. Katie and the rest of their dates danced with you, screaming the lyrics and dropping low when you wanted, tipping your heads back and laughing as the boys jumped all over each other, Harry’s hands on Tyler’s shoulders as he jumped and down. All of their suit jackets were long forgotten and the back of their dress shirts were sweaty, but no one cared. Your hair had long since gone up in a ponytail and you were deeply regretting wearing long sleeves, because an entire frat and their dates packed onto a dance floor was making you sweat.

You needed air or a break at the very least. You tapped Harry on the shoulder and pointed to the bar, and he nodded, before yelling for you to put it on his tab. As Hot Girl Bummer started you slipped away, letting the music swirl around you as you pushed through sweaty bodies, guys you knew through 260 or Harry giving you high fives and hugs as you moved. Finally, you made it to the bar and you sighed, the lack of bodies making the temperature drop at least ten degrees.

“Can I get a whiskey on the rocks, neat?” You asked the bartender and his eyes widened, but he nodded. You leaned against the bar, your arm on the counter and sighed. Watching someone else make you a drink was so unpleasant—you just wanted to be the one with the handle in their hands, behind the bar.

“Do you have a tab open?” The bartender asks, setting your drink in front of you.

“Styles,” you answered. “Question—how much would I have to pay you to let me behind the bar?” He looked at you in confusion. “I’m a bartender too. Just…want to make some right now, you know?”

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry, but I can’t let you. Protocol and all that.”

You frowned. “Really? Even for an actual bartender?”

“Yeah,” he replied, grabbing a glass from below the bar. “I couldn’t give a fuck, but the bosses, you know?”

You took a sip of your whiskey, grimacing slightly as the straight whiskey slid down your throat. The first few sips were always brutal but once the ice melted a bit, it was perfection. “Pretty please? I’ll even make you a drink.”

“I can make my own drinks.”

“But—“

“Hey babe.” You turned and Harry was standing behind you, looking between you and the bartender. “What’s going on?”

“I was trying to get this kind bartender—sorry, what’s your name?”

“Adam.”

“Adam to let me make a drink.”

Harry nodded once, and then looked up at Adam. “Well, mate? What do you think?”

Adam seemed utterly unamused with your shenanigans, but personally you were having a grand time. “I already told her—it’s against policy.”

Harry frowned, before looking down at you and placing his hand on your back. “Sounds like it’s a no-go, babe. Adam, can I get one of whatever she got?”

“Straight whiskey?” You asked him, surprised.

“That’s what you got?” You nodded and he exhaled sharply. “God, you’re going to kill me. Yeah, straight whiskey. Fuck it.”

Fuck it didn’t turn out to be the best advice. An hour later, you were back in Harry’s arms, his arm wrapped around your waist and your hand curved around the back of his neck as you pressed your ass to his front, eyes shut as you moved. “What’s the likelihood you’d let me fuck you in the bathroom?” he mumbled in your ear, nipping at the skin below your earlobe.

You considered his words, your alcohol-fogged brain struggling to process the pros and cons. “How clean is the bathroom?”

“Clean,” he answered immediately.

“Hmm,” you hummed. “No. I want a cozy bed and to be able to enjoy you for hours.”

He grazed your pulse point with his teeth and you groaned, only him able to hear the sound over the music. “Hours, huh?”

“Well, I can go for hours,” you retorted, grinding your ass against him harder. “It’s you who can’t.”

“Hey, that’s mean.” He turned you around, catching you when you almost fell in your heels. “Who said I can’t last for hours?”

You rolled your eyes at him and pressed your thumbs into his biceps to hold yourself steady. The whiskey had you a bit weak in the knees, just how you wanted it. “I did, based on personal experience.”

Harry dug his hands into your hips before slipping them down to your ass, his rings digging through the material of your dress and into your skin. “That’s it, we’re leaving.”

“What?”

He ducked his head and kissed your jaw, a low moan falling from your lips. “Yeah, I’ve got a girlfriend who thinks I can’t fucking last and I’ve gotta prove her wrong.” With that, he was wrenching you off the dance floor, rushed goodbyes to his lineage, and pulling you towards the booth where Matt and Katie were making out for his jacket. Matt flipped you off when you interrupted to say bye and Harry just rolled his eyes before pulling you towards the door.

Harry was ripping off his clothes before you’d even fully gotten inside the room, kicking off his dress shoes as you unlocked the door. Your head was spinning from the way he’d kissed you in the Uber you’d taken back, how he’d sucked and pulled on your lips, marking your neck with his mouth as you panted in his ears. Now, in the room, it was no different, except this time he picked you up off the ground, carrying your through the room with his lips on yours before dropping you to the plush hotel room bed.

“Can’t fuckin’ last,” he mumbled, making a line down your sternum where your dress exposed your cleavage. Your fingers tucked between the strands of his hair, tugging softly as he sucked right over your sternum. “We’ll see about that, baby.”

“Your clothes,” you breathed out, pushing at his chest to create space. You wanted to be able to feel him, to see him in all of his beauty. “Off.” Fingers fumbled for the buttons and he helped you, pulling it free from his trousers as you slowly made your way down his shirt. You were suddenly thankful for the fact that he never properly buttoned his shirts, leaving the sheer black material loose down to the third or fourth button.

He ripped off the shirt once you got it unbuttoned, tossing it to the floor and ducking back down to find your lips. Your hips pressed up into him, desperate for his fingers or anything—just something to help you through the burning that was running through your body. “Needy, hmm?” He taunted, pushing up the hem of your dress, exposing your bare center. When he ran a finger up your slit you couldn’t stop the needy cry that filled the space between you. “You’re so wet,” he said in awe, poking his finger inside your slit experimentally and watching your hips buck up to get more of his finger.

You were chasing him, bending and moving your body just to have an inch more of him, anything more he would give you. Fingers dug into the pearl white duvet that was most definitely going to be a mess after you were done with it, but you didn’t care. You had a feeling you wouldn’t be sleeping much anyways.

Harry scooted backwards so his body could fall to the bed, crawling between your legs and blowing softly on your clit, making you keen, body snapping up from the sensation. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned, biting gently into the skin of your inner thigh. His free hand rubbed at the spot after, holding your thighs open so he could suck on your clit, the heat of his mouth and the pressure of his palm on your skin and the rapidity of his fingers inside of you being too much.

“H,” you panted, tugging on his hair and holding him close to you. “Need it.” You were basically shoving your pussy into his face, riding his fingers and his tongue, just chasing the feeling inside of you. When you were drunk you came with ease, and tonight seemed to be no different, the cumulation of grinding against him all night and the way he had kissed you in the car culminating in you being nearly at an orgasm. There was also how he looked between your legs, his hair tickling your skin and his eyes darting up to look at you every once in a while, loving to watch you reach your edge.

“Come for me,” he said, suckling on your clit and then licking a circle from your slit back to your clit. “Come on, baby.” Then he slid another finger in and curled them, hitting the spongy part at your front walls and you cried out his name and curses, arching your back as your orgasm overtook your body, heat curling up your spine as you came.

He licked you through it, pulling his fingers from you and kissing over your slit as your walls fluttered, shockwaves rolling through you. “Too much,” you said, shaking your head and pulling him up. “Want you.”

“Me, hmm?” His cocky persona was coming out in force and you were too drunk to deal with him. You could see he was too from how he fumbled with his belt and his pants, you laughing as you helped get his socks off because you refused to let him fuck you with his socks on. “How do you want it?” He asked, pushing your dress the rest of the way up your body to reveal the peaks of your breasts and your flushed skin. With your help, he pulled it off your body fully, leaving you naked for him. “Fuck—no bra or underwear? I’m a lucky man.”

You giggled and he smiled at the sound, sucking on your jaw softly. “From behind,” you told him, pushing him back so you could hop up onto all fours.

“Can do, baby,” he said, loving to use pet names when he was drunk like this. Once you were on your hands and knees for him, head tilted to the side so you could see him behind you, his hand came down on the skin of your bum. It was a shock, but not unwelcome in any way—the impact had your mind fumbling, fingers digging into the pillow on the bed just above where your head rested against the duvet. You squeaked as he did it again, rubbing into the skin gently, and you wondered if you’d have the outline of his hands on your skin tomorrow.

Not that you minded in the least. “Condom,” you panted, trying to piece together any rational thoughts in the moment, because all you could process was your desire to have him inside of you. “Where’s the condom, H?”

“Fuck,” he said, letting go of your skin. “Duffel. Fuck—where is it?” His feet hit the ground and you chuckled into the duvet as you watched him root around in his duffel bag for the condoms he had packed. You kept your ass in the air, not wanting to have to move, and he seemed to be happy with this decision. “Waiting for me, huh?” He asked, getting back on the bed after having dropped his pants and underwear to the ground, scampering across the bed to you. “Look so good for me. Ass in the air, just begging for me.”

“Shut up and fuck me,” you told him, pushing back against the air, taunting him. You seemed to succeed because he cursed before ripping the condom open, grabbing the condom and rolling it down his length. It was fast, all of the build-up, but you didn’t care. The two of you could barely keep your hands off of each other, so the foreplay didn’t matter all that much anymore. You just wanted to feel him stretch you, fill you up, hear him grunt in your ear as he fucked into you, see his pupils blown out and hear your name leave his mouth. Fucking him was one of your favorite activities, no matter how long it lasted or how it happened.

He slapped your ass again, rings digging into your flesh, and your fingernails dug into the duvet, searching for purchase. “You always like that,” he murmured, leaning down to bite softly on the skin of your bum. His hands slide up your back, grabbing and pulling at your skin as he rolls his hips against yours, his erect cock rubbing against your folds. You pressed back into him, searching for more, but he had nothing to give—he seemed to just want to linger here and get his hands all over you.

You were panting, letting out a combination of his name and begs that he would remind you of in the morning with a joking smile on his face. “H, please, come on—“ Your words were cut off by him slamming into you without warning, your body jerking forward from the impact, a deep moan leaving your mouth.

Then he was building a pace, a brutal one that left the back of your thighs stinging but you loved it. Loved knowing you’d feel him in the morning, loved how he filled you and consumed every part of you, ripping you to shreds and sewing you back together again all at the same time. From the angle you could feel him pressing against your g-spot over and over again and stretching you out just like you liked it.

