#first off. i put this off for a month and second my hatred was lulled because i sketched a very beautiful man and had to show it off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reidmotif · 4 days

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Dialing up for Trouble

Summary: Reader and Spencer were fuck-buddies, until Spencer cuts her off quite suddenly. A party and some risque images may be enough to get them back to their old routine.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: semi-public sex, sexting, mentions of nude images and descriptions of generic lingerie, masturbation (f!receiving), penetrative sex, semi-dom!spencer

Word Count: 3.5 k

Masterlist

Clichés bothered me. There was no other way to put it. I’d grown up hating the likes of love triangles, meet-cutes, chosen ones, and right now, I was being reminded more than ever of that hatred because, what the fuck?

“Too much of a good thing” was the reasoning Spencer had cited when he proposed we stop sleeping together casually, and return to our previous relationship of “just coworkers”. I’d let him know how ridiculous I found his sentiment, and attempted every possible method to continue our secret rendezvous, but he was absolutely dead-set on his decision, it seemed.

No more sex. No more late-night calls. None of it. It was all over. All because of a cliche.

We seemed to agree on one thing, and that was, yes. The sex was fantastic. It really was that good. While I’d never wish weariness on Spencer Reid, I couldn’t deny that in the aftermath of stress and frustration from whatever life had chosen for him, the way he’d deal with that was absolutely electrifying for me.

I’d find myself constantly breathless, pulled into hotel rooms, storage closets- anything resembling the barest hint of privacy, and allow him to use me as he saw fit. I gave him complete trust and control over my body, and in turn, he rewarded me with some incredibly life-changing orgasms. And for what it’s worth, he seemed to get an equal amount of satisfaction out of our hidden trysts, which only made his recent decision that more devastating.

It’d been roughly a month since we’d had sex, or anything resembling the sort, and I found myself absolutely deprived. When the FBI gave out invitations to its semi-annual gala, I imagined the festivities would be enough to distract me, but I was completely in error for assuming so. Amidst drinks and conversations, there was the occasional lull where I couldn’t help but absentmindedly imagine the feel of his hands over my skin, squeezing the fat of my hips. His lips trailing up and down my neck, focusing on spots only he knew about. The way his hair would tickle against my thighs when he’d bury his head-

“Hey.”

The voice breaks me out of my thoughts, and I have to remind myself not to choke on my beverage. There he was. The current subject of my thoughts, standing in front of me, live and in the flesh. Spencer Reid.

“Hey.” I mirror back, taking a sip of my drink, acting as lax as I could, given the circumstances. “Enjoying yourself?” I ask, gesturing to the party in front of us, the general ambience.

“You know me.” He replies, pausing for a second, keeping his gaze trained on mine. “Not my scene but.. doable.”

I chuckle for a moment, understanding perfectly. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most social guy out there. I was honestly surprised he’d chosen to come to this thing at all in the first place.

“You look nice.” He says, suddenly. “Your dress. It’s nice.” He rushes out the words, as if he’s scared to say them in the first place.

I smooth down the fabric instinctively, nodding. I try not to let the compliment affect me so much, keeping my head down for a split second to hide the creeping heat emanating from my cheeks.

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

I surprise myself with my own answer. The silence for that tick is horrible. I appreciate it? Jesus. I couldn’t think of the right words anymore. The correct and witty response that would allow this conversation to flow smoothly.

I truly wanted to fuck this man so bad, it made me look stupid.

And stupid I was, because yet again, I attempted to test the current parameters of our relationship he’d put us on. I swallow my pride, lifting my head to meet his eyes with mine.

“If you like it so much, you could- you know. Take it off.” I say, biting my lip. There’s a light tease in my voice, but it’s obvious I’m being as forthcoming as I possibly could. No games. No jokes. I didn’t want to dance around it, and I hoped my boldness would reward me as it did previously in the past.

But no, it seems that fortune does not favor the bold, because Spencer’s immediate response was to shake his head, lowering his voice. He pulled on my arm to decrease our proximity, to the point where it was ensured no passer-bys could possibly hear our conversation.

“Come on.” He pleads, almost looking desperate. “I told you we should stop- hasn’t that worked out? We can be coworkers. This works.”

I roll my eyes, letting my displeasure show plainly over my face. “This works?” I say, and the sarcasm is clear in my voice. “Sex worked too, you know.”

“I know it did!” He says, in a hushed whisper. “But- we can’t. No. It’s not right. Too much of a-”

“If you finish that sentence, I swear to god.” I say, my expression turning much more volatile. I forcibly shrug his arm off me. “This is stupid.” I continue, trying not to let my voice rise. “I see the way you look at me. I know it was good for both of us. I know you’re thinking about it just as much as I am, so why not!” There’s a hint of hurt in my voice as well. Underneath all the sex, I’d grown to miss the interactions after. The giggles under covers and the feel of his hair in my fingers. I missed him. All of him.

There’s a miserable pause on his end, and I hold my breath waiting for his next words. Spencer sputters, looking absolutely defeated. “Because- because we just can’t, okay?” He replies, helplessly, stepping back from me, as I’d done with him. “Look. I’m just going to enjoy the rest of the party, okay? Take care of yourself, yeah?”

Before I can get in another word, demanding a real explanation from the man, he leaves me alone, replaying the words of his confusing outburst in my mind.

I take a short time to myself, electing to go use the restroom and take a breather from the party, a bit on edge after our exchange. Was it possible he was completely fine with what the loss of our arrangement had done to us? Was I the only one absolutely losing my mind? Any attempt to diverge my attention from the topic proved futile, and I remained in the closed room, mindlessly adjusting myself in the mirror with no real rhyme or reason. There’s an eventual use of my phone, focusing the camera directly on my face to make sure nothing had smudged or looked off on my face in the time I’d last checked my makeup. In the use of the device, I remembered the pictures I’d taken before coming here.

The pictures weren’t meant to serve any true purpose. I’d bought new lingerie for this dress, as my previous bras weren’t suited to the cut and shape of the specific piece of clothing, and decided to take a few pictures for myself. It was lacy, and pretty, but nothing truly special. The bra had a slight push-up effect, and the panties were a bit cheekier than my normal, day-to-day undergarments. The actual lingerie was innocent- harmless, even. Looking at the images right now, though, a salacious idea creeped into my head.

Under the right circumstances, these could be exactly the catalyst to finally receiving what I wanted.

I open the messaging app on my phone, finding Spencer’s contact, and beginning to type out a simple message.

hey.

The response is immediate.

What’s up?

You good?

Where’d you go?

I laugh a little. I imagined him scanning the crowd for me, trying to figure out where I’d gone off to.

all good, don’t worry

so we’re still sticking to the no sex thing?

I see his typing bubble pop up, then pause. Then starts up again.

Yes.

Trust me, it’s for the better.

I groan internally. Of course he thinks that. Always thinks he knows what’s good for everyone.

trust me

if you knew what i had planned for us

you wouldn’t say that

I feel my phone vibrate in my hand, indicating he was now calling me? I hadn’t planned for this.

“Spencer?” I remark, waiting for his voice on the line.

“What do you mean?” He says, quickly. I can no longer hear the bustle of the party in the background, so it’s only reasonable to assume he’s moved somewhere quieter. Still, I ask.

“Are you around other people?” I murmur, keeping my voice low.

“No. Alone. What did you mean by your last message?” He repeats, quickly.

There’s my in. I respond, feigning an unmistakable innocence in my voice. “Mind if I show you?”

“Show me?” The confusion in his voice is palpable.

“Show you.” I reply, more definitively. “Check your messages.”

I bring my phone away from my ear, electing to send the first picture I saw in my camera roll, which prominently featured my breasts- a feature of mine I knew Spencer was quite interested in. I return to the call, my heart pounding wildly.

“Did you see?” I ask, hesitantly, when all I can hear is his breathing on the other line.

The response is a choked out, breathy mess of a sentence. “Yeah- I did. Jesus.”

“Want more?” I murmur, biting my lip as the realization dawned on me that this possibly had a chance of working.

There’s a delay in his words on the line, before I finally hear:

“Yes. God, yes.”

I grin ear-to-ear, beginning to send an assortment of pictures I’d taken previously in the day. Knowing this was having an effect on him, that somewhere in this party Spencer was sitting alone, his gaze trained on his phone intently, did something to me. He was behaving this way because of my body, because of what I could do to him.

It was hard not to get wet at the thought.

“You look so good.” He breathes out, and the desire in his voice is unmistakable.

“Yeah?” I mumble to the speaker. “You think so?”

“Mhm.” He murmurs. “You’re wearing this right now?” He asks, seemingly needing that confirmation at this moment.

“In all its glory.” I try not to giggle before murmuring teasingly, “What, you wanna see?”

“Where are you?” He asks, suddenly seeming very determined. I can hear the shuffling on the other line, indicating he was now starting to move from where he was currently situated. He was completely, and utterly serious about this.

“Bathroom, on the left corridor of the entrance.” I say, feeling exhilarated at the thought of him meeting me here. This was happening.

Finally.

“Stay.” He replies, and the call cuts.

There’s an impatient itch that creeps up on me during the two-minute wait for him, before I hear a solid knock on the door, and my name being whispered through the door, belonging to a voice I’d grown so accustomed to and fond of.

My fingers undo the lock, opening it just enough so that he could squeeze through without drawing too much attention to ourselves right now.

And as soon as he’s managed in, he’s practically on me, devouring me with a kiss with a passion I’d never felt from him before. My hands go to wrap around his neck, pressing our bodies flush against each other, every ragged breath of his shooting directly to my core, which was now throbbing with need.

“Fuck. Missed this so much.” He breathes out, gasping for air in between our kisses. I couldn’t so much as get a whimper out, before he’d dive right in again. It’s like he wanted to eat me alive.

And I’d let him.

I moan softly into his mouth, starved for more contact between us. It’s as if he can read my mind, because in an instant, he guides us from the center of the bathroom, towards a wall, slotting his thigh between my legs. He takes a momentary break from ravishing me with his lips, now adopting a slower, more sensual pace as he works down my neck, each soft kiss leaving me craving him even more.

His hands drift down to my hips, keeping me pinned against the wall as he murmured soft praises. My legs felt wobbly, absolutely taken aback by how quickly I could go weak for this man.

“You like this, mm?” He mumbles, letting his teeth nip over the lobe of my ear, before switching to a more neglected side of my neck. “Like me that much, mm?”

I don’t care about the cockiness in his tone. I don’t care how smug I render him. I just need him to continue this, for as long as I can have him.

“Yes.” I breathe out, my voice higher-pitched than it normally would be. “God. Love this so much.”

There’s a flash of hesitance from him, as he pulls his face away from my neck, staring at my eyes with his own. I can’t dwell on the pause, because for once, I’m finally seeing him. His hair was absolutely ruined, sticking up wildly in different directions. His cheeks were a light pink, serving to make his features even prettier and doe-like than before. But what got me were his eyes. His pupils were blown out, the normal honey-hazel I’d seen on a daily basis replaced with an absolute abyss of black. The darkness served to cause a surge within me, practically launching forward to meet his lips with mine.

There are no words required for what happens next, as I feel his hand creep up my back, pulling me away from the wall and towards the closest surface, which happened to be the sink. He guides me to bend over, and I do so with no resistance.

He could have me, whichever way he wanted, whenever he wanted. All I needed was his touch.

I can feel him crouch to his knees, slowly reaching under my dress to hook his fingers around my panties, slowly pulling them down. I can feel a string of my arousal clinging to the fabric, and it seems Spencer can too, because he practically moans as he drags the soiled piece of lingerie down my thighs. I step out of them quickly, and turn my head back, fast enough to see him stuff the proof of our debauchery down his suit pocket.

“Eyes ahead.” He whispers, leaning down close to my ear to nip at the sensitive flesh again.

“Okay.” I murmur, slipping into a more submissive version of myself that he seemed to bring out in me. There’s a sense of relaxation and excitement all at the same time, and I’m absolutely wracked with lust for him.

His fingers stroke my clit for a moment, applying pressure in just the right way. The movements are practiced, precise and guaranteed to hurl me off the edge if he continues this way.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart.” He murmurs, almost amazed, letting his fingers slip away. “All this for me?”

I can barely respond, whimpering and nodding. “Yes. Please- Spencer.” I beg, needily.

“I know, I know.” He replies, and I can hear how pleased he is. There’s a certain delight he derives from my submission, and while in any other circumstance, the smugness he displays would turn me off, right now it only served to further my hunger.

I can feel him start to work on his belt, sliding the coarse material of his dress pants just enough, so that his cock could spring free. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, his tip sliding through my folds, and I clench at the thought of him finally being inside of me.

Just when I believed his teasing to be done, there’s a knock at the door, and we both freeze. Spencer swallows, and quickly raises his voice. “Occupied!”

There’s silence, and that previous sense of lust and content drifts back into our bodies, Spencer’s fingers trace up to my face, and he lets his finger slip into my mouth. I can taste my arousal on his fingers, and there’s a genuine struggle on my end to stay upright. How could I, when the man behind me rendered me so indisposed?

He draws his fingers out of my mouth. “Good girl.” He whispers.

It seems the universe has other plans though, because yet again- a knock sounds at the door. I can hear Spencer’s groan, and watch through the mirror as he attempts to come up with a response that would give us the seclusion we required.

My patience however, had worn thin. His cock was right there, and I’d be damned if I was forced to wait any longer. I turn my head towards the door, complacency and submission gone from my voice.

“Do you mind? I’m trying to fuck him in here!” I say, snarking out the words.

There’s a silence, and a murmur of mortification on the other side of the door. Footsteps. And then at last, silence.

Spencer quickly leans down to kiss my cheek, mumbling out an “I love you.”

Before I can even comprehend the words, he’s guiding himself into me, sliding his cock through my walls, and I have to bite my lip to keep a scream in. He feels so fucking good inside of me, stretching me out in ways no man ever could. I can feel the underside of his cock hitting that spongy spot deep inside of me, and my breathing turns rapid in mere seconds.

“There we go, relax for me baby, yeah?” He mumbles. “Nice and slow.”

I moan out my affirmative, gripping onto the sink as I let my jaw drop, eyes squeezing in absolute ecstasy. “So good for me.” He murmurs. “So warm and wet, Jesus.”

And with that, he starts a pace that works for both of us. It’s hard and fast, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. The feel of his cock gliding through my puffy walls is intoxicating, and I can only wonder how I went so long without feeling it.

It seems Spencer’s having similar thoughts, because through my moans and his occasional groans, I can feel his grip on my hips get more bruising by the second, marking me as his own. I can hear occasional fragments of words through his noises.

“Never letting you go. Oh fuck. Fuck.” He mumbles, and despite the overwhelming amount of arousal shooting through me, my heart swells.

“Me too.” I whimper out, gripping the sink even harder. I can feel my wetness seeping all around us, splashing against my thighs with every movement he drives into me. “Need you so badly.”

“Rub your clit for me.” He demands, whispering out the words. “Need to see you come on my cock first, pretty girl.” The words are strained, and I can tell he’s doing everything to keep from spilling inside of me prematurely.

There’s no reason to temporize, and my fingers make their way down to the sensitive bundle of nerves, and the effect is almost immediate. It takes roughly a minute of my incessant rubbing and the feel of him inside me before I’m coming with a soft shout, growing limp against the sink as my muscles twitch and fill me with a deep sense of relief and satisfaction.

Spencer isn’t far behind me, humping into me a few more times before coming inside of me, the release signified with a loud moan and a sense of warmth flooding my deepest point. He slumps against my back, pressing a few, soft kisses to my neck.

As we both come down from our highs, I recall the words Spencer mumbled in my ear previously. I let out a self-satisfied giggle, which Spencer smiles at.

“Mm. What’s that about?” He murmurs.

“You love me?” I ask, softly.

A pause.

“A little.” He responds, voice equally as soft.

“Is that why you stopped having sex with me?” I mumble out, gently.

He presses another kiss to the nape of my neck. “Mhm. Please don’t be mad.”

I let out a soft chuckle. “Not mad. The opposite, really.”

He pulls me up, causing us both to look at each other. “You feel the same way?”

I nod, biting my lip. “We could try this out, I think. I want to, Spencer.”

I stop, and decide I do need to tease him a bit, especially after the sex-less agony he put me through for a month.

“Though, I do recall someone telling me too much of a good thing can go bad..”

His lips part in confusion, before he picks up the teasing nature of my words and leans in for a soft, simple kiss. He keeps his forehead on mind, his eyes staring into mine with a gentle reverence.

“Let’s indulge just this once.”

holy shit has it been a long time since i've written a fic!! i'm so sorry?! i've been dealing with life and other assorted things and writing sort of took a backseat in that period of time <3 i hope this was okay. as usual any feedback, likes, comments, reblogs are so so greatly appreciated. i love writing for spencer, and i hope you guys like that writing too <3 i'm sorry that the two previous fics i promised seem to be delayed, i swear i'm gonna write those next, but inspiration sort of just struck on my end f or this, and i hope it was good <3 but yeah!! thank you so much for reading and interacting with this in any way you choose!! i appreciate it greatly!!

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cryonme · 3 years

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ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ

part one >< jj x reader

﹥ˏˋ♡̩͙♡̩̩̥͙♡̩̥̩ ⋆ ♡̩̥̩♡̩̩̥͙♡̩͙ˊˎ﹤

JJ and Y/n have a fuck hate relationship, well, JJ does. Y/n’s madly in love and JJ’s just mad. When Y/n finally decides enough is enough and confesses her feelings to JJ, she leaves the chateau in pieces.

word count- 1.4k

tw/ cursing, mentions of sex, jj is an ASSHOLE, drinking, shitty writing.

a/n- wowwie! my first outer banks imagine, how fun! I've been wanting to write for obx for a while now so I'm really excited about this, and I hope you all love it as much as I do!! there will be a part two, so don’t get too sad about the ending... yet. xo

“Wanna tell your best friend to stop glaring at me?” You spat as you grabbed a red solo cup while waiting in line for the keg.

John B just chuckled and shook his head, “I’m afraid it wouldn’t do any good, my friend.”

You rolled your eyes. JJ had been shooting daggers at you all night. Actually, scratch that. JJ had been shooting daggers at you for the past 2 and a half years. You were a pogue, just like him and his friends. You worked for everything you had, you wore the same 7 t shirts and the same 2 bikinis, and your parents weren't exactly star role models. So you weren’t sure where JJ’s hatred for you stemmed from, until you came to the realization that he couldn’t handle another person coming into the friend group, and did his best to try and drive you out of it.

And yet you were stupidly, uncontrollably, head over heels in love with him.

Yes, you heard that right.

Despite the blue eyed boy’s disdain for you, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. The two of you had been drunk fucking for 6 months now. It all started when you were all getting drunk at the chateau and JJ had accidentally stumbled into the room you had been laying in, and things just escalated from there. Every time you fucked you saw a different JJ, probably just because he was drunk, which you tried not to think about. He would ask you if you were comfortable, cup your face when he kissed you, stroke your hair, like he was in love with you too. But as soon as you were done he wouldn’t look at you, like he was disgusted with himself for ever touching you.

You kept his secret, didn’t tell anyone about the nights JJ would drunkenly squeeze through your window and kiss you like it was the first time, everytime.

You were tempted, wanted to embarrass him for the way he treated you in public, but you soon came to realize that if you told anybody, JJ would never kiss you again. So, you kept your mouth shut. No matter how badly you wanted to open it.

John B nudged your arm, “Don’t let him bother you, he’s really not worth it. He’s just jealous.”

“Jealous of what?” You asked.

“That there’s other people in this world we can get along with.”

You scoffed, “He needs to grow up, he’s acting like a child.”

“I agree.” John B said before ruffling your hair and walking off to find Sarah.

You sighed and turned your head toward JJ, who unsurprisingly was glaring at you again.

You smirked and mouthed, “I know you’re obsessed with me.” Before raising your red solo cup to your lips and taking a sip.

JJ clenched his jaw and turned away from you, walking in the other direction.

If he was gonna be a dick to you, you were gonna be a dick back. It’s not fair that he gets to treat you like trash but the second you retaliate the world ends.

You decided right then, standing on the beach with a beer in your hand and your toes grazing the water, you were done. He can’t treat you like this and expect you to spread your legs in return. No matter how much it would hurt not being able to kiss or touch him again, it had to be done. You had to respect yourself more than that.

You turned your body towards the party and scanned your eyes over the crowd, finally landing them on him. He was talking to Kiara, smiling and sipping on his drink, and your heart sank. He would never be that way with you, which is why it was time to do what you had to do.

You took your time walking over to the pair, kicking your feet in the sand, stopping and talking to a couple familiar faces before finally landing next to Kiara. She smiled and wrapped an arm around you.

“Where’ve you been, babe?”

You shrugged and leaned into the girl, “Around.”

JJ stayed silent as the two you chit chatted, looking everywhere except at you.

Once your conversation with Kie hit a lull you turned to the blond, “We need to talk.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”

“JJ.” Kiara said in a harsh tone, looking at you apologetically. You dismissed her with a soft smile, assuring her it was fine. She looked between the two of you before backing off, giving your arm a quick squeeze. “Let me know if you need me.”

You nodded and watched the girl walk away, starting to dread what you had to do.

“I’m serious, JJ.”

“I’m not fucking talking to you.”

“Alright, fine.” You put your hands up in surrender and walked closer to the boy, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

“I’m done fucking you.”

Before you could walk away JJ firmly grabbed your arm and stared down at you. You kept your head high and your face serious, letting him know you weren't kidding around.

“Let’s talk in private.”

You got to the chateau before JJ did since he insisted you don’t walk together, out of fear of your cover being blown. You stood awkwardly in John B’s spare room, the one JJ had declared as his own, waiting for him to make his appearance.

When he did, he slammed the door and you willed everything in you not to jump. He stood in silence in front of you for what felt like hours, staring at you like if you made one wrong move he’d strangle you right then and there.

“I’m done.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much. Care to explain?” He said in a voice so intimidating it took everything in you not to shrink down and crawl out the window. You took a deep breath. You were really gonna do this, after all these months of burying your feelings, you were really gonna do it. “I love you.” You said. Your voice shook, but dammit, you said it.

“No you don’t.”

You weren’t prepared for that response. You expected him to laugh in your face, yell at you, maybe even kiss you and confess his feelings, but not that.

“You don’t know me.” You spat. “How dare you tell me how I feel?”

“I do know you, Y/n. I know you’re desperate for any form of attention. I know you think you love me because I give you just a sliver of that attention you desperately crave.” JJ’s voice got lower as he began to slowly walk towards you, not stopping until he was inches from your face. His hand came up and gripped your jaw, turning your face to make you look up at him.

“You literally mean nothing to me.”

You pushed him off of you, “You asshole.”

“Maybe. But at least I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for someone who hates me.”

If you weren’t angry before, you were now. You could feel white hot anger rising up in your chest as your fists began to clench and your muscles began to shake.

“If you hate me so much why do you fuck me like you’re in love with me?!” You nearly screamed in his face, while he showed absolutely no emotion. He stared at you for a long time,saying absolutely nothing, just breathing heavily and running a hand through his hair every 10 seconds.

You waited. You waited for what felt like forever for him to say something, anything. You just wanted to know what he was thinking, if he told you to fuck off, fine. If he told you he was in love with you but just didn’t want to admit it, fine. You just needed something from him.

“I think you need to leave.” He said finally, his eyes still not moving from his heavy gaze on you.

You nodded and quickly wiped a tear from your eye. “Gladly. Have a shitty life, asshole.”

You made sure to clip his shoulder with yours on the way out, and slam the door just like he had earlier in the night.

When you exited the chateau, the sun hadn’t even set yet, and the young drunk teens were still dancing and laughing. Your eyes found your friends, Kiara, Pope and John B. Pope’s arm was extended, holding a phone and snapping a selfie of the trio, all of them with the goofiest grins on their faces. You felt a pang in your chest watching them.

You weren’t planning on coming around anymore.

ahhhh.... part two??

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj imagine #jj outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fic #outer banks blurb #outer banks one shot #Outer Banks #obx #jj maybank angst #john b obx #pope obx #kiara carrera

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king-finnigan · 3 years

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these four walls (supposed to save you from yourself)

part 1, part 2, part 3. also on AO3. requested by @dibsonsmth

When Jaskier gets invited to play a few songs for the patients of the mental health ward his best friend Triss works at, he doesn't expect much of it. After all, he's just a music teacher with a guitar, the most he can do for these people is to entertain them for a short while.

But then he finds out about Geralt, who's spent the past few months in the ward without even leaving his room, and Jaskier realizes that he might still be able to make a difference, after all.

“It’s not too late to turn back, Jask,” Triss says softly, big, brown eyes regarding him with concern.

He sighs, carding his hands through his hair as he looks in the rearview mirror, trying to fix the tangled mess at least a little bit. Eventually, he gives up and leans back, hands falling limply into his lap where his fingers start drumming a quick staccato on his thighs.

“I know,” he says with a nervous smile. “But it’s just a little bit of stage fright. Nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to.” He opens the passenger door, getting out of the car and retrieving his guitar from the backseat, carding his sweaty hand through his hair one last time.

It had been Triss’ idea to begin with. At the time, he’d wholeheartedly said yes. Now, though… now he’s not so sure anymore. After all, he doesn’t really know what he can do for these people. They’re all here because they form a danger to either themselves or others. And Jaskier? Well, Jaskier’s just a guy with a guitar.

But Triss takes care of these patients day in day out, surely she wouldn’t have invited Jaskier to come sing for them if she didn’t think it would help.

He sighs again and takes a leap of faith.

The mental health ward occupies the top floor of the hospital, and the lift ride up is quiet and uneventful, though the nervous twang in Jaskier’s stomach only grows as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar case.

Finally, the lift doors open and he and Triss step out into a bright yellow hall, two closed sliding doors separating them from the actual ward. He watches as Triss scans her badge and types in a code, and hurries forward when the doors slide open and she ushers him inside. He watches again when she closes the doors right away.

“Safety precautions,” she clarifies when she sees him looking. “To make sure no one who’s not allowed to leave actually leaves.”

“Ah,” he says sheepishly, shifting from one foot to the other as he turns around to look at the room.

It’s a large, round space, the walls painted yellow and white, large windows letting in the bright sunlight from outside, spilling over the grey linoleum floor and the green couches and chairs that litter the room in small groups, gathered around low coffee tables. There are people sitting here and there, some sharing a table and playing a board game together, others sharing a table as well but sitting in silence – merely enjoying each other’s company, and others sitting all alone, but seemingly content in their solitude. Some are younger, some are older.

And it’s… peaceful. Quiet. Comforting.

He knows that the image people have of mental health wards is quite different from reality, but still, it catches him off-guard.

“It’s still quite early.” He startles at Triss’ voice behind him, breaking the soft lull in the room. “The group therapy sessions start in a few hours, so you’ve got their attention for now.”

He turns back to the room. “And this is everyone?”

She crosses her arms, leaning her shoulder against his. “No, but it is almost everyone. There’s three people missing. Ciri, who’s been restrained because she keeps scratching open her wounds and we don’t have enough staff to keep an eye on her all day. Dara, her best friend – he won’t leave her side, so he’s in her room as well. And Geralt.”

“Right, I’ll pay them a visit as well afterwards.”

She smiles at him. “I’m sure Ciri and Dara would love it, but don’t waste your breath on Geralt, buttercup. Don’t take it personally, he’s not fond of people in general. And he’s quite stubborn in his hatred of others.”

“Really?”

“Hmm. He’s been here a few months already and he’s yet to join a single group therapy session.”

“Well, I’ll see what I can do.” He nudges her, giving her an overexaggerated wink. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll be the one to melt his frosty exterior.”

“Doubt it,” she deadpans. “Now go on, get ready for your performance, maestro. We’re wasting valuable time here.”

---

It goes surprisingly well, the whole thing. Some of the people gather around him as he sings, others content to just stay where they are and listen. He gets a few requests, even, which he is very happy to fulfil.

And before he knows it, two hours have passed, and people start to file out of the room to attend the group therapy sessions.

He doesn’t put his guitar back in its case just yet, though, as he remembers the promise he made to Triss to check up on Ciri and Dara and the ever-grumpy Geralt.

“Knock, knock,” he says, quickly rapping his knuckles against the doorframe, a big smile plastered on his face as he carefully inches into the room. “Am I interrupting?”

There’s a boy and a girl there. The girl is half-lying in bed, her back propped up with several pillows, blonde hair fanning out over the white linen. Her lower arms are wrapped in bandages, the restraints around her wrist binding her to the sides of the bed. The boy is sitting in the chair next to the bed, playing with the sleeves of his too-big shirt, face slightly sunken. Jaskier can’t help but notice how thin his wrists are, and he doesn’t doubt for a second that he could easily fit his thumb and forefinger around them.

Their eyes turn to Jaskier.

“No, it’s fine.” The girl – Ciri, presumably – is the first one to speak. “Are you a new nurse?”

He shakes his head. “I’m Jaskier, I’m…” he lifts his guitar “…I suppose ‘entertainment’ is the word that fits best here. I just played a few songs in the common room, but I didn’t want to leave you guys bereft. If you want, I can sing something for you.”

Ciri’s smile widens. “Sure! I would love that.” She turns to the boy. “Dara, is that alright with you?” The boy nods.

Jaskier pulls a folding chair from the wardrobe – something Triss told him he would find there – and sits down, gently strumming his guitar once to make sure it’s still in tune. “And what would you like to hear?”

She grins at him. “Happy Together by the Turtles!” she says gleefully, and God, she’s truly precious. Jaskier gets the sneaking suspicion he won’t ever be able to say no to her.

He starts playing.

---

Half an hour later, he finds himself in front of another doorway, this time leading to a darkened room, the sunblind pulled down completely to shroud the space in darkness, casting thin strips of sunlight across the walls and floor. Still, Jaskier can see well enough to spot the man sitting at the far end of the room, in front of a table with a chess board.

“Knock, knock,” Jaskier calls, rapping his knuckles on the doorframe. “You must be Geralt, right?”

The man doesn’t look up but simply lifts his hand to move a chess piece, slowly turning the board around afterwards.

Jaskier clears his throat to break the awkward silence, taking a few steps into the room. “I’m Jaskier. I’m uh… entertainment. I’ve got my guitar with me and I can sing a few songs for you if you want. You just need to ask.”

Now that he’s a bit closer, he can see that Geralt has stark white hair, falling in soft, barely-there waves down to his shoulders, tied back into a half-ponytail. Jaskier resists the urge to check if it’s as soft as it looks.

But from here, he can also see that the man doesn’t even grant him a sideways glance. Quite the opposite; Geralt even seems to turn away from Jaskier the closer he gets, giving him the cold shoulder.

“Are you sure there’s no song you want to hear? If you can’t decide, I can pick out something for you, perhaps.”

There’s no movement from Geralt, he’s as still as a statue as his eyes keep drilling holes into the chess board. It’s too dark for Jaskier to see the colour of those irises, but they’re certainly light, and in the back of his mind he ponders how splendid they would probably look in the sunlight.

