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firefly-in-darkness · 7 months

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Make It Right

Pairing → Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary → Bucky Barnes broke your heart, can he fix it? Can he make it right?

Word Count → 1.6k words

Warnings → angst, heartbreak, swearing.

Beta → none.

Prompts/Bingo Cards

AFG Square Fill → “I don’t want you to be with anyone else.” - @anyfandomgoesbingo

AF Angst Square Fill → smudged makeup - @anyfandomangstbingo

Writer's Note → well, this is a little angsty one that's been sat in my drafts for a while… hope you enjoy! ✨

“I hate you,” you slurred down the phone, “I wish I'd never met you!”

Bucky’s heart broke at your words but he couldn't do anything about them, he hated himself for the pain he was causing you. He realised long ago that you weren't just friends with benefits. A few weeks into the arrangement, all of the rules went straight out the window.

What was wrong with spending time together, going to the college football games, studying in the library until darkness had fallen or hiding out at house parties when it was too rowdy for either of you to handle?

How could he not let you stay over when you looked like an Angel sleeping in his arms? The post-sex glow, the warmth of your body and the so-familiar scent of peach and vanilla filled his head with fantasies of the casual relationship being so much more.

It was perfect, you were perfect.

Until your ex-boyfriend started making threats.

The corridor was empty and it was just typical that your snivelling ex-boyfriend, Brock Rumlow, decided to make an appearance. Bucky didn’t engage with him, just brushed straight past him. In an instant he was pinned against the wall, winded by the blow.

Brock’s grip on Bucky’s collar tightened, yanking him forward and back against the wall. He growled and snarled at Bucky to retaliate but he just smirked at him.

“Oh, you think this is funny do you?” Brock spit out, “Well, you won’t find it funny when I tell the Dean that you were the one that caused that fight with Alex."

Bucky paled at the thought of being used as a scapegoat, he’d already had a few run-ins with Alex Pierce for making derogatory comments about you. If the Dean heard of this, Bucky was certain he’d lose his scholarship.

“Oh and if you go near my girl again, I’ll make sure that she gets caught up in all that mess too,” Brock shoved him again, “I’m sure she’d love to know how much of a violent person you really are.”

Brock walked backwards, laughing as Bucky dropped to the floor.

The words of your ex-boyfriend had taken over his mind and fuelled Bucky’s actions. It was all to protect you, he couldn't care less what happened to him. He wasn’t going to let you suffer because things went too far.

It pained him to see Rumlow’s arm draped around your shoulders at the last Panthers game. His eyes stung as he watched you kiss in the depths of the library. It broke his heart when you tugged Rumlow into a bedroom at Grant’s frat party, the seductive smirk on your lips.

“Saw you with Yelena. I came by your dorm today,” Your voice cracked over the line, “she's pretty, smart and witty.”

Bucky's mind raced, you had come to visit him? What has Yelena got to do with this conversation? You answered for him.

“Just wanted to give you back your leather jacket.” You hiccuped then your tone changed, “She's more your type, better than me.”

“I'm not-” Bucky tried to interrupt you to no avail.

“I thought you loved me.”

He heard the signature sound of the call ending. Without a moment spared, Bucky shoved on his combat boots and grabbed the leather jacket that Steve had found on their doorstep earlier.

It smelt of you, it was intoxicating. It encouraged Bucky to do what he needed to do. To tell you everything. He couldn't let you think he didn't care, that he didn't love you. Fuck Rumlow.

Bucky raced to your dorm. He should have come to you first, told you what happened and come up with a plan to stop Rumlow’s threats from coming true. Now you were drunk and vulnerable. He stopped in his tracks, he didn't know where you were. Scrolling through his contacts, he called Wanda, fully expecting an earful from your best friend.

“Barnes?”

“Wan, where’s Angel? She called and sounds wasted.”

“Why should I tell you?” Wanda snapped.

“Please? I need to tell her the truth.”

“Oh shit.” The sound of the phone being dropped echoed in Bucky’s ears, the panic rushed through his veins.

Your voice, the person he was looking for could be heard at a distance, “tell him to ‘fuck off.’”

“I wanna go to bed now.” You whined, Bucky could imagine the pout and blurry eyes you were giving your friend.

He started to walk to your dorm in the hopes that you or Wanda would give away your location if you weren't at home.