All you could do was hold onto the duvet and rock back against him as much as you could, but by and large you just let Harry take over, knowing he could set a pace that you could never rival. His fingers were digging into the skin at your waist, a tight grip that was sure to leave marks, and he was mumbling your name over and over, mixed in with curses and random words you couldn’t even process.

He was so good. There were no words to even properly to describe the feeling of Harry fucking you like this, hard and fast and filling every need you had. You could feel another orgasm building, the combination of his hands gripping your body and the depth he was reaching inside of you making you fall through an orgasm faster than you could process.

“More,” you mumbled into the duvet, reaching behind you for his hand blindly.

“Yeah?” His hand slid up your back and came to rest on the back of your neck, tightening slightly around the sides. Ever since that first time you’d fucked and his love for being choked came out, the two of you had experimented with it, only to find out you both loved it. You liked it right as you were about to come, as just something to push you over the edge, while Harry liked it for longer periods of time.

His fingers pressed into the sides of your throat and you rocked back onto him immediately, hands sliding up and pressing into the mattress, holding your body up barely as you chased your release. “Close,” you said when he pounded into you faster, the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

All of a sudden he was pulling you up, your back coming to rest against his chest, reaching a different depth inside of you. You could hear his pants and groans even louder in your ears and you moaned his name, reaching up to press his hand back to your throat. “Want my hand on your throat, baby?” He said in a husky voice that had you nodding. His palm circled your throat, thumb on one side and his fingers on the other and he pressed down slightly, before adding a bit more pressure. He knew that he had to keep building pressure because the pain faded fast and you needed more, and he most definitely didn’t disappoint.

“Gonna come,” you said, words gravelly in your throat as you stuttered the words, the depths he was reaching inside of you and the pressure on your neck making a brutal combination. “Don’t stop.”

“Never,” he answered, adding a bit more pressure before dipping his head and sucking a mark onto your shoulder. Together, it overpowered your senses, sending you into overdrive and pushing you into your orgasm, body shaking against his as you came.

He held you close, fucking you through it and loosening his grip so you could come down. You fell back down to the bed, hands on the duvet and holding you up, breathing heavily as you pushed back against him, wanting him to finish too. “Come on, H,” you mumbled, looking back at him. “Come for me, baby.”

His eyes found yours and with a grunt you could feel him spilling into the condom, hips stuttering against yours and hands digging into your skin. “Fuck,” he hissed, head bobbing as he pulled out.

You rolled over as he got up to the dispose of the condom, brushing your hair back and catching your breath. “I take back what I said earlier.”

As he walked over to you he smiled, before bending to the duffel and grabbing two more condoms. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting you forget it. I’ve got plenty of condoms and a whole fucking hotel room to explore with you.”

Your eyebrows lifted and he tugged on your leg, you head bouncing on the mattress. “The whole room, huh? What’s next, the bedside table?”

He rolled his eyes and bent over, picking you up, knowing you would be Jell-O in his arms. “I was thinking the floor.”

“The floor? It’s carpet, H!”

“I’ll put a shirt down, hush. I know you like the burn.”

You blushed because he was right. Fuck him for knowing you this well. “Fine, but you’re helping me with the lotion tomorrow.”

He chuckled, dropping down to the ground in a mess of limbs as he settled to the floor. “Course, love. It’s my favorite activity.”

In the morning, you woke up to a head of hair, light snores in your ear, and tight muscles. You groaned, before rolling over. You had to pee and badly. Harry’s hands tugged at your skin, wanting you back, but you pulled away, making sure not to wake him as you got up and on shaky legs made your way to the bathroom.

The sight of your face in the mirror made you sigh. Your hair was a disaster, most definitely a rat’s nest that wouldn’t be coming out anytime soon, and makeup you’d been too lazy to take off smeared under your eyes. Marks and bruises littered your skin, the remnants of many, many rounds with Harry last night adorning your body. You pressed one on your shoulder gently, hissing at the pain that radiated from the spot.

You sighed and sat down on the toilet, peeing quickly before standing back up and washing your hands and face, cleaning off the leftover makeup. Then, you pushed open the door and called Harry’s name.

He picked his head up, rolling over and knuckling at his eyes. “What is it, baby?”

That pet name never ceased to make you smile, the sweetness of it on his lips causing your heart to soar. “What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Styles? Hmm?” You turned in a circle, showing him the damage he’d left on your body with raised eyebrows.

He immediately blushed at the sight of the red and purple marks on your skin. “I’ll kiss it better, c’mere, baby.” He reached out his hands, wiggling his fingers to get you into his grasp.

Despite knowing he’d only cause more because he was a sucker for hungover morning sex, you made your way over to him, sitting down on his lap. “Made quite a mess, mister.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, kissing across your cleavage softly. “Looks pretty, though.”

“Think so?”

“Know so.”

“Tell that to literally any human being when they see me. I look like I’ve been fucking attacked.”

“Not attacked,” he said, peeking up at you. “Just fucked really, really good.”

You laughed, brushing your fingers through his hair, before kissing him gently on the lips. “Good thing I love you otherwise you’d be in for it.”

The two of you fell back into the hotel sheets, desperate for one another, despite spending the entire previous evening wrapped up in one another. Around you, your formal attire littered the floor, but neither of you cared, just wanting a few more minutes together before you had to leave each other’s arms.

#btb blurbs #concept night #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fiction #anon #answered

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whumpcollector · 3 years

Text

Lucas Pt.7: The Good Doctor

HELLOOOOOOOOOOOO EVERYONE. We’re back at it with another part of Lucas’ story. We’re going to start meeting some new faces. I hope everyone here enjoys!

CW: Medical whump. (I think thats it? If I missed anything please let me know).

“...he...injured…”

“...put...gently...don’t”

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“...doing...when…”

“...alive...not…”

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“...any...worried…”

“...patient...wait…”

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Lucas fluttered in and out of consciousness, becoming aware for a few moments before slipping back into darkness. He could hear small snippets of conversation, but nothing substantial. In one of his rare moments of lucidity he attempted to look around, but he didn’t see anyone before he blacked out again.

When Lucas did return to the world it was slowly, almost unwillingly. There was a safety in oblivion, one that a part of him wanted to keep. As he felt consciousness return a small voice spoke out, pleading with him to just stay asleep. He wasn’t being hurt if he was asleep, and if he woke up who kno-

“LUCAS!”

Lucas awoke with a jolt, eyes shooting open and darting around the room. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust. The first thing he noticed was the concerned face of… Mehrzad, yes Mehrzad was his name. There was also another man next to him, he had the same dark tanned skin Mehrzad had, but his face was slimmer and with a full beard.

The next thing Lucas noticed was how sore he was. A soft groan escaped his lips as he looked down at his body. His arms and torso were covered in blood stained bandages, and a thin blanket covered his legs. Lucas tried to sit up, only to have the bearded man gently place a hand on his chest and push him back down.

“Do not waste your energy, my friend. You are still recovering, you need to rest.”

The man's voice was smooth, kind, comforting even. Lucas did as he was told, best not to anger whoever this man was. He laid down on the cot he was on, taking a deep breath as a sharp pain shot up one of his arms.

“You must be in a lot of pain. Hold on one moment.” The man turned away, rummaging around before turning back with a small wooden bowl. “Here drink this, it will soothe you.”

Lucas looked at the bowl held in front of his face. A thick green liquid sloshed around inside. A grimace crossed his face, he wasn’t sure how much he believed this man. Still, an order was given and his kind was to obey. He pushed his lips to the rim of the bowl and let the man tilt it forwards, spilling the liquid into his mouth. The moment it touched his lips Lucas had to suppress a gag. He swallowed it before coughing and sputtering, trying to force out the taste left in his mouth.

The man let out a small chuckle. “I apologize for not mentioning the taste. However I have found that it is… easier… to convince my patients to drink it if I am not upfront about that fact.”

Mehrzad raised an eyebrow. “What exactly did you have him drink, love?”

“Oh an herbal mixture meant to soothe pain. Effective, but rather… unpleasant to the tongue.” The man turned to Lucas, offering a small smile. “My name is Jawad, you are Lucas, yes?”

Lucas nodded and tried to speak before realizing how dry his throat was. His words came out choked and stunted and another fit of coughing followed after. Jawad quickly reached for a pitcher of water, pouring it into a clean bowl and offering it to Lucas. The boy drank greedily, downing three more bowls of water before feeling satiated.

“Thirsty eh?” Mehrzad asked.

Lucas froze, panic creeping into his stomach. Had he done something wrong? Jawad had offered him the water so he was allowed to drink it, right? Or was it a test? But they let him drink as much as he wanted, so it was okay then? Maybe they were waiting to see how much he w-

“LUCAS!”

Lucas was snapped out of his spiraling, Mehrzad shaking his shoulders lightly.

“Are you alright?”

Lucas took a deep breath before nodding. His eyes darted back and forth between the two men. Mehrzad and Jawad looked at him with confusion and concern respectively. After a beat of silence Jawad looked towards his husband.

“Perhaps it would be best if you left us for now.”

Mehrzad cocked an eyebrow and turned towards Jawad. They shared a look for a moment before Mehrzad nodded and stood up, making his way out of the tent. Jawad turned back to Lucas and stood up, walking over to a table covered in bowls and bandages.

“You are a mage Lucas, is that correct?”

Lucas nodded before realizing the man was looking away and couldn’t see him. He coughed, his throat still dry before talking for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Y-yes sir. I’m a mage.”

Jawad let out a small chuckle. “Oh no need for such pleasantries my friend. Just Jawad will suffice. Sir makes me sound old and I would much prefer to deny that fact for as long as I can.”

Lucas blanched. “I’m sorry s- Jawad, I didn't mean to offend.” He looked down, screwing his eyes shut and hoping he would be let off with a warning.

“Oh no need to apologize, no offense taken.”

Lucas breathed a sigh of relief, looks like he got off easy this time. Jawad finished whatever he was working on at the table and returned to Lucas’ bedside. He sat down, offering Lucas another bowl of water which the boy drank with slight apprehension.