The silence stretches on. Geralt moves a chess piece. Turns the board.

“As uh… charming as you are, my dearest Geralt, I do wanna know what type of music you like, so I can sing something for you.”

Geralt balls his hands into tight fists on the table. His shoulders grow tense.

He still doesn’t say a word, but Jaskier gets the message: Fuck off.

He laughs nervously, fingers drumming on the wood of the guitar. “Right!” he says, forcibly bright. “I see you’re busy, so I won’t continue to disturb you. I’ll be back next week.” He takes a few steps backwards. Geralt still doesn’t acknowledge his presence. “Alright… Bye, then.”

He turns around and walks out of the room, letting out a long breath once he’s back in the bright hallway. That really didn’t go well – but then again, Triss already warned him it wouldn’t.

Doesn’t matter. If Geralt wants to be a grumpy boor, then who is Jaskier to stop him?

But, as he teaches one of his students how to strum a few chords correctly that afternoon, he can’t help but let his mind wander back to that mysterious man with white hair, sitting all alone in that darkened room, playing chess against himself.

---

He’s back two days later. He knows the deal with Triss was that he’d be there once a week, but something draws him back to the place – whether it’s his captive audience, Ciri’s bright smile, Dara’s quiet gratitude, or Geralt’s unreadable silence, Jaskier doesn’t know. He supposes it doesn’t matter.

He takes the elevator back up, shooting Triss a quick text to ask her to open the door for him as he fiddles with the strap of his guitar case, letting his nail dig a path in the soft leather.

Triss greets him the second he steps out of the lift, arms crossed in front of her chest, eyebrow pulled up, eyes glinting with something annoyed and fond she saves especially for Jaskier.

“You know you’re not expected until next week, right?”

He shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I know, but I don’t have any plans for the morning, so I figured why not, you know?”

She purses her lips, narrowing her eyes at him before she sighs and relents, waving him inside. “Come on, mister Impatient. Let’s go, then.”

---

“Knock, knock.” He quickly raps on the doorframe, taking a tentative step into the darkened room.

Geralt is sitting at the table again, hunched in on himself as his eyes remain fixed on the chess board. Slowly, he lifts a hand, moving a piece before he slowly turns the board around, propping a fist under his chin, the other arm laid across his lap. Jaskier knows that, were he a drawer or artist of sorts, he would draw Geralt exactly the way he is now: sitting in a dark and empty room, still as a statue in front of the chess board as the sunlight filters through the blinds, painting him in black and white, casting dark shadows and yellow highlights on his face.

But he’s not. He’s a musician, and though he likes to consider himself quite good at what he does, he knows he could never do this image justice.

For now, though, he takes in every little detail and commits it to memory, imprinting it on his mind.

He takes another few steps forward. He’s halfway across the room now. “I know I said I’d be back next week,” he says softly – his normal volume too loud for the stillness of this room. “But I’m back now. Did you think of any songs for me to sing to you?”

Geralt ignores him. He moves a chess piece. Turns the board.

Jaskier sighs, leaning against the wall, idly plucking a few random notes. “Well,” he muses, “if you can’t decide, I suppose I’ll have to decide for you.”

Geralt’s hands ball into fists, his shoulders grow tense. Once again, he’s telling Jaskier to piss off without really saying anything.

This time, though, Jaskier decides to ignore it. If it angers Geralt more, then so be it – as long as he doesn’t outright tell Jaskier to go away, he’s not going anywhere.

He strums a few chords. “How do you feel about ‘Big Yellow Taxi’?” The man on the other side of the room doesn’t answer, doesn’t even deign him worthy of a sideways glance.

So Jaskier starts to sing.

And still, throughout it all, Geralt doesn’t say a word. He moves a chess piece once or twice, turning the board right afterwards, but his head doesn’t even incline towards Jaskier. He doesn’t give him any acknowledgement, any sign that he’s aware Jaskier is there at all.

Jaskier keeps on singing as if Geralt isn’t there, either.

And then the song ends. Jaskier strums the last chord on his guitar, eyes glued to Geralt’s silhouette, tracing the line of every highlight and shadow, following the movement of his muscles and tendons as Geralt lifts a hand, sliding a chess piece across the wood before turning the board again. His face is still, oh so still, the dim light and the bright rays of sunshine streaming through the blinds making it seem as if he’s been hewn from marble, as if he’s a work of art come to life, an ancient Greek statue from the hands of the old masters themselves that’s been granted a beating heart by the gods.

Jaskier could drown in the vision before him.

Light eyes quickly dart to him, the first acknowledgement of his existence since he stepped foot into the room, and suddenly his mind slams back into his body. He’s hyper-aware of every single little thing – of the frantic pounding of his heart, the rushing of blood in his ears, the breath that catches in his lungs when their gazes meet for a split second, the twitching of his muscles as his body desperately tries to tap out his nervousness on his guitar.

For only a second, the world stops spinning.

Geralt looks away again and Jaskier takes a few steps backwards, heat rising to his cheeks and ears as he swallows around the lump in his throat.

“R- right, then,” he stammers. “See you around, Geralt.”

He practically flees from the hospital room.

---

Hours later, his fingers are still trembling with the sheer force and weight of Geralt’s eyes on him, even if it was just for a second or so.

He retrieves the old, square box from the attic of the house his parents left him – it’s still where he remembers stashing it, years ago. He opens it on his desk, shaky hands setting up the pieces before he types the question on his phone.

How to play chess.

---

He’s back on Sunday.

Triss snorts when she greets him at the doors, rolling her eyes at him. “You know,” she says, “I won’t always be around to let you in, if you’re going to keep showing up all the time.”

He smiles sheepishly. “What can I say? I just really like it here.”

She narrows her eyes at him, smiling mischievously. “You like Geralt, you mean. I could see you last time, coming out of his room while blushing like a comely maiden. What happened?”

He shrugs. “Nothing. I just sang a song for him.”

“And he let you?” She huffs out a laugh. “Well, who could’ve seen that one coming? Come on, let’s get you inside, lover boy.”

He sputters a bit, but follows her through the doors all the same.

---

“Knock, knock,” he says, tapping on the doorframe a few times before he takes a few steps inside the dark room. “I’m uh… I’m back.”

He fiddles with the strap of his guitar case for a few seconds before pulling it over his head, setting the instrument against the wall.

Geralt is once again sitting on the other side of the room, still as a statue, eyes drilling holes into the chess board as he completely ignores Jaskier. But he won’t be able to much longer – Jaskier will make sure of that.

Whether his actions will anger Geralt enough for the man to start yelling at him, he doesn’t know. But as he looks at Geralt’s face, at the way the sunlight peeking through the blinds makes parts his hair shine in a white-golden halo around his head, he decides that it’s a risk he’s willing to take. If only so that Geralt will at least look at him.

He crosses the room in a few steps and snatches two pawns off the board.

And that does catch Geralt’s attention.

Light eyes flicker up to look at him, making his breath catch in his lungs with the intensity of that gaze, with the anger slowly budding on Geralt’s face. But Jaskier doesn’t step back or turn away. He simply puts his hands behind his back, switching the pieces around a few times before holding out his fists, a pawn in each one.

“Choose,” he says. Geralt’s eyes stay glued to his face, eyebrows slowly drawing together, hands curling into fists.

Jaskier sighs. “I’m getting tired of having to see you play chess all by yourself. It’s quite sad to watch, really. So, pick a colour and we’ll play together.”

The silence in the room is almost palpable, unmoving to the point where Jaskier can almost taste it on his tongue. His head grows light, dizziness setting in as he keeps holding his breath – his lungs won’t cooperate as long as Geralt’s still looking at him.

And slowly, ever so slowly, the man in front of him lifts a hand, eyes never leaving Jaskier’s face as he softly taps a finger on Jaskier’s left fist.

He opens it, presenting the white pawn to Geralt.

He sits down on the other side of the table, setting the pawns on the board, rearranging the black pieces into two neat, little rows. Geralt does the same, although more slowly, as though he doesn’t quite believe what’s going on. Jaskier watches the man move the pieces, watches sure and strong hands delicately hold those little, fragile things and put them on their assigned square. He imagines how Geralt’s fingers would twitch slightly as Jaskier would hold his hand palm-up, trailing his finger over his skin lightly. He imagines how those scarred fingers would curl around his, hand warm in Jaskier’s.

And then Geralt’s done. Light eyes look up at Jaskier, catching the sunlight streaming through the blinds, and suddenly he can see that they’re amber. A rich, deep amber that holds soft golden and brown flecks, the colour of sunflowers in a summer field, the colour of honey dripping down a finger before it’s licked up, the colour of ambrosia and the nectar of the gods.

It’s a colour Jaskier would gladly lose himself in.

“All yours,” he says breathlessly, feeling as though the words have been punched from his chest.

Golden eyes flicker down to the chess board and a strong, scarred hand moves up to slide a pawn across the wood. Geralt’s gaze shifts back up to him, and for a second, it feels like Jaskier might die from the intensity of it.

He swallows thickly, quickly looking at the board and moving his own pawn. He barely even remembers the things he learned about chess the past few days – hell, he barely even remembers his own name, as if Jaskier’s entire life threatens to wash away whenever those golden eyes look at him, as if every moment has been meaningless up until this point.

Geralt moves a chess piece. Jaskier follows suit.

Slowly, as the minutes tick by one at a time, Jaskier starts to relax bit by bit. His focus shifts from the man in front of him to the chess board and the soft melody that’s starting to build at the back of his mind.

After a while of having it stuck in his head, he starts humming it.

Golden eyes meet his.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?” he asks, concern knitting his eyebrows together. Because as much as he loves music and loves making it, he doesn’t want to risk shattering the fragile bond he has with Geralt, doesn’t want to lose this just yet.

Geralt’s gaze drifts back to the board. He moves another piece. He doesn’t say anything.

Jaskier takes that as encouragement and starts humming again.

He loses the game in thirteen more moves.

He grins up at Geralt as they both move the pieces back into place. “Well, that was a disaster. Forgive me, I’m not really that familiar with the game yet, but maybe I’ll learn if you give me a chance?”

He phrases it as a question, a gentle hope igniting in his chest. He probably won’t coax Geralt into talking just yet, but if he can just get a reaction – anything other than silent glances – it will make everything worth it.

Please give me a chance.

Geralt looks up at him, face as perfectly still and unreadable as ever as the silence stretches on between them. Eventually, he looks back down again.

He lifts a hand and moves a pawn forward, starting a new game.

Jaskier can’t help the grin that spreads across his face.

---

“Jesus, buttercup. Back again, already?” Triss asks him on Tuesday, furrowing her brows at him. “I think I’ll put in a request with the admin to get you your own badge. I really can’t be here to let you in all the time, you know.”

“I know.” He smiles at her before slipping inside the ward, blowing her a kiss as he walks backwards towards the hallway that leads to Geralt’s room. “I owe you one!”

“You owe me several, buttercup!” she shouts back at him.

---

“Hmm, what do you think is better, Geralt? ‘Gorgeous garrotter’, or ‘lovely garrotter’?”

Golden eyes flicker up to his, before looking back at the board. Geralt moves his bishop.

“Yeah, you’re right. Just ‘garrotter’ would work best,” Jaskier mumbles as he uses his knight to take Geralt’s bishop. He continues humming the melody, muttering lyric ideas under his breath, trying to find a good rhythm to the words.

Geralt moves his queen. Jaskier blanches as he realizes he’s been lured into a trap yet again, and knocks over his king.

“You win,” he sighs. “Again.”

He doesn’t miss it when the corners of Geralt’s mouth pull up in self-satisfaction as he starts to reset the board.

“Again, I suppose?” Jaskier asks. Geralt moves his pawn forward. “I assume that’s a ‘yes’,” he mutters.

---

What was supposed to be a once-a-week thing turns into an everyday thing as soon as Jaskier gets his badge from the hospital. Most days he doesn’t even play for the other patients – though he does reserve an hour for them at least twice a week and obliges whenever they ask him for a song – but spends his time in Geralt’s room, chess board in front of him, guitar in his lap.

He doesn’t know what it is about the room, but something there calms his mind down, makes him see things clearer and from a different angle, gives him the quiet and peace and inspiration he needs to finish the songs he’s been working on for years, now, and gives him the spark he needs to write new songs.

He supposes that the ‘something’ might be Geralt himself, but there’s a part of him that fears that if he admits that out loud, even to himself, it will become too serious – that it will become a riptide that will sweep him off his feet and push him under water.

He looks at Geralt, at the man sitting in the sunlight, the white halo around his head making him look ethereal, the bright light highlighting the scars and birthmarks and freckles on his skin – the tiny imperfections Jaskier commits to memory every time he gets the chance to see them. The past few days, Geralt’s begun to lift the sunblind up a little bit, the room suddenly not so dark anymore. It’s probably to see the chess board better, Jaskier supposes.

“So,” he says from the doorway an hour later, his guitar put back into its case and slung onto his back. “See you tomorrow, then?” It’s the same thing he says every day, and just like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that, he doesn’t expect an answer.

Geralt never answers.

He’s halfway out the door when he hears a soft “hmm” behind him.

He looks over his shoulder, golden eyes glancing away when he meets them, and he has to try his very hardest not to cry out his joy for the entire world to hear. Because Geralt just gave him an answer.

He nods once, and heads to the lifts.

---

“Young man.”

He startles slightly when he’s greeted at the doors by a woman in a doctor’s coat, her raven hair falling in waves over her shoulders, her violet eyes drilling into his.

He swallows thickly, fiddling with the strap of his guitar case, nail digging into the leather. “Yes?”

“I’m doctor Vengerberg,” she says, extending her hand for him to shake. He obliges before quickly letting go, wiping his sweaty palm on his jeans. “You’re the man that sings songs, are you not?”

He nods once. “That would be me, yes,” he mumbles, going over everything he’s done in the past week, trying to find what might have sparked her ire.

But her face softens, causing Jaskier to frown in confusion. “And you’re the one who keeps visiting Mr. Rivia, are you not?” He nods again. “What is it that you do in there all the time?” she asks him.

He swallows thickly. “Oh, we just play chess. And I sing to him. We don’t… don’t do anything… inappropriate, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Her lips curl upwards. “It is not, but thanks for clearing that up anyways-“ she squints at his badge “-Julian. But… is that really all you do in there? Play chess and sing songs?”

“Yes, doctor.”

Her brows knit together slightly. “Huh. Who would’ve thought?” With that, she pushes past him, out of the doors to the ward, leaving him confused in the common room.

He shrugs it away and turns around, heading to Geralt’s room.

The blinds are halfway up, but today there is no sun to illuminate the side of Geralt’s face as Jaskier goes to sit on the other side of the set chessboard. The rain patters against the window, the dim light outside projecting the rivulets onto Geralt’s skin – it’s a sight to behold, and Jaskier finds himself following every drop as its projection slides down Geralt’s cheek.

Amber eyes flicker up to his and Jaskier is shaken out of his reverie, plucking two pawns off the board, switching them a couple of times behind his back before he holds his fists out. Geralt’s gaze never leaves his as he lifts a hand, a single finger tapping Jaskier’s left fist.

He opens it. It’s the black pawn. He hands it to Geralt, before setting his own white pawn where it belongs, turning the board so that the right side is facing him. He waits until Geralt’s set his piece down before he makes the first move.

As Geralt contemplates his, Jaskier picks up his guitar case, taking out the instrument and setting it in his lap.

Geralt moves a pawn. Jaskier moves his knight. He leans back and idly starts plucking a melody, muttering lyrics under his breath. Golden eyes meet his.

“Oh, you don’t mind, do you?” It’s the same question he asks every day. Usually, Geralt will just ignore it and turn back to the game, but this time, as golden eyes flicker down to the chess board, he lets out a soft hum.

“Wh- what?” Jaskier stammers, guitar strings twanging messily as his hand goes limp.

“Hmm,” Geralt hums again as he moves a pawn.

“R- right. Of course, thank you,” Jaskier mumbles, excited blush rising up to his cheeks as he starts plucking the melody again.

---

He startles when he’s greeted by a mop of brown curls and two arms throwing themselves around his neck the second he opens the door to the ward. He laughs in confusion, returning the hug Triss gives him quickly.

“What did I do to deserve that?” he asks her. “Not that I mind, of course, but still…”

She holds him at an arm’s length, smile bright enough to light up the whole room even more than it already is, rivalling the sunshine streaming in through the windows. “Thank you,” she says. “I don’t know what it is that you do in there every day, but please keep doing it.”

“Wh- what are you talking about?”

“Geralt, of course!” she says, as if it’s completely obvious. “I don’t know how you manage, buttercup, but…” She shakes her head, and he doesn’t miss the light sheen over her eyes as she smiles at him. “He slept six hours last night.”

He blinks. “And… that’s not normal?”

She grins, her curls bouncing around her face as she shakes her head. “No, it really is not. Most nights he doesn’t sleep at all, and if he does, well… it’s only for a short while.”

She pulls him closer, rubbing their noses together playfully, just like they’ve always done since they were little kids. It makes him giggle, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.

“Thank you,” she whispers to him. “Whatever it is you do, please don’t stop.”

“Not planning on it. Speaking of, I should probably go now, he’s expecting me.”

“Alright. Oh, are you up for drinks this weekend?”

He nods. “Sure. The Kingfisher?” he asks as he starts walking backwards to the hallway that leads to Geralt’s room.

“Meet me at ten!” Triss half-shouts at him, making a few patients look up in annoyance.

Jaskier gives her a thumbs-up and turns around, practically skipping his way to Geralt’s room.

The blinds are halfway up and Jaskier takes a few moments to look at Geralt as he sits in the sunlight, hands folded in his lap, golden eyes drilling holes into the chess board. Now that Triss has mentioned it, Jaskier does think he notices that Geralt looks a little less tired – the shadows under his eyes aren’t as deep, his shoulders aren’t as slumped, his cheeks even hold a slight dusting of pink, their usual pallidness suddenly lost.

Golden eyes flicker to him, and Geralt lifts his left eyebrow slightly; he’s getting impatient with Jaskier standing in the doorway and staring at him.

Jaskier shakes himself out of his reverie and shrugs his guitar case off his shoulder as he crosses the room, quickly performing their little pick-the-pawn ritual – where Jaskier ends up with white – before he makes the first move, unpacking his guitar as Geralt stares at the board, the heel of his hand under his chin, his fingers resting against his lips.

He sets his instrument in his lap as Geralt makes his first move. Jaskier counteracts it by moving his knight, before he starts plucking at his guitar.

“Are you sure there aren’t any songs you want to hear?” he asks softly, afraid to break the peace and silence in the room by talking too loud.

Geralt moves a pawn. Shakes his head minutely.

Jaskier half-shrugs. “Right, guess I’ll have to pick something.” He sighs. “Don’t feel particularly inspired today, so I don’t think I’m gonna be composing much.”

He moves his bishop. Plucks a few notes. He looks out the window, at the trees in the parking lot and the city park that lies beyond, at the small, green buds on the branches and the crisp green-white of the grass as the night’s frost begins to thaw in the sunshine. He looks at the children playing in the field, at the man throwing a stick for his dog to fetch, at the young couple that sits on the bench, one of them getting up to pick a budding flower from the bushes, handing it to the other.

He imagines what it would be like to sit there in that park, to have the remnants of last night’s cold nip at his fingers and nose, to bask in the sunshine as it warms his back, to pick a flower from the bushes to hand to his lover. His lover, whose hair resembles the frost that coats the grass, whose eyes rival the brightness of the sun, who gives him a crooked grin as he takes the flower without a word-

“How do you feel about ‘La vie en rose’?” Jaskier asks.

Geralt quickly looks up at him before he looks back down at the board. “Hmm.”

He can’t help but smile softly at that, strumming his guitar a few times as he starts to sing. “Hold me close and hold me fast. The magic spell you cast. This is la vie en rose.”

Geralt moves a pawn. Jaskier moves his bishop.

“When you kiss me, heaven sighs, and though I close my eyes, I see la vie en rose.”

The couple outside stands up from the bench, holding hands as they walk through the park, disappearing from Jaskier’s view as they turn a corner.

“When you press me to your heart, I’m in a world apart, a world where roses bloom.”

Golden eyes meet his for half a second, and his breath catches in his lungs, heart beating in his throat painfully. He looks away, Geralt’s gaze too much to bear.

“And when you speak, angels sing from above. Everyday words seem to turn into love songs.”

He wonders what Geralt’s voice sounds like. Sure, he’s already heard him hum out a reply a few times, but it’s never loud enough for Jaskier to get a proper idea of what he might sound like. Maybe one day, he’ll hear Geralt speak. Or maybe he won’t. It doesn’t matter to him – as long as Geralt allows him to stay by his side, Jaskier’s content.

“Give your heart and soul to me, and life will always be la vie en rose.”

He finishes the last few chords of the song, his voice trailing into nothingness. Geralt moves a pawn.

Jaskier clears his throat, setting his guitar against the chair, leaning his forearms on the table. He moves his knight. Geralt moves his queen. Checkmate.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Christ, how do you always manage to beat me at this? One day, Geralt, I swear that I’ll win one day.”

The corner of Geralt’s mouth quirks up ever so slightly. He might as well be rolling his eyes at this point.

“Alright, fine, you’re right, I probably won’t. But that won’t stop me from trying.”

He starts moving the chess pieces back into place, Geralt following suit. Jaskier reaches for a black pawn that’s halfway across the board at the same time Geralt reaches for the white one right next to it.

Their hands brush.

Jaskier’s breath catches in his lungs, head spinning as the side of his hand grows hot, even as he jerks it back – as if Geralt’s touch has burned him, has left an everlasting mark on him whose heat Jaskier will feel for years to come, his touch a brand that’ll claim Jaskier for the rest of his life.

He clears his throat and ignores it.

“I, uh…” he says softly. “I won’t be able to be here on Sunday. I’m going out for drinks with Triss on Saturday so I will probably be too hungover to drive. And I can’t be here on Monday, either, since I’ve got a couple of older students who have class in the morning. But I’ll come back on Tuesday, if that’s alright?”

He looks up. Golden eyes drill holes into the chess board as Geralt moves a pawn. He doesn’t hum a response.

Jaskier sighs and turns back to the game.

---

“Thank God you’re here, buttercup.”

He stops right inside the doors to the ward on Tuesday, clutching the strap of his guitar case as Triss hurries towards him, eyes wide and filled with something he’s too scared to identify.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Geralt.” She grabs him by his arm, dragging him across the common room before he can even think to protest.

“W- wait, what? What’s wrong with Geralt?”

“He’s having an episode. A bad one.”

“An episode- Triss, what are you talking about?”

She sighs, suddenly stopping, pulling him to a halt as well, her hand around his upper arm like a vice. “The past few days, his mental health has been declining. Badly. He hasn’t slept, he’s barely eaten anything, and he just… sits there. Or he paces. It’s really not going well, buttercup.”

He feels something ugly and fearful claw at the inside of his chest. “Triss, I have to ask, what exactly is he having an episode of?”

“He’s got PTSD, buttercup. Hasn’t he told you?”

He shrugs, scratching at the back of his neck. “Well, no. We don’t exactly… talk a lot. But is there anything I can do to help?”

She sighs again. “I don’t know. Maybe. He’s been doing a bit better the past two weeks, ever since you showed up, so I don’t know what you do when you’re around him, but maybe it’ll help today as well. As long as he can get some sleep, buttercup – he really needs to sleep, he can’t go on like this much longer.”

He nods once. “Right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” she says softly, pulling him into a quick hug before letting go. “Press the alarm button if anything happens.”

He snorts incredulously. “Like what?”

She levels him with a look, her eyes flat and tired. “There’s a reason why he’s here, buttercup.”

The words settle in his stomach like stones – even though he has a hard time deciphering what exactly she meant by them – but he nods again, turning around and setting off to Geralt’s room, his heartbeat thudding in his ears.

The blinds are pulled down completely and he has to stand in the doorway for a while to let his eyes get adjusted to the darkness, slowly blinking as he starts to distinguish shapes and silhouettes.

Unlike all the other times Jaskier’s been in this room, Geralt’s not sitting at the table by the window, looking at the chess board. No, this time he’s sitting at the foot of his bed, hands resting loosely in his lap, eyes wide and unseeing as they stare at the wall in front of him – glassy and flat yet full of something Jaskier can’t bring himself to recognize.

Geralt’s hands ball into tight fists, blunt fingernails undoubtedly pressing crescent-shaped bruises into his palms, before they let go, uncurling until they’re relaxed again. And then it repeats. And repeats. And repeats.

Like waves rhythmically lapping at the shores, Geralt’s hands curl and uncurl, tighten and loosen, tense and relax. Over and over again, as his eyes never leave the wall in front of him, as his face remains perfectly still – but not still in the same way as it was when Jaskier first met him. Geralt’s face is not a perfectly sculpted mask he put on himself, not carefully blank and even as to hide any emotional response he’s having at that moment.

No, the best way Jaskier can describe Geralt’s face right now is slack. As if he’s not even aware he has a face to control, as if he’s far, far away from his own body, reliving things that are already in the distant past. As if there is no emotional response to hide.

He sets his guitar against the wall gently, kneeling by the foot of the bed, bringing his hands up to ghost over Geralt’s face – he can’t touch, he can’t. Geralt hasn’t said he’s allowed yet and Jaskier’s afraid he’ll never be able to let go if he does.

“Geralt?” he says softly. “Geralt, it’s me. Jaskier.” Golden eyes stare at the wall blankly, looking right over his head as if he’s not there at all. It’s exactly like the first time he met Geralt, except now it feels worse, because it doesn’t feel like Geralt’s doing this on purpose. It feels like he really doesn’t realize that Jaskier’s there.

“Geralt? Can you hear me?”

His hands curl into fists. Unfurl. Curl again.

He gets up slowly, walking over to the chess board and snatching two pieces from it, switching them behind his back before he goes to stand in front of Geralt, fists outstretched.

“Choose,” he says, ignoring the way his voice wobbles slightly.

Golden eyes stare right through him, unmoving, unseeing.

“Choose.”

Hands curl into fists. Unfurl. Curl again.

Jaskier puts the pieces back where they belong, opting to unpack his guitar instead. If he can’t coax Geralt back into his body with chess, he’ll annoy him into coming back.

He leans against the wall, a little bit to the left of Geralt, where the golden eyes don’t look right through him, but from where he still has a good view of Geralt and his blank expression. And he starts playing.

He plays everything that comes to mind, from half-finished songs to old lullabies to pop hits from the eighties. If it drifts into his head, it drifts into the room. He plays, and plays, and plays, until his fingers are aching and painful, until the callouses on his skin start wearing away, until his voice becomes raw and his throat dry.

He plays, as seconds turn to minutes turn to hours. It slowly grows darker outside, bit by bit, and he takes a five-minute break to drink some water for his parched throat and to lift the blinds. It’s raining. Big, heavy buckets of it pouring from the skies, fat droplets pitter-pattering against the glass.

Jaskier moves back to stand against the wall. He starts playing again.

And bit by agonizing bit, ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly, Geralt’s face turns from slack and empty to something entirely different, something Jaskier’s never seen before. He looks… peaceful. Calm. Content.

Golden eyes slip closed.

Jaskier keeps on playing. He remembers the park outside the window, remembers the couple and the flower one of them picked for the other, remembers the children playing and the man throwing the stick for his dog.

“I see trees of green,” he sings softly, smiling to himself as he remembers the song he used to hear on his nan’s old radio, back when he was a kid. “Red roses, too.”

He looks up to cast a glance at Geralt. He’s still sitting at the foot of his bed, hands limp in his lap – but they don’t curl and uncurl anymore. They just lay there, calm and peaceful like the rest of him.

“I see them bloom for me and you.” He grins, looking down at his guitar as he strums the chords. “And I think to myself: what a wonderful world.”

There’s a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and before he can lift his eyes to look at it, his head hits the wall painfully, dizzying him, making him drop his guitar – which lands with a loud and dissonant twang – and he’s sure he would’ve fallen over if something wasn’t holding up.

Something is holding him up.

He blinks the fog out of his eyes, Geralt’s face growing into focus. Golden eyes – angry golden eyes boring into his, intense in a way Jaskier’s never seen on anyone before. The word feral shoots through his head at the snarl that bears Geralt’s fangs, at the quiet growl being pushed from the back of his throat.

Throat. Jaskier’s throat hurts.

There are two hands around it, blinding pressure pushing him against the wall – the thing, the thing holding him up.

And suddenly everything snaps into focus.

He gasps for breath, trying and failing to get air into his lungs as Geralt’s hands squeeze his throat shut, furious eyes glaring at him as Jaskier’s hands come up to pull at Geralt’s wrists, feet kicking uselessly against the wall.

“G-“ He gasps, wheezes as he tastes blood at the back of his tongue, heartbeat pounding in his ears. “Geralt-“

The golden eyes don’t recognize him.

“P- please, Geralt-“

He gasps and pants and coughs, a useless sob wracking through his useless chest, dark spots dancing across his vision, obscuring all but golden eyes as oxygen runs out. His hands abandon their attempts at pulling that merciless grip away from his throat and slap against the wall.

His fingertip hits something plastic, jutting out of the drywall. The emergency button.

He stretches his arm as far as he can, muscles aching and joints creaking in protest as his fingertips graze uselessly against the button and he’s running out of air and it won’t be long until his lifeless body hangs limply in Geralt’s hands and all he can see is angry, golden, unseeing eyes and the button the button the button the button the button.

He stretches his fingers as far as he can. He smashes the emergency button.

Nothing happens.

He cries out his frustration, though it’s nothing more than a pathetic, little whimper by now, and he smashes the button again. And again. And again. And again.

His head grows fuzzy. His heartbeat thumps in his ears. He can’t feel his fingers anymore. All he sees is golden eyes.

Shouting.

Screaming and shouting and someone is calling for help. Geralt’s hands jostle him around like a cantankerous child with a ragdoll as people try to pull his arms away from Jaskier.

Golden eyes. Golden eyes and Jaskier goes limp, hands hanging by his side uselessly as Geralt’s merciless hands around his throat hurtle him towards death with each passing second.

A needle glints in the light shining in from the hallway.

Geralt’s hands grow looser, bit by bit, and Jaskier desperately gulps in every bit of air his abused throat allows him to. He sobs. He can sob. The fact that he can makes him cry more loudly, face contorting as he grimaces, tears streaming down his burning cheeks. Parts of his world come into view again.

Golden eyes. Confused, golden eyes as eyebrows knit together slightly. Golden eyes, holding a glimpse of recognition.

Golden eyes, rolling into the back of Geralt’s head.

Geralt drops. Jaskier drops with him. Several panicked voices fill the room and there are hands on his body, turning him around, feeling his neck, his pulse and he lets them.

He closes his eyes as consciousness slips from his grasp.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #tw violence #requested #king writes #overuse of the words 'golden eyes'#also one or two very pretentious descriptions that i'm very proud of

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redschillzone · 4 years

Text

Hate That I Love You (Carol Danvers x Female!Reader)

(Gif found here!)