“It's okay,” Wanda's soothing voice was louder, no doubt comforting you.

“Need blanky please.”

“I'll get it in a minute, let's get you cleaned up first.”

The mention of your childhood blanket kicked Bucky into gear. You were at home. He ran. his legs moved as fast as they could to get to the shared apartment.

He was a panting mess by the time he reached the building. No clue what he was going to say. The stairs were neverending, the physical pain pressuring his body to stop. It was nothing compared to the thought of losing you forever.

Bucky pounded on the door, attempting to catch his breath at the same time. His fist didn’t stop hitting until he almost fell through when it was opened by Wanda.

She shook her head, “this is not a good idea, she’s a mess.”

“I’ve got to make this right. I fucked up,” Bucky pleaded with her.

Wanda opened the door wider for Bucky to enter and he sighed in relief.

You were sat on the couch with the blanket wrapped tightly around you, but even with the comforter, he could see your frame had shrunken in on itself. Your head was resting on a cushion, eyes closed as the sobs wreaked havoc.

Bucky’s heart broke at the sight and rushed to your side, wiping your hair away from your face.

You pushed at him, “Go away, Wanda.”

“It’s me, it’s Bucky.”

Your eyes burst open and he felt your shoulders go rigid. The crying had been silenced but tears still streaked down your face along with the mascara and eyeliner you must have been wearing earlier.

“Why are you here?” Your voice cracked.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears, “I should have told you about Brock, and what happened with Alex. I couldn’t let you get hurt.”

Your eyebrows knitted together, “What are you talking about?”

“Brock said he’d get us both kicked out of college, you know it would only take one conversation with his stepdad.”

You listened intently with tears in your eyes.

“I got into a fight with Alex, over something stupid.”

Wanda interrupted, “It wasn’t stupid, he called your girl a slut. He deserved it and more.”

You winced, “You did that, for me?”

“Yes, and I’d do it again,” Bucky reassured her.

You couldn’t stop the hiccups but tried to speak, “Brock’s -hic- gone. He was transferred. Something about his dad -hic- getting a better job at a better school.”

Wanda passed you a glass of water, “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”

You lifted your legs to sit up straight. Bucky took the seat beside, afraid of what would come next. A scholarship-sized weight had been lifted but he still felt the pressure of you wanting to be with Brock, that you might not choose him after everything.

“I ended it. That’s why I came to see you, not just about the jacket,” You dipped your head.

Bucky’s index finger lifted your chin to look into your eyes and show you that he meant his words with all his heart and soul, “I want to be with you.”

“But what about Yelena?” Your gaze didn’t waiver, giving Bucky hope.

“We’re working on a project together, I am not interested in her like that.”

“I don’t want you to be with anyone else,” You whispered as if uncertain that you wanted him to hear.

“I was an idiot, I thought I could do this whole fuck buddies thing with you,” he shook his head, “I was wrong, I want to be your boyfriend, I want to show you how much you mean to me and tell anyone that will listen.”

“Are you sure?” You looked down, your hands anxiously twisted together.

Bucky took your hands in his. He was a fool, a fool in love with an amazing woman who thought he didn’t care.

“I love you, with all my heart.”

“I love you too.” You whispered.

Bucky felt like the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. He should have known all along that this was where he was meant to be; with you.

“Can I kiss you now?” He asked, wanting to show you how much he loved and cared for you.

Bucky leant forward, giving you the power to make the decision. It might hurt his ego for a moment if you chose to pull away but he wouldn’t hold it against you. As he waited, he vowed to do whatever you wanted, whether that was to be your partner or friend. If you asked him to leave, and even though it would be hard, then he’d go.

“Well, are you going to kiss me or just stare at my lips?" You quipped, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.

Bucky pressed his lips to yours, sealing his promise to be with you ‘til the end of the line.

~ Tag List ~

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#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes #sebastian stan

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rhettabbotts · 1 year

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happy birthday, mr. president - bob floyd

pairing: president!bob floyd x wife!reader

summary: after a hard week, the last thing bob wanted to do was attend his birthday party. so instead, he plays out one of his biggest fantasies with you.

w/c: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ only. SMUT. bob eating you out in the oval office. slight bondage. slight degradation. dirty talk. mention of cameras. edging. p in v. unprotected sex. breeding kink. riding. title kink? (calling bob mr. president). drinking.

a/n: brought to you by me rewatching scandal and losing my mind. also haven’t stopped thinking about @therebeccaw’s beautiful president bob moodboard <3 also for @lt-bradshaw! thanks for bringing up president bob on the dash last night.