“You are the first mage I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I’ve heard the stories of course, even seen a few from afar, but never have I had the opportunity to speak to one.” He scratched his beard absentmindedly. “If you don’t mind my saying I am excited to have you under my care. There were many rumors in my old university about the physiology of mages, and now I have the opportunity to see how much of it is true.”

Oh. So that was his game. Lucas wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Then again, how he felt didn’t really matter.

Jaws continued. “You gave me quite the scare a little while ago.” Jawad gently took Lucas’ arm, inspecting the bloodied bandages. “You were in rough shape when Mehrzad brought you to me, but I managed to patch you up well enough. I thought you were just fine, but next thing I know I go to check on you and your bandages are soaked with blood.”

Jawad looked up at Lucas quizzically. “It seems that overnight what must have been dozens of lacerations had appeared all over your body, with no apparent cause.” He gestured towards Lucas. “I can only imagine that such phenomena must be magical in nature, would you happen to know how or why that might have happened?”

Lucas thought for a bit. He didn’t really understand how his magic worked, least of all what might cause something like that. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t know why that, um, happened.” Lucas fidgeted, watching Jawad for any sign of anger or frustration. “Um, sorry. I don’t really...sorry.”

Jawad tilted his head, scrunching his eyebrows as if he were confused by something. “I see… well, no matter, whatever magical cause your condition may have originated from, it seems my mortal medicine is more than adept at treating it.” He stood up, turning back to the table he had been fiddling with. “Which does bring me to another matter that must be resolved.”

Jawad picked a large bowl off of the table and walked back to Lucas. The bowl was filled with bandages that were soaking in a pungent smelling liquid. Jawad set the bowl down next to Lucas and took a seat, his mouth set into a thin line. Lucas fidgeted, a bad feeling settling into his stomach.

“Your bandages need to be changed. Your current ones are soaked through and I would like to avoid infection as much as possible.” The doctor sighed. “It will be less than pleasant. Bloody bandages have a way of… sticking to wounds. Removing them will hurt.”

Lucas grimaced slightly and nodded his head at the doctor’s words. He knew this was coming. Oh well, he could handle a little pain. Whatever would keep his new owner… owners? Happy.

“Alright, let us take care of it then.”

Jawad began to pull at the bandages on Lucas’ arms, slowly unravelling them. The outer layers fell away with no issue, the soiled linen hanging off of Lucas’ arm. Once Jawad had reached the layer attached to Lucas’ skin he paused, looking up at the mage.

“Are you ready?”

Lucas nodded and the doctor began to peel away the last layer of bandages. Lucas cringed, sucking in air through his mouth as the bandages came off. Jawad had not lied, the bandages were stuck to his arm and having them removed felt like he was being scraped raw by rough gravel. Still, it wasn’t the worst thing he had ever felt and it didn’t take long for all of the bandages on his arm to be removed.

Removing the rest of the bandages on his other arm and torso was an unpleasant but bearable process. As Jawad went to dispose of the soiled bandages Lucas looked down at his now bare skin. He was covered in cuts and scrapes, most of which were still open but not actively bleeding. The leylines on his body were a dull brown instead of their usual red. That was… unsettling.

“Alright Lucas,” said Jawad as he wiped his hand clean with a wet rag. “Now we come to the next part, applying new bandages.” He gestured towards the bowl. “I will be blunt, this will be very painful. The medicine I use tends to… burn… when it comes in contact with open wounds and, well…”

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Best we get it over with then.”

The moment the fresh linen touched Lucas’ skin he had to bite back a scream. The skin beneath the bandage felt as if it were set on fire. His mind went back to master Harold and his performances, when his magic flared and surged through his limbs. This wasn’t as bad, but it was close.

Jawad finished applying the first bandage and began to work on the next. Every wrap caused more and more of his arm to burn, and Jawad was doing anything but working quickly.

“I understand you want this to be over as quickly as possible but I must be thorough. If I don't do it right the first time I’ll have to start over again and I’m certain you don’t want that.”

Jawad was right, Lucas didn’t want that. He bit down on his hand, trying to muffle himself and avoid annoying the doctor. He knew a threat when he heard one and he had no intention of giving Jawad a reason to follow up on it.

The work continued at a slow pace. Jawad made sure that no skin could be seen through the wrappings, that every inch of his upper body was covered in the burning medicine. Tears flowed from Lucas’ eyes by the end and his breaths were shaky and broken up by stifled sobs. Jawad gently lowered Lucas back onto the bed, patting his shoulder softly enough to not aggravate his injuries further. A mercy Lucas was grateful for.

“There, done. Would like some more of that pain reliever I gave you earlier?”

Lucas gave a shaky nod, watching the doctor walk away. He was… confused by the offer. Why bother doing all this to him if he was going to try and get rid of the pain right after? Him being hurt was the point right? Otherwise why bother wasting medicine on him? He paused his train of thought when Jawad returned, holding another bowl to his lips. Lucas grateful drank the viscous liquid, not minding the taste and waiting for its numbing effects to kick in. The burning across his body did subside a bit and Lucas let out a relieved sigh.

Well, whatever the doctor’s motivations were Lucas would not complain about any offered respite.

Jawad sat back down, looking over his handiwork one last time before speaking to Lucas. “Hopefully we will not need to do that again. Your wounds should be healed enough by the time those bandages are to be removed.” Jawad paused, thinking for a moment. “I actually had a question about that. I had heard that mages possessed...miraculous natural healing talents, potent enough to handle even near mortal injury. However, you have not shown such abilities? Are they something mages possess or was that just a rumor?”

Lucas processed Jawad’s question for a moment before thoughts began to race through his head. Why hadn’t he healed yet? Jawad had said it had been at least a day… was there something wrong with his magic? The leylines on his arms had looked weird. What if… what if his magic was gone?

Panic flared in Lucas' stomach and he instinctively tried to summon a small flame. Nothing came and his panic worsened. This wasn’t the first time his magic failed to respond, but this was different. Usually when it failed it was because his magic had been exhausted, like a well that had run dry. Now it wasn almost like… there was nothing there, as if the well had been filled and sealed away entirely.

Lugas wrapped his arms around himself, trying to slow his breathing. No, no this couldn’t be the case. He couldn’t have lost his magic. A mage without magic was… nothing. Nothing at all. If he couldn’t do magic… what could he offer? How could he serve?

Lucas felt a rough shake and turned to see Jawad. The man was shaking his shoulder and talking, but Lucas couldn’t hear his words over the roaring in his ears. What should he say? The doctor probably wouldn’t be happy to learn he had just wasted medicine on a… defective mage. Maybe… maybe he could lie? Say that healing wasn’t something most mages had. Maybe… maybe that would give him some time to figure out how to get his magic back. But if his magic came back then so would his healing, and then Jawad would find out that Lucas had lied to him and th-

A hand struck Lucas sharply on his cheek, bringing his thoughts to a screeching halt and causing him to shrink into himself. He looked at Jawad. The doctor was standing now, bending over to keep their eyes level with both hands on Lucas’ shoulders. The doctor looked troubled, his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips formed a thin frown. Lucas shrinked back further, as far as he could with Jawad’s holding him.

The doctor’s face softened. “I apologize for that, Lucas, but it didn’t seem like you could hear me and I needed you to calm down.”

“S-sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It's ok, you are not in any trouble my friend.” Jawad removed his hands from Lucas’ shoulders, giving him space and sitting back down. “Now Lucas, please, tell me what is wrong. If I can help, I promise I will.”

Lucas gulped, his throat felt very very dry. “I… yes. Mages do have healing, at least I think most of them do. I-I do at least. Um… but it's… not working. N-none of my magic is right now.” He looked down, tapping his knuckles together and waiting for Jawad’s response.

Jawad hummed thoughtfully. “Your magic isn’t working? Hmmmm.” he stroked his chin, thinking to himself. Without a world he stood up and walked back towards the table. He shifted things around before picking up a large journal, flipping through the pages and scanning each one at what seemed like inhuman speed. Once he found the page he was looking for he paused, squinting his eyes and peering closer at the page. After a moment his eyes widened slightly and he placed the journal down, turning to walk out of the tent. “I will return shortly, Lucas.”

With that Jawad left and Lucas was left alone. He let out another sigh, laying back down and placing his hands over his stomach. The pain across his body had greatly subsided, whatever that substance was proving to be effective. Now all Lucas felt was tired. Jawad didn’t say when he would be back, and Lucas could probably… get… away… with……

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

A light shake woke Lucas up, his eyes blinking blearily. Jawad hovered over him, holding another bowl. It smelled like food, and Lucas noticed just how hungry he was. Maybe he could beg for some later on.

“Hello Lucas. I’m sorry to wake you but I brought you some food. It’s been at least a day since you last ate and you’ll need your energy.”

Oh. Lucas took the bowl from Jawad, careful not to spill any of it on the bed. He looked down at the food in his hand. It was a normal stew, with chunks of meat and vegetables swimming in a thick broth. Lucas felt his mouth begin to water and quickly placed the rim of the bowl to his lips and began to drink greedily. The broth was rich and warm, the best food Lucas had had since… well for a while.

“Ha, I see you are hungry. Here, take this.” Jawad held a wooden spoon out to Lucas, who realized how he must look and took the utensil sheepishly. “It tends to make eating easier.”

Lucas nodded thanks and began to shovel stew into his mouth, savoring each bite. The meat and vegetables were juicy and tender, everything coming together perfectly. This wa-

“What in the EVERLIVING FUCK do you think you are doing?”

Lucas choked on his stew, dropping the bowl and spoon and hacking out rough coughs. Stew spilled across his lap, bruning him and covering the bed and his pants in broth and chunks of food. He looked up to see a tall, well built man standing at the entrance of the tent. Lucas cowered back, holding his hands in front of his mouth nervously. What had he done wrong? What… what was going to happen to him?

The man looked at him in surprise before gathering himself. “Shit kid, sorry.” He held up one hand in a placating gesture. “I didn’t mean to startle you like that, my bad.” He turned away to face Jawad and brandished the sheet of paper he held in his hand. “Jawad what the fuck is this?”

Jawad for his part was speaking in a language Lucas didn’t recognize. He scrambled around, grabbing a washcloth and trying to clean Lucas off. He turned to the man and began yelling in the strange language, Lucas didn’t understand anything but he had the feeling there were plenty of swears involved.