Pairing: Carol Danvers | Captain Marvel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k Words

Warnings: 18+, Cursing, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Title Kink

Summary: Enemies to lovers is never an easy thing no matter who you are, even for Carol Danvers.

A/N: My first Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel fic and it just so happens to be the longest fic yet, it’s also smut so please enjoy! Requests are open :) DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OVER! LAST CHANCE.

For as long as you could recall you and Carol always butted heads on just about every front you could think of; Whether it was on the battlefield, on a mission with the other Avengers, or literally just trying to decide what movie to watch, you argued about it all. You hated her guts to say the least and she to you, but deep down you knew you were just angry with her because of how much you actually loved her. The day you met Carol Danvers you knew you were in trouble. You knew her type the moment you laid your eyes on her as she walked into the briefing room; Brilliant, fiercely independent, the slightest bit cocky at what she says and does. She was your type to say the least and you began to hate her because of it. There was just no way she would fall for someone like you so you turned that fear into hatred for her. It was no wonder that she and Tony got along so well though, with their cocky, sarcastic attitudes; It was only right that the two of them click within just a few moments of meeting each other. Just as you butt heads with Tony every so often it didn’t take you long to do the same with Carol; The only difference being that Carol had taken a much different approach to the situation. She wasn’t like Tony who would use sly remarks to get you to back off or some really scientific term or explanation that would confuse you to no end until you had Vision explain it to you later on. She instead would either turn them into physical actions like a pinch to your arm or some remark that hit her point right on the head. She would say it with that sly smirk on her face because she knew she had won; It would cause your blood to boil because there was no way you could retaliate. You didn’t have super strength to challenge her to a spar to prove your point or the brain of a genius to come up with a much better remark, so you would have no choice but to accept defeat.

As the months went on you began to realize just how much you were falling for the Captain and it made your blood basically turn into lava with how much it boiled. You just couldn’t get your mind off her and your heart would flutter a thousand beats per second as you would daydream about her. It would happen often during debriefs when they would bring up subjects that didn’t pertain to you or at points that were just too boring to care about; You would even daydream about her during spare time between missions. It wasn’t your fault though, how could you hate someone so damn perfect? She was your type after all and most definitely had the looks to back it up, so it wasn’t exactly your fault whenever you would slip into this daze.

You would daydream of her short, blonde hair and how much you were dying to just run your fingers through it just to feel how soft it truly was. More times than not those thoughts would lead to more sinful acts that would cause your face to burn with a blush. If you were to tug on her hair, would she moan your name? Would she ask you to do it again? You could only hope as you would shift in your seat and continue your daydream. Her hazel eyes were what you would think of next. You compared them to the sky many times because of how often you would get lost in them and wondered if they would go as dark as the sky did when a storm rolled in; That storm being lust in her eyes. Would she ever look at you with such dark, lust filled eyes from across the room? Again, you could only hope.

Whenever you and the other Avengers would spar in the training room you couldn’t help but look over her rather fit and toned body as she trained in a pair of leggings and a sports bra. Your eyes would scan just about every inch of exposed skin you could see, most times then not your eyes would always end up watching her arms and hands; How her bicep muscles would flex and relax whenever she bawled her longer, slender fingers into fists before she began to punch away at the punching bag. It would cause a small shiver to run down your spine as your mind would wander yet again as you sat off to the side to relax after your training. Oh how you wished she would hold you close on a cold, sleepless night; Pull you close to her body and provide a subtle warmth as the two of you laid together. Her fingers would be running through your hair in soothing motions; Her nails occasionally massaging against your scalp as it would lull you to sleep. How you wished for nights like those but there were other times that you wished for those strong hands of hers to pin your arms down to the bed as she made out with you, the kiss being a heated one before it made its way to more sinful acts. You would always have to pull yourself away from your fantasies but when you did you were always greeted with Carol swaying her hips to grab a towel to dry away the sweat that covered her. You would always bite your lip as you were given the perfect view of her ass whenever she bent over and you couldn’t help but look away fast as it happened. Who gave her the right to have such a nice ass anyway?

Alas, whenever these little things would happen it secretly killed you deep inside. Why, you may ask? Well, you were supposed to be her enemy for crying out loud. You were certain she hated you just as much as you were supposed to hate her but here you were, falling deeper and deeper for her with no way out. You couldn’t help the sigh that escaped your lips as you sat on the couch in the main living area of the compound, moving a hand up to rub at your eyes. You were stuck and you knew it so there was no point in thinking of a way out of the situation. You needed to work through it, figure out your next step.

“Hey! (L/N)!” The feminine voice called out and you couldn’t help but tense a bit; She was calling your last name. You gave a small eye roll as you turned your body to look at Carol as she made her way over; She was wearing her superhero costume, so she either had just returned from some mission or she was getting ready to leave on one. You couldn’t help but bite your bottom lip gently; You loved that costume on her to say the least.

“Yes Danvers?” You questioned, moving your arms up to rest on the back of the couch, putting your chin on your forearms as you raised an eyebrow at the advancing woman. She didn’t seem upset with you, she didn’t even look that angry, so what was it that she could have wanted? “I need to say something.. And I don’t want any sly, snarky remark. Understood?” She told you, stopping just behind the couch as she put a hand on her hip. You blinked a bit at her request but gave a slow nod in return. You could already feel the fluttering happening in your stomach as your eyes occasionally scanned her form over; You were anxious for one on exactly what she had to say but man did that costume pull out all her curves. You gave yourself a small pinch to your arm as you snapped yourself back before you could daydream about anything. Yes, you loved her so much and you wanted nothing more than to confess to her here and now, but you two were still sworn enemies even if it had died down a bit in the last month or two.

“I’m trying to decide if this thing I did is incredibly stupid or not...” She started, her gaze shifting to the side as her whole demeanor began to change and you couldn’t help but sit up a bit. It wasn’t like her to show you this side of her; I mean, she rarely showed it to anyone unless you were extremely close to her. So the fact that she was beginning to show this side to you really caught your attention.

“What happened? What did you do?” You began to question her, a serious tone to your voice as she glanced in your direction, her eyes having a certain emotion swirling through them and you could immediately tell what it was. You gave her the same eyes from time to time whenever she wasn’t looking at you; They were filled with love.

“Well.. I fell in love with you..” She admitted, her voice going quiet as she shifted her weight, her hand leaving her hip to cross her arms over her chest. You couldn’t help but stare at her with somewhat wide eyes at her confession. She fell in love with you; The Carol Danvers fell in love with you. Captain Marvel, savior to many different planets including Earth fell in love with you, a simple human with advanced SHIELD training.

“I.. You…” You began as you slowly began to get up from the couch, your feet touching the cool tiled floor as you made your way around the couch to stand in front of her. She watched your every move carefully, her eyes scanning you over a bit before she huffed and glanced away; Her cocky and sarcastic attitude coming back.

“I mean- It’s not like you fell in love with me or anything. We fight all the damn time anyway, so it makes sense you wouldn’t. I figured I should at least tell you.” She spoke, glancing in your direction before a gasp left her lips, but you snuffed it out as you all but crashed your lips onto hers, your hands placed on her cheeks as you kissed her. She couldn’t help but be stunned, almost frozen to the spot as you kissed her with such passion; She had never felt it before. It wasn’t like she had other lovers before, she was a single pringle for as long as she could recall so all this would be somewhat new to her. She had seen it in movies and TV shows countless times, not to mention in everyday life but now that it was happening to her it felt so unreal; If she hadn’t pinched herself earlier to get this done she would have assumed she was dreaming.

Slowly she closed her eyes and began to kiss you back, moving her hands to your hips. You were the one that instigated the kiss so it more than likely meant that you returned the feelings. She could feel the tension leave her body as her shoulders began to sag, her posture going loose as she began to savor the kiss. You kept your eyes shut as you ran your tongue over her bottom lip, all but begging her for entrance. You could feel the smirk appear on her lips as she denied you entrance and pulled away, causing a small whimper to escape from your lips. Carol couldn’t help but laugh at the small noise that left your form.

“Oh? Whimpering already? Honey I haven’t even begun to ravish you yet..” She teased you to which you blushed once more, moving your hands away from her face to place around her neck; You intertwined your fingers to have a hold on her neck.

“I-I’m not whimpering because of you so stop getting so damn cocky about it.” You bit back to which she raised an eyebrow, the smirk still splayed across her face as she leaned in close to you, whispering in a low tone.

“Oh I’m going to be as cocky as I wish to be.. And if you want to fight it, I’d love to hear your arguments.” She whispered into your neck as she began to kiss away at the exposed skin, causing a shiver to run up your spine once more as she moved her hands to your ass, gripping it within her palms. You couldn’t help yet another round of whimpers that escaped your body as you moved closer to her; You could already feel yourself growing aroused as she continued to assault your neck with kisses and bites, attempting to find that sweet spot that would make you moan.

“C-Carol-” You gave a small moan as she found the pulse point just below your ear, a smirk appearing on her lips once more as she began to suck against it. You couldn’t help but moan lowly once more as she gently bit around it, pulling away once she was satisfied with the bruised skin it would leave behind.

“Yes (Y/N)?” She questioned, eyebrow raised as she watched you slowly unravel because of her simple actions. Oh she was going to destroy you and you both knew it and at this point, you wanted nothing more. You could feel the throb between your legs as you watched her through half-lidded eyes.

“My room. Now.” You told her, grabbing her hand in yours and all but pulling her down the halls to where your room resided, all while Carol couldn’t help but laugh and follow along.

“You know for you hating my guts, you sure seem to want this..” She told you, giving your hand a squeeze as you glared back at her. You couldn’t help the words as they escaped your lips.

“Right now, I want you to destroy my guts.” You spoke in a confident tone and it honestly took Carol by shock; She wasn’t ready for you to admit such a thing but she couldn’t help the grin that appeared on her face as she responded.

“I’m glad I have that effect on you, baby.” She teased as you two entered your room, quickly closing the door behind you and locking the door before you turned to look at Carol once more. She was looking around your room as she removed her boots, humming lowly before she shifted her gaze to you and that’s when you saw it; Her eyes, dark and filled with lust just as you had daydreamed. You couldn’t help but suck in your bottom lip between your teeth as you felt your cunt begin to grow slick, your clit throbbing with need.

“Just shut up and kiss me again.” You instructed her as you made your way back over to her, crashing your lips to hers once more as you shut your eyes tightly, beginning to work at her costume to remove it from her body. She couldn’t help but smirk and gladly kiss you back, beginning to remove your own clothes in the process. It was a bit of a mess between pulling away to remove certain articles of clothing, a few giggles being shared between the two of you but it wasn’t long before the two of you stood naked before each other. You couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath as you looked her body over; It lived up to your expectations just as you expected of her too. She thought the same of you as she looked you over, giving a small hum as she placed her hands on your bare hips, causing a small shiver to run up your spine as you watched her carefully, her eyes still dark with lust.

“God you look so perfect baby girl..” She purred out, going and moving her head back into the crook of your neck as she began to mark you up once more, sucking and biting just about everywhere she could reach with her soft lips. You couldn’t help the moans and whimpers that began to escape you as she continued her assault on your neck and now your collarbone, you moving your hands to her hips to dig your nails into them. You could feel yourself growing wetter by the second as she continued with her kisses; How you were going to last throughout this you had no idea. It wasn’t long before she pulled away and looked over her handiwork and smirked as she saw a few of the hickies began to form.

“There… Now everyone here knows you belong to someone, specifically me.” She growled low as she pulled you close to her, her left arm wrapped tightly around your waist. You couldn’t help but bite your lip and nod at her words, your legs shaking with just about every word she said. She couldn’t help but smirk as she felt your legs shake against her own.

“Does baby girl like it when I talk dirty? Hm? Does she want her Captain to do it more?” She asked you, moving her right hand up to gently run her fingers through your hair, soon gripping it and pulling your head back. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you as you shut your eyes, your head pulled back due to her hold on your hair. You couldn’t help but love the slight burning sensation it sent through your scalp and you gave a whimper in response before speaking to her.

“Yes- Fuck yes I do-” You spoke, moving one of your hands up to grip her arm while the other remained on her hip. It took only a few seconds before you felt her lips on yours once more in a fast and heated kiss that lasted only a few seconds before she pulled away and growled low to you.

“Then get on the bed and spread those legs for me.. I want to see that little pussy of yours.. I want to see just how wet you are for me.” She spoke, releasing you and moving away. You couldn’t help but gasp as you quickly caught yourself on the end of your bed, your face burning as you felt the blush growing on your face once more. You just realized Carol was holding all your weight at that moment and you understood why; Her words were doing more for you then you thought they ever could. You glanced at her and noticed she was staring at you, her arms crossed as she awaited you to listen to her orders. You bit your lip hard but did just as she said, crawling onto the bed and laying against the plush pillows. You let out a small breath before you went ahead and spread your legs as far as they could, moving a hand down to cunt to spread your lips for her. It was then that you noticed just how wet you were; You could feel your juices coating your fingers within seconds and you hadn’t even had your hand down there for long. Carol couldn’t help but smirk and move onto the bed with you, kneeling just on the end of it and looking you over before she let out a breath of her own.

“Fuck you look so damn good like this.. Just dripping for me and all I’ve done so far is kiss your neck…” She spoke as she moved forward, going ahead and leaning over you. Her hands were on either side of your face and she had her legs on either side of your hips. You couldn’t help but move your hand away from your throbbing cunt to pull her down into another kiss; Your swollen lips crashing into hers in yet another heated kiss only this time it was slowed. You wanted to show Carol you wanted this even though you were positive she already knew it. She gladly returned the kiss, moving all her weight onto one hand as she moved the other across your body. It started on your shoulder before it began to make its way down, stopping at your breasts for a few short moments to massage them, pinching at your nipples and chuckling into the kiss as a moan escaped your lips. You threw your head back against the pillows as she continued to tweak and flick at your nipples with her one hand, watching to see what you enjoyed and what you didn’t like.

“Do you like this, baby? Hm?” She questioned you, watching as you gave a whimper and nodded.

“Yes- Fuck I do but please Carol- Please touch my pussy-” You pleaded, your face burning once more as you attempted to raise your hips against her, trying to gain any friction you could get. Carol couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her as she felt you grind yourself against her for a few short moments before she moved herself back off your hips and onto her knees between your legs; She put her hands on your hips and pinned them to the bed, eliciting a whine from your throat as she chuckled lightly.

“Naughty girl.. Did I say you could do that?” She questions, moving her hands away from your hips now and to your thighs to gently rub at them, causing you to squirm lightly as you gripped at the pillows behind your head.

“N-No Car-” You started but gasped as she gave a light smack to your pussy.

“It’s Captain, baby girl. Now, ask again and maybe I’ll be nice and play with your pretty little pussy.” She spoke as she moved her hand back to your thigh, rubbing gentle circles into it. You couldn’t help but groan as you put your head back. She had a title kink, of course she had a title kink. Why wouldn’t she? If you had that title you would most certainly have it. So, you took a deep breath and spoke once more.

“Please Captain- I need you to play with my pussy. I need to feel your fingers stretching me.” You told her, blushing darkly as she gave a low chuckle and moved forward. You gave a gasp as you felt two of her fingers run through your folds before they landed on your clit, giving a small, quick rub that had you moaning within seconds.

“See? Was that so hard?” She teased before she continued her assault on your cunt; Alternating between teasing your entrance to rubbing at your clit. You couldn’t help the whimpers and moans that escaped you as she continued to tease you and it was beginning to drive you crazy once more. Just as you were about to call her out on it you sucked in a breath as you felt those two fingers pump themselves inside of you, occasionally spreading themselves apart to stretch you out. You moaned her name as you opened your eyes to glance at her and it was then you noticed it was a mistake; She was watching you hungrily, her eyes filled with nothing but lust for you as she watched your cunt take her fingers so well.

“Fuck baby.. You’re taking my fingers so damn well..” She praised you, watching as her fingers disappeared inside you every time she pulled them out only to thrust them back inside you with vigor. You couldn’t help but moan and put your head back once more, shutting your eyes as your back began to arch as she began to brush her fingers against that heavenly little spot inside you. You couldn’t help yourself as you gripped the blanket below you, giving it a few tugs as she continued to move her fingers, using her thumb to rub at your bundle of nerves.

“Are you getting close? Hm? Are you going to come on my fingers?” She spoke to which you gave a fast nod, your breathing getting uneven as you felt the coil in your stomach beginning to tighten at a fast pace.

“Yes- Fuck yes Captain-” You moaned to which Carol gave a smirk as she continued to curl her fingers against your g-spot, her thumb rubbing fast circles against you as you began to near your orgasam. It wasn’t long before your body all but stilled, your breathing stopping for a few short seconds before her name spilled from your lips at a fast and hasty pace; Your legs quacking as your walls began to tight around her fingers. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face as she helped you through your high, watching as your body all but collapsed against the bed. Your breathing was heavy as you continued to see the stars that crossed your vision; That was one of the strongest orgasms you’ve had in your life and you honestly wouldn’t mind having more of those in the future.

Slowly, Carol removed her fingers from your tightening sex and gave a low hum as she lowered herself between your legs and gave a slow, long lick to your cunt. You couldn’t help but gasp and quickly move a hand into her short hair, gripping at it as she began to lick you clean of your juices. You couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped you as you gave a few tugs to her hair and it was then that you froze as you heard her moan against your twitching sex. Your daydreams were right once more; She moaned as you tugged her hair and you couldn’t help but give a small grin as you did it again. This time your name fell from her lips as she continued to lick you clean before she moved herself up, your hand releasing itself from her hair as you watched her and you couldn’t help but notice that a bit of your juices covered her chin.

“You taste so damn good, baby girl.. I would gladly eat that pussy out all damn day if I could.” She told you, smirking as your face began to heat up with a blush once more before she leaned over to give you another kiss. You kissed her back once more, this time tasting yourself on her lips and tongue as you allowed her entrance into your mouth. She explored just about every inch of your mouth she could before she pulled away to catch her own breath, the two of you staring at each other for a few short moments before she went ahead and laid beside you.

“Alright, I gave you an orgasm, only fair you help me out.” She smirked as she watched you carefully move yourself up and between her own legs. You couldn’t help but bite your lip as she spread her legs for you; She was honestly just as wet as you were when you started this, she just seemed to handle it better then you. You glanced at her as you moved to lay on your stomach, your mouth just an inch or two away from her dripping sex. She couldn’t help but let out a breath as she felt your hot breath against her needy cunt, feeling it throb in need before you gave it a long, slow lick. She sucked in a breath and moaned your name, shutting her eyes for a few short moments before you began your assault on her cunt. You watched her as you kitten lapped at her clit, feeling her shift every so often below you.

“Fuck- Just like that-” She told you, moving her hand down to grip at your hair as you continued to eat her out as though you were starved; You have had several wet dreams about this exact moment and now it was actually happening. You continued to suck and lick at her clit as you slipped two fingers inside her and began to stretch her out on your fingers. Carol couldn’t help the moans and groans that escaped her as you worked her cunt, occasionally brushing your fingers against her g-spot every so often. She gripped your hair tighter as the coil began to tighten in her own stomach and she knew she wouldn’t be lasting much longer as you continued your movements against her.

“I’m so fucking close, (Y/N)- Keep fucking me with your fingers-” She pleaded as she arched her back, your own lips curling up into a smirk as you fastened your pace with your fingers. She moaned your name loudly as the coil tightened to an unbearable pain. It wasn’t long before the coil snapped within her and she froze to the spot before a moan escaped her lips, her name tumbling from her lips as she came undone on your fingers and tongue. You continued to move your fingers against her before you slowly removed them once she collapsed onto the bed below her; Her breathing uneven and ragged as you went ahead and licked her clean, kitten lapping once more against her that elicited a few whimpers from her. You couldn’t help but giggle lightly as you moved away from in between her legs and collapsed beside her. The only noise within the room was Carol’s heaving breathing and your light breathing. You found it oddly relaxing and just remained quiet. Eventually her breathing evened out and it was quiet before Carol spoke up.

“I really do love you, (Y/N)...” She spoke, shifting her gaze to you as she adjusted herself; You doing the same and resting your head against her shoulder, listening to her talk as she began to play with your hair gently.

“I love you just as much, Carol.. I honestly didn’t think you ever would like me.. Let alone love me with how many times we fought.” You told her, shutting your eyes as you allowed her to play with your hair. She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at your statement as she pulled the blankets over you both.

“If I’m being honest, I didn’t either.” She admitted, humming lowly as she looked down at your form. You were falling asleep, she could tell as you gave a small hum in response and cuddled closer to her. She couldn’t help but smile and lean over, gently pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get some sleep… We still have some issues to work out but.. I’m sure we can get over them together.” She spoke, talking about how you would have to explain to the rest of the team how you two were suddenly okay with being near one another without wanting to rip the others throat out. You gave a small chuckle as you cuddled as close as you could to her, going ahead and hitching your leg up and hooking it around hers.

“Yeah.. We’ll figure that out…” You mumbled as you yawned quietly. Carol smiled as she watched you; She found it adorable. She found everything about you adorable and she was glad she took the chance to admit her feelings for you before anyone else could. She went ahead and kissed your head once more before she shut her eyes, holding you close to her as she mumbled.

“I love you again, (Y/N)...” She told you to which you hummed and mumbled a ‘I love you too’ before you allowed sleep to take you. You were sure your dreams would be replays of this very moment. You hated to love her, but God damn was it hard not too; It was going to be even harder now that you knew she loved you back and just as much as you loved her. You couldn’t wait to see just what the future held for you both.

#Marvel #Captain Marvel #Carol Danvers #Carol Danvers x Reader #Captain Marvel x Reader #Carol Danvers x Female!Reader #Captain Marvel x Female!Reader #MCU #MCU x Reader #MCU x Female!Reader #18+

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doorsclosingslowly · 3 years

Text

Do You Remember the First Time?

A Dregs member with a grudge, a cruel ambush—but to Kaz’ luck, a boy named Jesper Fahey has just joined the gang and he happened to tag along.

3.1k | pre-Six of Crows | warning for attempted rape, violence, ableism

By the time the door closes, it’s too late. Kaz is curled belly-down on the floor just past the entrance in a room with Beertjie and his mates Kert, Frans and Sonna, and Beertjie—well, he’s a much better actor than Kaz gave him credit for. Or Kaz is still more naïve than he believed—it’s probably both—but before two seconds ago when the truncheon hit his head, he never expected Per Haskell’s old enforcer to pull this off. The man’s neither creative nor ambitious enough. He’s been with the Dregs for longer than Kaz has been alive, and he’s still occasionally pulling bouncer duty when Haskell doesn’t need a brawler to second for him: Kaz, meanwhile, in less than three short years, has worked his way up to doing the accounting for all the Dregs’ gambling halls. He’s working on building up Fifth Harbour. Kaz has plans.

If this trap isn’t Beertjie’s own idea, though—then whose? Kaz has watched him, and he doesn’t have any contacts outside the Dregs. Outside his three accomplices, really, and a couple of bar men. It could’ve come from the boss, but Haskell’s at least clever enough to know that he needs Kaz.

So what—

“Nothing to say now, you little brat, eh?”

“I’m trying to understand how even you could be stupid enough to attack Per Haskell’s favourite second.” Kaz uses the lowest rasp his teenage voice will go to. “Give me some time. It’s an enormous amount of stupidity to tally.”

When in doubt, rile up. Kaz isn’t holding any cards at all right now—he doesn’t know who ordered the hit, he’s outnumbered and outmuscled, Frans over in the corner has his foot on Kaz’ cane and his hand on a gun, the three new Dregs who accompanied them—who lulled him into a false sense of security—they’re on the other side of the locked door, plus they might be in on the attack anyway, and when Kaz blacked out from the truncheon for a second someone locked his hands behind his back in some iron contraption, not Grisha thank the Saints but unfamiliar enough that he’ll need a few seconds to unlock it.

When all their attention is on him—and by his position, his back— they’ll notice if he fumbles a lockpick from his coat, but if they get angry enough… well, angry men make mistakes.

Unfortunately, angry men with truncheons also hit him in the head again.

“Is that your only trick?” Kaz smirks through the pounding blur in his eyes, not that they can see it when he’s face-down in the dirt. Beertjie’s not worth straining his neck to look up. Still, it doesn’t hurt to keep the acting impeccable. “No wonder you never got further than bouncer.”

“Thieving little bitch. Just ‘cause you suck Per’s cock just right doesn’t make you a big man,” and Beertjie’s genial ruddy cheeks are stained crimson with hatred now. “Stick to your books, cripple.”

So that’s what this is about: jealousy.

“If you’re worse at your job than a fifteen-year-old with a bum leg, I’m sorry to say, that reflects more on you than it does—”

Another blow, this time to the back. It glances off, no real damage done, and Beertjie’s even terrible at his actual job. He’s losing his cool.

So is Kaz, unfortunately, although he has enough sense to conceal his growing unease. No matter how subtly he wriggles his hands, the shackles are ratcheted too tight to slip out, so tight he’s starting to lose circulation. It might not even suffice to dislocate a thumb. He’s trapped. New plan. So if he’s going to stay prone and tied up and unarmed and anger’s only making Beertjie hit him more, that does not rob him of all his weapons. He’s talked his way into and out of far more dangerous situations before. Threats? No, Beertjie doesn’t have any connections outside the Dregs. No spouse, no family. Extortion? He doesn’t have any secrets either, save the insecurity he just revealed. He does jobs for Haskell with his buddies, he drinks in Haskell’s bars with his buddies, he plays poker in Haskell’s bars with his buddies. He’s a profoundly boring man. Maybe that’s why Haskell has kept him for so long: boring men provide no leverage, much to Kaz’ current detriment.

The next strike is to Kaz’ bad leg. Another, same location. Then the healthy one. Not enough force to break bone, but still, it hurts enough that he has to bite his lip to stifle a moan, and worse yet is the way Beertjie’s bending over him in order to aim. The bouncer’s got enough core strength that he doesn’t need to prop himself up, doesn’t need to touch Kaz with anything but the truncheon, but—every rush of air from the body above him makes his heart jackhammer. He screws his eyes shut. It’s hard to think of a plan, now; hard to even have the presence of mind to be grateful his humiliating position is hiding even more humiliating panic. Another strike. Another close movement. He’ll lose another leg. Another—

“Everything alright? We heard scuffling.”

The screech of the door as it opens wider—the pain as it hits Kaz’ bad leg—Beertjie cursing as he hurries out of the way, and then three pairs of footsteps. The new Dregs. Kaz swings his throbbing aching good leg until he’s turned on his side—the wrong one, he still can’t see any faces—but though that would’ve been useful, he doesn’t strictly need it. He knows the new Dregs. He recruited all three of them, and that interruption was Jesper Fahey’s voice. Jesper is the newest, and the one with the most potential.

Their presence makes the whole unfortunate situation slightly more embarrassing. However, any mix-up also presents new opportunities, and Kaz just has to think…

“Hey. I’m talking to you.” Jesper, again. Insufferably confident for a teenage dropout gambling addict with debts in the thousands of kruge watching the person who recruited him a month ago get roughed up by a washed-up old guy.

So confident it even catches Beertjie on the back foot. The man opts for nonchalance. “Fine,” he says. “Just teaching a little rat some respect.”

The constant references to his height are starting to grate uncomfortably against Kaz’ skin. Sure, he’s almost fifteen and still hoping for another growth spurt, and the malnutrition of a Barrel kid probably didn’t do him any favours if he was ever meant to grow up tall, but in Beertjie’s wide mouth, the word takes on a more dangerous hue. Something predatory.

“Well, I was. Seems like he needs something a little bigger than a truncheon to teach him some respect. Something to replacethat stick in his ass.”

The implication alone is enough to leave Kaz’ reputation in tatters. If this gets out—if the young Dregs leave, and he wants them to leave now, but he can’t—none of this can leave this room, ever. Kaz can’t see the obscene leer on Beertjie’s face, but he doesn’t need much skill to imagine it. He can feel the movement of his vicious greedy eyes deep in his bones, can feel them travelling through his layers into his skin, and he’s wriggling in his fetters with more and more urgency. He’s managed to pull a tiny lockpick from his shirt cuff during the beating, and with just a little time he might be able to…

“Got any room for one more?”

It shouldn’t feel like a betrayal. There is no honour among thieves, and the Bastard of the Barrel’s only friend is his vengeance, but still. The new Dregs were supposed to be his. Jesper was supposed to be his. After all, it was Kaz who saw the potential in the Zemeni gambler in the first place. His quick, easy charm, his steel under pressure, his skill with a gun.

And Jesper is not as subtle as he probably likes to think, when his eyes keep flickering down to Kaz’ mouth—yeah, Kaz knows about the crush, even had vague notions on how to put it to use, but somehow, he’s never expected the other boy to just want to take what he’s been denied. Stupid, stupid.

Kaz led him to the Dregs. He had great plans for the boy. Had. Jesper’s going to die bloody. What a waste.

Something about his loathing must have bled through in Kaz’ posture, because Beertjie chuckles.

“Brekker makes his enemies quick, eh?”

Jesper laughs, too. It’s a grating sound, somehow: Kaz has heard him laugh often at the gambling tables, doing trick shots, making friends, and that’s what helps him pick out the new nuances. This laugh is breathy, high, almost hysterical. He sounds like it’s slowly sinking in what he’s planning to do. He sounds terrified. Good.

“They’ll remember your death in Ketterdam for decades,” Kaz vows. It’s all he can do, because the lock still won’t give in. “Centuries. It’ll be so gory and painful they’ll use it to terrify their children into submission. If you wanted your name to become immortal—well, congratulations, Jesper Fahey.”

“I’d like to shut his smart mouth,” Jesper says, his voice still wrong and shrill. “Stuff it, if you catch my drift.”

And then, Jesper’s on his knees next to Kaz, heaving him up. Kaz refuses to be of help, until one of the hands holding up his clothed upper arms moves down to the knee of his bad leg to bend it. Heavy boots move closer as if to offer help, either Beertjie or Sonna or young Peer, and that’s—it’s too much, not when Kaz still hasn’t found a way out of his handcuffs, not when he knows what’s going to… thank the Saints he’s still clothed and he won’t get torn bare this soon, won’t have to endure as much skin touch anywhere except his head and that’s bad enough, though at least it will thoroughly spoil their fun when he spews vomit all over…

He bites his lip bloody to halt his thoughts. There’s still time to escape. Maybe on his knees, picking the lock will be easier. Maybe—it’s Peer who came up pull him into position, Kaz can see the boy now, and that’s too much, too many people around him when Jesper’s bad enough, and so he gets onto his knees of his own accord. Peer stays.

Jesper’s hands fondle Kaz’ wrists for a second. Even through the gloves and the shirt cuffs and the jacket and the steel shackles, the trembling touch makes Kaz sick.

The fucking traitor rises to his feet, and then he’s standing right in front of Kaz, so close Kaz can smell leather and gunpower and sour sweat, his groin right in front of Kaz’ face. His still-clothed dick, as far as Kaz can tell, is soft. Good. At least he isn’t enjoying this as much as he expected. At least this won’t even be worth it for him. For a fraction of a second, Kaz steels himself by imagining biting his way through that soft rat bastard belly and tearing out Jesper’s liver with his teeth. The blood. The screams.