Bob hated parties. No matter how many balls and galas he attended, it never got any easier. He fussed with his bow tie for the umpteenth time before finally giving up, letting out a huff of frustration as he buttoned his cufflinks.

His head snapped up at the sound of the bathroom door opening and the sight before him made him weak in the knees. You floated into the room with such grace, completely ignoring the gobsmacked look on his face. You fiddled with the back of your diamond earring, struggling to fasten it in place.

“Baby, can you zip me up the rest of the way?” You asked nonchalantly. You moved to stand in front of him, finally catching his cobalt eyes in the cheval mirror.

“You look beautiful,” Bob professed. His hands curved around your front to rest on your stomach, pulling you tight against him. His eyes darkened as they traveled over your body, lingering on the way the bodice hugged your breasts, pushing them up enticingly. “How am I supposed to make it through the night with you looking like this?”

“You’ll live. Now, zip me up so I can fix your tie.”

His bottom lip jutted out slightly in a pout, causing you to playfully roll your eyes. As he moved the zipper up the last couple of inches you couldn’t reach, he pressed a kiss to the top of your spine.

“Do we really have to go?” Bob questioned as he rested his chin on your shoulder. One hand moved back around to your front, sliding up your chest and groping you through your dress.

“It’s your birthday. You can’t miss it. Behave, Bobby. You’ll have me all to yourself this weekend when we go to Camp David,” you asserted. “It’s just for a couple of hours. You’ll survive.”

“Highly unlikely,” he muttered as you busied yourself with his tie. You had it knotted in no time, looking pleased with your work.

“There. All done,” you said, patting his chest before turning away. He caught your wrist, tugging you back to him swiftly. He looked down the bridge of his nose at you, eyes squinting in the way they did when you defied him. A challenging look that made you burn with desire.

“Can we do that thing we talked about a few weeks ago?” He spoke quietly. Between the grip he had on your arm and the way he was looking at you, you were ready to say screw the party and tear his shirt buttons off with your teeth. But you knew you couldn’t do that. You didn’t get the luxury of skipping out on these things anymore.

“The thing…”

“It is my birthday, you know,” he quipped, the corner of his thin lips twitching up into a devilish smirk. You were about to respond when Charlie knocked on the door, letting you know guests had begun to arrive.

“Mr. President. Ma’am. We’re ready whenever you are.”

Bob dropped your wrist, linking your fingers together and squeezing your hand once. He let go to slide on his suit jacket and you brushed out any wrinkles that appeared, straightening the pin he wore on his lapel. He took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly, craning his neck from side to side.

“C’mon, darling. Let’s get this over with.”

You slid your arm through Bob’s, holding on tightly as you walked through the corridors of the White House. You knew he still got nervous being around so many people. But he never let it show. He was poised, a true leader. The road to the White House was not easy but you believed he was doing what he was always meant to do. Be who he was always meant to be. It made your heart swell with pride to see your husband succeed.

“Quit starin’,” Bob muttered, sneaking a glance at you. You pinched his arm in response.

As the doors opened to the East Room, applause erupted and you felt Bob tense ever so slightly. He was whisked away by a few senators, a champagne flute placed in his hand as they tried to schmooze him into passing their bill. He looked over his shoulder apologetically and you waved him off. You knew how these things went. You’d find your way back to him eventually.

It took exactly forty-five minutes before Josh, Bob’s chief of staff, came up to you. He pulled you aside and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“We’ve lost him.”

You tried to bite back a smile, surprised he lasted as long as he did.

“I know where he is. Thank you, Josh. Do me a favor… keep the West Wing off limits.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

You wandered through the long hallways, taking your heels off halfway to the Oval Office. For the duration of the walk, you considered what Bob had asked for earlier in the night. He had mentioned that he wanted to try something different. You had discussed everything beforehand so you knew exactly what would play out.

You would stumble into his office, he would take you over the desk. He’d be trying his best to avoid the cameras, but if you didn’t… The thought of sneaking around, the thrill of potentially being caught, it turned you on tremendously - and Bob knew that.