The man held his hands up defensively. “Yeah, yeah I’m sorry alright? I didn’t mean to startle him like that.” He turned to Lucas again and offered an apologetic look. Lucas simply stared at him and he turned back to the doctor. “Seriously Jawad, what the hell are you thinking?”

Jawad finished his cleaning and huffed, “I am requisitioning medical supplies.” He gestured to the list. “Everything on there should be in the next major city we visit.”

The man looked at Jawad incredulously. “‘Requisition medical supplies’? Is that what you call trying to bankrupt us?” He scanned his eyes down the list. “Unghol scales, lyndwurm venom, sylken fibers, fucking....bitterblossom pollen? What the fuck is a bitter blossom?” He looked back up at the doctor. “This is at least 3,000 crowns. AT LEAST! What the fuck is this all for?”

Jawad gestured towards Lucas. “It’s for my patient.”

The man looked at Lucas, properly scrutinizing the boy for the first time. Lucas shrunk under his gaze, still unsure what the man was going to do to him, if anything.

“Ah, so you’re our new guest then.” He walked forward and extended a hand. “Captain Johnathon, I’m the leader of this band of bastards and cutthroats you find yourself mingling with.”

Lucas eyes the hand warily before nervously grabbing it and shaking. “My name is Lucas, Captain Jonathon.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Would you look at that, kid treats me with more respect than most of my men do.” He crossed his arms and looked back at the doctor. “So, let me guess, all of this stuff has to do with some magical mumbo bullshit our mage friend here needs.”

“Yes, Lucas here can’t access his magic for some reason. This is a physiological anomaly that is rather worrying. These ingredients all have reported magical properties and I believe they may be able to help return his magic to him.”

“You… believe?”

Jawad looked away somewhat sheepishly. “Well… magical medicine is a… less explored field than others. Nothing is, well, certain when it comes to dealing with mages and magic. I am confident that they will be beneficial but I can't be certain.”

Jonathan looked at the doctor, eyebrow raised and arms crossed. He sighed, paling a hand on his face and thinking for a moment. “Everyone in this camp, myself included, owes you their life at least once over. You’re the best there is.” He looked down at the paper. “Are you sure this will be worth it?”

“As I said, I can’t guarantee anything, but it is my duty to provide the best care I can for my patients. I believe this is necessary to do that.”

Jonathan stood and thought for a while, mulling things over in his kind before letting out another sign. “Alright… I’ll approve it. We’ll have someone pick these items up next time we hit a big market.” He turned to leave before pausing at the tent’s threshold. “Jawad be honest with me, is this the last time you plan on making these kinds of requests?”

“Well… as I said… I can’t be sure that those ingredients will work and there are… plenty other theorized solutions fo-”

Jonathan raised a hand, cutting Jawad off. He shook his head and muttered to himself as he left. “Cathrai above save my fucking coin purse.”

With that Jawad and Lucas were left alone in the tent. Jawad walked over to Lucas, removing the soiled sheets on the bed and replacing them with a large tarp that was lying around.

“Sorry, this is not ideal but some covering is better than nothing. You should rest now. You have been through much today.”

Lucas nodded, pulling the tarp over himself and laying down. Jawad patted him on the shoulder and left the tent, leaving Lucas alone. He turned onto his side, looking at the wall of the tent. This place was… different, as were his new masters. He didn’t understand why Jawad was so concerned with helping him get his magic back. Maybe he wanted Lucas to be able to work as soon as possible. That made sense.

Whatever the reasoning, Lucas didn’t care. He had made it through the day without a beating and even got a meal. That was better than most. As he began to drift away to sleep he began to hear the bustle that came from outside the tent. Various voices and other sounds bleeding through the walls. Jonathon had said that he was with a band of… bastards and cutthroats. That didn’t sound reassuring, and Lucas dreaded the fact that he would have to meet, and serve, them all.

Still, maybe things wouldn’t be that bad.

TAGS: @haro-whumps @ladygwennn @dramaticcollapse @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @brutal-nemesis @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @inpainandsuffering

#Lucas #whump #fantasy whump #medical whump

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Note

god your bthb prompts are so good 😭😭, i was wondering if you could do any of these with tarlos?

rage against reflection

suicide attempt

flashbacks

forced to kneel.

not all of them, of course! pick whichever you think you’ll do best at!

my only preference is physical whump at some point, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to! thank you love!

thank you my lovely!!! i chose forced to kneel - i hope you enjoy it! as always, i am looking for prompts to fill the remaining squares - if you have one, don’t hesitate to send me an ask!

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: forced to kneel

ao3 | 2.2k | tarlos

Carlos exchanged a tight-lipped look with his partner as they pulled up to the scene. Every available patrol unit had been called here, and he could see more than a few paramedic vehicles on standby in case things went south. He couldn’t help the nerves twisting his stomach into knots; hostage situations were always difficult, and there was something about today that had Carlos on edge.

He didn’t know why, but he had the strangest sense that something was about to go very wrong.

He and Rachel walked to where the lieutenant in charge of the scene was briefing them.

“We have reports of at least one hostile, but be aware that there may be more,” he was saying. “Presume they are armed. There are at least ten hostages, located in the conference room on the ground floor. Negotiation attempts have as yet been unsuccessful; the suspects’ motives are unclear.

“A group of you will enter the building with a view to neutralising the suspect. I’m sure it goes without saying, but do not engage in a manner that would harm the hostages, or you. Let’s not make this any more complicated than it needs to be. Understood?”

They nodded, at which the lieutenant appeared grimly satisfied. He began assigning positions, and Carlos knew even before he got to them what he was going to say.

Sure enough, “Reyes, Moreno - you’re going in,” the lieutenant said. “Get ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carlos’s nerves only grew as they strapped on their bulletproof vests, and he checked his gear twice to make sure he was prepared. Rachel nodded tightly at him and he returned the gesture, before heading into position.

Tightening his grip on his gun, Carlos spared a brief thought for TK. TK, who would no doubt hear about this over the news, if the numerous press vehicles arriving on scene were any indication. Carlos just hoped he would make it out of this in one piece, so he could get home to his boyfriend and collapse into his arms.

He was broken from his thoughts by the order to enter crackling over the line. Carlos let out a shaky breath, then steeled himself, body tight as they headed stealthily through the hotel. They managed to locate the conference room without any problems, though Carlos’s instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong.

There were four of them, though; surely one of them would have noticed if anything was truly amiss?

No sound came from inside the room. Locking eyes with Rachel, Carlos held up his fingers and silently counted down before forcing their way inside, guns drawn.

There was no one there. No one, except for the terrified hostages tied up at the far end. After sweeping the room, Carlos rushed over to them, Rachel on his heels, and began freeing them, holding a finger to his lips so they wouldn’t alert whoever had done this.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, pulling the gag out of the mouth of the woman in front of him.

She nodded. “Yes, thank you, I -” She trailed off, her eyes widening at something over Carlos’s shoulder at the same time as Rachel yelled his name.

Carlos didn’t even get a chance to turn before something cracked across the back of his head, and the world went dark.

He woke slowly, the fog in his brain taking a long time to clear. When it did, Carlos realised several things all at once.

One: he no longer had his gun or radio.

Two: he was tied up, and a quick glance to his right showed him that Rachel and the other two officers with them were in a similar situation.

And three: he might not make it back to TK after all.

It was this final thought that kicked his brain back into gear, and he frantically tried to come up with a plan to salvage the situation. There were two men standing on the other side of the room, and a third by the door - the hostage-takers, he presumed. None of them were looking directly at him, so Carlos tugged experimentally on his bindings. To his surprise, they were fairly loose; if he was quick, and quiet, he might be able to get free.

What he’d do then, Carlos didn’t know, but one step at a time.

Keeping one eye on the men, he carefully maneuvered himself, twisting until, at last, the ropes fell away from his wrists. He let out a relieved breath, then turned to Rachel, reaching to pull at her bindings.

He didn’t get far, however, when hands were on him, wrenching him away from her.

“Hey!” one of the men growled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Carlos didn’t answer, praying that Rachel would have the sense to finish freeing herself and do something while they were focused on him. He yanked himself out of the man’s grip and managed to deliver a blow to his face before he was grabbed again, this time being forced to his knees.

The cool metal of a gun pressed against his forehead, and Carlos didn’t miss the sound of the safety clicking off.

“Trouble, aren’t you?” the man holding the gun hissed. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

Carlos closed his eyes, allowing his body to sag minutely. The grip they had on him was too firm; there was no way he’d be able to escape from this kneeling position without earning a bullet to the head.

Though, he thought mournfully, there probably wasn’t anything he could do to avoid that bullet at this point anyway.

For the second time, he thought of TK, holding his face in his mind’s eye. He’d never hold him again, never kiss him again, but if he had to die, then Carlos was going to do it with the comfort that his last thought would be of TK’s smile as they had parted that morning.

Distantly, he heard a quiet click, and then -

TK checked his pocket for the twelfth time in five minutes as he exited the locker room, grinning when his fingers closed around the small velvet box.

If everything went to plan, in a couple of hours, Carlos would no longer be his boyfriend, but his fiancé. The thought sent a thrill through him, though it also simultaneously set his nerves spiking. Logically, he knew nothing could go wrong; he’d planned the evening to a tee, and he was confident that Carlos would say yes.

Buying the ring had been hard, memories flashing through his mind of the last time he had been in that position. But he was doing it for all the right reasons this time, and TK knew that Carlos was it for him. Proposing would be a formality, really, though that didn’t make it any less special.

He’d even begged Carlos’s mom’s help in teaching him to make tamales, and he was going to pick up a flower arrangement on his way home.

Everything would be perfect.

His teammates were still sitting in the communal area when he entered, eyes glued to the tv screen. TK frowned; he thought they’d have all gone home by now.

Paul was the first to notice him, and TK’s concern only grew as he got everyone else’s attention, their worried gazes falling on him one by one.

“What’s going on?” he asked warily. They had a silent argument, before Marjan slowly got to her feet, approaching him hesitantly, hands clasping and unclasping in front of her.

“I know you’re probably going to anyway, but don’t freak out.” She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “There’s a hostage situation at that big, fancy hotel across town. Apparently it’s pretty serious, they’ve had to send police in, and, um, well…”

Marjan paused, and TK felt dread wash through him, knowing what her next words would be.