Jesper, though, has other concerns.

“I guess you’ll be a biter,” he says softly, as if to himself. Kaz can see his eyes flick over to Beertjie, though: he’s playing to an audience, though for what— “I happen to prefer my dick attached,” and he pulls out a gun. Uses it to caress Kaz’ temple with a parody of tenderness. “You know what’ll happen if I feel a tooth. You can touch your stick now, boss,” even more quietly, and—

As if Kaz was gonna get off from this. Is if he’s going to let Jesper pretend it’s consensual, as if his arms aren’t cuffed behind him, as if—Jesper’s grey eyes are staring down past Kaz’ face even though his chin’s still raised, and despite himself, Kaz follows his glance.

Next to his knee, there’s the bottom end of his cane. It must’ve rolled over, and before he can bury the child straining to hold onto any security that drowned in the harbour years ago he’s reaching for it, and—his hand moves.

The cuffs are open.

They clatter to the floor before his hands locks around the cane, and Jesper spins around and shoots Frans right in the head.

Kert and Sonna are next, before they even manage to take a step closer; and Peer stumbles when Kaz’ cane meets his foot and dies when the cane meets his neck. Another couple of bullets for Beertjie. Screams. Otto the other new recruit desperately rattling the handle of the locked door and Jesper glances at Kaz and Kaz shakes his head and then the boy’s brain paints the door.

And Beertjie’s still screaming.

“I’m out of bullets now, boss. Only brought the one gun.” Jesper looks almost shy now, standing in the blood splattered room. It’s strangely at odds with the ruthless fighter he was a second ago; the eager rapist he—pretended to be, with admirable quickness of mind and acting acumen, for a few minutes. Now, he’s only meeting Kaz’ eyes for a fraction of a second and then glances away again, as if it was him who was humiliated here. As if—

“He’s yours, boss.”

As if he’s an eager cat who fetched Kaz his revenge and is hoping it’ll please him. Because Jesper shot Beertjie in both knees, Kaz realises. Deliberately. He shot him in the knees and left him for Kaz to kill, and it’s almost—almost—enough to paint over the terror and humiliation of the past few minutes. He was right. Jesper will be useful.

So he stands on his aching bad leg and his throbbing bruised good one and ignores his trembling as he works his way up, breaking bones, from the thighs to the arms and ribs and, finally, the face. The shaking’s just adrenaline, pleasure, leaving early. He’s fine.

Jesper is proving his mettle even more by studiously ignoring the way he can barely stand, can barely limp over to the door.

The door. That’s what he almost missed. The unlocked door that was locked when Otto tried to escape, and unlocked when Jesper got in, and locked before that. Just like the shackles were locked until they weren’t.

Jesper’s going to be very, very useful indeed.

It's been six days since The Event, and Jesper’s in the Crow Club, losing badly at poker. This time, he knew he was going to lose even before he sat down at the table, but his head’s spinning, and there’s something about the familiar banter and shuffle and the weight of the cards in his hands, the practiced movements, that often helps him think. That might help him now not lose himself in bouncing questions and worries left over from The Event, even if it’ll lose him a hundred kruge.

The Event. That’s how Jesper has taken to referring to what happened, even in the sanctity of his own head: because despite what happened in the leadup to The Event, he’s not entirely convinced that Kaz Brekker isn’t a mindreader Grisha, and if Brekker’s gonna murder him for—for pretending to go along with raping him, oh Saints—if Kaz is gonna kill Jesper as the last witness, well, not provoking him needlessly will maybe buy Jesper time to write a last letter or two to his Da.

So he’s waiting on hot coals, and drinking, and losing at poker, and not thinking about What Happened. Or What Didn’t Happen, because whenever it comes up Jesper’s been going along with Kaz’ version of events: that creepy old guy was a traitor who’d turned all the other guys to his side too, and Kaz confronted and eliminated him, with minor assistance from Jesper himself. If underplaying his own initiative, quick planning, superb acting skills and cool under pressure—not to mention his perfect kill shots, but then Kaz did go back and set the house on fire to get rid of the corpse evidence—if letting Kaz rest on what should rightfully be Jesper’s laurels is what gets him another lease on life, so be it. He’ll have more chances to prove himself. Unless Kaz murders him.

He doesn’t regret the impulse that made him save Kaz. It was wrong, what that creep planned, regardless even of the fact Jesper’s maybe a little only here with the Dregs in the first place because Kaz asked him and even that first time, he liked Kaz. Maybe Kaz would stop planning to murder him if he explained—but on the off-chance that Kaz hasn’t realized he’s Grisha yet, and Kaz hasn’t brought it up so there’s at least a possibility… He was close to picking the shackles himself, after all. On the off-chance he doesn’t know, it would be pretty stupid to tell him—case in point, Jesper’s still fifty-fifty on whether Kaz will murder him—but the only explanation for why he went along with the rape pretence in the first place is that he needed to get close enough to those shackles. Maybe Kaz will just calm down on his own. Fifty percent non-murder are still good odds, after all. Better than Jesper winning today at poker.

More worrying—and just plain unfortunate, because even if he’s fucked his chances now Jesper really does like the guy—is that Kaz hasn’t exchanged a single word in private with him. They’ve barely been in the same room, and when Jesper clapped him on the back two days ago the guy actually jumped. If it wasn’t for the fact that this is Kaz, Dirtyhands, Bastard of the Barrel, who did torture a man to death a week ago even if that guy deserved it and Jesper did help him, so he really can’t claim any white vest there—if this wasn’t Kaz, Jesper would almost think he’s afraid of him now.

So he’s going to get murdered by his crush who’s also scared of him. And he’s just lost another two hundred kruge. Life is great.

But when he’s waving to the dealer to signal he’s up for another round—it’s Tom today, who’s always nice to Jesper and kind of pretty but he’s definitely no Kaz, so maybe later once Jesper’s nursed his sore heart… But the dealer’s not even paying attention to him. He’s staring straight behind Jesper. Not even a chance of a rebound tonight, then. Saints, Jesper’s luck just sucks.

A hand raps on the table next to him. Slim fingers, black gloves.

“Fahey, with me,” Kaz rasps from behind him, closer than he’s been in a week. “Geels wants a talk. I need someone reliable at my back.”

Or, just maybe, Jesper is the luckiest man in Ketterdam.

#kaz brekker #jesper fahey #shadow and bone #dimtraces makes things #teenage gangsters and fake betrayal

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dorminchu · 3 years

Text

Blood Simple

Fandom: James Bond Genre: Suspense/Humor (at the end?) Rating: T Warnings: Aftermath of torture ft. Silva's attempted suicide via cyanide capsule, generally desperate circumstances. Characters: Lyutsifer Safin, Tiago Rodriguez | Raoul Silva, Mr. White, Blofeld Summary: "1997: Five months after being traded over to Hong Kong and left for dead, Tiago Rodriguez, formerly 006, is given another chance by SPECTRE's up-and-coming operative."

The realisation came to Rodriguez suddenly and with brutal clarity. After enough time the very act of torture and reprieve became a routine. Today his MSS captors told him he had been handed over neatly for six other agents and Olivia Mansfield—M—would be made chief-of-staff.

Whether or not this was a lie, it didn’t matter anymore. They had told him the very worst thing he could hear. Physical pain was something he had been trained to anticipate and respond to—they could drown him and beat him bloody, take his nails, take his tongue, take anything and he would remain silent. But this, he knew, this was far more intimate. Despite the lack of an innate personal connection to Olivia Mansfield, it managed to dig at some part of him that still operated with a naïve urge to prove himself—to somebody, anybody. Like the proverbial child seeking praise, he had taken his efforts with the Chinese intelligence as far as he could before the inevitable capture; like the disapproving mother-surrogate who would never offer up any love, she had fed him to the wolves without a second thought.

The inevitability of his fate did not take away the lasting damages. It gave, at best, a fleeting sense of certainty. He played the game of a limp, broken man and ensured the guards would be content that they were breaking him down at last. The soldier that pushed him into the cell wasn’t keeping a close enough eye on him. They had checked his body ceaseless times for a weapon but never thought about what was right in front of them.

He waited for the sound of retreating footsteps. He broke the left molar with all the strength he had left, tongued the capsule, bit down.

The contents flooded his mouth along with blood. Rodriguez knew he had won and so began to laugh, a garbled, animal noise. The guard outside barked sharply in Cantonese.

He lost control of his body.

. . .

His cheek was not against the solid, smooth floor of his holding cell—something soft. The smell—where ever he was—was clean. Sound of something garbled and tinny on his right. There was light beyond his eyelids. He thought at first that he was still asleep—trapped in a passing dream, waiting for the inevitable pull back into the old cell where he would awaken. Perhaps a swift reprimand for this little stunt—more physical pain before they denied him the agency to end his own life.

The seconds passed uninterrupted. The very act of breathing was almost more than he could bear. After so many days of malnutrition and oxygen deprivation he was very weak—he could not thrash himself away. He willed his eyes to open. He was in a bed, and his head remained elevated. He could not feel anything in his lower jaw.

So, he was alive. Then the capsule had not done its job after all; M’s last hurrah.

He could not stifle a laugh at the thought. It felt like a dry sob, or a guttural heave before vomiting. He forced himself to breath, deep, ragged, as though lulling himself to sleep. He waited for the inevitable beating but none came. He couldn’t hear anyone else except for the tinny voice—knew distantly what it was. He listened eagerly for a scrap of information or a date, a month. The weather outside was clear and bright. What season? He would learn, in time, that he had been held captive for five months. But for now he could only lay still.

The sound of footsteps pulled him back. The doctor eyed him steadily. He did not ask where he had come from or why he was in such sorry shape. He simply told him that he had been asleep for three days and he was lucky to be alive. He was currently being held in Hong Kong Central Hospital.

He caught sight of himself for the first time in a long time. The look in the dark green eyes was flat and the gaunt skin gave him the appearance of an animated corpse. The structure of his jaw warped and eaten away, the skin melted over the hole like wax. The ridge of his right eye socket became exposed under pale skin.

No, it could not be so simple. Hatred and fear of his interrogators would turn inevitably into a masochistic infatuation. They would merely let him think it was over. He would be nursed back to health—a prolonged moment to breathe that was poisoned with sickening anticipation—and then he would be put back in the cell and it would start all over again.

He had almost no strength left.

He was the last rat. Her favourite. Essential and disposable as any other agent who had gone beyond measure. His rank meant nothing. And now all that was left of him was a mangled inhuman shape and the agonizing minutes while he clung to his new purpose: revenge. It was an endless stretch of ambiguity between unconsciousness and mechanical action, such as breathing.

His mind was very thin. But he was calm.

"Tiago Rodriguez?" This voice was soft, unfamiliar. Rodriguez shivered instinctively, like shaking off a fly. The man stepped into view. "My name is Safin. I was sent to retrieve you."

He had a fresh face that suggested he couldn’t have been older than twenty but his eyes seemed colder. His English was accented but clear. The name was also curious. It was unlikely he was from MI6—then who had sent him, and why?

Rodriguez held his gaze with a cold half-alertness that suggested he was not completely gone but getting there. Safin did not flinch at the sight of him. "You have been taken out of the hands of the MSS. Right now they assume the man Tiago Rodriguez to be dead of cyanide poisoning. But, you're probably wondering why you are alive?"

Rodriguez stared fixedly at a point to the left of his head. The doctor had stepped out of the room. Safin approached but kept leery of him as one would a cornered animal. The metaphor came blunt but it was applicable. Rodriguez's eyes snapped back to Safin, narrowed.

"Your efforts were not in vain. You may have lost your position with MI6, but there are other places that would be more than willing to take on someone of your skillset." He smiled coolly. "Should you decide you want to work again, there is a man in Italy you can contact. Ask for the Pale King."

Rodriguez already was fashioning a plan to get back on his feet. As soon as he was able he would put it into action.

. . .

Now it had been seven months to the day of his resurgence as Raoul Silva. In this time he had patched himself over with a new dental prosthetic. The vengeance within his blood had simmered. Getting back to Italy took the better part of those several months, but in due course the Pale King led him to a man named Blofeld, who was more than happy to take on a man of his persuasion. This inevitably brought him to Rome and he was given a new number—11. Around the table he saw the faces of several men and women that would become his new associates—and one that rang familiar.

After the meeting they all dispersed. Except for No 12.

"You are Lyutsifer Safin?" asked Silva.

Safin paused. "Yes."

"How old when you first joined?"

"Seventeen."

"My God! You have some light in your eyes. Someone will crush it out of you soon enough."

"I have no intention of overextending myself." He spoke plainly, without room for insult.

"Ah, what good is intention? You think you are smarter than the rest. You have done your organisation a great service and you have your little number to prove it. But is that what you want?" Safin did not answer. “This year I will be twenty nine. In seven years with MI6 I did all that was asked of me. When they decided I was disposable, they left me to suffer."

"You sound so sure of it."

They studied each other like two predators competing for the same proverbial bit of game. Then Silva brightened. "I look forward to working with you in the future, Lucy."

Safin bristled. Evidently no one in his life had called him Lucy before. But he kept it in-check, said coolly, "Of course, Silva."

#lyutsifer safin #tiago rodriguez #raoul silva #fanfiction #fanfic #blofeld #mr. white #pre skyfall #skyfall #I really like silva and skyfall okay #and I hope safin is in the same ballpark of bamf #so I wrote this

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halfmoonshines · 4 years

Text

Azula ‘Joins’ The Gaang

A one-shot wherein Azula... apologizes?

@elanceq

Azula sat in the throne room, of course draping herself against the main chair sat high upon a pedestal, feet tucked below her and examining her nails. It had been a long time since she had been in this room, especially alone. The young firebender allowed her thoughts to drift back to the battle that took place at the palace just nine short months ago, the day Azula had lost her nation, and herself somewhere along the way.

After Zuko had retrieved her from where she sat shackled that day, he took her into the mountains at the edge of the fire nation, where a wise old woman was said to be waiting for them, waiting for Azula. She didn’t care much to think about the time she had spent there, secluded, reforming.

The young princess came to realize shortly after her arrival, that her psyche had split herself into two different personalities. Princess Azula, a powerful firebender and ruthless leader, and just Azula. The child she had been at six, when all she wanted to do was find a flower that matched Ty Lee’s favorite color. Or the child she had been at eight, when she made the mistake of bringing her father an injured sparrow she had found.

A young Azula comes rushing into the throne room, hands clasped tight to her chest as her little legs pumped to move her quickly across the room.

“Dad!” She called out, upon sighting him. She knew her mother would have been the preferable healer, but her father was so good at so many things that maybe he would find it in him to help them too.

The newly appointed Fire Lord Ozai turned around from the conversation he was having with one of his advisers slowly, eyes locking on the young child who was barreling toward him.

“Azula,” He started. “We do not run in the throne room. We walk calmly, and with purpose. Now slow down and approach.”

The princess was taken aback, and bristled slightly at the command, but she slowed her run none the less into a fast paced walk. When she arrived next to him, she waited for him to speak first, afraid of acting against him again.

“What is it that you are needing my help with so urgently?” Ozai’s voice was quiet, but laced with annoyance, upset at being bothered.

Azula shuffled her feet a few times before opening up her hands a bit and holding them aloft, presenting the injured bird to her father. The bird chirped once from its place in Azula’s grasp, wing contorted at an odd angle.

“I found this bird all alone in the garden and I thought perhaps we could try to mend it?” Azula spoke softly, head downcast, suddenly much more unsure of what was about to happen than she was when she first entered the room.

Ozai let a breath out of his nose, and a hearty chuckle escaped his mouth. “You mean to tell me that you thought it of the utmost importance to come and interrupt me, for a sickly aryan creature that surely wouldn’t even survive another year even if we did deem it worthy of such help? How very foolish of you, Azula. Your time is better spent studying, training. Not traipsing around the gardens, talking to animals. Now dispose of it and mention it no more.”

Azula looked up at him, mouth slightly agape in surprise. He had always been decisive, but never this cruel toward his own daughter before. She always tried her best to excel in all of her studies, surpass her brother in the arena, but sometimes she just couldn’t help but be a kid. He was being unfair.

“But, father-”

Ozai had turned his back to her at this point, but snapped back quickly at the sound of her voice. “Did you just disregard a direct order from me?” He reached out quickly then, violently ripping the small bird from the child's hands. Azula cried out at its sudden departure, straining her arm to try and grab it back.

Ozai’s face twisted into a glare, and he held the bird above his head, very tightly. “You do not speak against me, ever. You do not disobey me,” He brought himself down to her eye level grabbing her left shoulder with his free hand. “Ever. Now you need to go train, and I will dispose of this creature properly, and try to forget how insubordinate you’ve been.” This was as close to yelling as his voice ever got, loud and sharp.

Tears pooled in Azula’s eyes and she tore herself from his grasp, turning and walking quickly out the door, careful not to run. When she exited the room she allowed the tears to flow freely, knowing that she had just killed that bird.

This, Azula decided upon introspection, was the moment that she lost her last shred of innocence. Her hope would be stamped out just a short time after that.

Zuko had entered the room without her noticing, so he cleared his throat to garner her attention.

“Somehow,” He started with a small smile. “I knew this is where I would find you.” Shaking her head to dispel any unwanted thoughts, she raised her head and smiled a tight lipped smile at her brother. “I just had to see what you’ve done with the place, ZuZu. But it’s every bit as drab as it was when I left.” She raised herself from the throne, stepping down and heading toward him. “Though you never did have much of an eye for decoration.”

Zuko shrugged and lifted his arms a bit before letting them drop to his sides. “No, that was always more your department. I was hoping now that you’re back, we could renovate the place a bit.”

Azula smiled, recognizing his gesture as one of warmth and trust. The contentment that pulled at her stomach, tried to lull her into feeling secure was foreign, but not unwelcome. The woman Azula had trained with had taught her that these things would feel different after all of these years, but nothing to fear.

“I would like that, Zuko. But there is also something else I had wanted to request of you?” Her tone was cautious, unsure of how this conversation would go.

Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed in slight concern, but tried his best to put his faith into his sister, someone who seemed like she truly had at least tried to make improvements on herself.

“What is that, Azula?” His tone was light, doing good to hide the anxiety that was itching at her throat.

His sister took a moment before answering, eyes flitting around the room before meeting his own. “I wanted to see your friends.” She paused for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction but there was nothing discernable. “The Ava- Aang, mostly. Though I’m sure the rest deserve an apology from me as well, especially those water tribe siblings.”

Zuko let shock show in his expression for a split second before he composed himself. Obviously he had expected that at some point, since Azula had hopefully returned for good, she would be officially remeeting Team Avatar. He just didn’t expect it to be immediately, and didn’t expect her to be the one to request it.

He only paused a beat before answering. “Of course, Azula. They’re actually staying fairly close to the palace at the moment. Would you like to go now?” Zuko was nervous, obviously. But Azula was some of the only family he had left, and if she could change then he wanted to be right there with her.

Azula nodded quickly, appreciating his trust. She had nervousness covering her like a thick blanket, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from what she felt she needed to do.

“Let’s go.”

The royal siblings stood outside of the large building that Avatar and Co. were using as their home for the moment, both a little nervous to knock on the door. Azula tried to distract herself by studying the ornate carvings that adorned the door frame, but Zuko was more preoccupied with who was inside right now, and who would be first to answer the door.

“I’m just going to get some food, guys. We’re heroes! I’m allowed one extra meal a day for saving the world.” Sokka’s voice was quickly approaching from the other side of the door, and Zuko yanked Azula back to the bottom of the steps, trying to make it seem like they had just arrived.

As Sokka opened the door, his eyes were squinted shut against the sun, and he didn’t seem to notice the people standing there as he came barreling down the steps. There was no time to move, so when he was about an inch from crashing into them, and Zuko was about to scream his name in panic, Azula realized she would need to take action.

“Hello! Sokka, isn’t it? My brother and I were just coming to speak with you and your friends.” Azula forced a bit of pep into her voice, trying to shock him a bit less, and made sure she had a small smile on her face.

At hearing her voice Sokka’s eyes opened wide and he reeled back, right before he would have crashed into them, and instead tripped on the bottom step he had just gotten off of, landing on his but a few stairs up.

Zuko’s mouth opened in shock, trying to figure out what had just happened in the last 60 seconds. Azula raised her eyebrows in shock, hoping he was okay (and also hoping she wasn’t going to be accused of pushing him over). A small part of her mind was calling him a blithering idiot, but it was easily ignored.

By this time the commotion was heard from inside, and the door flew open again, but this time it was Katara; followed by Aang who looked both anxious and worried, Suki, who had her weapons clutched in her hands and a glare in her eyes, and Toph. Toph held the rear of the line, and was smiling from ear to ear. She had felt them approach the stone home they lived in, and Azula’s walk wasn’t easily copied.

“Hey guys, we we’-” Zuko could see that something was about to happen, so he quickly tried to intervene and take a step forward only to be shoved aside by an angry water bender.

Azula didn’t flinch as Katara was waterbending a whip and holding it aloft, ready to strike.

“What is she doing here?” Katara’s voice was angry, her tone bordering on hatred.

Azula chose to speak then, eyes scanning the group that stood across from her, ready for an imminent battle. She mustered up the most regretful look she could.

“I’ve come to try and apologize to your group.” She paused a moment to let them process what she had said. No doubt it would come as a shock to some, and be unbelievable to others. “I fear that I allowed my father’s teachings and my own thirst for power overshadow every rational thought I should have had over these years.” This was the first time Azula had ever said anything like this. Sure, she would occasionally go over what she planned to say in the group to her head, but it never came out like this.

“For years I strived to be the strongest, most cunning person in the world, because that’s what I thought mattered. My father always told me that I was not a normal girl, that I shouldn’t feel the need to drench myself in such useless emotions as shame and compassion. I was told the world was not compassionate, it was hostile, and broken. Made to believe that I had to be decisive and aggressive, or the world would overthrow me.”

Azula gulped heavily, palms sweating a bit. She hadn’t felt this emotional in a long time. She kept her eyes to the group, doing her best to keep eye contact and surprised that they let her continue. “I’ve realized that we were the hostile ones, I was the threat in this world. If the fire nation was ever great, it was long before this war. Before the vision my father had for a dictatorship. I know it will take a long time, if it ever happens, for all of you to forgive me. I feel like I am far from deserving of it, but I did want to let you know that I regret the decisions I have made that put you all in danger. And regretful for my part in this war.”

No one spoke a word, they just glanced at each other through their peripherals, unsure of what to do. Toph was the first to speak, pushing Suki out of her way and coming to stand beside Katara.

Toph’s gray eyes gazed up at where she knew Azula’s face to be, and Azula stared right back, curious to see if she was going to be attacked or not.

“She’s not lying.” Toph’s words were simple, but made everyone in the group shift their stance a bit. Sokka stood from where he had fallen on the step, and Katara reluctantly dropped her water.

“I don’t care if she’s not lying, I don’t see any reason we should go along with whatever this is.” Suki sounded distrustful, weapons still held firmly at her sides.

“She said she didn’t expect us to forgive her right away,” Katara spoke now, her voice level. “But I do think she’s being serious. I might not love the idea of going to dinner with her, but,” Katara nodded at Azula a bit, coming to a conclusion in her mind. “I don’t think we should stand in the way of her redemption.”

Sokka looked worriedly at his sister. “Are you okay!? This is Azula we are talking about! The woman who would’ve killed any one, or all, of us without care. We’re just go-”

“Sokka.” The young airbender had been silent from his place at the top of the steps until now. “Katara’s right. If Azula’s aware of the mistakes she’s made, and she’s willing to apologize, we have no reason not to accept it. She doesn’t have to go penguin sledding with us yet.” Aang smiled at Azula then, shifting his attention from Sokka. “But it would be cool to learn how to bend lightning! That looks so awesome! And I mean your brother was my enemy until he became a great fire bending teacher so, maybe it runs in the family!”

Azula scoffed in shock, her own smile widening a bit. This was how the Avatar acted? Oh, if only she had had an actual conversation with this boy a year ago.

Suki and Sokka seemed to be the only ones with a problem at this point, but upon sharing a pointed look with each other, they glanced back at Azula with slightly duller daggers than before.

“If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me. Welcome to the light, Azula. Maybe you can try to get a tan.” Sokka’s face was mostly serious, but his tone was laced with his normal humor.

Zuko couldn't believe his eyes, but the sight was welcome. His sister was standing beside him with a large smile on her face, and most of his friends were mirroring her.

“So,” Azula said, a warm feeling vibrating through her body.. “You want to learn how to bend lightning?”

And the rest…

Is history.

#fanfic #fanfiction #atla fanfic #atla fanfiction #redemption #?#azula #the gaang #zuko #avatar the last airbender #elanceq

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Non Grata

Sequel to Getaway Homecoming

Warnings: noncon sex (oral and intercourse), angst. This is dark!(nomad)Steve and explicit. 18+ only. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

Summary: The reader finds herself lost after Steve’s second visit.

Note: Do you like to hate Steve Rogers? Does him being an absolute dick make you hard? Well this is the series for you! Here’s another of a brutal nomad Steve and a desperate reader who just wants him the fuck the fuck off!

Anyways, hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think as always. Love ya <3

Steve left just as he had the first time. You were broken on the bed; your legs bent over the edge, an ache through your entire body, the remnants of his assault dripping down your thighs. The sweat cooled along your skin as you sank into an exhausted stupor. The shadows of the room loomed around you and a sharp hiss cut through the air. Your heart beat was distant, low. It filled your head like a drum. Your ears burned as the hiss grew to a snarl and your name roused you from your haze.

You turned your head to look at Ethan. He was as he had been for the last hours; bound to the chair to witness your debasement. You cringed and pushed yourself up on shaky arms. “Goddamnit, would you untie me?” He barked. The tone of his voice hurt more than your body. The bruises left by unyielding fingers and the welts around your neck from the twisted cotton.

You stood and crossed to the chair. Your fingers were unsteady as you worked at the tape. You tore it away from his ankles and wrists. You gulped as you gathered your voice. “Ethan…”

“Don’t,” He stood and brushed by you. “I...gotta get ready for work.” He didn’t look at the bed. Or you. He went to the closet and slid the door open. He pulled out a pair of grey pants and a navy button-up. “You should clean yourself up.” His tone made your heart clench. He was so unkind; angry even. At you? For what had been done to you.

“Please--”

“I don’t wanna talk.” He kept his back to you as he neared the door. “About it. About anything.”

You felt as if you had been punched. You clutched your sweaty hair as your eyes burned. You stared at the door until your stomach bubbled with bile. You dropped your arms and held back a sob. You dragged your feet to the bathroom door and braced yourself against the frame with one hand. You could feel Steve still; inside of you, outside. Your body was covered in his scent. His cum sticky along your thighs.

You closed the door as you stepped inside. You cranked the shower and waited for the steam to rise before you slipped past the curtain. The water was not hot enough to cleanse you. You could hear Ethan in the living room. Your tears melded with the water as you reached out to hold yourself steady against the tile. You listened to his soft footsteps until at last the door opened and closed. He was gone.

You scrubbed every inch of flesh. Every nook and cranny until you were on fire. Your muscles strained as you turned off the water and wrapped yourself in the soft terry towel. Your legs felt weak beneath you. You stripped the bed of the sheet; streaks of cum across the grey cotton. You bunched them up and shoved it in a garbage bag.

You dressed stiffly. Ritualistically. You didn’t eat, didn’t even brew a coffee. You grabbed the bag and tossed it in the dumpster on your way to work. At least that would be the same. The same old desk; the same phone; the same monotone co-workers.

When you got home, the apartment was eerily silent. It would be an hour before Ethan returned. You weren’t sure if he would. That thought made you want to vomit. You paced around the living room until the lock clicked and you stopped in your tracks as Ethan entered. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw set, his eyes grim. He looked at you for a split second but quickly glanced away. Was it shame? Disgust? Hatred?

He placed his bag beside the door as he always did. He sighed as he crossed the threshold between entrance and living room. His hand settled on the arm of the couch, fingers tapped in rhythm with unspoken thoughts. His eyes had turned to stone. At last he found the strength to look at you. You clasped your hands together as your nerves flurried. The tension was suffocating.

“Do you want the apartment?” He asked finally. You blinked and your cheek twitched. “Because I can’t stay in this place.”

“Wha--I…” You were breathless. You felt as if you were floating and feared you’d come crashing down. “Ethan, you--”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t stay here, with you, after that,” He shook his head and looked away once more. He crossed his arms and leaned against the couch.

“You’re just going to leave me?” You voice cracked with the last syllable. He stayed silent and hung his head. “What do think that was, Ethan? Do you think I wanted that?”

“I think it looked like you enjoyed yourself, regardless of what you wanted,” He glared at you as he lifted his head. “Why didn’t you tell me before? About the cabin?”

“Would you believe me? Oh, you’d never guess, I was just up in the middle of nowhere and Captain America came out of the wildlands to ravage me. Very believable.”

“I--To think you let me touch you after he did,” Ethan spat as he stood straight.

You inhaled and stared him down. The silence wrapped around your throat. “I don’t want the apartment.” You muttered, “I only ever wanted you, but I would never force my presence on you.” A sickening heat crept up your spine. “I’ll stay with Gia until I find a place. I’ll have my stuff out by the end of the month.”

Ethan’s shoulders dropped. “Is that it? You’re not going to fight?”

“What’s the point? You’ve made up your mind and I’ve already lost everything.” You lowered your lashes before the tears could spill. “I never wanted to say goodbye but I never imagined it would be like this.”

You bit your lip in the lull that followed. Ethan cleared his throat and you heard his footfalls across the hardwood. “I’ll give notice to the landlord.” You glanced over at his shoes as he stood by the bedroom door. “You can take whatever you want.”

He disappeared through the door and your throat constricted. You shook as you turned and looked to the balcony door. It was still unlocked from the night before. You neared and slowly pulled it open. On the other side, your bikini top hung from the knob. You didn’t recall him taking it but you also couldn’t remember finding it in your luggage. Another detail lost to the oblivion of your mind.

You untangled the strap from the handle and felt an unusual shape against the pad. You felt along the cup and slipped your fingers through the small slit sewn in to remove the padding. You gripped the thin plastic and removed it with a fumble. You held up the card you hadn’t noticed was missing. The one you had cracked several years ago and was often forgotten in the back of your wallet. Your name and social security number faded across the plastic.

You turned it over and it fell from your grip with a gasp. Just below the black strip were letters written in slanted sharpie. You knelt to read it again; certain you were imagining it. But staring back at you was the very clear message; a promise. I’ll find you.

Gia’s apartment was almost too small for the both of you. She helped you inflate the air mattress with the manual pump in the living room as she tried to disguise her curiosity with none-so-subtle questions. You hadn’t told her much. You and Ethan had chosen to go your separate ways. The relationship had lost its lustre. The usual cliched bullshit recited to conceal your heartbreak. Even so, you could tell she wanted to know more. She was ever the sucker for gossip; even if it was another’s pain.