There was a soft glow coming from the large room as you entered through the side door. Bob was sitting in his leather chair, feet propped up on the cherry wood desk. He was nursing a glass of scotch, the amber liquid swirling around in the crystal as he finished his sip. His tongue darted out to catch a rogue droplet from the corner of his mouth. He looked so powerful sitting behind that desk. He could bring the whole world to their knees if he just asked.

“Good evening, sir,” you said meekly. Even after a year in the White House, it still made you nervous coming into the Oval Office. Bob’s neck craned towards you and there was a lazy smile on his face. The lamp cast shadows over his face. From where you stood, you could see the sliver of grays at his temple. They started appearing more and more as the days went on, much to Bob’s dismay. Stress, you would inform him at the end of a long day.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he slurred. He straightened himself in the chair, setting his feet on the floor before standing. Your heart pounded against your ribcage as his dark eyes devoured you without saying a word.

“I’ve been looking for you. You promised me a dance.” Your husband hummed, taking one last swig of his liquor before rounding the desk. His tie was hanging loose around his neck, the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt undone.

Your mind ran wild with salacious thoughts as he unbuttoned the cufflinks. The slight clatter of them being haphazardly set aside was the only noise that filled the room. He rolled up his sleeves messily, veiny forearms being put on display. Your mouth dried up looking at his hands, wishing they would reach out and touch you already.

Bob walked slowly towards you, pinning you in place with his gaze.

“Mr. President,” you breathed.

“I like it when you call me that,” he indicated. “Say it again.”

“Mr. President,” you purred this time. He circled you, stopping behind you like he had earlier in your room. “We shouldn’t-“

“I think we should. I think it’d be a wonderful idea.”

“But the cameras…”

“Let them watch,” he muttered in your ear. “Let them see you beg your president to let you cum.”

You whimpered at his words, pressing back into his warm body. You were already begging, a silent plea for him to take you. He wasn’t going to give in to you that easily.

Bob started shuffling the both of you towards the desk, pressing you forward until the edge dug into the tops of your thighs. You could feel how hard he was in his slacks. You knew he needed this. It had been a hellish week and he spent his birthday in meeting after meeting, leaving no time to see each other until you were crawling into bed.

His strong hands gripped your hips and spun you around to face him. His expression was devious, you knew what his plan was. He whipped the tie from his collar and you obediently held your wrists out.

“Good girl,” he said, pressing a searing kiss to your lips. As he pulled away, you chuckled softly. A smudge of red lipstick adorned his mouth.

“I think you just like me tying your ties, mister,” you said. Bob had expertly knotted your wrists together with the black satin material. His response was a cheeky grin and a shrug of his shoulders.

Maneuvering you onto the wooden surface was a small feat, he manhandled you with such ease it made your head spin. Papers scattered everywhere as he shoved them aside. He pressed against your sternum until you were flat on your back, bound wrists dangling above your head.

He made slow work of kissing down your body, mouthing at your cleavage. Sucking small love bites into the tops of your breasts. He dropped to his knees with no preamble, diving under your dress and moving up until he landed between your thighs. He pulled your lace panties to the side and buried his face into your soaked cunt.

The first flick of his tongue against your clit caused your hips to buck and your mouth to fall open. Bob knew how to eat you out like no other. He sucked and licked and nipped against your most sensitive parts until you were a quivering mess.

Your mind wandered back to your previous thought about how he could bring the world to its knees. And yet here he was, the most powerful man, on his knees for you. It made your breath hitch and your thighs shake. His wanton moans vibrated through your entire body. You couldn’t see him, not with the way he had his head shoved under the skirt of your dress, but you felt every move he made. Every shake of his head, every indention his fingertips were leaving.

You were babbling nonsense. You weren’t even sure if it was words. Variations of ‘Bob’ and ‘Sir’ and ‘Mr. President’ spilled from your lips and it seemed to make Bob that much hungrier.

“Bobby, please. Please, I’m so close. I’m so-“

And then he stopped.

He pulled away so quickly your hips chased his mouth and you whined desperately. His hair was a mess, loose curls that were once slicked back flopped onto his forehead. His cheeks were flushed, his lips wet with your desire.

“You bastard,” you mumbled, trying to steady your breathing. You had been right on the edge. But you knew that’s what he wanted. You knew what he had in store.