“He’s there, TK. He’s gone in.”

TK spent the next hour alternating between pacing and staring at his phone, desperately hoping for it to ring. Paul had shut the news off pretty quickly after an announcement that shots had been fired had nearly sent TK into a panic attack, and now they were all watching him closely, to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, TK guessed.

It made his skin crawl, having so many pairs of eyes on him, even if he understood why. He appreciated it, really, but if anything, it just made the urge to run stronger. He was about to make a break for the doors - just for some air - when a shrill sound cut through the tense silence.

TK’s phone rang.

He didn’t bother to check the id before answering, almost dropping his phone in his haste. “Carlos?”

“Um, no,” a distinctly female voice said. “It’s Rachel, actually, I’m Carlos’s -”

“His partner,” TK cut in, anxiety roiling in his stomach at the knowledge that it was Carlos’s partner, not Carlos himself who called him. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Rachel answered, apparently undeterred by TK’s lack of politeness. But he barely got a moment to feel relieved before she continued, “He’s in the hospital.”

TK let out a choked sound. “Hospital?” he whispered, the team looking up at him in alarm. “Hospital isn’t fine.”

“I know; that came out wrong.” She sighed. “Carlos got caught up in the middle of the shooting and a bullet grazed his side, but he’s okay, I swear. Last I heard, they want to keep him overnight for observation, but he’ll be fine.”

TK collapsed into the nearest chair, his head falling into his hands. Someone - he couldn’t tell who - started rubbing soothing circles on his back, and TK unashamedly leaned into the touch. “Which hospital is he at?” he eventually managed.

“St. David’s.”

“Thank you, Rachel.”

“Yeah, no problem.” A pause. “He really saved our asses today. I thought you’d want to know.”

TK breathed out shakily as he ended the call, allowing himself a moment to ride out the residual anxiety still coursing through his body.

“You okay, man?” Paul asked tentatively.

TK looked up at them. “Can one of you drive me to the hospital?”

As Rachel had promised, Carlos was sitting up in bed when TK arrived, looking as he always did - beautiful, happy, alive. His face lit up with a grin when he spotted him, and TK all but ran to him, barely remembering to thank Judd for the ride.

“Carlos,” he choked out, tears springing unbidden to his eyes as he carefully hugged him, mindful of his wound. Carlos hugged him back, his head buried in TK’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Ty,” he said. “I’m okay.”

TK pulled back, his hands moving to frame Carlos’s face. “Are you, though?” he asked, checking his boyfriend over.

“I am,” Carlos promised. “They’re even sending me home tomorrow.”

He smiled, and TK couldn’t help but to smile back, falling into the chair next to the bed. He grasped Carlos’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb across it as a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So much for date night, huh?” Carlos joked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

TK laughed drily. “Yeah,” he said. “Your mom’s going to be so disappointed you never got to try the tamales she helped me make.”

He said the words without thinking, and regretted them as soon as they were out. TK winced as Carlos straightened, turning to stare at him.

“You’ve been cooking with my mom?” he asked, shock and confusion evident in his voice.

“Um.” TK swallowed nervously. “Yes?”

Carlos frowned. “But… Why?”

“I, uh… Fuck.” TK closed his eyes, knowing there was no way he could talk his way out of this one. When he opened them again, he shifted in his seat, breaking their hands apart, and reached in his pocket for the ring box. “For the record, I had a whole plan for tonight, and not one part of it involved my boyfriend being in the hospital.”

“What are you talking about, Ty?” Carlos asked, bemused.

TK smiled at him, pulling the box out. Carlos’s mouth dropped open in shock when he saw it, and there were tears in his eyes when he looked back at him.

TK took a deep breath. “Carlos, these past two years with you have been the happiest of my life. You brought colour back into my life, and you’ve kept it there every single day. I love you more than I ever realised was possible, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I never imagined that I would be asking you this in a hospital room, but I guess it’s kind of fitting for us, huh? So - Carlos Reyes, will you marry me?”

For a few nerve-wracking seconds, Carlos just stared, gaze flicking between TK’s face and the open ring box, tears slipping down his cheeks. Then, he brought his hands to TK’s face, a broad smile on his lips.

“TK Strand, I will marry you.”

And TK laughed, not caring about the tears on his own cheeks as he slipped the ring onto Carlos’s finger, leaning forward to kiss him. They were both smiling too much for it to be a proper kiss, but TK found he didn’t care - nor did he care that his plan hadn’t worked out.

Because Carlos Reyes was his fiancé, which TK thought was pretty damn perfect.

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imagineredwood · 4 years

Text

“You’ll always be mine. No matter what.”

Summary: Worried about what your future marriage holds and getting cold feet, you decide to pack up and leave while your fiance Miguel out. He comes home before you can get out though and when he realizes what you were planning, he’s not happy in the slightest.

Pairing: Dark-ish!Miguel Galindo x reader

Warnings: Rough sex, mouth fingering (Is that a thing? Is that what you call it?) gagging, choking, mild degradation, fear play but you’re actually lowkey scared just a little lmao. It is consensual and at no point is he forcing you/the reader but it is an aggressive encounter.

Word count: 2.2K

***No one asked for this but you’re getting it anyway 😂 Special shoutout to my wife @breanime for hyping me up to get this out there. I was also gonna do a face slapping scene but I just felt like I needed a different set up. Next time 👀 **

You hurriedly stuffed your things into your suitcase, shoving in whatever you felt was important and could not be left behind. You already had one suitcase packed and a large overnight bag stuffed as well. You knew that you needed to hurry, you only had about forty-five more minutes before your guard returned. The guard had been ordered to stay with you all the time. No matter what. Of course, when in the house, you were allowed to have your own space. He and the other guard did rounds around the home keeping a secure perimeter. The main guard had left on break already and now it was just you and the new one. You were sure you would be able to sway him. Miguel was going to be business meetings all day and after a particularly relaxing bath, you had come to terms with something.

You were going to leave.

You did not know if it was going to be permanent or just for a couple of days to gather your thoughts, but you knew you needed to get away. Miguel had proposed around three months ago and the first two had been perfect. It was as if gasoline had been added o the flame that the two of you had. You were always hungry for each other and Miguel was as dedicated and committed to your pleasure as he was to his cartel.

But the reality had started to set in quickly. Once you both had returned from your vacation where Miguel had proposed, it was back to the real world. You had grown even closer and Miguel was starting to let you in a little more each day. But the more he let you in, the more you started to read the writing on the wall.

The long nights where he came home late.

The days where you barely saw him as he was cooped up in his office.

The mornings where he couldn’t stay and eat breakfast with you because he had somewhere to be, so you ate them alone.

You started to see what your married life would entail. How lonely it might be. How you might end up spending more time with your guard than with your husband. That Marcus would probably see more of him that you would.

You saw yourself being lonely, and you were not sure if that was a life that you wanted. You would rather be lonely because you were single than lonely because you had an absent husband. So, with quick thinking you had asked the rookie guard to leave the house and pick up a dress that you had ordered. He had been hesitant, but you had promised him that you would stay inside with everything closed. He had agreed reluctantly and as soon as you knew he was gone, you had started to pack. You had purposefully given him an earlier time for the pick-up so the dress would not be ready. It would buy you just a little more time to hopefully make your escape. You still hurried though, zipping the suitcase closed.

As soon as you finished it, you stopped, ears perked up as you heard footsteps. You could hear the shoes coming up the steps and you cursed under your breath. They were Miguel’s shoes. You could clock that sound anywhere. He began calling to you as he came up coming closer and closer to the master bedroom.

“Mi amor? Where’s Ricardo? I haven’t seen him.”

You panicked, not knowing what to do. You would not be able to put everything away in time, not when he was already outside. You felt your blood run cold as Miguel showed up in the doorway, a smile on his face as he looked at you with adoration. He could see the fright on your face and knitted his brows before looking around the room. And he saw it then. Your essentials almost packed, his brain doing the math.

His smile was gone then as his eyes scanned the room, trying to convince himself that he was just mistaken. The worry on your face told him that he wasn’t though. You looked like a child who had been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, except this was much more severe than just having dessert before dinner.

His entire aura changed, and the air went from loving and soft to tense and foreboding. Miguel stood straight then, pushing himself off the doorway and taking one slow step forward. Then another, his voice low and dangerous.

“Where are you going, mi vida?”

You weren’t used to the sound of venom dripping from those words. They were usually draped in tenderness. Now they felt constricting, like they were wrapping you in barbed wire, tighter and tighter with every step.

“Hmm? Were you going to take a vacation? Get away for a couple of days?”

Miguel continued to take slow, deliberate steps, his dark eyes staring unwaveringly into yours. Every move was calculated. He was building up the anticipation and your fear was doubling with each step. He made the rest of the way to you until he was standing before you, the toes of his perfectly shined shoes touching yours, his front pressed against yours. His teeth were clenched in his mouth, his jaw so tight it looked like it could shatter.

“Or were you going to leave me?”

His voice was a low rumble. No yelling, no booming baritone. Just a low, even, menacingly calm voice that had your heart thumping in your chest.

“I…”

Miguel nodded, reaching down to grab your left hand, bringing it up so he could gaze at the significant rock he had placed there.

“Yeah, you were, weren’t you? My fiancé, mi reina, my future wife. My soon to be other half. Planning to leave me while I was away. Planning to disappear without a trace right under my nose.”

He chuckled then but there was no humor, his voice even lower when he spoke again, a veiled threat lurking.

“You know I would’ve found you anyway. No matter where you went, what you did, I would’ve found you. There’s no hiding from me. I will always find who I’m looking for. You should know that querida.”

He brought your hand up to his mouth and kissed your knuckles gently as he chuckled again, sucking his teeth at you and shaking his head.

“So naïve. So foolish. Just a silly, stupid little girl. Aren’t you?”

He moved in a blur then, so fast you couldn’t keep up with what was happening. Before your brain could register, he had you spun around and slammed forward onto the top of the dresser, your ass propped high as you tried desperately to keep your tippy toes on the floor as he yanked your panties down to your knees, the fabric scraping your hip where it snagged.

“I’m sorry, Miguel.”