She put on beauty tutorials and ordered take out. You ate as you pretended to listen to the brow shaping tips. You didn’t taste the fried rice or the sweet and sour chicken. When at last she retreated to her room, you laid across the mattress and sank into the darkness. You couldn’t sleep as your heart began to hammer. What if he found you here? What would he do to Gia? You were so stupid. Why had you come here?

When the sun rose, you were already awake. You had moved to the couch and jumped at every noise. Gia was on afternoons that day so she wouldn’t be up for some time. You made a coffee, drank it in the early morning din, and forced down a bowl of instant oats. You dressed, grabbed your purse, and set out for the bus stop. You’d be on a different route now that you were with Gia.

It was like any other day at work. You were almost late as the bus took a little longer and you rushed in without time for your usual ten minute pre-work laze. You opened up your emails and began to file through those until the first call of the day came in. You typed blindly and went through the usual spiel. Knocking off the checkboxes as you scrolled. The mind-numbing work was a relief from your now terrifying life.

Your third call of the day and you were yawning into you hand. You lifted the receiver and leaned back in your chair. “Gem Vacations, how can I help you?”

“You sound tired,” The deep voice had you stalk straight in your seat.

“Excuse me?” You glanced around at the desks around you. Your co-workers unaware as they typed and chattered in their customer service voices.

“Come on, you know who this is,” He taunted and you gripped the edge of your desk.

“What do you want?” You lowered your voice as you hid behind your screen. “I’m at work.”

“Just checking in. How’s Ethan coping?” You didn’t answer and he chuckled. “Ah, I figured as much. Weak little boy.” He was nonchalant; cloying. “I was only trying to help him. Show him how it’s done, ya know?”

“Why are you doing this?” You rasped as you tried not to tremble.

“I’ve always been told that everything happens for a reason. I never took it as more than an empty cliche.” You could hear his smirk. “But I figured I found you up there for a reason. All alone...what were the odds? It had to be for something, right?”

“No,” You answered evenly.

“So, where are you staying now that Ethan’s tucked his tail and run?” Again, you stayed silent. “Ah, don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. Maybe...your sister’s? She seems like a nice girl. You’re pretty close, so it’s only natural--”

“Leave her out of this,” You struggled not to raise your voice. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“No, it’s all about you, girl,” He snarled. “So, let’s not make it about anyone else by doing anything stupid. Understood?”

Your blood went cold and you leaned your chin in your hand as you tried not to scream. “Please, just leave me alone.” You slammed the receiver down harder than you meant to and stood. You rushed to the bathroom and locked yourself in as your ears rang. You felt a buzz in your pocket and pulled out your cell phone. Private Caller. You answered, knowing who it was already.

“Now, now, we don’t do that, okay?” Steve warned from the other end. “Because that was stupid.” You swallowed as you stared at the painting of roses hung over the toilet. “Answer me.”

“Okay, okay, I’m--sorry,” Your breath shattered out of you.

“Good,” He replied sharply, “So this is how it’s going to go. I’m out of town at the moment. Business, you see? But I’ll be back soon. So, if you want me to leave Gia alone, you’ll keep me distracted, won’t you?”

“Yes,” You answered through gritted teeth.

“That’s ‘yes, Captain’,” He corrected, “With a little less attitude, girl.”

“Yes, Captain,” You softened your tone as you leaned against the door weakly.

“Good girl,” He preened from the speaker, “Now, go on and get back to work.”

The line died and you slowly lowered your phone. You tucked it into your pocket and neared the sink. You stared at yourself in the mirror; your eyes heavy with sleep, your shoulders slumped in defeat. Now, you had lost everything.

A few days into your stay on Gia’s floor and you finally found the time to visit the grocery store. You had cleaned out her cupboards and take out was growing pricey. You had a list, a budget, and a focus. Get everything you needed and get out. Life had become a series of tasks. Concentrate on this, then this, then this. You looked for any distraction to keep your fear from bubbling past your stomach. When you did have a chance to think, you were ready to vomit.

Steve said he would be back soon. When was soon? Despite your efforts, these intrusive thoughts poked through. The dread. The presence that followed you around. From your air mattress to the bus seat to your office chair. The shadow loomed over you like the hawk over the field mouse. That was exactly what you felt like. A helpless critter to Steve. A repulsive rodent to Ethan.

The rush of people with their carts and baskets helped ease you. When you were around crowds, you felt safer. Before it had been the opposite. He was gone. Don’t think about it. Cereal. That was next. Did you want the granola with protein or the sugary childhood indulgence? You pondered the decision as if it were life changing. Every minute felt like your last.

You sighed and dug your heel into the floor. You weren’t a child anymore. Naivety was long gone. You reached for the organic oats. The box was swiped from your grasp before you fingers could grasp it and you followed the thick hand up the muscles arm to its owner. Your lips parted and you stepped back instinctively. You glanced behind you, Gia still at the other end of the aisle. She was focused on finding the right blend of coffee beans. She always used the in store grinder and...it was a whole process.

You turned back and tried to grab another box of cereal. Steve caught your hand and pushed it back down. You kept your eyes away from him and bit down on your anger. “What’s the matter? You don’t seem the impatient type.” Your eyes flitted over to him and your nostrils flared. “I tried to be quick but...shit never goes as planned.”

Your irritation quickly dissipated to fear. The fact that he was truly there was much more startling than your nightmares. Than the anxiety which had strung together his absence. You peeked over your shoulder at Gia and heard the granola shake in its cardboard shell. You turned back as Steve shook the box as if for a pet.

“Ask nicely and I’ll give it back,” You realized he was toying with you. “Might even leave before she notices me.”

“Please,” You tried to keep calm as you stared up at him. You were still utterly confused by the man. The last you had heard of him he had been the valiant American patriot turned stubborn refugee. Now he was your own personal nightmare. “May I have the cereal?”

He smirked and held it out to you. He watched as you took it and his eyes darkened. They slipped down and he licked his lips as he stared at the collar of your shirt. “Midnight. Eastern Vale Hotel. Room 346.” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’d suggest you show up on time cause I won’t wait long before I come find you…” His eyes strayed past you, “And I might just find someone else, too.”

He backed away and grabbed a box of instant oatmeal from beside him. He pretended to read the ingredients as he strolled casually down the aisle and around the corner. You squeezed the box in your hands, almost crushing it as it crumpled at the edges. You shook your head and tossed it in the cart. Gia approached with a bag of coffee; you could smell it even before she placed it in the basket of the cart.

“They have free trade beans now,” She peered into the cart. “Mmm, maple nut?”

“They have very berry. We can switch.” You offered as you leaned on the handle. You’d rather one untainted by the super soldier.

“No, not, it’s cool. I like maple.” She shrugged. “Oh! I almost forgot. We desperately need toilet paper.”

You followed her as she marched ahead of the cart and you sighed. As you turned down the next aisle your eye caught a broad silhouette near the check out. Steve smiled as he placed the box of oatmeal on a shelf of chocolate bars and stepped over the chain that marked the counter as closed. He winked just before you disappeared down the row of paper towels and wipes.

Eastern Vale Hotel was far. You almost didn’t get there in time. Gia had taken her time that night, her usual procrastination as bedtime neared. Alas, she had an opening shift and you tiptoed out quietly as you her fan began to whir. You locked the door carefully behind you and rushed down to the street. You jogged to the next block and hopped in a vacant cap, numbly reciting the name of the hotel.

When you arrived, you had only a few minutes to climb the three flights to the room. You didn’t want to chance waiting for the elevator as it lagged. You counted the rooms until you reached 346 and you shivered. You raised your hand to knock but the door opened before your knuckles landed against the wood.

“Thought I heard you hiding out here,” Steve greeted. He wore nothing but a pair of jeans as the television babbled in the background. You stared past him into the room. You couldn’t bring yourself to step past the threshold as your entire being seized with dread. “Well, you gonna come in or should I just fuck you out here? Think the hotel might have a policy against that.”

You shook your head and stepped inside as he pressed himself to the door. You gulped as the lock clicked behind you and looked around the room. It was a pretty decent hotel. It was at least preferable to the Motel8. He followed close enough that you could feel his heat against you. You tried to move away from him but he caught the waist of your pants held you in place.

“Come on, let’s not play shy. Boyfriend’s gone, you’re on your sister’s couch. Really, I’m all you’ve got now. Best enjoy it while it lasts.” Your nostrils flared and you turned to slap him. He caught your hand and brought you against him. He bent your hand back until your wrist threatened to snap. “You really wanna play rough?”

Fuck. You had already messed up. He released your hand and you hissed in pain. He grabbed your neck instead and pushed you away from him. He led you back at arms length, his grasp unyielding. Your knees hit the side of the bed and you clung to his wrist as you struggled not to stumble. He released you with a light slap on your cheek.

“That’s a warning.” His fingers tugged at the vee of your shirt. “If you’re not naked in one minute, I’ll mean it next time.”

His jaw clenched and he back away with a sneer. You looked down to hide the chatter of your teeth and bent to remove your sneakers and socks. Next your pants as you blocked out the reality of his presence. You knew you couldn’t avoid it. You were here. You were trapped. This man had shown you there was no escape. Then your shirt as you stood straight, your bra and panties with resignation. You piled your clothes beside his on the couch near the end of the bed next to his.

He grabbed your upper arm and shoved you towards the bed. “Sit,” He ordered as he released you. You lowered yourself and he stood before you. He was naked. His cock was already hard. He stared down at you, his blue eyes pondered you and he stepped back. He turned and neared the small fridge just beside the television. “You think a drink would help you relax?”

You shook your head and looked down. The offer made your stomach turn. You didn’t need his meager kindness. You didn’t want to make this easier for him.

“No? Fine with me. Stuff tastes like shit to me and it doesn’t even give me a buzz.” He shrugged and neared once more. He sat beside you, his thick thigh against yours. It was even more obvious how much bigger he was than you. How much stronger he was. “You could try, I mean, we both know you enjoy yourself. You just can’t help it.”

“Fuck off,” You stiffened and made to stand.

He caught you and pulled you back down. He pushed you back against the bed, your legs bent over the side as he held you to the mattress. He leaned over you, his breath hot on your cheek, and he snarled. “You can try not to like it, but I know you will. And you can try to resist, but it’s going to happen. So, you can stay still and be a good girl or you can be a bitch and I can treat you like dog you are.”

He tugged on your hair until your exclaimed. The tears rose in your eyes and you forced out a response. “Okay, okay, ow. Just let go.”

“Two strikes,” He released you and stood.

He planted himself in front of you and pushed your knees apart. You closed your eyes as you let him move your legs. He gripped your thighs and you felt his weight against you as he lowered himself to kneel before you. You peeked down at him and hid your surprise. His gaze was fixed on your pussy.

He bowed his head and you squeezed your eyes shut once more. You felt his breath against you and shivered. His hands kneaded your thighs. He didn’t fail to notice the tremble. He nuzzled your little tuft of hair and you struggled not to squirm. You weren’t ready for this. You had braced yourself for his usual gruffness, but nothing so intimate. It was an act of dominance in itself. He knew you would quickly dissemble.

As his tongue met your pussy you inhaled sharply. You clawed at the blanket and bunched it in your fists. Your back arched without thinking and your toes pointed. He dragged his tongue deliberately up and down your folds. You swallowed back the moan that bubbled in your throat. Your thighs tensed and he squeezed them. He could feel the instinctual reaction of your body.

He lapped again and again. Several times before his tongue swirled around your clit. That surprised you and a squeak escaped your lips. The sound only encouraged him. He circled his tongue over and over. Suckled as your legs began to close. He pushed your thighs to the side of his head as he buried his face between your legs and you rasped through bared teeth. You couldn’t fight the surge.

You slapped your hand over your mouth as you cried out in ecstasy. Your thighs clamped around Steve’s head and your back arched. The electricity flooded through you until you were left breathless and weak. Your legs hung over his shoulders as the after waves rolled over you. You rarely came so fast.

“I told you,” Steve taunted as he wiped his mouth.

He grabbed your ankles and stood. You thought to turn and crawl away from him but you hear this threat echo in your head; ‘Two strikes’. A third would no doubt lead to worse. He leaned your legs against him as he stepped closer. He reached down and angled his cock against your entrance. He gave no warning as he pushed inside. You whimpered and balled your hands around the blanket at your sides. The bed shifted beneath you.

He lifted your ass from the mattress and bottomed out. You grit your teeth as his hands gripped your hips. He pulled out of you and thrust back in as hard as he could. You exclaimed at the pain. He repeated his motion and your hands latched onto his as he used your body. Your weight rested on your shoulders as you hung at an angle atop the bed. You felt the familiar bloom and swore.

“You gonna cum?” He teased. “Hmm? I can see it.” He grunted as he rocked into you, your moans grew louder by the moment. “You just can’t handle a real man can you?” You mewled and felt the gush around his cock as you came. “There it is. Look at you. So messy.”

You growled as you tried to withhold another orgasm but were surprised by another eruption. The phone rang but Steve did not slow. He reached over and grabbed the receiver, his voice strained as he answered; his heady breaths uncensored. “Yeah?” He raised a brow at the chatter from the other end. He shrugged and sped up. “Sure, whatever.”

He hung up and snarled. He pushed you further up on the bed and shoved his knees on the mattress beside you. Your legs were bent to your chest as he raised his pelvis and slammed back into you. You cried out in double-edged pain. Despite how rough he was, it felt so delicious. He brought his hand up and clasped it over your mouth.

“They said we gotta shut up,” He rasped in your ear. His motion never wavered as he folded you beneath him. He delved even deeper than before and you came with a whine into his palm.

He hammered into you and you were certain the bed frame would collapse. You moaned against his hand; the smell of his sweat filled your nostrils. His dark blond hair hung around his head and tickled your cheek. He slowed to sharp jabs and plunged decisively to his limit as a deep grunt tensed his body. He rode out his climax as his cum burst within you.

He stilled and rested his weight atop you. He hung his head and his hand slipped from your mouth. His breath evened out, humid against your neck, and he clung to you as he suddenly rolled over. He took you with him so you were atop him and you looked down at him with dazed eyes.

“Fuck me,” He ordered. You blinked at him in confusion and he smacked your ass. “Move.”

You carefully began to rock your hips. Your sensitive clit rubbed against him and you shuddered. He kneaded your ass as you balanced yourself with hands against his chest.

“Faster,” His eyes followed the movement of your body and his hands followed. He cupped your breasts and flicked the nipples as he played with them. He squeezed them together as you followed his direction. “Faster.” He said again and his hands slipped to your waist. “That’s it.” He said as you bucked against him wildly; both in obedience and an effort to catch your budding orgasm. “You’re gonna cum already, aren’t you?”

You threw your head back and pressed your lips together to keep from crying out. Your nails dug into his flesh as you orgasmed and you eased yourself down from the crest. He sat up and hooked his arms under your legs and you clung to him to keep from falling off. He stood with you aloft, legs bent and wide as he kept you on his cock.

He walked across the room as if you weighed nothing. You felt a cool breeze along your back and glanced over your shoulder as he neared the window. It was open just a crack, the curtains pulled back entirely. He pushed your back against the glass and you wriggled helpless in his grasp.

“You don’t wanna draw attention to yourself, do you?” He hooked your legs around his waist as he spoke. “Better hold on.”

You hooked your legs around him as he pinned your wrists against the window. He thrust into you, resuming the same harsh pace as before. You felt the glass strain and your eyes widened. If the window broke, you were fucked. Given the force with which he was fucking you, if you didn’t hold on, you’d go flying down the next block.

“Did Ethan not fuck you good enough, huh?” The mention of his name made you blanch. Your sweaty back stuck to the window as he jolted your body against it and you surrendered. This was what you were now. Ethan was gone and you were just...this. A thing to be used. Humiliated. “ You’re so fucking tight. Goddamn.”

He swore and bottomed out. He filled you once more with his cum and you closed your eyes as the wave of euphoria was replaced by revulsion. With him. With yourself. You shook as he let go of your wrists and you leaned against him to get away from the glass. He his hands went to your ass and he turned back to the room.

“I was thinking the couch next? Maybe the chair?” He snickered as he crossed the room. “Then we can clean up in the shower…”

tags to be added in reblog

#getaway #homecoming #nomad steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #fic #series #au #steve rogers #dark fic #dark!fic #dark!verse #darkverse #captain america #mcu #marvel

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krinatheladysnake · 4 years

Text

Lady Snake (and the Jedi Killer) Chapter 6

Summary: The galaxy calls her Lady Snake- a quick and merciless killer. Kylo Ren calls her a nuisance.Krina, a Commander and the only other Force user of the First Order, despises what the dark side has become and wishes to return it to its true state of power but what she hates the most is the naive man-child ruling over it.

Chapter 6: Reluctor (To Struggle Against)

Words: 2,112

Krina would rather be doing anything else right now- anything. She could make a whole list and organize it accordingly. Kriff, dying would be right at the top- even only a few days after her nightmare. Instead, she was standing beside Kylo Ren on a planet all too new for her.

Salt crunched against thick, black soles, leaving a trace of Krina’s path through the newly exposed red crystal. It was beautiful, unlike anything she had seen before. The perfect layer of white could be mistaken for snow when looked at from afar but up close it was coarse and rough. She had to be careful of how she stepped, due to the slickness of the planet’s surface, as she followed Kylo’s lead and made her way to the corpse of a battle that had taken place only months before.

Much to her dismay, Krina was ordered to stay on the Finalizer while a small portion of the First Order took to Crait in hopes of cutting off the Resistance and destroying them. She was restless, wanting to be in the middle of it all. She was more than capable of causing serious damage to anything the Resistance threw her way. The First Order knew she was the perfect person to go in and do the job but pride got in the way of seeking true success. And of course Kylo Ren stood in her way, ordering her to stand down.

The Resistance had grown accustomed to dealing with Kylo. They knew his motives and the way to break him down. It was surely going to be his downfall. They didn’t know Krina in the same way. She was a mystery to them, something of their nightmares that only ended in bloodshed with a devilish smile. It was no secret that the Resistance’s hatred for her exceeded anything they felt for Kylo. Even then, she wanted nothing more than to stand in front of them again and watch fear cloud their judgment.

Krina continuously shifted her gaze between the terrain in front of her and Kylo’s large frame as they trudged on, resorting to using the end of her long, delicate cape as a cover for her face as a strong gust of wind sent flumes of salt spiraling. A small group of stormtroopers followed behind them as a precaution but kept their distance. As the wind-picked salt began to settle, the Resistance outpost and remnants of the battle came into view. The pair took attentive steps into the wreckage.

A few First Order machines were the first to catch Krina’s eye due to the dark grey shading out against pure white. AT-AT and AT-M6 walkers had begun to cover in salt as if it were snow, causing only about half of each walker to be accessible to her. Large chunks of the armored exterior were missing from blasts, the impact of collapsing, and even time. Krina stared down at the AT-M6 beside her, scanning what had remained of it. It was apparent that it had been shot down by something Resistance owned since the wounds were small and plentiful. She took note before she continued to walk towards her destination, trailing a little behind her superior who didn’t need to assess the damage he had inflicted.

Catching sight of a lone skim speeder, a V-4X-D to be exact, is what caused Krina to stop again. The quality of the speeder, what was left of it anyway, showed its age. It was practically in pieces. First Order blasters and cannons were far more powerful than anything the Resistance could dream of making. Krina was surprised this one held up as well as it had. She bent down, landing on her knees. She put one hand on the metal, shivering at the cold, and closed her eyes. She invited the Force to take over and it flooded her senses.

A slowly moving image played in her mind of the skim speeder losing its balance as it, and its pilot, narrowly avoided First Order bullets and collided with the salted terrain. Fear and a sense of acceptance hit the pilot all at once before their heads lulled to the side as the speeder landed on top of them. Krina didn’t flinch at the sight or the ghastly emotions. The image slowly disappeared and Krina was staring back at the vehicle again.

“Force echoing?” Kylo questioned as he looked at her from over his shoulder. Krina looked up at him, pursing her lips.

“You’d know I could do that if you actually paid attention to anyone but yourself.”

Years ago, Krina had mastered her ability to use psychometry. Most called it “Force echoing,” much like Kylo did, but it was hardly technical terminology. It was a skill very few Force-sensitives were born with and those who mastered it could acquire information about objects just by touching them. Krina had been one of those few and was the only known Dark sider who possessed such a power. It was just another piece that made her so vital to the First Order. She could feel the jealousy radiating off of the man ahead of her.

Krina straightened out and made her way over to Kylo. The pair walked side by side once again, their eyes on the only real reason they were on this waste of a planet in the first place. The massive, metal mine shaft door was sealed shut with one massive crack running all the way down it.

“The battering ram cannon only managed to put a crack in it?” Disgust oozed out of Krina’s words.

“It was successfully opened.” The sternness of Kylo’s correction trailed off as his eyes scanned the mysterious door.

“Then, why is it closed?”

“Isn’t that the reason why we are here?” Kylo snapped and Krina rolled her eyes.

It made the pair look so small as it towered above. It was quite comical how someone as tall and intimidating as Supreme Leader Kylo Ren seemed so insignificant against it. Krina took a step forward and closed her eyes.

“You do not truly think you can open this door after it took death star technology to open it the first time?” Kylo snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. Krina kept silent and deepened her breathing, using the Force to will the door open. As the door creaked and began to lift, Krina smirked proudly to herself. She could feel Kylo’s scowl burning a hole in the back of her head. It was an inconvenient day for him to decide to leave his helmet on this ship. As the stormtroopers approached, they all gasped at the sight.

“Kylo Ren can’t do that,” One of them whispered under his breath, trying to keep his words to himself as much as possible. Krina threw her head back and let out a loud cackle as Kylo threw out a hand and squeezed around the trooper’s throat.

Krina really was a lot stronger than she let on. She was going to have to boast about this when she was back on the Finalizer, tell Hux how Kylo Ren’s blood boiled, and maybe try to impress a few Knights of Ren. If only the First Order would have let her attend the mission the first time around. Whether she was strong or not, the amount of power and manipulation of the Force it took to open the door knocked the wind out of her. She tried her best to not let her newfangled exhaustion show as she very slowly and cautiously stepped inside.

The outpost was a skeleton of what was already a bare bones operation. It had been stripped, forgotten, further abandoned. Dust, grime, and dirt had begun to rest in cracks and on the tops of surfaces. All machines had been powered down or destroyed.

Truthfully, Krina couldn’t quite understand how the Resistance found a place as desolate and outdated as Crait to be useful to them but then again, they were terrible at making just about any decision. And this time, they managed to get away but their fleet was continuing to dwindle. Had she been allowed to go, the Resistance would no longer exist. Then again, maybe Krina would no longer exist instead. This could have been the very place where she fell. The very place where the Resistance showed her no remorse, where Kylo Ren stood with them as they struck her down.

Kylo Ren. Krina quickly abandoned the crates and searched for him. Stormtroopers, deserted equipment, and no sign of the Supreme Leader. Panic. All that settled in Krina’s bones was unbridled panic. Was this all just a ploy? A way to get her alone so he could put an end to her?

Had he really left her behind?

Krina pushed past stormtroopers and searched everywhere. Her mind was racing and she didn’t stop for a second to think of utilizing the Force. She was so used to cutting him off from her mind and keeping her distance that searching for him in a way that made them both vulnerable felt foreign and sinister.

While running a shaky hand through strands of hair that had fallen out of a haphazard ponytail, Krina let out a breath. Pain, manifesting as both physical and mental, caused the sigh to come out as a whine. The whole world seemed to freeze around Krina as she unraveled.

“Kylo.” One simple word came out in a broken whisper. Something tugged at Kylo as he searched the premises in a room that veered off from the main hangar. It echoed in his mind, practically screaming at him. Something was wrong. Immediately, he thought of Krina and all the ways she could be causing trouble.

Krina was so frantic, she didn’t realize Kylo, out of breath and disheveled, had arrived at her side. A gentle touch and soothing voice shook her out of her thoughts.

“Krina,” He practically whispered back to her. She looked up at him, eyes wide. “What have you done?”

“Nothing!” She scoffed, stepping away from him. “I don’t spend all my time causing problems for you.”

“I sensed a disturbance. I only thought-”

“Well, you were mistaken. Whatever you sensed was not from me. If you don’t recall, I tend to keep you cut off. I don’t need to be interrupted by your unbalanced connection with the Force.” Krina’s words were a string of defenses to cover a moment of weakness. Hopefully, that was something Kylo couldn’t sense. He did.

“The Force does not lie, Krina. I would not have abandoned my search to come to your rescue if it was nothing.”

“My rescue?! You can do that now when it’s misplaced but not when I was dying?!” Krina’s voice echoed through the bunker as her volume continued to get louder. She was yelling at the Supreme Leader of the First Order with no remorse. Kylo’s facial features twisted in confusion.

“Dying? When were you dying?” His works cracked and frayed at the seams. The thought of Krina dying struck fear in both of them. Krina’s eyes doubled in size before she tried to normalize her expression and erase any signs of her former panic. This nightmare had continued to seep into moments in her life and blur the edges of reality, which she was losing her grip on.

“Unimportant,” Krina mumbled as she turned on her heels and walked back towards the crates she had been rummaging through. Kylo followed closely behind her.

“I only found pieces of broken speeders and a holopad that seems to be damaged,” Krina kept her eyes on the items as she listed them off. No part of her wanted to explain her words to Kylo Ren of all people. Kylo blinked at the change in conversation.

“The holopad could be an important piece. If we can get it working, we can essentially come in direct contact with the Resistance.” Kylo commented, keeping his eyes on Krina. Nothing on this planet was worth what had just happened between them. He wasn’t going to let her off the hook.

“So this wasn’t all for nothing?”

“No, I suppose not. Although, one holopad hardly seems like a victory. We need to bring this back to the Steadfast immediately.” Kylo barked the orders loud enough for the stormtroopers to hear and marched out of the hangar. Krina hesitated before she followed behind with her head hung low. Silence became a close friend on the trip back.

The sudden echo in the Force, Krina’s broken expression, and her eerie words played back in Kylo’s mind over and over again like a broken record or a dream he couldn’t shake.

#dailyreblogs #kylo ren x oc #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #ben solo fanfic #ben solo imagine #ben solo x oc #lady snake #lady snake and the jedi killer #krina #star wars fanfic #star wars imagine #star wars fix it #ben solo lives #tros fix it

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dimpled-gukkie · 5 years

Text

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

A/n: This is a sequel to Fell for You but you don’t have to read the first drabble to understand this one.

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

Warnings: someone gags, one curse word

Genre: fluff, kinda college au but not really

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: The rain pours down around you as you walk back to the dorm, cold and shivering. Thankfully you have a cute boyfriend to warm you up.

The rain trickles down from the sky, angled perfectly when paired with the wind so it makes sure to hit your face and render the hoodie that is supposed to be protecting your head useless. Are you surprised? Not really because your life is just a series of misfortunes. Are you going to look in the mirror when you get back to the dorm and look like a wet raccoon? Most definitely as you blink hastily to get the mascara out of your eyes. As if the world wants to make your day even worse you can hear the daunting sound of a skateboard approaching, the wheels thumping rhythmically as they glide over the uneven pavement. You glance down at your white shoes, ones that are already becoming drenched, but as the puddles begin to grow around you you can already imagine them becoming soggy as the skateboarder gets closer. It feels like when you’re standing on a curb and watching a car speeding by, knowing and accepting your fate of them splashing the sitting water in the road up on you. Okay maybe you’re being a little dramatic but you’re cold and about to be soaking wet.

The sound gets louder and louder, so loud that your ears twitch as the close proximity and you close your eyes as if not seeing them roll by will prevent you from the inevitable death of your favorite pair of shoes. Oddly enough though as they roll by your shoes feel absolutely nothing. There’s no additional wetness, they don’t feel like a sponge in texture, they’re perfectly fine. Peering one eye open you immediately close it after being pelted by the fattest raindrop of all time, and quietly curse the weather. You love the rain but only when you’re prepared. Cautiously you open your eyes again only to spot a boy sprawled against the grass, speaking of which looks like a mini swamp with all the standing water. You grimace. You go to take a step forward and stumble over their stupid skateboard, meeting Jungkook did nothing to lessen your hatred for the things, and step in possibly the deepest puddle of all time. You could scream as the water penetrates your shoe, your socks instantly molding against your foot uncomfortable and your shoes squeaking with each step. “You okay?” You ask as you reach the end of the sidewalk, unwilling to step onto the grass. You saw them load it with fertilizer earlier in the week. “Umm…you’re not dead right?” You ask, hesitantly reaching out to nudge his leg with your foot.

“Internally yes.” He grumbles and pushes himself off the grass, clothes covered in a thin layer of watery mud. He stills for a minute before gagging, spitting into the grass several times. “My mouth tastes like shit.”

You ponder telling him but decide it’s better not to. He’s already had a bad day. With a scrunched nose, he runs his palms down his sides in an attempt to push excess water off except it just makes his clothes stick to his torso more. He does have a nice chest though, not that you’re looking. “Glad you’re okay.” You say affirmatively and the guy smiles at you, cheeks dimpling before beginning to trudge away. You watch after him for a second before remembering something.

“Hey dude! You forgot your skateboard.” You call, turning back to retrieve his item and holding it out to him. HIs eyes round and lips slightly part, and for a second it looks like pure adoration is in his eyes. This man is really looking at you like you’re the love of his life for returning his skateboard. Truly, what a day this has been.

“Thank you so much! I can’t believe I forgot this after it did this.” He gestures to his soiled clothes, ones that are already beginning to turn brown as the dirty water seeps into the fabric.

“Yeah. Maybe wash them right away to try and get the stain out.” The boy smiles again and laughs.

“Will do. I’m Namjoon by the way.” He sticks a large palm out for you to shake and oddly it’s still pretty warm for it being so cold outside. He visibly jolts at your icy hands and you laugh, used to that reaction from other people due to your poor circulation. “Are you okay? Your hands are freezing.”

“Yeah poor circulation is all. They’re always like that.” You shrug it off before standing there awkwardly.

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” The boy teases.

“Oh yeah. It’s Y/n.”

“Well I hope to see you around.” He smiles and you nod before walking away hastily to get out of the rain.

When you get to your dorm building Jungkook is already waiting outside, perched against a stair railing as he huddles under a small ledge that provides cover from the rain. “Baby!” He cheers, pulling you into a tight hug before whining about your drenched figure.

“I mean I don’t know what you expect.” You giggle, swiping your card so you both can enter. You shiver as the warm air hits you and Jungkook turns to you with a slight frown.

“Your teeth are chattering.” He pouts, large hands resting on the sides of your face, his thumb stroking your jawline to warm them up. Your cheeks heat at the gesture and you look away shyly despite having been dating him for a few months. What can you say? You’re a sucker for only one skateboarder on campus. But how could you not with his sweet eyes, long curly hair, and adorable demeanor. Sure he’s occasionally a brat like that time he let his friend Jimin put salt in your drink just to see your reaction but he’s also the sweetest boy you’ve ever met. Especially as he immediately ushers you out of your hoodie and giving you his own when you enter your room and pushing a thermos of hot chocolate into your hand, one that he spent the last of his paycheck on to buy for you from Starbucks.