He said nothing as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He said nothing as he moved you off the desk and around the back of it. He said nothing as he nearly broke the zipper on your gown, practically tearing it off of you. A small pleased noise escaped him as you stood before him in your underwear, wrists tied and breasts on full display.

“Such a dirty slut, aren’t you? Letting me take you in here where anyone could walk in. You like that though, don’t you? Yeah, I know you do.”

He moved to sit once more in his chair, thighs spreading wide as he palmed over his cock. A whimper caught in your throat when he pulled himself out. You’ve said it a million times before but Bob Floyd had a pretty dick. And you would never tire of the sight.

“Want you to ride my cock, pretty girl.”

Bob pulled you into his lap and onto his cock without much warning. The stretch never failed to make you gasp, no matter how many times it had been. He settled you until he was to the hilt, full of him. He reached down to untie your wrists and you tangled your fingers through his hair instantly.

You couldn’t move much on your own so Bob took matters into his own hands and bounced you. Hands holding your hips tight enough you were sure there would be bruises by tomorrow. It was quick and messy, your thighs were burning and you couldn’t hold back your moans.

“Gonna fill you up. Gonna finally make you a momma. We'll have little babies running around this place before you know it. Fuck, sweetheart. I’m the luckiest man alive,” Bob rambled. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room and you silently prayed Josh listened to you before.

Your nails clawed at the part of Bob’s chest that was exposed, slipping your hand inside the half buttoned shirt to scrape against his nipple. It caused his eyes to roll back and his hips to stutter.

“Moan for me, Bobby.” He did. Loud and unabashedly.

The fast rhythm had both of you close in no time. His mouth attached to your breasts once more and that was it for you. You clenched around him tightly, throwing your head back and nearly screaming as he continued the brutal pace into you. It took him a few more thrusts before he was releasing inside of you, filling you full of him.

You slumped against his chest, hot breath washing over his damp skin as he rubbed up and down your spine.

“I can’t believe we just defiled the Oval Office. We could be arrested,” you joked.

“Not the first time,” Bob said. “Thank you for indulging me, honey. I love you to the moon and stars.”

“Happy birthday, Mr. President,” you giggled. A weak groan tumbled from his lips as his dick twitched inside of you.

“Don’t do that to me right now.”

“Is that an order?” You challenged, rolling your hips teasingly.

“You little brat,” he muttered against your lips, picking you up and walking you over to one of the couches. It was a long and glorious night.

Several weeks later you stood in the en suite bathroom, with four positive pregnancy tests sitting on the counter. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting tickled.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #president bob floyd

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nylwnder · 1 year

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get what i want | william nylander

gif by leafsgm

a/n: i’m so sorry for taking years to post this, after promising it several times … but it’s finally here and it’s fucking filthy (because i love you all so much) so have fun and go insane mwah mwah!!!

warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!!, plot? never heard of her, p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f! receiving), beard burn kink, thigh riding, chain kink, spit kink if you squint, possessive kink if you also squint, light mentions of crying during sex, lots of swearing.

word count: 3.8k

taglist: @11livpangburn , @savoies , @stars-canucks , @spine-buster , @melissasturges90 , @themotogirl , @thenhlhastakenovermylife , @allison-mchugh , @willianmylander , @boqvistsbabe , @bunting27

sitting on the bed after finishing your lunch, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand. you mindlessly scrolled on instagram for a bit, before returning any messages you had just as you heard the water from the shower turn off. he made his way out of the bathroom not too long after, and you couldn’t help but stare.

it should be forbidden truly, to be able to walk out with a towel losely hanging off of his hips. his perfectly sculpted chest in plain sight as his chains fidget with his every step. your eyes following the small droplets of water that trickle down his back, tracing every crevasse of his muscles.

he spoke and you unconsciously responded, until he turned around swiftly and the towel threatened to fall off completely, before he held it with his hand.

“hm?” he asks as you had to blink repeatedly before you could look up at him. “hmm?” you responded, not realizing the way you mimicked him. he smirked at you, “i said, it’s rude to stare.”

you scoff, “says you!” making will laugh.