Your voice was urgent. Miguel loved you and you loved Miguel. You felt that you were high up on the list of those he would never dream of hurting. You felt he would never kill you, never ever, but your instincts were still trying to catch up to that idea. Miguel agreed from behind you, his hands bringing your arms to cross behind your back as he held you there. He latched his hands onto your wrists and held them together with one hand while the other traveled down to unbuckle his belt.

“Oh, I’m sure you are, mama.”

His voice was condescending while yours was pleading.

“I am, Miguel. I’m sorry. I was just-”

“Shut up.”

You listened and stayed quiet, watching him through the mirror in front of you as he freed himself from the confines of his Armani slacks. You couldn’t see him, your own body blocking the view, but the motion told you that he was stroking himself. You locked eyes with him through the mirror, your gaze pleading with him and begging for forgiveness. He leaned down, placing his mouth close to your ear as you felt the very tip of him starting to press at your opening, both making a shiver run down your spine.

“You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine, and I’m gonna make sure you understand that by the time I’m done with you.”

That was it and then he was standing, his hips pushing forward as he entered you swiftly. You were wet from the fear, though you would never admit it, so there was not much resistance. It still stung though, the stretch having you hissing and whimpering. Miguel only paused for a quick second before he was pounding into you, his hips slapping into your ass. He was not taking it easy on you, his thrusts hard and rough. Your body bounced with each thrust, your hips pressing painfully into the very edge of the dresser.

“Everything I do for you. All the ways I spoil you. How much I love you. None of that shit matters to you I guess.”

His thrusts grew more brutal as he continued with the sentence, riling himself up at the thought of you really leaving him without a word.

“I was scared.”

Your small, breathless voice made his hips stutter for a moment, not having expected that to be your response. He picked back up quickly though, his voice a growl.

“I’ll show you scared.”

In hindsight, maybe he would have listened and tried to soothe you if you had only sat down and talked to him. Asked him to hear your worries. To spend more time with you, try harder to be around more. You hadn’t given him that choice though. You had tried to take the choice away from him and you knew he deserved to be mad.

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I am.”

The cartel leader continued his punishing pace, his thick cock disappearing into you with each push of his hips.

“You fucking should be.”

“I am. I am. Please,”

You tried to sit up some, but he pushed you back down, your body trying again.

“Please, Miguel. Let me make it up to you.”

He paused for a moment and you could see the contemplation in his eyes as his chest heaved in both fury and exertion. You used the hesitation to stand back up straight on shaky legs and turn to face him slowly, bowing your head some and looking up at him through your lashes. You tried to make yourself look as submissive as possible, knowing what it would bring out of him.

“I’m sorry.”

His eyes were burning as they looked into yours.

“Get up there.”

He tapped the dresser and you hopped up, his hands grabbing your calves and pushing you up before spreading your legs and coming to stand between them. You looked down, trying to get a view as he pushed into you, but his hand grabbing your throat brought your attention back to him. His grip was firm, his fingers squeezing the sides of your neck as he pushed back into you and began pounding into you again. He kept his eyes on you, watching your face. As angry as he was, he would never want to truly hurt you. Roughing you up was a different thing though. He choked you harder, your vision swimming slightly.

You kept your eyes on him, trying to offer your apology through your gaze.

“You belong to me. You know that.”

You nodded as best as you could in his choke and he let go of your neck, opting to grab your chin in his hand and hold it firmly to keep your eyes on him.

“I know. I know. I’m all yours.”

Miguel sneered and gave a fake smile.

“Forgive me for not believing that.”

You gulped and tried to think of something to say but nothing came to mind. Nothing that would fix the current situation at least. So, you grabbed his hand and brought it to your mouth, taking his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking on the digits. You felt him twitch within you and hoped that you were onto something. As Miguel’s hips slowed to a stop, you thought that you had, but as he reached up and placed his other hand on the back of your head, you realized you may have just set yourself up for more punishment.

And you were right.

With one hand holding your hair and keeping you in place, Miguel pushed his fingers even deeper into your mouth, deeper and deeper until you gagged. He pulled them back out smoothly but left them in your mouth as he hushed you.

“Shhh. Just take it. Show me that you’re sorry.”

You nodded and tried to relax as he pushed his fingers in again, his fingertips massaging your tongue as they went down your throat. You gagged again but he didn’t take them out this time, only pushing them down to his knuckles and keeping them there for a few seconds more before finally pulling them out to let you catch your breath. He watched as your eyes watered, tears gathering in your lashes, a thick line of saliva connecting from his fingers to your mouth.

He wasn’t nearly done with you though. He was going to ruin you for the rest of the night until you could barely walk, and every step reminded you of just who owned you. His anger seemed to have dissipated for the most part, now only an overwhelming need to conquer and possess you.

“You’ll always be mine. No matter what.”

You nodded and clenched your pussy around him, drawing a groan from the still well-dressed man. It may have seemed manipulative, but you were prepared to do whatever it took to get yourself off the hook. So, with a look of innocence, you kept your still watery eyes on him leaned back against the mirror slowly, pulling your legs up to spread your pussy for him.

“I’ll do anything.”

General taglist @piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz @fanaticfangurl21 @ifoundmyhappythought @encounterthepast

Mayans taglist @dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24

#miguel galindo #miguel x reader #Mayans MC #galindo cartel #mayans imagine #imagines #mayans fx #miguel galindo imagine

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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 3 years

Text

Arnav, Khushi: Choti Si Duniya

#3 Old Habits

On most days Arnav and Khushi were happily married, with ample amount of laughter, space, sex, healthy banter, mild arguments, partnership and friendship filling their days.

On some days they just took the breath away from the other by simply existing, thrumming in the evergreen Rabba Ve. And on other days they were quiet, with one of their past demons returning to haunt them while the other supported the best they could.

And on the rarest days their arguments would take an ugly turn. It wasn’t a difference of thought, but rather crossing an invisible line of trust. Old habits, which despite maturity and therapy, flared up.

Unfortunately, Arnav crossed it far more than Khushi did.

“You’re forgetting she’s my sister Khushi Kumari Gupta! How could you not tell me she’s dating my manager.”

“She is also my sister Arnav, and Di told me not to tell you-”

“I don’t fucking care-”

“-that’s exactly why she told me not to tell you. And Aman ji is a good man for Di.”

“I don’t care, you still don't know Aman.”

“I’ve known him for six years! And for your kind information, I am a good judge of character Arnav-”

“-no you're not. If you were a good judge then things would've been different.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Forget it.”

“Don’t forget that with this judgement I chose to marry you.”

“Oh really? With this judgement you brought fucking Shyam back to the house. I told you it was a big mistake but no - you thought he had changed.”

Khushi stormed into their bedroom, packing her clothes for a week. How dare he accuse her for not understanding Shyam! Yes, she had made a colossal mistake regarding him, but bringing it up after five years?

Just because he couldn't handle Di having a boyfriend?

Khushi breathed hard, fought her tears and zipped up her suitcase.

“Khushi, I’m sorry.” Arnav panted, having run up the stairs. His panic grew at the suitcase.

“Then why did you bring that up.”

“I was angry, I didn’t... you know how I am regarding Di.”

“I do Arnav, but that does not excuse you bringing up that up. I would've never brought him to the house if I knew he killed Di’s child.”

“Of course, I know that. It’s just... I shouldn't know about Aman and Di after they’ve started dating.”

Khushi sighed. She understood his overprotectiveness, especially after the Shyam fiasco they were all at edge towards Anjali. Frankly if it had not been for Aman, Khushi would’ve confided in Arnav.

“I get it, but I’m leaving for Bua ji’s for a week... if I didn’t know you, I would've never forgiven you for what you said.”

“Khushi you know I didn’t mean it.”

“And you know that anything related to that man is... has never been my fault.”

“I know Khushi but don’t go.” He held her hand.

“Arnav, I’m not in the state to forgive you for what you said. I want to calm down, take a little break and talk to you about this. So first, go and talk to your sister and please let me go.”

Arnav’s temper ticked. He hated Khushi leaving home. Leaving him.

“Running away from things don’t fix anything.”

“I’m not running away Arnav, I need space.”

“I said I’m sorry.” He yelled.

“And that is not enough!” She matched his pitch, grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door. Except he shut the door on her face and pulled her away.

“You can’t leave,” He warned. Khushi snatched her hand away from his.

“Or else?” She challenged.

“You know what I’m capable of,” His mouth hardened into its cruel, familiar straight line. And Khushi’s heart broke, again.

“Every single fucking time,” Khushi swore and threw her bag to the floor, angry tears rolled down her cheeks. Arnav faltered, his grip on the door loosening.

“Khushi main-” Khushi stopped him and stepped away.

“Enough Arnav. Main kya? You didn’t mean what you said? Didn’t mean to hold my hand hard enough to hurt? Didn’t mean to bring up the past? Didn’t mean to break my heart?” Khushi folded her arms, analyzing his face.

“But it still hurts. And you do nothing to fix it. I wonder, where does this come from?”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” He said.

“I didn’t leave you when things were worse, when you couldn't stand being in the same room as me-” And despite the years, the memories filled Arnav with guilt and Khushi with pain. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” His voice had lost its strength, “I wish I could change-”

“Hume uss baat se koi farak nahi padta. I have never asked you for an explanation or your regret. I’ve left these behind. But you haven't. Your habits haven't.” Khushi wiped her tears, struggling to keep her composure.

“You know, let’s talk about this. Because I’ve heard all of this before and we never really addressed how you broke my heart. And the fact that you can say all this despite all the therapy we've been to...”

Arnav sank into the green chaise, head in his hands. Khushi, always having the bigger heart, kneeled by him and grabbed his face. He was crying. Her heart truly broke.

“Talk to me Arnav. Why do you say these things? It’s been so long, and trust me when you shut the door and grab me I still get scared, it still breaks my heart despite everything. It will never be okay-”

Arnav held her hand, whispering his sorries to her.

“And what do you mean by ‘my sister’. Don’t you know how long it took me to make this family my own. Arnav, my world changed overnight. You know this. Tumhara, mera... you make me feel like this is not mine. That this house, this-”

“No Khushi, everything is yours. Yeh ghar, Di, main-” He choked.