When you’re changed and snuggled up with Jungkook under a blanket, hands wrapped around the thermos that you’re sharing despite Jungkook’s words that “I got it for you not for me”, you both drink fervently out of it in an attempt to warm up.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.” You mumble, blinking slowly as the sleep begins to take over. You’re far too comfortable and too warm to stay awake, especially with the way Jungkook’s chest lulls you to sleep as it gently rises and falls. He brings a hand up to your shoulder, brushing up and down the skin there gently.

“It’s alright. I’m just glad you made it back safely. Was worried you were gonna drown in a puddle or something.” Despite his teasing about your own clumsiness you can still hear the concern in his voice, see the slightest draw of his brow as his anxiousness at your tardiness resurfaces in his mind. Quickly you reach up to press a kiss to his jaw despite the awkward angle and smile as you see the tension quickly dispel.

“I really am sorry. This guy wiped out while I was walking back and I decided to help him.”

“That was nice of you.” Jungkook mumbles, shifting you so you can lay between his legs and fully against his chest. His arms wrap tightly around your figure and he presses a small kiss to the crown of your head.

“Yeah. I think I’ve seen him in one of my classes. His name is Namjoon.”

“Kim Namjoon?” Jungkook asks.

“Not sure. He only said his first name.”

“Grey, kinda purple hair. Dimples.” Jungkook provides.

“Yeah I guess he’s Kim Namjoon. Unless there’s another grey haired guy with dimples around campus.”

“If he hurt himself it’s definitely Namjoon. The guy is the most clumsy person I’ve ever met and I’m dating you.”

“Hey!’ You yell as you twist around in Jungkook’s arm to deliver a small slap to his chest. His eyes are crinkled at the corners, nose scrunched as his grin takes over his entire face, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “You suck.” You pout and Jungkook can only laugh harder, smushing you into his frame as he curls into himself. Only when he calms down does he press a soft kiss to your lips and untangles an arm from around your waist to brush some of your hair out of your eyes.

“You don’t really mean that. You love me.” He says definitively, like he’s never known something to be more right in his life. He’s not wrong.

“I do. Even if you’re a skateboarder.”

“I don’t even understand your vendetta against the inanimate object. What has it ever done to you.”

“You literally knocked me down the first day we met because you lost control on that thing!”

“Don’t blame the board babe. It was an accident.” You huff in indignation and Jungkook only grins, pressing another kiss to your nose. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“I can’t believe you just said that. That’s such a cliche.” You giggle and Jungkook narrows his eyes before tickling your sides.

“I-I’m sorry! I take it b-back!” You stutter as his deft fingers dodge your attempts to stop his attack.

“Great. Now settle down I’m tired and I just want to take a nap with you.” Gently he removes the thermos from your hand, but not before drinking half of it and placing it on the desk next to your bed.

“You only date me for my bed don’t you?”

“Nah. I date you for the free snacks too.”

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spacebiotics · 4 years

Text

inspired by @deviantalicee TVD!Verse

A GavAllen oneshot in honour of Chp. 7 that I’ve been sitting on for a while; some liberties taken with the fic canon, continues under the cut

Gavin wasn’t entirely sure how they got here.

The follow-up SWAT session had ended hours ago; Allen had called him in for another assessment and he had found himself unable to say no to the guy. The past few months, they’d been for a couple of drinks, hung out and actually started to become friends, fuck, he’d actually learned that Allen had a first name - Joseph.

Gavin knew the rumours about the man having a thing for him. He could see it in the way Joseph smiled at him, the light in his eyes whenever they spoke and Gavin knew that they were true.

He knew Allen was the one that kept slipping heat patches into his locker, Gavin had noticed them starting to turn up after he had complained one day about the ever present pain in his bones that wouldn’t quite shift. Hell, the guy had even seen his cybernetic arm. He hadn’t freaked the fuck out when he saw his purple blood and his white arm and didn’t start to ask a thousand questions that one particular afternoon they had both promised not to speak about.

Everyone kept saying that they’d be good together and in another life, maybe. Maybe if he hadn’t met Richard first and actually felt worthy of the kindness Joseph seemed so desperate on giving him.

So that was why Gavin didn’t know how they had ended up here.

Gavin had invited the guy back to his apartment. Gavin’s hip flared up shortly after the session had finished, the pain it always managed to bring had tears pricking at the corners of his eyes and Allen might have looked at him in just the right way to make his judgement crumble. Or was that improve? Who the fuck knows, Gavin just knew he was in dire need of some company and Richard was away on business, it was always just business.

And fuck, Allen was right fucking there.

So Gavin invited him back to his apartment. He had a pack of beer in his fridge and Joseph had rang the pizza place. Between the beers and pizza, the two of them ended up playing Call of Duty until it got dark.

Allen hadn’t said anything once it got dark enough to see the dim glow of Gavin’s spine through his worn out t-shirt. He had just smiled and laughed roughly like he always did before he slung an arm around his shoulder and suggested they watch a movie instead. Gavin got the sense the man couldn’t quite bring himself to leave but he didn’t find himself complaining as he stuck on Netflix and settled back against the sofa.

The last thing Gavin remembered before closing his eyes was Allen letting out a big yawn and when he opened them again - he found himself clinging to Joseph’s chest, the man’s arm draped softly over his shoulder and by fuck, if it didn’t feel good just to be held. Gavin blinked the sleepiness from his eyes, roused himself against Allen’s chest, stretching ever so carefully as to not agitate his hip further and felt the man underneath him do the same.

No, he shouldn’t be doing this.Gavin looked into those kind green eyes above him and, wow, no, he definitely shouldn’t be doing this.

“Wow, we really fell asleep, huh?” Joseph’s voice was still heavy with sleep as he spoke.

“Phuck, I think- I think we did, yeah.” Gavin replied with a yawn.

The two of them made no efforts to try and get up and leave. They both had agreed that nothing was to happen between them the first time they’d talked and Joseph was actually really supportive, even if a little concerned, about the relationship he had with Richard. They laid there, Gavin with his head on Allen’s chest, the two of them bathed in a dim blue glow. Gavin listened to the rhythmic sound of Joseph’s breathing before he finally felt the man tense and shift underneath him. The action made a heavy something sink in Gavin’s chest.

“Well, I guess it’s, uh, time for me to go?”

And fuck, he didn’t actually want Joseph to leave. The pain Gavin felt in his hip flared, crept along his bones and fuck if everything didn’t ache. The static in his head pressed in and in and no, he didn’t want to be alone. Not now. The heat from the man below him slowly bled into his skin and managed to make just a small dent in that chronic pain and fuck, he didn’t want to be alone.

It fucking felt good to be held so gently in Jospeh’s arms and this was definitely a bad idea.

“It’s late? Why don’t you stay the night?”

“I can leave, it’s fine.”

“Nah, Joseph, it’s late… stay. I insist.”

“... Only if you’re sure, Gav.”

The way Joseph said Gav never failed to make him feel just that little bit giddy. “I can take the sofa?”

Gavin was already disentangling himself from the man. He stood and winced as he stretched and felt his back pop, the all to synthetic feeling everytime he did it was something he still wasn’t used to. He turned and shot Allen a grin.

“I’m telling you now, this sofa’s phckin’ shit to sleep on. My bed’s big enough, it’s fine.”

Joseph just nodded and smiled tiredly at him, the warmth from it still managing to light up his eyes and it made Gavin’s chest ache. This was definitely a bad idea but Gavin couldn’t stop himself.

He reached out slowly and took Joseph by the hand, Gavin limping slightly as he led him carefully to his bedroom via the kitchen. A few minutes detour to fill a hot water bottle for his hip and they were finally in the bedroom.

Joseph stripped to his boxers and Gavin’s eyes might have lingered just a little too long on the scar that ran from his navel to just below his ribs before he shot the guy a shit-eating grin and chucked him an old baggy t-shirt. He had a thing for dangerous guys, sure, but fuck if a nice guy that was built like brick house didn’t make something in him race.

His grin dulled at the corners as the pain pressed in on him and Gavin shifted with a sharp in-take of breath, wincing as his hip throbbed and he hobbled his way to the bathroom.

“Everything okay, Gav?”

Allen’s concerned voice drifted through the door as Gavin undressed himself and put on his pajamas, he caught sight of his scarred face in the mirror and swallowed down his self-loathing.

“Yeah, I’m- I’m good. Thanks, Cap.”

He brushed his teeth and eventually flicked off the light. Gavin stood there for a few moments, the tiny space bathed in a dim blue glow and Gavin hated it, he fucking hated it. He hated himself. He hated his scars. Hated the ever present ache in his bones and the pain in his hip. The constant static in his head that wouldn’t leave, he fucking hated that too. The pain gripped tight, so much so, the self-hatred Gavin had swallowed down bubbled back up and he couldn’t help the tears that welled in his eyes. He wanted it all to stop for just a little while.

Gavin shuffled out of the bathroom, stopping when he noticed the man watching him. He shot Joseph a vacant grin, but Allen wasn’t fooled. Just like Richard, the man saw right through him.

“You okay?”

The concern in the man’s voice had all the feelings that he was trying his best to keep at bay suddenly crashing to the surface. Gavin faltered, cracked his grin wider and opened his mouth to answer. But instead of spewing his usual bullshit, a strangled sound escaped his lips and Gavin just...

He broke down.

Gavin made a face as he tried to swallow down the heaving breaths that so desperately wanted to escape his chest as sobs. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he watched Joseph silently climb out of his bed and make his way towards him. Gavin felt comforting arms wrap themselves around him and he couldn’t help but bury himself into the man’s chest, clinging onto him like a lifeline as he cried.

Joseph said nothing, he just held him and let Gavin take the time he needed to calm down. After a minute, Gavin felt Allen start to shift and he tightened his grip on him, suddenly inexplicably fearful that the man might leave. But instead, Joseph guided them both ever so slowly back towards the bed and he helped Gavin get into it once they were there. He made sure that Gavin had the water bottle pressed to his hip before he clambered into bed opposite him.

Gavin couldn’t help but cling to Allen with his free hand, fingers tightly gripping into his old t-shirt and he felt Joseph gather him up in his arms, pressing him ever so gently closer against his chest. It took a while, but between the comforting presence of Joseph in front of him and the water bottle on his hip, Gavin slowly started to relax.

Allen must have felt it, because he slowly started to run a hand soothingly through his hair. And fuck, fuck, fuck, it felt so good. To just be comforted and not have to worry about second-guessing intentions, to worry about some unforeseen manipulations that would undoubtedly come. In another life, Joseph would have been just what he needed, but fuck, if Gavin didn’t find himself drawn to that dangerous thrill that came with being together with someone like Richard, it was like a drug he just couldn’t quite get enough of.

Deep down, he knew he should push Richard away, Joseph was right there but Gavin kept going back. It made a shame tickle in his chest and- fuck, not now, feelings, thanks.

The sound of Joseph’s breathing calmed him further, the rhythmic rise and fall of the man’s chest managing to lull him into such a relaxed state. The pain in his hip started to shift just a little bit and Gavin found himself snuggling his face up in the crook of Joseph’s neck. The hand that Gavin had gripped in the man’s t-shirt had now somehow shifted to underneath, his thumb rubbing lazy circles around a smaller scar on the man’s skin because, fuck, he just needed to feel the guy.

Whatever this was, it wasn’t about sex.

The two of them just held onto each other in the dark, both bathed in a dim blue glow.

Gavin nuzzled at Joseph’s cheek with his nose before the man stopped him, a soft hand on his cheek which Gavin couldn’t help but bury his face into.

No this wasn’t about sex, it could have easily have been, they were both interested, but no. Gavin just needed someone, someone to hold him and to offer the comfort he kept telling himself he didn’t need. And for Allen, this would probably be his only chance he would get to tell Gavin exactly how he felt.

Joseph leaned forward and took Gavin’s lips in his own. The kiss wasn’t desperate, it wasn’t messy, it was intimate and slow; a silent way of expressing the feelings between them that would probably always be there. One kiss turned into two and two turned into three before Joseph pulled back and rested his forehead gently against Gavin’s.

He didn’t tell Gavin how he felt with words, he showed him.

You’re beautiful, you stupid man, don’t you see?

It wasn’t about sex.

I don’t quite believe you, but thank you.

If only Gavin had another life.

Tonight though, they just needed each other and Richard didn’t need to know.

#gavin reed #dbh gavin reed #captain allen #dbh allen #gavallen #tvd gavallen tag #im sitting on more if people are interested >=)#my drabbles

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lilhemmo · 5 years

Text

if we’re being honest

pairing: sweet pea x reader word count: 7,845 rated: T+ request: locked in a room due to inclement weather + holiday!fic links: masterlist | wattpad | ao3

a/n: so this is basically an enemies to lovers who start making out when they’re trapped in a room together describing the hatred they have for one another you know the drill :) let me know how i did HERE in my ask box!

You weren't planning on visiting the mountains for Christmas, but your parents are taking a trip to Europe and your siblings are still in school, so you're left with the rowdy crowd from the Southside. Cheryl has an extra house in the mountains – of course she does – and she offered it to whoever Toni wants to bring for the holidays.

Unfortunately, that also means Sweet Pea will be there.

The two of you have never gotten along, not from day one when the Serpents joined the Bulldogs at Riverdale High School all those years ago. You were vaguely friends with Betty and Archie, which meant that Sweet Pea had a natural aversion to 'your kind'. He always sneered at you when you would pass one another in the halls, and when you and Toni started to become friends, he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to make a snide joke on your behalf.

Your bags are packed and you're waiting on the front porch swing for Toni to come and pick you up. You're pretty surprised when she shows up with a large black SUV filled to the brim with people inside. You're not even sure that there's room for you inside when you see everyone's heads out the windows, screaming at you.

You laugh and they open the door, allowing you to clamber inside as Jughead puts your things in the back. Much to your dismay, the only seat that's open is the one all the way in the back. So, you duck your head down and push through Cheryl and Toni in the middle and practically fall into the backseat.

"Watch it," the voice in the backseat snaps.

Arms wrap around your shoulders and you look up to see Sweet Pea sitting in the window seat. The only open seat is next to him. You groan, rolling your eyes, "Great. Sharing a seat with a snake."

Sweet Pea scoffs and shifts further into the seat as you make your way under your seatbelt to buckle yourself in. He doesn't remove his arm from around the back of the seat, and you find yourself leaning forward just a touch so you don't feel the heat of his forearm on your neck.

Everyone who isn't driving passes around a bottle of liquor and you take a swig and pass it to Sweet Pea, but he waves his hand. You snort, rolling your eyes, "I'll take your shot for you then, Sweets."

You tip the bottle back and you swear that you see a smirk on his lips before you hand the bottle back to Toni. She raises a brow and points out the window, "Why don't we play a game?"

The group of you in the back play the ABC road game, seeing who can get to Z first. You're on Q whenever you feel your eyelids grow heavy. You push yourself further into your seat, your knees on the row in front of you. When Cheryl protests, you feel Sweet Pea's body stiffen and she sits back in her seat.

"I don't need to be intimidated by the likes of you, you slithering snake." Cheryl quips.

You poke your finger into her shoulder, "Cherry Bomb, shuddup. You're just mad you don't look this good in plaid."

Sweet Pea snorts out a laugh and as you settle back in your seat, you feel his arm drop from the headrest to your shoulder. You look up at him, your eyelids heavy, "Sick burn for a Northsider, huh?"

Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and pats you on the shoulder, "Yeah, Northsider. S'all right."

The next thing you know, your head drops back and your eyes fall closed, the steady hum of the car's engine lulling you to sleep.

You wake up to the sounds of your friends trying to clamber out of the vehicle when Jughead parks at a rest stop. You roll your neck and then, in frustration, let your head flop back onto your pillow. You groan, tucking your arms in on yourself to keep warm as the doors open to let in the cold air blowing down from the mountains.

The things that makes your eyes split open is the hand on your shoulder and the warm body that you're curled up against. You jolt upward, your seatbelt jerking against your neck and you begin to cough. Sweet Pea stirs beside you, lifting his head from the window.

He groans, "What the hell, man?"

You're already climbing out of the car when he starts to speak, so he's left with nothing but an empty automobile when he fully comes to. You walk inside and use the restroom, only to be bombarded by Toni Topaz herself as you exit.

"I see you and Pea getting cozy," she nudges you with her hip. You roll your eyes and shake your head but he beats you to it with a shrug of her shoulders, "I'm just saying, you look to be getting pretty cozy with the Serpent himself."

You make sure when you get back in the car that you cross your arms over your chest and look the opposite way from the window where Sweet Pea currently resides. He's quiet, which isn't abnormal, and you spend the remainder of your ride reminder yourself of all the reasons that you hate him.

To be honest, you can't quite come up with many.

"We're here, cadets!" Cheryl squeals, waking you from your half-sleep.

You wipe your eyes and sit up. Everyone is more alert now as Jughead brings the car around to the side of the beautiful log cabin. It's intricate, beautifully built with a sense of nostalgia. The surrounding ground is covered in trees and looks over a lake now turned to ice in the cold month of December. There's a fresh coat of snow on the ground and it makes the entire scene look like it should be in a calendar or an ad for a timeshare.

You're too busy taking in the snow and the blue skies that you don't notice an ice patch. Your foot skids and you think you're going to spend the first day of this trip in the emergency room, but a pair of hands catch you by the armpits and haul you up just before you bust your backside on the ice.

Over your shoulder, Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and huffs as he rights you back to your feet. He grunts, "Watch where you're walking."

Your face turns bright red as he brushes past you to help unload the luggage from the back. You carefully take your steps across the snow, watching your legs more than anything else. The door is open as Toni and Cheryl step inside, Betty not far behind. Your face is overtaken by a grin as you look around and absorb the inside of the cabin.

"It's beautiful, Cheryl," you comment as you walk around and gently run your fingers over the furniture. You look up at the stairs, "That where the bedrooms are?"

"Yes," she answers. Her red lips smirk, "Tee-Tee and I will take the bottom floor, where the master is located. Bughead will be upstairs, on the left, and you and Sweet Pea will be on the right."

Sweet Pea drops the bags in his hands, "Excuse me?"

"There's only three bedrooms, darling," Cheryl smiles but it looks forced. She drops a wink and grabs her frilly bags from the front door. "Did Toni not mention that?"

"No," he grits out the answer as he turns to his female best friend. He narrows his eyes and grabs her by the arm to drag her off to the kitchen. Their squabble can barely be heard from the living room, but it's very clear that they're going at it.

"I think that's Sweet Pea's bag," Cheryl gestures to a beat up brown leather duffle bag. You nod and pick it up in one hand and grab yours with your other hand. Cheryl shows you upstairs to where your room is going to be, and it's honestly perfect. It's rather unfortunate that your stay will be tainted with Sweet Pea's bad attitude and angry disposition.

"What the hell do you think you're doing with my stuff?" he barges into the room, snatching his bag out of your hands.

You resist the urge to smack whatever part of him you can grab for. Instead, you put on your meanest scowl and cross your arms over your chest, "You've got to be kidding me! I was trying to be nice, Sweet Pea. You could at least pretend to be grateful."

He stutters, looking at you from the side of his eyes but keeps quiet rather than admit defeat.

The two of you survey the bedroom and take note of quite possibly the worst thing – there's only one bed.

Instead of claiming the bed for your own, you take your bag over to the small couch and tuck your pillows against the arm of the furniture. You're minding your own business when Sweet Pea approaches you, taking you by the elbow.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You grit your teeth and look him in his eyes, "I'm being nice for the second time today. You're a lot taller than me, you can't fit on the couch."

"It would be really rude of me to make you sleep on a couch," he offers, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm used to uncomfortable living spaces, I'll be fine on the couch. You can have the bed."

You take a deep breath, "Sweet Pea, it's fine. I know you think because I'm from the Northside that it means I can't handle a little adversity, but I'll be all right."

"I don't-ugh, you're impossible!" He throws his hands up and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

You don't wait around for him, rather you walk down the stairs and smell coffee brewing and you smile. Toni pours you a cup and you hold it in your hands just to warm you up. Steam billows from the cup and heats your upper lip, and you're thankful that it's the simple things in life that can lift your mood – even after Sweet Pea's outburst.

"Where is the slimy serpent?" Cheryl speaks up after a moment.

"Oh," you shrug, pursing your lips, "he's probably sulking because I out-chivalried him."

Toni laughs behind her palm. Jughead rests his arm over Betty's shoulders and raises a brow, "What if we played a game?"

"Jug," Betty warns. She tilts her head and you laugh at the insinuation. Jughead rolls his eyes, "I'm not talking about G&G, Betty. Don't worry. I just mean we could play poker or something."

"What're we betting?" Cheryl pipes up, sitting elegantly on the elongated couch in the living room. Toni takes the spot next to her, pulling Cheryl's legs into her lap.

Jughead scoffs, "We don't all have a fortune like you, Cheryl."

"It's not fun if you don't put some sort of value on it." Cheryl argues with a pout. Toni rests her palm on Cheryl's thigh and looks her wife in the eyes, "Babe, he's got a point. Let's just drink and play some cards."

Cheryl pouts again but whatever Toni whispers in her ear satiates her long enough to start shuffling the cards. Jughead deals and you play a few rounds and drink a couple of beers before Sweet Pea finds his way down the stairs to join the group.

"What if we add stakes to the game?" Cheryl's tone implies that she's obviously bored. She looks around at the group of you gathered around the living room with brows raised and lips curved in a smirk. "Losers each have to admit one truth that none of the rest of us know."

You roll your eyes, "Cheryl, none of us want to know what your favorite position is. But, for your sake, I guess we'll play."

She snarls as she deals out the first hand. You manage to win, leaving everyone else to play the truth game. They all admit something minor, like favorite colors or foods or childhood memories that sat with them for far too long.

That goes around for a few rounds until you're all a little inebriated and you all lose a round to Sweet Pea. He smirks as he lays his cards out for you all to see, kicking his feet up on the table, "Spill."

Betty talks about her black lace, Cheryl tells that she was the one to burn her house down in high school, Jughead talks about the night he cut up Penny Peabody, and Toni tells a snippet from her childhood. Sweet Pea looks at you expectantly and before you can register what you're saying, you let a hefty secret fall from your lips.

"My mom is an alcoholic. She and my dad have been separated since it started a couple of years ago, but they don't want anyone to know." You laugh, as if it were any kind of funny, and continue, completely unable to stop. "She's hit me a couple of times, and my dad doesn't know, but I just feel bad for her."

Sweet Pea sits up and you see something shift in his eyes. He takes a sip of his beer and looks at you over the rim of it. Cheryl licks her lips and shuffles the cards again, sighing, "That was a real downer, dweeb."

Toni smacks her on the arm and gives her a look but you don't see it because you're dropping your cards on the table and walking up the stairs. You throw yourself onto the couch and cradle your pillow to your chest, silent tears slipping down your cheeks.

The door opens a moment later and you wave your hand over your shoulder, "Toni, it's fine. Cheryl is just being Cheryl. If someone out-stories her, she gets pissed and takes it out on everyone else."

"Not Toni, sorry to disappoint."

"O-Oh, I-I," you sit up and wipe at your face, suddenly very embarrassed. You swallow and look Sweet Pea in the eye, praying that you don't look too pitiful. "I went too far, like Cheryl said. I should've picked something else."

Sweet Pea makes his way to the couch, sitting opposite of you. He tilts his head, something somber sitting in his eyes as he looks at you. "I don't think anyone was expecting that, is all. People don't always react the right way to what they're not comfortable with."

"Is that why you hate me so much?" You laugh, rubbing under your nose. "Because I make you uncomfortable?"

He bristles, his muscles flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest. You shake your head and wave your hand in his general direction, "It's all right, Pea. I get it. I-I think I'm gonna go to bed."

Sweet Pea nods and pats your shoulder as he walks back to the door, "I'll let you to it, then. I'll go back down and tell them how you're plotting Cheryl's murder – should spice things up a bit."

"Yeah," you laugh thickly. "Keep her on her toes."

He gives you one last glance before he closes the door behind him. Footsteps echo down the hall and you know he's rejoined the others. When everything gets quiet again, you fall apart, tears coursing down your cheeks as sobs rack your body. You hold yourself around the middle, piecing yourself back together again like you always do.

You fall asleep cradling your pillow, curled up in the fetal position on the couch.

When you wake, you're sprawled out on the king-sized bed, covered by a duvet. You turn to see Sweet Pea laid out on the floor beside you. He's made a palette out of a couple of extra blankets and pillows he stole from the other side of the bed.

For some reason, you want to reach out and touch his cheek with your fingerprints, but you hold your resolve and stand to go to the bathroom and take a shower.

You take your time, soaking up the steam because you know once you step foot outside it will be freezing. You pull on a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt that has a collar to help cover your neck. You grab your jacket out of your suitcase and notice that Sweet Pea has moved to the bed in your absence.

With a chuckle, you step out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Everyone is already down, fixing breakfast. Betty is on pancake duty, Toni is taking care of the bacon, and Cheryl is cutting up fruit. You sit at the bar, crossing your arms and leaning your chin against them.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Toni puts a plate of strawberries and eggs in front of you. She pats your arm and you nod in response, letting her know that you're fine and you'll be fine, regardless of how Cheryl acted out last night.

You're almost done with breakfast when Sweet Pea makes it downstairs. You and Betty have decided to go into town and do some shopping while Cheryl and Toni occupy the hot tub out back. Jughead offers to go with Sweet Pea to a car show in town, so you agree to ride together.

Jughead drives and it's a silent car ride into town given the hour of day and the lack of sleep you're all experiencing. Betty leans over and kisses Jug on the lips before the both of you get out of the car and head towards the small downtown shopping center.

"So," Betty draws out the word, "you and Sweet Pea?"

"Is this just a big set-up?" you laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Betty shrugs, "Did it work?"

You roll your eyes and shake your head. "No. I slept on the couch and Pea took the bed. He still hates me, no matter how many sappy stories I tell."

"I dunno, I think you're making him soft," Betty leans into your side. The two of you share a giggle before stepping into a boutique.

It's nice to spend some one-on-one time with Betty, but you can only take so much shopping. Your feet ache and your stomach is growling loudly by the time you've gotten through most of the shops. Betty calls Jughead and lets him know that it's time for you all to head back for lunch and it takes another twenty minutes for them to come back. You spend the time in a coffee shop, warm cups held in your hands to keep out the chill.

"Finally," Betty teases as the two of you get back in the car.

Before too long, it's nighttime again and the boys are building a fire pit in the backyard. Toni is stocking up on s'mores materials and you help her to carry it out to your friends. Sweet Pea has scoured for the perfect spears to roast your marshmallows.

You speak up about not being able to cook your marshmallow right and Sweet Pea scoffs and mutters something along the lines of, "We can't all be perfect all the time."

"You know what, Sweet Pea?" You slam your stick into the ground and stand to your feet, stomping in the snow. "I'm sick and tired of your bad attitude. You're just as bad as Cheryl, if not worse. I never did anything to you, and yet you can't help but to cut me down every single chance you get."

Instead of sticking around to listen to what anyone else has to say, you walk out to the mother-in-law suite that is located to the left of the cabin-slash-mansion. You don't want to risk being able to bump into anyone after your outburst, you just need to be alone for a minute. You thought that Sweet Pea had begun to warm up to you, like Betty said, but the second you give him a little leeway he yanks the rope back.

You lean against the window and look out at the frozen lake glinting in the moonlight. The stars are glittering in the sky and fresh snow starts to fall outside. You know you won't be able to stay for too long, you don't want to risk too much snowfall barring you from being able to get back into the cabin. You're not sure which is better, honestly, because if you go back inside then you'll be forced to go back to your shared room with Sweet Pea. And he's definitely not the first person you want to see right now.

You're alone for about an hour or so, snow now coating the windows and piling up in inches on the ground. You know you should go back inside, but something is keeping you here. There's a small bed and a kitchenette, so if you absolutely had to, you could stay here for the night.

The door squeaks and you run your hands through your hair to try and calm yourself. You know your cheeks are red so you're not ready to face whoever is at the door.

You turn to give them a piece of your mind whenever you come face-to-face with Sweet Pea himself.

You stomp your foot like a petulant child, shaking your head, "I can't believe you won't just let me have this! Are you really that dense?"

"Wow," he whispers in awe. Sweet Pea shakes his head and his hair falls into his eyes, "Here I am, trying to apologize to you and you can't even hear me out."

"You don't get to play the victim here!" You shout as you step towards him. You poke your finger into his chest between his pectorals, "You don't get to act like you being a total ass to me for the last like, five years, is my fault. You don't get to do that, Sweet Pea."

He doesn't speak and you take the chance to snarl your lip and bare your teeth, "And while I have your attention – I'm sick of this childish act you've got going on. It's obvious it's something to do with me."

Sweet Pea stiffens, his hands on his hips. He looks up at the ceiling while inhaling deeply. As he lets out the breath, he returns to look you directly in the eye with a piercing glare.

"And that's how it goes, innit?" Sweet Pea sucks his bottom lip between his teeth before continuing, "It's always all about you, huh? You can't take a step back for a second and realize that maybe the world doesn't revolve around you?"

He laughs sarcastically, sounding more like a bark than anything else, "You come in and you make everything about you, all the time, and it makes me sick."

"I make everything about me?" You scoff. You step forward and narrow your eyes, closing in on him, "How dare you?! I have tried countless times to try and make you more comfortable. I avoid going to the Wyrm, I avoid going out to karaoke night, I avoid hanging out with Fangs too much because I know it bothers you. What the literal hell, Sweet Pea?"

You can hear his teeth grind together due to your proximity. He shakes his head, "You came in and took my family from me, don't you get it?"

There is a glassiness to his eyes and his lip curls, "You swooped in and took them from me. You came in and gave Toni another girlfriend, gave Fangs someone who'd watch The Notebook with him on repeat," he huffs, shaking his head, "and you started cleaning up the Southside, making the Serpents even more ashamed of their home than they already were. And here you are, making me out to be the bad guy."

"Sweet Pea," you reach out to touch his cheek but he whips his head away from you. His throat bobs and his breath is shaky, "Just...don't, okay? You've done enough already."

"Apparently," you throw your hands in the air. You wipe at your cheeks before speaking up again, "Sweet Pea, I'm not a friggin' psychic, you know?"

"I know!" Sweet Pea snaps, his jaw muscles trembling under the stress of the bite of his teeth. You widen your eyes but he does not stop. "I know, I get it. All I had to do was say something, right? But as soon as I said something, I made everyone else unhappy. If I said something, it would've meant you and Toni wouldn't be as close as you are now. If I said something, you and Fangs wouldn't hang out on Saturday nights."

His eyes get darker as he speaks and you notice the blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks. Your heart aches the more that he speaks, but you can't crumble because he won't let you. He needs this fight for some reason.

"If I had told you that you were taking my family away from me, the Southside wouldn't be getting better," he shrugs in defeat. Sweet Pea leans against the counter and rubs his hands over his face. "It just makes me so angry that you did something I couldn't, you gave the Southside something better than I could, and I've lived there my whole life."