“Then why do you work so hard to push me away? I know you're concerned for Di, even I was first worried when I learned she liked Aman ji. But she's happy with him.” Khushi said.

“I can’t... Di was happy with Shyam. I can't see her go through pain again, when I know that I could've prevented it.” Arnav confessed.

“Arnav, things would've hurt irrespective of everything we did. Or maybe because of it. The problem was not that we couldn't protect her, it’s that we took away her choice. Our decision to tell her the truth depended on it our convenience to lie about him.” Arnav agreed.

“And Aman ji is different. You know him for twelve years and if he turns out terrible despite that, then we’ll support Di the best we can and murder him.” Khushi cracked a smile and Arnav chuckled.

“I’m sorry Khushi,” He said, wiping her tear away.

“You should be. I mean, yes, I should've known better about trusting a man who didn't hesitate to kidnap you-” Arnav tsked at her.

“You were barely in your twenties. I shouldn't have brought that up.” He huffed.

“But you did.” She smiled sadly. Arnav stopped himself from saying 'I didn't mean to'. If he didn't, he shouldn't have. So he attempted at pouring his heart, saying things he meant.

He often resorted to pulling people’s mistakes when they made a decision without his input to prove they can't always make the right choice.

“Because I believe I’m the only one who can take the right decisions for everyone...” Arnav scoffed at the irony of his sentence. There were times when he had succeeded but despite his best efforts he did hurt Khushi where it hurt most.

"I always think it’s right to use any means to stop you from leaving me, especially after a fight. Cause I think I’ll fix everything later, as long as you're in front of me.” He confessed.

“Except it fixes nothing. It just... Arnav I feel like I have to cut a part of myself to be with you after such things because I love you, I love you so much that I can’t bear to not love you. Aur aise harkatein ke baad... it gets difficult to love you.” Khushi began to cry.

“It kills me to not be able to love you.” Arnav kissed her forehead, holding her tight in his arms. Her sobs racked against his chest, breaking his heart to two.

“Khushi please don’t... how can I fix this? I feel like any sorry isn't enough.”

“Let’s talk. Like this, always.” Khushi sniffled. Arnav nodded, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

“And... if I want to leave,” Arnav’s grip tightened, “know that I’m always coming back. Except I just need space to process things.” Khushi broke the hug, and caressed his cheek.

“Ok, I’ll tell Mohan to drive you to Bua ji’s. I won't- can’t, you know I won't be able to leave you there.” Arnav smiled, holding her hand against his cheek.

“I’ll talk to Di about everything and we’ll work on this.” He pointed to themselves. Everything was worth a shot.

“And I will never keep anything from you.” She promised, acknowledging her own mistake.

“Ab jao, otherwise I won’t let you go.” Arnav turned away, dismissing her. Khushi pressed the most loving, forgiving kiss against his cheek and left for Bua ji’s.

---

Aman and Anjali watched Khushi leave for Bua ji’s. She had and bid everyone goodbye - Aarav choosing to stay home, afraid of the cheek pulling at Lakshminagar. But promised to FaceTime his mum at every single minute.

Arnav, had not come down to see her off. Anjali was worried sick. Aman tried to placate her.

“Aman, you have no idea the problems Chote and Khushi faced because of my first marriage. I did not... I always ruin everything. My blind faith nearly destroyed my brother’s happiness and yet again-” Aman placed his finger against Anjali’s lips, shushing her effectively.

“No Anjali. You are not responsible for ASR and Khushi bhabhi’s lives. Your faith in your husband was admirable. If the narrative was different, you would've been lauded for your trust in him. Unfortunately that wasn't the case.” Anjali didn’t agree. Aman grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Anjali, look at me. Take deep breaths. Ab, listen. Yes, you affect ASR’s life - why wouldn't you, he's your brother, your support, your heart. But whatever happens in his life is a result of his actions. Same applies for Khushi bhabhi. Yes, they might have fought regarding us, but not because of it.”

“But Aman-”

“No buts, if we were to break up - because, of course, ASR affects your life too - would you hate ASR?” This time Anjali grabbed Aman’s shoulders in response to his questions.

“I would never hate my brother Aman Mathur. And no matter how much I love him, I would speak to him but not give up on you like that.” If they were not in Shantivan, Aman would’ve kissed her senseless on the spot.

“It’s taken me a lot to fall in love, and I’m not going to change that-”

“Then that resolves everything Di.” Aman and Anjali jumped apart on finding Arnav leaning against a wall, a soft smile playing on his lips. These few minutes said a lot about Aman and Anjali’s relationship that he wouldn’t have been able to have assessed without a calm mind.

“Chote.” Anjali nearly ran into her brother’s arms. Arnav hugged her tight, happy and relieved at the same time.

“It’s ok Di. First of all, as Aman said, you’re not responsible for anything. Everything will be fine between Khushi and me. And next time, you can tell your brother everything, I wouldn’t sack Aman for being your boyfriend... even if I’m tempted to.” Anjali pushed him against his shoulder and the siblings grinned.

“Thank you Chote. This means the world to me.” Aman smiled affectionately at the duo.

“There’s nothing to thank me. It is your life. But if Aman hurts you-”

“-then feel free to do anything with him.” Anjali quipped.

“Precisely. Even Khushi is on board with murder.”

“Do you both realize I am here.” Aman cleared his throat.

“Yeah, that saves me the time to separately give the shovel talk. You are truly efficient Aman.” Anjali laughed and headed towards Aman, who was more than happy to receive the threats.

He was officially welcomed to the Raizada's.

---

Madhumati and Garima had long learned what interference could cost in both, Khushi and Payal’s lives. With Shashi’s recovery they realized that if they had let both the daughters take decisions they saw fit, a lot of misunderstandings would've been avoided.

So when Khushi arrived with her bag and a call came from Payal apprising the Guptas of the situation at home, the Guptas needed no answers from Khushi nor were in a hurry to send her to Shantivan.

For this home would always remain as Khushi’s.

Madhumati didn’t prod about the untouched jalebis (although she did have a good mind to use her belan on her beloved damaad), Garima busied herself with her hour long chats with her grandson on the phone and Shashi gave Khushi the space to talk.

Time definitely allowed healing and perspective.

---

It was one of those days when Arnav was restless. Neither tending his plants nor working gave him relief. Perhaps it was because there were three more days for Khushi to come home?

He paced across every square inch of his mansion - the Prakashes and Raizada's knowing well to steer clear from Pacing Singh Raizada.

“Wassup Nannav? Missing Khushi bhabhi? You want me to send her a message? I’m heading there to grab some samosas.” NK grinned, as if he hadn't seen his cousin pining for Khushi in the past four days.

“Nothing.” Arnav gritted. He knew therapy was working. If not, NK would’ve been six feet under. And maybe Lavanya would’ve murdered him for it, but that was a small price to pay.

“Everything’s alright Chote?” Anjali stepped in, slapping NK behind his head.

“Yes Di, I ju-” Arnav stopped. The air sweetened, goosebumps broke and a sudden wind hit him. Oh, it was one of those days.

“Chote-”

“Nannav,”

Arnav ignored them and walked towards the door, nearly running by the end of it.

There was Khushi, in a red salwar kameez, house keys in hand.

They looked at each other as a strong breeze washed over them. A few strands of her hair flew and she softly smiled, before her chin wobbled and a sheen of tears betrayed her joy of coming home.

Oh, the one to cry at the drop of a hat!

Khushi ran up the few steps and nearly jumped into his arms as he engulfed her in his embrace. They remained in the intimate hug, sharing a few discreet kisses and whispered promises, oblivious to the audience.

“Di, how does Nannav always know when Khushi ji’s home?” NK asked.

“Old habits NK bhai, puraani aadatein.” Anjali smiled.

---

A/N: This was the longest CSD one shot! Here's your slice of angst but happily ever after - just let's say I was in one of those moods.

Choti Si Duniya is going to be a series of one shots of Arnav & Khushi’s life post the end of the show. These are going to be snippets inspired by certain gifs. I hope you liked it - do share your views!

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd ff #fanfiction #arnav #khushi #choti si duniya #angst #hona hi tha

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finleyfray · 3 years

Text

Bittersweet Memories part 7

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (part 6)

Taglist: @ashadash0904

TW: language,nightmares, think that’s it

Finley looks at the door, waiting patiently for her girlfriends to come in. Earlier today J’onn came along announcing there was a mission and if they wanted to go. Of course, Alex and Maggie said no instantly, but Fin almost ordered them to go and have a bit of fun. After arguing with them for a solid ten minutes, they finally agreed, claiming they will be back before their scheduled therapy session.

The black-haired woman was nervous for the session. She knows they will talk about a lot of stuff that’s troubling them in their relationship. But on the other hand, some things have to be talked about. Maybe if they sit down and list them, it’s going to help. At least now Fin didn’t have to worry about Kelly stealing her girls.

‘She has a wife and a kid on the way. She wouldn’t leave them. There is no danger from her side.’ Finley thinks as she hears a knock on her door.

“Come in.” She looks at the door as they open and Kelly enters the room. “Hi.” Finley smiles politely as she greets the woman.

“Hi, good morning, Finley. How are you doing today?” The older woman sits on a chair ahead of her.

“I’m better, I think so. Nothing hurts actually, which is a pretty nice feeling.”

“That is very good. You know when they’ll let you home?” Kelly asks, looking at the woman in bed.

“Yeah.” Fin sighs. “They took my blood for testing earlier. Will let me know if I can go home tomorrow. I, uh, I kind of don’t want to go home...” She hung her head and looked at her hands.

“And why is that?”

“Well, I’m scared. It went wrong the first time, what if it goes wrong again? What if the pain comes back? And here I’ve had both of them by my side, what if I’m all alone again? I don’t want to stay home any more. I feel like I’m too clingy, because I’ve been practically attached to them for the last week, but I’ve missed them. By now they’re probably sick of me.”

“We’re not sick of you.” Finley turns and sees her redhead girlfriend by the door. “I promise there’s nothing you could do that would make us sick of you.” Alex rushed to the bed and hugged her. Maggie trails behind her and sits on the other side of the bed.

“I’m sorry.” Fin hugs them both.

“It’s okay. We’re here to remind you of how we love you.” Her raven-haired girlfriend kisses her cheek. “We’ll just go day by day. I promise we’re not going to leave you.”