"That's just the thing, Pea," you step forward cautiously. You smile sadly up at him, "You don't have to do it all by yourself."

He shakes his head, rejecting your suggestion, "What, so I just let the Northside infect my home?! I just let you come in and change things to your liking? You don't know what the Southside needs. You don't-"

"You all need a place to live," you fire back, regaining your confidence. Your nostrils flare and your body heats up at the gravity of the situation, the reality of what the Southside lives in. "You all need functioning plumbing and jobs and a decent school that doesn't facilitate drug dealing and early drop-outs."

"So we need you, huh?" Sweet Pea sneers.

"Maybe," you admit with a shrug.

"The Northside took my parents from me," he snaps. Sweet Pea's eyes are dark again and he looks down at you with a sadness in his soul that you can't quite understand but you're somewhat glad you don't. "The Northside needed runners for their drugs because they couldn't dare let one of their own take the fall for such a thing. My parents were trying to keep the heat on in our trailer, so they took it."

Sweet Pea lowers his head so you are mere inches apart, "A Northsider ratted them out when the heat got too close, and then they were killed in prison."

His eyes snap to yours and there's electricity buzzing in the air. You start to respond when there's a loud noise outside the door. You wrap your arms around yourself and he goes to carefully look out the window.

Only as he tries to open the door to inspect the sound, the handle won't budge.

He groans, planting his palm on his forehead to cover his eyes, "You've got to be kidding me."

"What?!" you begin to grow worried, panic evident in your tone. Sweet Pea looks across the room at you, "The lock is frozen and the snow is packed up outside of the door. Whatever had been collecting on the room sloughed off and is pressing against the front door."

"What does that mean?!"

"It means we're stuck, genius. Of all the people to be stuck in a tiny house with, I'm stuck with you."

"Seriously?! As if I want to be stuck here with you? You're insufferable."

"I-I'm insufferable?" Sweet Pea scoffs and narrows his eyes at you, "All you do is prance around and try to make everyone happy. Watching you try and suck them in with your innocent, Northsider act...It isn't exactly original, sweetheart. And it doesn't work."

"Northsider act?" you echo. Your brows knit together and you step closer to him, your hands in the air, "What makes you think it's an act, Sweet Pea? Maybe I'm just trying to be nice! Unlike you – who has to make every day of my life miserable the second you get the chance."

"You haven't seen miserable yet, doll," he smirks. There's a darkness in his eyes you can't quite capture, but it pulls you in and makes you pay closer attention. Sweet Pea's features smooth as he stalks closer to you.

"Really?" Your voice grows thick, "As if you trying every time we're together to make it the worst part of my day? You're always putting me down, reminding me that I'll never be at home in your serpent den. You take every shot you can at me, belittling my attempts at trying to keep the peace. I do everything I can to get out of your way and it still isn't good enough! What more do you want from me?!"

"Here you go, making it all about you again." Sweet Pea rolls his eyes and avoids looking too closely at you for fear of seeing the tears welling up in your irises.

He shakes his head but you beat him to it, "I get it, Sweet Pea. I'll never be good enough to run with you. Okay? I get it. I'll stop trying to desperately get your attention."

That stops him in his tracks and his eyes rake over your body in a way that sends a heat traveling upwards from your toes. You wrap your arms around your midsection and sniffle. Suddenly the room is too small, there's not enough space between the two of you. His breath is warm against your forehead, his body the only source of heat in the freezing space.

"Get my attention?" he finally speaks.

"Yes, okay!" You push your arms against his shoulders and he topples back a few inches, but not much. Your voice cracks but you repair it, "I-I have been trying for years to get you to like me, to get you to understand where I'm coming from, but no matter what I do, I'll never be enough. I get out of your way, I did something to piss you off. I come to some sort of friendly function, I piss you off. I-I'm so tired of-"

You stop talking because there's another pair of lips atop your own. Your body automatically melts against them, hands pressed flat to his abdomen as your mouth melds to his. His tongue touches the bow of your lips and you gasp, opening up to him.

He takes the chance to smirk against your mouth, "Pissed off is kind of my natural state."

"It works for you," you whisper, your eyes half-open. You glance up at him and you're not sure why this feels so good, but when his hands slide over your shoulders to your hips, you can't deny that your body is on fire.

Sweet Pea kisses you again, his thumbs brushing against your sides. He palms your back as you continue to kiss, enveloping yourselves in one another as the snow falls outside. Your noses bump and teeth knock, but you don't care because your insides have twisted up into something beautiful that releases itself as tiny noises that escape your throat.

"I still can't stand you," he murmurs against your jaw as his lips pucker on your skin. His tongue presses flat against your earlobe, "Clear?"

"Crystal," you breathe out the word as his hands cup under your thighs and pick you up just to deposit you on the countertop.

Sweet Pea nudges his nose along the column of your throat and your breathing hitches. You swear you can feel his smirk against your jugular as he traces his way down to your collarbones. He glances up at you but you almost miss it due to your eyelids fluttering closed, "You're cute when you're angry, by the way."

"Pea," you groan when his teeth bare against your shoulder, sinking into the skin there. He pushes your jacket out of his way and you go ahead and remove it, tossing it to the other side of the room. There are some sounds at the door, but you dismiss them as more snow falling in front of your only exit.

Your hands palm under his sweatshirt, trying to feel the curvatures of his muscles as they convulse under the stress of his arms holding you tight. You grapple with his hair using one of your hands, forcing him to look you in the eyes. His lips are full, swollen and pink and it makes something stir in your belly.

Sweet Pea goes to claim your lips again, but he's interrupted by the opening of the suite's door.

Unexpectedly, he steps in front of you and you grab the back of his shirt in a fist at the sound.

"I knew it!" Cheryl squeaks. "I knew if the two of you were left alone long enough, you'd be making cute little baby serpents."

"Cheryl," Sweet Pea points a finger in her direction.

Toni pushes past her and brushes snow off of her legs, "We helped Jug dig you guys out. We got worried after a little while. Wanna come inside? We lit the fireplace."

Sweet Pea helps you put your jacket back on and he walks closely behind you as you make your way back to the main cabin. It's warmer in there, that's for sure, but nothing matches the embarrassing burn of a blush on your cheeks at the realization that you and Sweet Pea were making out when just minutes prior you could've sworn that you couldn't stand each other.

Cheryl and Toni start to mix drinks while Jughead and Betty work out picking the best line up of movies for the night. You trudge into the living room with Sweet Pea, fidgeting with your fingers because his words still hang in the air: I still can't stand you.

You settle into the recliner, curling your legs up so your chin can rest against your knees. You look forward, unable to look him in the eyes because the anxiety crawling up your throat is too overwhelming. Betty slips in the movie 10 Things I Hate About You and you can switch your focus from the tall, brooding Serpent in the room to the television.

You wrap your arms around yourself and try your hardest to keep your eyes on the TV screen instead of Sweet Pea sitting across the room glaring a hole into the wall. You can feel his eyes wandering to you, and towards the end of the movie, he huffs and throws himself out of his chair. Toni turns to watch as he stomps up the stairs, his combat boots leaving an echo down the hall.

"You broke him," Cheryl sneers. "You broke Sweet Pea. Ha!"

Toni pushes Cheryl by the arm, standing up and walking towards the stairs. Your eyes follow her, but just as she gets to the base of the stairs, she looks over her shoulder and makes eye contact with you. Her lips are pulled in a tight line but her gaze is earnest.

You take the hint, picking yourself up out of the recliner and joining her as you walk up the stairs. She holds your hand as you hover in front of the door, unsure if you really should go in or if you should crash on the couch for the night.

"You break him, you fix him," Toni whispers before opening the door for you and pushing you in.

You stumble, trying to regain your ground as you take it all in. Sweet Pea is pacing the room with the lights off. He's mumbling under his breath but when he takes one look at you, he halts.

"What the hell? Can you not take a hint?"

Arms crossing over your chest, you take a step towards him, "Wow, Sweet Pea, how considerate of you. It's not like I left our friends downstairs so I could come up here and see what's wrong with you."

"Well then go back down there," he shrugs, his tone biting. Sweet Pea's throat bobs as his upper lip snarls. You roll your eyes and throw your hands in the air, "There is no pleasing you, is there?!"

He huffs and crosses his arms, "Pleasing me? Hah! Try pleasing you. What's the point?"

"What do you mean what's the point?!" You cross the room and jab your finger into his chest. Your eyes narrow, "Are you really in here throwing a temper tantrum because I wouldn't sit with you?"

"A temper t-seriously, what are we, five?"

You snort out a laugh and retract your hand, shoving your palms under your armpits to keep from smacking him across the face. He shakes his head and waves his fingers in your direction, as if you aren't worth his time. Your cheeks turn bright red and you fight off tears. You've about had enough of people telling you that you aren't good enough.

"Whatever," Sweet Pea scoffs. He walks towards the door, "I'm out."

He barely has enough time to jiggle the knob before you're spitting out: "Just like always, Pea."

You've got to be kidding me, Topaz, Sweet Pea thinks to himself as the door doesn't budge. He turns around on his heels to you, approaching you swiftly and making you shrink in on yourself.

"Watch it, Northside," his upper lip curls into a snarl and his eyes deepen. He holds his index finger just in front of your body, a gesture that makes your rib cage want to disintegrate.

"Here we go with the Northsider crap again." You roll your eyes and straighten your spine, "I get it, the Northside took your parents away from you. But you know what? They took mine too."

His body goes stone cold, his hand dropping from the space between you two to his side. You let out a shaking breath and swallow your pride, "The Northside takes and it takes and it takes, so I just try to give back every now and then and here I am, met with the unstoppable, immovable Sweet Pea. I'm so sick and tired of you trying to dissect everything I do and twist it into some double-sided agenda."

Tears leak over the edges of your eyes and your fingernails bite half-moons into your palms but you don't care. You continue, "If you didn't want me taking them away from you, maybe you should've shown us all that you cared!"

Sweet Pea's face is mere inches from your own, his eyes unable to focus on just one part of your face as you stare him down indefinitely. His hands shake by his sides, pent up rage coursing through his fingers.

You grit your teeth and your lips tremble, "I am so over this rotten attitude you have, Sweet Pea. Especially when it's targeted towards me-"

His mouth captures yours and you find yourself grasping him by the lapels of his leather jacket for just a moment too long before you push him off.

"You can't just kiss me every time I make you angry," you lick your lips and take a step back from him. You sniffle as angry tears wet your face. "I-I'm not some-some thing that you can keep quiet when I piss you off."

Sweet Pea tilts his head and you watch as his eyes soften. He takes a step toward you and reaches out but you yank your arm away. The pain that jolts through his features makes you want to be sad but you can't make yourself feel anything other than hurt right now.

"You're right," he whispers. Sweet Pea's throat bobs as he looks at you, imploring you to listen to him with just the look in his eyes. "I-I'm not normally this bad at explaining what's going on in my head, but something about you just-"

"Pisses you off, I know," you shake your head and roll your eyes.

Sweet Pea takes his thumb gently under your chin and tilts your head up so you're looking at him directly again. There's something new held in his gaze and you can't help it as your skin burns where his fingerprints stain.

"No, no," he laughs, "I mean, yes, but no. Not like that."

You try to keep your intimidating look on your features, but you can't help it as your expression falters at the sound of his laughter. You want to hold him by the cheeks and kiss his smile, but you can't let yourself crumble.

"I just mean that you're something I never saw coming," Sweet Pea shrugs as if it's simple. "You don't take my shit, but somehow you're so nice at the same time. I can't figure you out, and it pisses me off."

He reaches around to press his palms to your biceps and this time you don't flinch, "I want to figure you out, and that scares me."

"Why?" You ask, leaning into him. You touch his jawline with your fingertips before letting them fall back to his chest, "I-I just want you to be honest with me instead of us playing this chicken game to see who bows down first. It's getting old. Like, five years old."

"I know," Sweet Pea shakes his head and now your bodies are flush against one another. He chews on his lower lip before speaking again, "It just took me by surprise and then I found it was easier to be angry than to be honest and I don't want to be like that anymore."

"Then don't," you murmur before pushing yourself up on your toes. Your lips touch just barely, ghosting over one another as you shift your feet.

He considers you for a moment, and then, "Okay. If I'm being honest, I hate you."

You can't help the grin that tugs on your lips. You situate your hands against his pectorals, dangerously close to the tattoo on his neck as your fingers itch with the anticipation to trace it.

"I hate your attitude and your backbone." Sweet Pea nudges his nose over your own, his eyelids half-closed. He smirks, "I hate that you're unafraid and charming. I hate how genuine you are in wanting to help people, even the Southside. I hate that your smile makes me feel weird inside and that I want to hold your hand. Oh, and I really hate that we are going to have to share this bed tonight."

The two of you share a laugh but your breath hitches in your throat when his nose nuzzles the crux of your jaw and earlobe. Your eyelids close and you bite your lip to hold back the ungodly sound that wants to slip past your teeth. Sweet Pea licks his lips and the tip of his tongue brushes over your jugular, making your body convulses towards him.

"Also, I hate the fact that I really want to kiss you right now," he admits, his voice a whisper against the shell of your ear.

"Damn you," you murmur before dragging him by the back of his head back to your lips.

Sweet Pea is quick to grab you around your thighs, his fingertips digging into your skin as he hoists you up against his body. You wrap your legs around his waist and tangle your hands in his hair. He groans at the feeling of your nails raking over his scalp and down his shoulders.

He bumps into the lamp and it topples over. Once you're sure the lightbulb hasn't shattered everywhere, Sweet Pea is back to walking you in the general direction of the bed. He almost trips over the nightstand, knocking over the books and his phone in the process. He finally gets you with your back against the sheets, his lips suffocating you in the best way possible, and his hands are free to explore now that they're no longer holding you steady.

As his mouth traverses over your jaw and down to your collarbone, you dig your nails into his shoulders and pull at his plaid flannel. You manage to gasp out words between breaths as you feel his teeth bare against your neck.

"I hate your stupid smile," you start, kicking your knees up to get a better feel for him. You slip your hands under his shirt, "I hate your stupid muscles and your stupid eyes. I hate that you make me feel things other people can't, even when you're being a total idiot."

You tug on the set of dog tags around his neck, pulling him upward so he looks you in the eyes. He hovers over you and you wonder how you managed to get here, with Sweet Pea the Serpent of all people.

"Also," you echo, "I hate the fact that I really want to kiss you right now."

"We're in agreement then," he smirks.

You shrug, toying with the chain around his neck, "I guess we are. For once in our lives."

You pull down, wrapping your hand around the chain to bring him loser, "Just kiss me, you snake."

Sweet Pea's grin is the last thing you see before you close your eyes and let him envelope you in every part of him - mind, body and soul. His lips brandish you like an iron, white hot against your mouth and skin as he takes over your senses. His fingertips are scorching, leaving a path of molten lava in their wake as he trails them over your sides and up under your shirt. He traces your belly button up to your rib cage, the smirk never leaving his lips no matter how hard you kiss him.

Your teeth knock against one another and you tear at each other's mouths, pulling on his lips and him biting at your tongue. You dig your way into the nape of his neck, holding onto him so tightly that it makes him groan against your mouth.

"Can't believe it took me almost five years to do this," he gasps out onto your tongue. He nudges his nose over yours as he tilts his head to take a short breath before claiming you again.

You twist your lips into a smirk, taking advantage of his moment of weakness to turn him onto his back. You hover over him, your hands holding his hands hostage above his head. There's a brief second when Sweet Pea takes you in, his eyes wide as his lips part to let a puff of air through.

You lean down and capture his bottom lip between the bite of your teeth, tugging slowly, Sweet Pea following by tilting his head towards you. You swear you feel a whimper leave his lips, making his throat shudder.

"My turn," you whisper.

"I told you they'd bang if we left them alone long enough," Cheryl chirps.

Toni rolls her eyes, "I hate it when you're right."

a/n: so that was a LOT i hope you guys liked it!! i rewrote a couple scenes a couple of times so hopefully it turned out alright :) feedback is appreciated!!

TAGS: @rivendell101 @southsidewrites @cactiem @reblogserpent@sweetsserpentine @all-of-the-imagines-for-eve@worriestothewind @serpentcentral @serpentnanarose@sweetpeasjelloshot @thesweetestsweetpea @sweetpea-cc@cherysbombshell @beginningstofandom @southsidemistress@starryeyedparker @miffy-melly @exquisitley-obsessed@sweetpeasbabydoll @kinkysweetpea @writing-in-riverdale @the-gargoyle-queen @bitchiloveher @thesweetestsweetpea @sweetpea-fvck @serpentsluttsstuff @sweetsfuckingpea @sweetsserpent @sweetsserpentine @softherns @freakingbradleys @theangriestpea @sweetpeassweetpea @sweetpeasbellamy

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hotoffthepressfics · 5 years

Text

Teach Me How to Dance with You

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,832

Summary: After a botched mission the Reader tries to get closer to Bucky, but can she get passed his trauma and get close to the man underneath?

Warnings: Injury and violence, angst, fluff

Chapter Soundtrack:

“How ‘Bout a Dance?” - Laura Osnes

“Teach Me How to Dance With You” - Causes

“Try a Little Tenderness” - Frank Sinatra

A/N: Hands down, my favorite fic I’ve ever written. I hope you all enjoy this super fluffy piece. 💕

Distant rumbling shakes the destroyed building. Small clumps of concrete drop like hail. The heavy slab of wall shifts lower, putting more pressure on your pinned leg. You groan in pain; your brain scrambling to figure a way out. You had tried to contact the others, but your comm had been damaged in the explosion.

The mission was supposed to be straightforward. Clear out the Hydra cell, take back any intel gathered. Except that someone had been ready for you.

The ground shakes again as more aftershocks roll through the vicinity. The wall moves another inch lower. You scream this time, the pain becoming unbearable. You wonder briefly if this is where you’ll die when you hear someone shouting. You crane your neck to see who’s coming. A dark figure cautiously creeps through the dust and smoke, body in a battle ready stance.

“I’m – here! Please, help me!” Your voice grates against your throat, coughing as you inhale to speak.

The figure zeroes in on you, quickly approaching. It dawns on you that perhaps this wouldn’t be an ally, but an enemy. If it was an enemy then at least this pain would be over soon.

Relief floods your veins as soon as a certain super soldier’s features come into view. His eyes widen in recognition and he drops to your side.

“Y/N! Can you move?” Bucky asks, assessing your predicament.

You shake your head.

“No, my leg’s pinned. The wall fell as soon as the chaos started and I wasn’t fast enough to move out of the way.” You answer a bit ruefully.

You’re suddenly aware that the pain in your leg has subsided. In fact, all sensation of feeling is muted as you attempt to wiggle your toes. You fight the rising panic.

“I’m gonna lift this up and you need to move out from under it. You got that?” Bucky instructs.

You nod and brace your hands against the floor. Bucky positions his hands underneath the rubble and lifts, his metal arm whirring with the force needed to move the heavy object. As soon as it’s high enough you pull and kick with your good leg until you’ve slid clear of the debris. Bucky drops the slab to the floor.

It was like someone had dropped hundreds of fire ants down your leg, the sudden rush of blood tripling the dulled pain. You hold your breath, trying not to scream. Small black dot swim in your vision. You’re dimly aware of someone speaking, the agony making it hard to focus on anything else.

Without warning you feel yourself become weightless as two arms lock beneath your back and knees. The jostling movements as Bucky carries you quickly from the scene renew the pain in waves. You whimper pathetically and beg him to stop.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know it hurts, but we have to get you out of here. I promise, when this mess is over I’ll do whatever you ask, doll.”

You whimper again but nod and press your face into his shoulder, the coolness of the Vibranium soothing on your fevered cheek. You hear Bucky speak again.

“I’ve got Agent Y/L/N. She’s injured pretty bad. We’ll rendezvous at the quinjet.”

Steve responds though you don’t catch it. Bucky moves quickly, taking care not to jostle you too much. You attempt to keep your whimpers and groans to a minimum, though the trek to the jet feels like an eternity. As you two come up to it Steve careens around a corner and ushers you in.

Bucky sets you onto a seat and begins strapping you in as Nat, Sam, and the rest of the team barrel into the jet. Steve walks over to you. He kneels to inspect your wound, gingerly lifting the torn cloth and prodding the flesh beneath.

“What happened?” He asks you, his piercing blues staring up at you.

“Explosion… concrete wall…boom.” You weakly mimic the slab falling down with your arm. Your head lulls to the side. “Couldn’t move.”

Steve hums in understanding and resumes his examination. He nods once.

“The good thing is the skin isn’t broken, but you could be bleeding internally. Not to mention that the bone might be broken. Fractured at the least.” He says, a little relieved though still a bit grim.

Now that eminent danger was diverted the adrenaline was wearing off. Your eyes feel heavy and you struggle to keep them open. They drift close and Steve digs his thumb into your wounded leg. You yelp and yank away from his grasp, eyes snapping open to glare at him. He grins repentantly.

“Sorry Y/N, but we need to you stay awake until we can get you properly checked.”

“Well then, stop probing my poor leg and get this thing in the air already!” You whine, a little too petulant. You were hurt; you were allowed to be a little childish.

He leaves you be and begins giving commands to head back to the tower. Bucky takes the seat to your left and straps himself in. You incline your head towards him, trying to focus on his movements to stay awake. When he’s finished he rests his hand against his thigh, waiting for lift off.

You study his hand for a moment. On instinct you reach for it. Bucky pulls back the second your fingers make contact with his skin, but then he turns his hand over and laces his fingers with yours.

Silence passes between you two for a beat, then you mumble, “Dancing.”

Bucky cocks his head towards you, one eyebrow quirked. “What?”

“You said… you would do.. anything I asked. I want… you to.. dance with me.” You pant, the effort to remain conscious taking its toll.

He smirks and narrows his eyes at you, “Any particular reason for that request?”

You clumsily shake your head, eyes dropping closed. A sharp pain spreads over your cheek. You crack open your left eye and scowl. Bucky’s smirk widens and releases his hold on your pinched cheek.

“Alright, it’s a deal.”

•••

Recovering from you injury was a bitch. The silver lining had been that, thanks to Tony’s fancy, high – tech machines, you’d be able to walk again. The dark cloud had been the endless, and oh did you mean endless, weeks of healing and physical therapy.

A super soldier with incredible healing abilities you were not. Damn them.

No matter the struggle, you’d been determined to make a fast recovery. Tony Stark’s annual Avengers Gala has been two months away. Normally that wouldn’t interest you much, but this time was different. This time you had the procured promise from one Winter Soldier for a dance.

You recall the night you’d found a somber Rogers nursing a glass of whiskey, though it didn’t do much for him. You’d sat and listened to him reminisce about the good ol’ days. He told you how Bucky would try to set him up on dates and force him to go dancing. Steve bragged about how light on his feet Bucky used to be. He could sweep any dame he wanted off onto the dance floor and she’d be his. However, once he’d come back he never indulged in such things anymore. He figured Bucky felt he didn’t have a right to, after all the damage he’d caused.

It made your heart ache. After all he’d been through Bucky deserved more than the self – hatred he’d been made to feel. You wanted to give him back a piece of himself, even if for a moment. The problem was you’d just never had the nerve to broach the subject with him.

Until the accident. Perhaps it’d been the thought of never seeing him again without telling him how you feel, the delirium from your injury, or a bit of both. Whatever the case, you couldn’t stop picturing a scene with just the two of you dancing, Bucky smiling ear to ear. The image was so perfect you could believe you had died. So, without overthinking it, you’d asked him.

You’d been elated when he agreed. You worked hard and it had paid off, and he’d been there to help you initially. However, as the weeks went by Bucky became more reclusive. A dark shadow seemed to hang off of him, and it made you nervous. The Gala couldn’t come at a better time.

Now you sit in your wheelchair impatiently waiting for the elevator to take you down to the party. You smooth your hands over your curls and down to your white dress skirt, fiddling with the twin splits up to the tops of your thighs where intricate lace peaked through. You could walk now, in short bursts, but you couldn’t pass up the little show you could put on once you joined in the partying.

The elevator doors ding and slide open to reveal a very sophisticated Natasha. She wore a form – fitting, slate gray dress. Her fiery red hair is piled high on her head, little ringlets falling to frame her face. She looks stunning, as always. Nat whistles when you come into view. You roll your eyes but you grin widely. As you both settle into the descending compartment you shiver. Your veins buzz with the nervous anticipation.

“Are you ready?” Nat asks as she grips the handles for your wheelchair.

“Umm, excited, yes. Ready?... I’m not so sure yet.” You respond.

Nat pushes you out of the elevator and towards the double doors at the end of the hall. She steadies the seat as you stand.

“It’s going to be great, now get in there!” She encourages.

You take one last deep breath, roll back your shoulders, and waltz in. Your first steps are little wobbly, and you question for a moment if wearing the heels had been a good idea. You find your balance though and walk a little more confidently.

The event is in full swing. Civilians and agents mill about, chatting, laughing, and schmoozing the other Avengers. So many beautiful people but you are only interested in finding one in particular. As your eyes scan the crowd Steve steps in front of you, arms spread wide to take you all in. A beaming smile splits his face.

“Look at you! It’s good to see you are up on your feet again.” He exclaims, wrapping you up in a giant bear hug.

You laugh softly and return the embrace.

“Thanks, it’s good to be able to move around on my own. Have you seen…” you let the sentence trail off, slightly embarrassed to be so intent on the task at hand.

Steve pulls away and chuckles softly. He stands to the side and points to the bar in the far right corner.

“He’s over there. It took a lot to get him dressed and down here, so he’s brooding over a glass of bourbon. Seeing you might cheer him up though.” Steve pats your back good naturedly and steps behind you to greet Natasha.

Your heart flips inside your chest at the sight of him. Bucky looks stunning in the black, tailored suit. His dark, shaggy hair slicked back from his face. He turns his head at that moment to gaze out at the crowd. A small strand of hair falls rebelliously over his forehead, making him look a little more vulnerable than usual. As if attracted to your gaze his dazzling blue eyes lock onto yours. Your spirits dampen a little at the dark circles under them, his look a little hollow.

You begin to make your way over to Bucky, but every few feet someone stops you to congratulate you on your recovery and make small talk. Your gaze drifts back to Bucky every now and then. He had turned back around, hunched over the bar.

After what felt like an eternity you finally made it over. You lean against the counter and shift your body towards Bucky, beaming up at him. He continues to bore holes into the countertop. The circles under his eyes appear much worse this close up. Your smile falters a bit. You reach up for his hand.

"Hey, are you okay?" You squeeze your fingers around his metal palm.

His eyes flick up to your face, breaking himself out of his daze. He inhales deeply and adjusts his stance, drawing his hand out of yours in the process. You try not to let your disappointment show.

"Yeah, I'm great. Couldn't be better." He states flatly, a small lopsided grin forming but it doesn't reach his eyes.

He looks a little wild, like an animal caged and in desperate need to flee. You study him silently for a moment before you attempt to reach out to him again. Placing a gentle touch against his shoulder you try once more to get him to confide in you.

"I just... I'm worried about you." You hope your eyes convey the feeling and sincerity in your words.

Bucky holds your gaze for a beat before he scoffs.

"No need to worry about me, doll. I'm as fine as a warm, summer day in July." He takes a swig of his bourbon, grimacing as it burns down.

He returns to sullenly staring at the counter. You watch him sadly, letting your hand drift slowly down his metal arm. You feel each ridge through his suit. The band changes songs and your mind registers the slower tempo. Your smile regains its strength and you renew your efforts to draw Bucky away from the bar.

"Come on, I think I know a way to cheer you up" Your voice eager as you turn to pull him to the dance floor.

The farther you walk away, however, you feel Bucky's hand disappear from your hold. You slowly spin back and watch as Bucky pushes off the bar counter and heads to the exit, dragging his glass along the top. When he reaches the edge, he throws back his head and downs the rest of his alcohol. The glass clinks against the surface as he sets it back down and leaves through the doors you had entered.

You stand there at a loss, your high spirits quickly deflating. You knew it was silly to think so, but it felt like all eyes were on you and had witnessed your spectacular failure. A hand brushes against your shoulder and you jump. You look up at Steve's sympathetic face. At least one person had seen. He holds out his hand to you.

"I may not be as good a partner as him, but could I have this dance?” Steve asks.

You force a small smile and place your hand in his, your vision becoming blurry with unshed tears. He leads you to the dance floor and pulls you into position. You allow him to lead you through the song, eyes downcast at your feet.

"Hey."

You glance up to Steve's face. He smiles gently. "Give him some time, he's going through a bad spell."

You cast your eyes to the floor once more, saying nothing. The band closes the song and Steve tucks your arm through his, leading you around the room to mingle. You put on a brave face, being polite and friendly. A little while later Sam asks you to dance and you nod, pulling away from Steve. It's enjoyable and you appreciate their kindness in trying to cheer you, but you just want to wallow in self – pity. After an hour passes you decide enough time has passed to make excuses and retreat to your bedroom.

Everyone urges you to stay and revel a little more but you blame your departure on your healing leg and bow out. It wasn't a complete lie; a slow ache had begun in your muscle. Only when the elevator doors slide close do you allow yourself to shed the tears you'd been holding at bay. Some enchanted evening this turned out to be.

•••

Bucky shoots up off of his bed as his nightmare jolts him awake. He pants heavily, blinking to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He looks down at his chest; the white dress shirt he'd passed out in clinging to his form from the sweat pouring off of his body. Bucky flops back down on the mattress breathing slowly to calm his rapidly beating heart.

It was just a nightmare. It wasn't real. Y/N is safe.

Probably. He hoped you were safe. He'd retreated from Stark's asinine party to ensure you'd be safe. From him.

The nightmares weren't an unusual thing. They'd plagued him since he'd come out of being the Winter Soldier. His past misdeeds coming back in pieces to haunt him. Now, though, they had begun to morph. Making Bucky believe he might be responsible for everything that failed in missions against Hydra. He had been their assassin after all. Couldn't they still find a way to control him?

They now begun to convince him he had caused the explosion that hurt Y/N. His relief had been so instantaneous when he'd found her that he'd wanted to do nothing more than hold her and keep her safe. He had determined to get closer to her when they got back. Then the nightmares made him realize how wrong he'd be for Y/N. Bucky had nothing good to offer her; just heartache and pain.

Since then he'd started distancing himself from her. He had intended never to set foot downstairs tonight, but Steve had been so adamant he attend Bucky couldn't really say no. The moment Y/N walked into the room he'd wanted to pull her close and never let go. She looked so radiant, and when she'd seen him? That smile would keep him warm for days. Bucky loathed how much he'd enjoyed her touch. She was too good for him. She didn't understand the things he'd done, not really. Which is why he'd needed to leave.

Here in his quiet room Bucky could strengthen his resolve to let her go. He swallows, the saliva sticking to his parched throat. He needed another drink, though it did nothing really. Just quenched a thirst. Figuring the party had long ended he makes his way back downstairs to the bar.

He's surprised to find Steve sitting alone at the bar when he arrives. Steve pours and downs a series of shots attempting to get enough alcohol in his system to generate a buzz. Bucky slides into the seat next to him and pours himself a shot. Steve glances over and snorts. He shakes his head in disapproval.

"You're a real jackass, you know that?" Steve says, a tinge of anger to his voice.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. "Not that I'm disagreeing, but what is it for this time?" He challenges.

Steve inclines his head to stare at Bucky for a moment. He shakes his head again and throws back another shot.

"If you really aren't aware then maybe don't make promises you don't intend to keep. My god, you didn't have to see her face. It was like you'd kicked a puppy.”

Bucky furrows his brows. Now he was really confused. He downs his own shot and slams it onto the counter.

"Kicked a puppy? What the hell are you talking about?" He demands.

"Y/N! She'd been working so hard to be able to dance with you tonight but your head is so far up your ass that you can't appreciate all that effort. A beautiful woman wanted to make you happy, but you're too busy focusing on sulking. I'm certain she's given up now." Steve brings the glass to his lips but thinks better of it. He sets the glass back down.

Bucky sits stunned. The alcohol he'd just consumed churning uncomfortably in his stomach. He had made Y/N that promise, hadn't he? That's where she'd been trying to lead him tonight but he'd been too stubborn to notice. He had wanted to keep her safe, not hurt her with his perceived callousness. Bucky rests his head against the counter, exhaling loudly.

"I'm an idiot." He admits to Steve.

Steve hums in agreement. Bucky needed to make this right, at least for Y/N's sake. He lifts his head and gazes at his lifelong friend.

"Help me fix this?" He asks.

"How?" Steve stares at him one eyebrow cocked in question.

Bucky mulls it over for a minute, an idea formulating. He smirks and says, "Do you think you have a way of getting onto Stark's landing platform?"

•••

You had gone to bed hours ago but sleep was far from you tonight. You'd wept heavily and though the tears had stopped flowing your depressed mood kept replaying the disaster of tonight over and over, trying to discover what you'd done wrong. To top it all off, you really had overdone the walking. The dull throbbing of over exertion radiating up your thigh, adding to your misery.

It'd all been for nothing.

You thought sadly. You could get up and take some pain killers, but you decide to use the pain to indulge in your pity party.

A soft knocking sounds at your door. You ignore it hoping whoever it is will assume you'd fallen asleep and leave you alone. A minute passes before the action is repeated. Again, and again. The fourth time you sigh in frustration. You'd think they'd get the hint! You sit up in bed pulling the covers up to your hips before you lean over and switch on your beside lamp.

"Come in." You grumble trying to infuse as much annoyance into your voice as possible.

You weren't really sure who you'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been Bucky. You glance down at his feet as he stands in the doorway, unable to meet his gaze. Neither of you says anything for a moment. Beginning to feel awkward you clear your throat.

"Is there something you want, James?" You rarely used his given name, but your feelings were still raw from his snub. Endearing nicknames were not what you wanted to use right now.

When he still doesn't respond you huff and shift away from him, flinging the covers over yourself. You really didn't want to play games. You hear his footsteps approach and travel across to the other side of the bed. You shut your eyes as soon as you feel the covers slide down your head and body. Another moment of silence passes. Finally, Bucky sighs and murmurs,

"Y/N, please look at me."

You want to refuse him, but curiosity won out. You slowly open your eyes and peer up at him, hoping the puffiness from your bout of crying isn't noticable. Bucky kneels, carefully picking up your hands and gingerly holding them against his firm chest. You feel the steady rhythm of his heart underneath. You glance at your joined hands than back up to his face, eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"I want a do over." He says finally, "I'm a complete idiot, I know. I need you to understand that I never wanted to hurt you. I made you a promise, and I never break my promises. Just ask Steve." He winks and grins widely, trying to alleviate the tension.

His mood swings were starting to make you feel like you were on a roller coaster. One moment he was sweet as honey towards you, the next he was acting like he wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole. It was getting tiresome.

"James..." You pull at your hands but they remain firm in his grasp. You inhale a shaky breath, tears pricking your eyes anew.

You drop your gaze to your body lying on the bed. You had wanted to give him one perfect night. The gift of one good memory out of so many bad ones. Now instead of the gorgeous gown you’d been wearing you were dressed in a plain chemise. Your curled hair brushed out, not to mention your face. It was scrubbed clean of makeup, a combination of you washing or crying it off. No, this was not how you had pictured yourself appearing when you made this memory. You offered a more practical excuse than this however.

"James, it's too late. I wanted tonight to be special for you, but I can't even stand right now. I – I overdid it tonight. My leg is killing me and I'd be useless as a dance partner." You laugh bitterly.

Bucky is quiet for a few seconds, his thumbs grazing the backs of your hands lazily. You can physically see the lightbulb go off in his head when he gives you a sly grin.

"I can work around that."

•••

After a little more convincing on his part, you agree to Bucky's do – over. He cautiously scoops you up and carries you bridal – style out into the hallway. Just as he had the day you'd been injured, although this time was much more pleasant.

Inside the elevator you rest your head on his shoulder, content to be close to Bucky like this. You let your eyelids shut for a moment, soothed by his even breathing. The elevator dips as it stops. You’re aware of the gentle sway as he resumes walking but you keep your eyes closed, trusting him.

“Open your eyes, doll.” Bucky whispers softly.

You comply, looking up at his face before shifting your gaze outwards. Your breath is taken by the sight.

Amid the stars and city lights below Tony’s landing pad twinkles with flashing lights. A soft wind blows a few strands of hair across your face as Bucky moves you out onto the center of it. The blinking lights illuminate you both. It was like you’d stepped out into the middle of the sky, surrounded by the tiny celestial bodies.

Lost in your wonderment you’re caught by surprise as Bucky gently drops your legs. He easily catches you by your waist before your feet even touch the ground, careful not to put weight on your healing leg.

He draws you closer, placing your feet atop his as the sound of an old forties song begins to play around you. You hold Bucky’s gaze with wide eyes, speechless.

“I know it’s a little late, but may I have this dance?” He asks in earnest.

You can only nod shyly. He smirks and wraps his metal arm around your middle, supporting your weight as he moves his feet to sway to the music.

As the music continues you laugh quietly, a little giddy from the whirlwind of emotions you’d felt that night. You press your cheek against his shoulder. Trying to memorize the feel of his arm pressed to your back. The soft material of his dress shirt wrinkled beneath your hands. The words of the music playing. You feel Bucky’s breath whisper against your ear.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to realize my mistake. I just… didn’t want you hurt because… of what I am. What I’ve been.” He admits.

You lift your head to stare into his clear blue eyes, the low light deepening them. Suddenly you’re aware of the hidden emotion in them, afraid of what they’ll find in your returning gaze. He was opening himself up to you, part of him expecting you to reject him. You notice his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, uncomfortable with your scrutiny.

You smile sweetly, placing a gentle hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. His eyes flutter closed as he presses his face into your palm, so touch starved.

“Everyone was some darkness in their past, Bucky. You, Nat, Steve, Sam… even me. You can’t dwell in it forever, but if you must then let me stay in that darkness with you.” You intone quietly.

Bucky doesn’t respond, letting your words work themselves into his mind. The song slows and he dips you. You let your knees bend with the motion, holding his gaze. Without much thought you lean up and press your lips to his.

You would have thought you’d prodded him with a taser the way he jumped back. So caught off guard he drops you flat on your back, breaking the magic of the moment. You burst into laughter as Bucky swears and drops to his knees, apologizing. He scoops you into his lap, running his hands along your body, inspecting if he’d hurt you.

“I’m fine, Bucky. I’m a little sturdier than that. A little fall isn’t going to kill me.” You grasp his face between your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“You’re a good man, James Buchanan Barnes. I believe in you, even if you don’t.” You say gently.

He glances down a moment, his hands trailing along your waist as he draws you closer.

“I’m beginning to understand that.” He says just before he captures you lips once more in a burning kiss.

EVERYTHING TAGLIST:

@booktvmoviefangirl @lowkeybuckyb @mrsdaamneron @xxashy999xx @c-ly-g @coal000 @rroguebones @ghostlyrose2 @part-time-patronus @emelielwh @peaceinourtime82 @buckysforeverprincess @geeksareunique @amnahs9695 @v-2bucky @scarlet-skywalkers @lokilvrr @thisismysecrethappyplace @sacre-bluhm @tatertot1097 @until-theend-oftheline @amoonagedaydreamer @marvelouspottering @thatfanficstuff @chuuulip @averyrogers83 @ellaprime68 @shield-agent78 @jewels2876

BUCKY BARNES TAGLIST:

@bloodiedskirtts @igotkatiepowers @misplacedorphan @superwholockwannabe @moonstruckhargrove @ladysergeantbarnes

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #bucky angst #bucky fluff #marvel fanfiction

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tingleparker · 5 years

Text

Break up with your girlfriend, I’m bored

Tom Holland x Fem!Reader

Request: Yes, actually. {Thank you anon, love you <33}

•Warnings: Mentions of cheating, swears, Y/n is kind of a shit person and a pot full of cheekiness ;))

•Summary: One look at his face and you knew you just had to have him, though his little girlfriend stood in the way; but you're bored so he better hurry up. ;)

•Word count: 2.5k

A/n: This is fiction! I’m not trying to romanticize cheating of any kind but its the song :)) Also no hate to Zendaya, its for story purposes only.

Listen to ‘BUWYGFIB’ -> HERE ~ All credit to Ari and her team for this banging song <33

Took one fuckin' look at your face. You were intrigued, the tuff of curls illuminated by the multicoloured lights darting across the room. The second your eyes laid on him, you knew you wanted him. Call yourself crazy but you needed him and you never even met the guy. Now you wanna know how he tastes.

Your name up in billboards, songs on the radio, fans screaming your name but you were still missing something; nothing no one to fill up your time. Your routine is always the same and you were sick of it, so bored with everything; though you are so appreciative of all this, you couldn't help but feel lonely.

Hence why you were sat in a dark booth at a club downtown, sipping slowly at your alcoholic drink. Eyes wandering around the dark room, bodies grinding on the dance floor; music blaring loudly.

That's when you saw him, figure illuminated and alluring your eyes. His body swaying to the loud bass of the random club song being blasted, you're glued to him like he was the other half of your magnet. Your lip caught in your teeth as you watch on from the sidelines, sinful thoughts running through your mind; seeing the smooth movements from this tempting individual. A tantalizing smirk appeared on his stupidly attractive face as the two of you locked eyes, your lips wrapped around your glass teasingly; eyebrow-raising in an enticing curiosity.

Your trance is broken as your eyes set on the pair of arms snaking around the man you’ve been practically eye-fucking for the past five minutes. You followed the arms that were wrapped around the captivating man, finding an attractive woman; the two of them grinding up against each other. Your tongue ran across your teeth, clicking judgmentally as your eyes never left the pair. Sure, you must've looked like a stalker but it was a dark club and , in particular, was inspecting you. The girl that was dancing up on the man you wanted so badly must've felt your stare, hair flipping over her shoulder to look at you. She was beautiful, you'd give her that but that didn't stop you from wanting what she had. Your eyes met, hers lit up; you assumed she recognized you thought you didn't really know who they were, you knew they had to be somewhat of a big deal to get into this place. A bright smile appeared on her features before she signaled you to join them. You feigned surprise, pointing at yourself to double check that she's inviting you over and not someone else. You get a confirmative nod from her before meeting eyes with the piece of eye candy on her side, prompting you to hastily but seductively make your way over to the two.

“I love your songs!” Was the first thing you heard as you got closer to the pair, the woman fangirling over you; latching onto the man's arm, did not go unnoticed by you.

“Thank You!” You shouted over the music politely, a layer of awkwardness forming from you not knowing who they were; but oh did you want to know who he was.

“I’m Zendaya and this is Tom! We’re actors but we’re really big fans!” The woman, Zendaya yelled over; not getting over you being in her presence but all you had on your mind was her man.

Hmm, Tom, the name ran in your mind; making a mental note that it would have a nice ring to it if you were moaning it. Your eyes raked down Toms body, now taking it in at a closer perspective, and he did not disappoint. You knew you were getting too lost in him, so you quickly turned back to Zendaya before shouting.

“Let dance! Have fun all together while we’re here!”

Z let out a squeal of agreement before dragging the two of you further into the dancefloor. Bodies pressed up against each other, heat radiating off everyone around you; but you weren't going to complain. The couple danced with each other, you felt awkward standing off the side; so a plan had set in your mind. You squeezed your way in between the two, arms thrown around Z and backside pressed against Tom. The two women giggled for completely different reasons; Zendaya laughing as one of her idols was dancing up on her and you were content with how you got contact with Tom, though you can't see his face, you could still feel his body. You grinded back into him feeling a slight hardness pressed against you, causing you to smirk; all while you tried to make an effort to show Zendaya nothing was fishy. The three of you swayed like this before a faster song came on and you boldly turned around, arms wrapping around Tom now. Your eyes met once again in this dim lighting but you could see the cheekiness behind them. You continued to move your body to the beat whilst keeping eye contact with Tom; you felt Z behind you dancing as well but you didn't really mind her. You pressed against Tom, even more, your chest hitting his and faces centimeters away from each other. You tucked your lip in your teeth as you saw the lustful gaze upon you, in that moment you didn't feel like you were surrounded by a bunch of people; just you and Tom. The song passed and you were breathless, Z suggesting to go to the bar for some refreshments.

The three of you stood in front of the bar, you downing the alcohol served to you as you watched Zendaya throws her arms around the curly haired brunette and plant a small peck on his lips, but making sure you saw her do so. She knew what game you were playing but you didn't mind, two can play this game.

“You guys are so..cute. How long have you been together?” You asked with a tight-lipped smile,

“Not too long, ‘bout a month. Right love?” Tom answers but also asks for some confirmation and though you knew he asked her, his eyes never left yours.

Z only nodded in response, suddenly really tired as she clung onto Tom for stability.

“Why don't we head home darling?” Tom suggests after he realizes his droopy-eyed girlfriend.

Earning a nod from her, Tom turned to you smiling; your mind trying to think of a way to stall their departure.

“Well, I’ll probably head off as well. Gotta call an uber outside.” You say, trying to get Tom to realize your hint.

“Well, I have room in my car if you need a ride.” Tom offers, a smile tugging on your lips.

Just as you were about to accept his offer undoubtedly, you were cut off to no surprise by Z.

“I think she’ll be fine babe. I just want to go and have a nap.”

Your eyes flicker to Toms, a slight pout on your lips; the conflict Toms was in a predicament. You kept eye contact with his brown orbs, silently begging for him.

“Address?” His voice asked the simple question put a giant smile onto your face.

“[yours/random address]” You reply innocently, biting your lip; though you could feel the constant, burning glare from Z.

“Perfect, it's on the way. I can drop you off Z and then Y/n.” Tom says trying to calm out the tension, oblivious to how his girlfriend was radiating jealousy.

Your hands reached out to Toms' shoulder, smoothing out the material of his shirt before wrapping your arms around him; as a thank you.

“You're a lifesaver.” You say quietly to him, lips brushing against his skin.

You pulled away slowly, a sly smile on your face; Tom staring at you with an unreadable emotion. The two of you continue to watch each other, waiting for someone to make a move; completely forgetting about the fuming Zendaya on the sidelines.

“Babe! Can we go now?” Z breaks up the moment, snaking her own arms around the actor's torso and placing a light kiss on his jaw.

You smiled at the action, you knew what she was doing but she knew what you were doing; it was only Tom that was in between you two.

The three of you made your way to Toms car out in the back, trying to avoid the attention from paparazzi, fans or anyone else. You knew you couldn't just take the front seat, so you immediately went to the back; the gears in your mind turning and thinking of a plan. You couldn't describe it, Tom is like the epitome of your perfect guy; there was a feeling tugging you towards him, you just needed him. A silent lull fell on the three of you, so many different emotions and feelings swirling around in the confinement of Tom’s car. Hatred and irritation coming off the gorgeous woman up in the passenger seat; Dazed and unaware vibed off the tempting and enticing driver. And you tried your hardest to put on a sultry and flirtatious vibe, you hoped it works but it was quite hard when the man you were going for had a girlfriend sitting up front with him.

It got even more awkward for you when a familiar voice came through the radio, that familiar voice being yours. A red hue rose on your cheeks, though your confident stature; you really did not like listening to your own voice with others, ironically. What surprised you through is when you hear a voice singing along. Although the out of tune and pitch vocals, you caught Tom's eye; looking back at you through the front mirror. He knew what he was doing and you were not complaining. The rest of the ride consisted of stealing glances and listening to him hum or sing softly to the tunes from the radio. Every time your songs would play, Toms voice would get louder; trying to get your attention as you giggled in the backseat.

You were waiting till we got to Zendaya's place, bored out of your mind as you anticipated on getting Tom alone. You took out your phone to snap a couple pictures; of yourself and the neighborhood passing by, posting a couple dark photos up on your Instagram story.

Finally, the car came to a halt; parking in front of a large house. The couple in front exchanged some words and goodbyes, before giving each other a peck on the lips and Zendaya stepping out of the vehicle but not without shooting you a look. Tom watched until his girlfriend entered the front door before diverting his attention onto the woman in the back. Without a word you move and climb over the middle console, cleavage showing as you leaned over. You plopped yourself down into the passenger seat, sending him a cheeky smile before putting on the seatbelt.

“You don't waste any time do ya love?” Tom says, throwing you a little wink before the car started moving once again.

“If I want something and I'll get it.” You reply mischievously, hand slowly drifting towards the good looking driver.

Your fingers danced across his jean covered thigh, you watch his eyes flicker towards you before a smirk appears on his lips; those lips you could stare at all day. One of Toms' hands shot down, placing it on top of your own, not making you move your hand but also not letting you get any further. The rest of the ride was filled with the pair of you singing softly; Tom belting out lyrics of the songs he likes, hands together but not entirely intertwined and little sly and flirty comments and looks.

‘So how are you and your girlfriend doing?’

‘Wouldn't you like to know darling?’

As Tom pulls up at the front of your house, you disappointedly pout; wanting to spend more time with him.

“Tuck your lip back in, love” Tom suddenly says, eyes locked in on your pouting lips.

“Make me” You persuade, slowly leaning closer to Tom.

“Tempting but I can't.” He says being the loyal man he is but making your lip jutt out more and you let out a huff.

An idea popped up in your head, you hand reaching out for his before bringing his hand to your mouth; Tom's thumb grazing against your bottom lip. A pot full of feelings stirring in the pit of your stomach at this intimate action. Abruptly Toms phone went off, the screens bright light shining prominently; your eyes scanning over it to see a text message form the one and only girlfriend. Tom pulled away as he saw the notification, stumbling on his words;

“I- Uh- It's late. I gotta go.”

You leaned towards him once again, lips planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth; before giving a soft ‘see you soon’.

That night as you lay in bed thinking about the previous events with Tom, your heart racing with just the thought of him. You scroll through your phone finding the picture you took in his car, only mere hours ago. Your head was filled with ideas, lyrics and all because you found your muse. You pulled up Instagram to put out…

@Y/N

[Selfie you took in Toms car]

‘Sing me my own lyrics while I sit in your backseat’

TomHolland2013 and 429,753 other people liked this

40617 comments

User1: OMG, you look so gooood!

TomHolland2013: So I have potential in the singing industry? ;)

User2: HolY sHIt, She was with Tom!

User3: SHIP

-A couple weeks after-

In the back of the uber, the driver turned up the volume of the radio. The radio presenters voice booming out a familiar name.

‘And today we got new music from the young, superstar Y/n Y/l/n! Actually, fans suspected a little something between her and the Marvel actor Tom Holland. But enough of the drama here is Y/n’s debut of her song Break up with your girlfriend I’m bored.’

Your very own voice came from the speaker of the car, smiling to yourself as you hear the new song you've written only a couple weeks ago.

After that night, you and Tom had been texting each other almost non-stop. Flirty texts, cheeky snapchats and even some late night calls. You were in the studio all week as you worked hard with your team, lyrics coming from you easily as all you had to do is think of Tom. And hardly two weeks later your new song BUWYGFIM was almost done.

Little did you know on the other side of the country, Tom sat in his best mate Harrison's car. Upon hearing your name, Toms' ears perk up; instantly turning the volume up.

Your phone pinged, startling you slightly but a smile adorned on your face as you saw the message from the one and only Tom Holland.

‘You're bored huh? ;)’

‘Depends if your girlfriend still around’

Read Part Two -> HERE <33

#holy shit this is so bad #im sorry #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic rec #peter parker imagine

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dissonancedance · 5 years

Photo

“The barriers you’ve had to build to protect your mind have twisted you, driven you to kill who you could not control. Your executor is biding his time, but there isn’t enough of it for you to come into redemption on your own. We have to dissolve those barriers before your rehabilitation can begin.”

The second half of this chapter is under complete revision, but since the first half has been complete for this long, let’s consider this a half-update. Chapter 94 below the cut and available to read on Archive of Our Own.

Painting is Lieto fine di un martire by Nicola Samorì, 2015.

Simone could feel Vidar’s eyes on her even after she stepped outside of Aguiyi’s office, his stare coating her in the same dread and helplessness that kept her awake night after night, too afraid of the nightmares waiting in sleep. As she paced, she found herself rubbing her neck, absentmindedly soothing the memories of the pain and panic he had strangled into her too often for her body to forget. The hunger and hatred that burned in his stare reached under her skin no matter how she had steeled herself to face him again. Failure echoed with each tap of her sandals on the ancient stones until the creak of the door opening stopped her pacing.

Bisi’s veiled head peeked out into the hallway, her brow creasing in concern when Simone looked up at her.

“They are about to put him under,” the Igbo woman said. “Are you ready?”

The strangeness of that question snagged a rueful smile at the corners of Simone’s mouth as she answered, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The door at the back of the office opened to a sterile white space filled with gleaming medical instruments and monitors displaying a steady stream of data from the sensors attached to her uncle’s skin. It was a stark contrast to the stuffy old-world eclecticism that steeped the room before it, the lack of garish opulence a welcomed departure after months of being trapped in the ancient mansion. Simone had been here only twice before, both times to see the bodies of her uncles. She found it just as difficult to force herself to look towards the metal table, the memories of bloodless white skin still too fresh in her mind to quite believe that they were gone. Vidar’s pale chest still rose and fell with each breath that marked him as the last of her uncles still living, nearly whole but for what she had failed to allow him to keep. The hatred from his remaining eye had dulled under the drugs, but that singular stare did not fail to latch onto her as Aguiyi beckoned her closer.

“Vidar wishes to speak with you before we intubate him,” Aguiyi whispered, his leonine beard brushing her shoulder as he loomed closer to add, “It is only a request. You needn’t fulfill it if you don’t want to.”

Of the few things she could be certain of, she knew that Vidar did not request anything of her; he only ever demanded what he could not take for himself. With him lying there, nearly paralyzed by the drugs that were lulling his brain into a pliant stupor, he could no longer take. Once this was over, he would not take from her ever again. Simone chose to go to him.

The movement of the medical staff attending the equipment around them faded into the background as she drew closer until Vidar filled her focus. The eyepatch he was wearing was gone, leaving the scarred gnarl of sunken flesh bare. Between the grisly wound and the sapphire blue of his eye, she found the wound easier to look at as she stopped at his side.

“Come closer, sweetheart,” he rasped, barely above a whisper.

Apprehension roiled in her belly, making her body slow to respond as she stepped nearer and leaned down until his scent cut through the stench of antiseptics and sterile plastics. The reactive fear that accompanied his scent splashed over her in a cold wave froze her in place.

“You wanted to speak with me, uncle?” she asked, only a little breathy from the panic that clawed at her just beneath her control.

“There you are.” He smiled, showing off the sharp points of his eyeteeth at the edge of a snarl. “I just wanted to see your face one last time before you have me executed.”

“There isn’t…” she started, abruptly aware of how many people were trying not to appear as listening around them. Leaning lower, each inch to draw nearer to Vidar grating against her instincts, she spoke softly, “The barriers you’ve had to build to protect your mind have twisted you, driven you to kill who you could not control. Your executor is biding his time, but there isn’t enough of it for you to come into redemption on your own. We have to dissolve those barriers before your rehabilitation can begin.”

The unkind smile he wore drooped under the weight of suspicion and drug-induced fatigue, his words starting to slur as he drawled, “Who the fuck put you up to this bullshit?”

“I’m just trying to do right by our family’s legacy,” she answered. “Don’t be afraid, uncle. You’re not going to die here; we won’t let you.”

Noise buzzed and hummed through Vidar’s skull, rising from a muddled din until it collected into the sound of a voice. His head lolled, swaying with the room around him, as his eye failed to focus on the man in the wheelchair sitting across the table.

The noise mumbling out of the wheelchair man’s mouth shifted slowly towards language until he caught, “… year it is?”

Vidar frowned, or supposed he did. It was impossible to tell with how numb his face was, the numbness reaching into his mouth and rendering his tongue into a limp wad that he couldn’t figure out how to use. His answer tripped and fell flat on his too-thick tongue, managing a gargled grunt that seemed to satisfy the questioner by the way the wheelchair man wrote something down on his clipboard. Vidar watched the pen move over the paper, already having forgotten the question.

He closed his eye and opened it to darkness.

Weightlessness and silence permeated his perception. A hunger for stimulation rose from this vast nothingness in this dark space. He swallowed just to hear his esophagus click and feel it work, but the sensations were gone to the numbness as soon as they passed to leave him drifting. He could not move his hands to lift them to his face, he could not move at all. His heart raced as dread coated the aching nothingness that hollowed him, panic creeping in like ants swarming through the folds of his brain. The muscles in his body went rigid in resistance, locking his joints as he struggled to move even just a finger. He was locked inside the bleak nothing of his mind. Blood roaring in his skull, his veins bulging in thick ropes just under his skin, he tried to scream.

Relief came in the sharp sting pressed into the veins at his elbow, heat seeping through his blood until his awareness ebbed below the nothingness once more.

Hours melted into days marked by moments of vague awareness that blurred by too quickly for memory to catch. Clarity came in snapshots of insight, vague memories resurfacing to provide context to his surroundings only to dip beneath his mind’s reach a moment later. The man muttering and shuffling by in odd little steps with his head bowed low like a beaten dog was sometimes Dr. Wallace. The man in the wheelchair with his clipboard was sometimes Maier. The dark figure that occasionally watched from beyond a window was sometimes Dr. Aguiyi, sometimes he was just a demon. The pretty girl who leaned over him and whispered into his ear was only ever familiar.

“Your will is my voice, my word is your will,” she would speak into his ear as Dr. Wallace injected something into the tube running up his arm.

She turned his face to her, her hand so soft on his cheek and her silver eyes so gentle. He wanted to touch her, always starving to touch and be touched by her, but he could not move. A buzzing nothingness flooded his veins and stuffed his brain with fluff until there was no room to think, only to listen. She whispered sweetly, each word spoken so clearly and filling him with a sense of comfort, a sense of correctness. He listened as he was supposed to, only ever grateful for the hand on his cheek and the warmth in her attention.

“Follow my lead and live with purpose,” her soft tone would whisper, again and again, each syllable dripping into the emptiness with such lush and beautiful truth.

His body sang with delight and he wanted to cry out Yes, of course, but the words that gurgled up from his throat and skittered from his tongue were not words at all.

The gentle press of her thumb on his lips soothed his confusion; he did not need to speak if she did not ask it. Her hand slid down to cup his neck and delight swept any lingering regret at his ineptitude when he felt how his pulse nudged the tips of her thumb and forefinger. Tears of gratitude stung his eyes with every beat of his heart as hers to claim, every breath belonging to her as it left his parted lips. These things were all he had left to give and they were enough.

“The burden of self is too heavy to bear alone,” her quiet voice filled him until all he could do was listen. The room, the doctor watching them without ever directly looking at them, the smoldering glee from the demon on the other side of the glass, it all fell away in the distance as her voice wrapped around his mind like a soft blanket, warm and so very tight. “To live without the burden of a listless self is to be gifted with clear purpose. I am with you to bear your load and lead you to meaning.”

The comforting weight on his neck pressed down and his head swam with a tingling lightness.

Of course, he wanted to shout.

Of course he was her will. The nothing fogged up around him, thick and heavy, blotting out the light.

What a beautiful purpose to be given.

The lab dimmed until the room was lit only by the blinking sensors and dull computer monitors, but it was enough to cast a glimmer on the liquid Vidar floated in. Simone waited for her uncle’s breathing to even out in drug-induced sleep before pulling away from the sensory deprivation bath and wiping her hand on her dress. His periods of consciousness were becoming more frequent and thankfully brief, all the better to allow this stage of the conditioning to fill in the holes the drugs were drilling through his mind.

Witnessing how much of a person could be taken, reshaped, manufactured into something so horrifyingly false was too familiar. How much of herself Simone had seen in the reconstruction of his broken mind had shaken the ramshackle foundation of identity she had pieced to hold herself together. The map of scars they were carving into her uncle’s psyche were beginning to travel the same paths that marked her own distorted damage.

She let her gaze wander over his form, his skin having lost what little color it had over the three weeks in the windowless laboratory, almost translucent now to show the blue map of veins that constantly circulated the chemical regimen to reduce his mind to malleable mush. The feeding tube diet was fighting a losing battle on maintaining his mass, but there was healing. The unexpected swelling that had been putting pressure in the Broca’s area of his brain had gone down with the integration of broader steroids strong enough for him to consistently understand speech, though he had yet to be able to form coherent responses.

This was an outcome Dr. Wallace had dubbed tolerable as they moved forward with the procedure. So long as Vidar retained the capacity to comprehend what was said to him, her words could mold him into what he had to become.

There were many aspects of this experiment they had dubbed tolerable. Beyond the calm explanations of risk versus reward, the confidence of the team, the overwhelming buzz of anticipation in the research they were all so fascinated to partake, her old wounds reached up from beneath where she had buried them to sprout new pains. It all made her sick.

Her thumb traced the ridge of Vidar’s orbital bone, so pronounced without the structure of his eyeball to plump the thin skin around it, and let the ache in her chest whisper aloud, “Isn’t life so much simpler when your choices have been reduced?”

“Let him recover, Simone,” Aguiyi’s raspy baritone came tinny and flattened through the speaker in the wall separating them. Simone jerked as she turned, surprised to see the old man still at the observation window. “He needs rest to reconstruct his neural pathways.”

Her fingers curled into a fist behind her back as her lips curled into a smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be keeping Papa occupied?”

The old man returned her smile with an amusement she did not share. “Leif has been quite adequate at keeping himself occupied lately. Have you noticed any changes in his behavior of late?”

“Don’t be coy, Doc. If you’ve got something to say to me, I’d appreciate if you’d please swallow or spit,” she frowned.

He laughed, the wheezing huffs grating her nerves until at last he said, “No, I would rather not be the one to face his wrath for spoiling the surprise. Go on and return to your quarters, girl. I think you’ll find him waiting for you.”

#Closing The Distance #update #fiction #horror #brainwashing #medical horror

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