“I’m just... I’m sorry, it’s egoistic, but when we’ll go home, I’m afraid you’ll just go back to work and I don’t want to stay home alone. I’m worried that something will go wrong again.”

“It’s normal that you feel that way when a certain place brings you trauma.”

“Yeah.” Fin cut Kelly off. “But I can’t expect them to constantly miss work because of me! They have taken so many free days, and Maggie even resigned from NCPD because of me. That’s not okay, I’m dragging them down.”

“I didn’t resign because of you. I did resign because of my workload. Of how my boss was treating me.” Maggie looks at her girlfriend.

“Well, she’s not wrong. You are also forgetting that you are in this state because of me.” Alex sighs, dropping her head.

“What do you mean?” Finley looks at her girlfriend tilting her head.

“Fin, you saved me. If I saw that stupid rock coming, you wouldn’t almost die! You just dropped everything and risked your life to save mine!”

“Of course I did. What, did you expect me to just stand over there and watch you being crushed?” The black-haired woman frowns.

“I said all these hurtful words and yet, even when you should be mad at me, hate me, you just dropped everything and saved me.” Alex looks at Finley as she wipes away her tears. Maggie takes the redhead hand squeezing it gently.

“How do you feel about it?” Kelly asks, looking at them.

“I’m... angry? At myself mostly. Because I acted like a total asshole. But also scared, because I realize such a situation can happen again, and I know she wouldn’t even hesitate to risk her life for me. And I don’t want to lose her.”

“Well, of course I would risk my life for both of you. How could I ever look at your mother’s face and tell that her daughter is dead because I did not save her. How do you expect me to just stay there and look at you being in danger and do nothing? That’s not an option, it never was.” Finley huffs. What did Alex even think? Of course, she’s going to risk her life for both of them.

“See, the thing is, and I can’t get why you keep missing it, my mother cares for you too. For her, it’s like she has 5 daughters. You think I ever want to go to her and tell her one of them didn’t make it!?” Alex’s voice broke, she was trying to maintain her tough face, but there were so many emotions inside her that she felt like she would burst.

“Baby...” Finley sighs and hugs her redhead girlfriend as she feels her shaking from a sob. “I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.” She looks at Maggie who hugged Alex from behind.

“But you almost did! You stopped breathing in my arms!”

“Babe!” Finley retreats and looks her girlfriend in the eyes. “I am here now. I promise you it’s not changing. We have so many plans together, we’re getting a dog, we talked about moving to a larger house, your sister is getting married soon! I don’t plan on missing all these things. I want to spend the rest of my life with both of you, and I’m not dying anytime soon. It’s alright, it’s going to be okay.”

“Promise?” Maggie whispers, her voice trembling from her own tears.

“I promise.”

***

Alex smiles as she enters the room with coffee in her hand. It was a tough week, Finley was ordered to stay for a few days longer in the medical just to make sure there's no change for the worse. That also made them meet up with Kelly daily, and now Alex was feeling a lot better. The redhead was hopeful for their future in a beautiful house with a dog they really want and some kids. Or at least she hopes so, she still didn't talk about the kids part with her girlfriends.

Alex always wanted to be a mother. Even if she had a time in her life where she wasn't sure if she likes men or women, Alex was always sure she wanted to have kids. She doesn't know when to talk about it yet, but she's sure she will.

"Hey. Ready to go home?" She looked at Fin, who's sitting on the bed.

"Yea, but Maggie doesn't let me do anything!" The black-haired woman whines and points at their shorter girlfriend who's packing all their stuff.

"That's because the doctor said you need to take it easy." Maggie rolls her eyes and Alex laughs. Typical Sawyer behaviour. If the kids ever get that trait from her, they're going to be in so much trouble.

"Come on, I'll help." The redhead walks to her and begins helping her girlfriend with packing.

"Alright, I think that's it. We're good to go." Maggie informs, looking at their suitcase. "We'll get you a wheelchair, and we can go to the car."

"No! No, no, I can walk!" Finley huffs. "I don't need a wheelchair, I don't have a cast any more, I'll walk!"

"Babe..." Alex sighs. She gets it, it's so frustrating for Fin that she doesn't have the energy to walk so far as she's used to, she gets tired after a few meters, she won't be able to make it to the car. Yes, the black-haired woman is doing her best at physical therapy, and she makes a lot of progress, but she can't make it that far. "Baby..." Alex begins again, but she doesn't know what words to use to not hurt the younger woman but at the same time convince her to use a wheelchair. She looks at Maggie trying to get some support.

"Finnie… The car is far away. It would really help if we just get you a wheelchair?" The shorter woman says, looking at their girlfriend.

"Oh." Finley hangs her head and looks at the floor. "O...okay."

"Baby…"

"No, just, please go get the wheelchair. Just don't, I get it. I know I'm too slow for you."

"Okay." Maggie exits the room and they stay alone.

"You okay?" Alex asks, looking at her girlfriend.

"Yea. It's just… you know. I want to be able to walk normally. It's so frustrating that I'm getting tired so quickly." Finley sighs looking at the redhead.

"You'll get better soon. Just not so long ago you could only move in a wheelchair, and now you're able to go alone for a bit. You need to give yourself some time, those injuries don't heal overnight." She walks to Fin and envelops her in a hug.

"Here you go." Maggie walks in with the wheelchair and looks at them. "You okay?"

"Yea." Finley stands up, leaning on Alex. She walks 4 steps and embraces Maggie. "Sorry. I overreacted. I just want to finally feel better and get back to our normal life."

"I know baby, I want this too. But, small steps, you know?" Maggie kissed Finley’s forehead and helped her sit on the wheelchair.

***

Maggie smiles as she enters the elevator. After a successful day at the DEO it's finally time to go home. She presses the button and the elevator closes going up. After a few seconds, the door opens again, and she walks out. Putting the key in the door, she opens them.

"I'm home." She announces, but she's met with silence. She furrows her brows and instinctively grabs her gun. While Finley might sleep, Alex never sleeps during the day. She slowly walks to the living room and chokes on air. There, on the couch, lies Alex with a bullet hole in her head. Maggie wants to scream, but she can't get any sound out of her mouth. She wants to go to her girlfriend, check on her, cry, scream, but she can't. Her legs lead her to the bedroom.

There on their bed lies her other girlfriend. She looks at her with dead eyes and a hole in her chest. Next to their bed stands a man. She can't see his face, she can only see the gun in his hands. Once again, Maggie can't move. She looks at the man as he speaks.

"I told you…"

Maggie shoots up with a gasp. She looks around and finds her girlfriend's sleeping in bed next to her. The Latino tries to get her breath together. She grabs the duvet with shaky hands and gets out of the bed. She feels her cheeks getting wet and goes to the kitchen.

"Fucking hell." She closes her eyes, but when she does, she sees her girlfriends dead all over again. She goes to the window and focuses her vision on the sign of the gas station near their home.

Slowly, the raven-haired woman is able to even her breath and stop crying. She goes to the kettle and puts in water to warm it.

For a few days now, Maggie has had this nightmare. She comes home and finds her girlfriends dead. She can't see the face of the man that shot them, it's all blurry. Only words spoken "I told you." but they don't mean anything to her.

She makes herself some coffee. She won't be able to sleep any time soon.

For the past few days, she went to lay with her girlfriends only to get up when they were asleep. She didn't want to alarm them, but she was just so tired. Maggie misses the good sleep.

She tries to occupy her mind at night with everything she can think of. Recently, Maggie discovered podcasts, and she loves the criminal ones. She's always able to identify the murderer before them, and it successfully occupies her mind. She loves coloring adult color books while listening to it. The raven-haired woman would never admit to it, but it really calms her and brings her joy.

Maggie brings her cup of coffee to the table, but before she can power her headphones on, she hears footsteps. She quickly turns and is ready to fight when she sees Finley.

"Hey." She hears her girlfriend's sleepy voice, and it brings a little smile to her face. "It's late, what are you doing here?" The blue-eyed woman hobbles in her direction, and Maggie stands up to pick her. She grabs her and goes to sit on the couch nearby. The Latino snuggles into her girlfriend and sighs. She didn't realize how bad she needed a hug. Fin embraces her and softly scratches the back of her head.

"What's wrong?" She asks, and Maggie can hear a worry in her voice.

"Nothing. I just wanted to snuggle."

"Then why are you here with coffee instead of sleeping?" Her girlfriend asks softly.

"I just can't sleep any more tonight."

"Babe, you look exhausted. What's wrong?"

"I… Nothing is wrong. I just can't sleep." Maggie rolls her eyes. Finley and her stubbornness are going to be the end of her.

"Baby…" Fin stops and yawns. "Talk to me, please."

The raven-haired woman sighs and leans back a bit to look into her girlfriends blue eyes.

"I just keep having this nightmare for a few days." Maggie cups her girlfriend's cheeks to feel her. She needs to know she's really here.

"Can you tell me about it?" Fin's hand softly strokes her hair.

"I don't know…"

"Please?" Her girlfriend made a puppy face, and she was gone. She can never say no to that face, and her girlfriend knows that. Damn her. Maggie sighs.

"It begins normally. I come home from work and open the door. I call out, but it's so quiet, I go to the living room and there on the couch lies Alex with a bullet in her head. And I can't do anything about it." She feels her girlfriend wiping away her tears, she didn't know she was crying. "I can't go to her, I can't scream, I can't cry, nothing! And I'm forced to go away, to go to the bedroom. And you're there, looking at me with dead eyes, hole in your chest. There's this man standing next to the bed. He's holding a gun, but he doesn't have a face, his face is blurred." Maggie sobs. "And he's only words are "I told you…". Like, what does this even mean!" She snuggles into Finley’s chest and sobs even more.

"It's okay, we're okay, you're okay." The black-haired woman embraces her and whispers in her ear. "It's just a nightmare, we're here, and we're safe. Nothing is coming to kill us. We're going to be okay."

Slowly, her sobs become quieter, and she feels herself being maneuvered to lie on Fin. She rests her head on her girlfriend's chest and listens to her heart beat. It's so comfortable, and she feels a duvet on her, giving her more warmth. And right now, as Maggie's fatigue gets the best of her, she really wants to believe that they're going to be okay.

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