“why don’t you go pick my suit while i finish up.” he says, seeing the smile creep up on your lips. it was something you quite enjoyed doing.

you hopped out of the bed, walking into the closet as will made his way back into the bathroom. you raked your fingers through all of them, analyzing all the ones he’s worn this past week. he had a good selection, two new ones even, but he wore the lilac set just last game and despite the way you were contemplating the thought of your boyfriend in it once again, you ended up chosing his green set.

holding it up, you grab the suit jacket and set the rest of it on the counter. opening it up gently, you slip it on for fun. as you moved around in front of the mirror you enjoyed the oversized look of it since you’ve been contemplating wether or not to buy a set for yourself. since you were wearing shorts, the ends of the suit covered them almost completely and showed as if you were wearing nothing but the jacket. you smiled, something to keep in mind as it’d be a fit you think your boyfriend would quite enjoy.

“having a little fashion show are we?” he mentions, fixing his hair as he walked up behind you. you began to take it off, “hm, just making sure it’ll look good all sprawled out on the bed when you’ve barely made it through the door.” he smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “is that so? i thought you like it when i have a suit on?”

“yes. but, i think we can both agree that unravelling articles of clothing-” you begin, as you grab his hands and put them to your hips, his fingers naturally hooking onto the band of your shorts and panties, “-is entirely better.” your lips connect with will’s. you might have come across as needy, as you fingers tugged in his hair, but you didn’t care.

“mmm don’t tempt me” he mumbles as he breaks the link of your lips. you let out a little whine, “we have enough time” you mutter back. “there’s never enough time for you, love.” he says, lifting you and placing you on the bed.

laying down, he hovers over you. “i’m going to be late.” he mentions, as he pulls down what he agrees are in the way. “you’ll be fine.” you state as your fingers tug on his boxers. “you better be right”

you smile, as his lips attack your neck and his hands roam under your crew neck and all over your body. you let out an airy moan as his fingers find your nipples, but that’s before he pulled your sweater off as well, and his mouth latches on. your back arches as his hands roll down your sides, your hips and then to your ass. he squeezes before his hands find their home between your thighs. you’re shut up from a moan as willy kisses you while playing around with your wetness.

“always ready for me, aren’t you?”

you merely nod when his thumb begins to rub circles on your clit and two of his fingers slip through your entrance. “mmmm yeah” you moan.

your fingers continue to tug at his boxers, will letting you drag them down. you were very aware of his bulge, and when his cock slaps against his stomach you’re thankful you were able to convince him.

“is this what you were needy for? what you tease me for?” you look up at him, clenching around nothing but the void. “please will,” your hand raking down his v-line to give him some strokes “fuck me” you whine, getting up just a tad so you could pull him down by his chains with you. he kisses you as your legs habitually wrap around his waist letting his cock push in.

your eyes roll back, that’s exactly what you wanted. your fingers immediately find his still moist hair, willy taking no time but to find a brisk pace. “fuck yeah just like that” you plead, as you move with his every thrust. willy’s mouth finding home in your breasts once again, making his beard rub against your silky skin which only added on top of all the pleasure.

you couldn't stop clenching around him, and you knew you were breaking him by the second. so willy finds your clit, and he’s ruthless with his fingers. you bite your lip to mask your moans, even nipping on his shoulders. “cum for me, love. oh god i fucking love it when you clench around me”

whimpering as the coil snaps in your belly you kick his lower back to go impossibly deeper into you. he lightly snickers, before his cock twitches and he kisses your cheek as he rides both of your highs out. “yeah that’s my good girl” he whispers, grabbing your hips and continuing to thrust into you.

your head is turned to the side, your eyes closed, as you feel like his pace never softens. your hands reach out to grip his forearms as your moans don’t stop and you can feel the beginning of your second orgasm rushing in. that’s until he stops all at once, and you can’t help but cry out at the emptiness. you take a deep breath as you catch his teasing. “mmm later, älskling.” well, of course.

kneeling up just like him you kiss him and nip at his lip. “hey google, what time is it?” you ask your home device. hearing her response you smirk at willy, “hmm i stand corrected.” he merely slaps your ass before he gets up, cleans himself and gets ready. you laid down on your tummy, not bothering to put your clothes back on just yet.

when will comes out, he bites his lip and groans just the softest bit as you stare innocently back at him. not forgetting to flutter your lashes. “you’re in for it later” he warns.

you felt your cunt throb at his tone.

—

you sat on your couch, blanket in hand, as you saw the last few minutes of the game pass on the clock. “and the leafs go home tonight with their third win of the week” the broadcasters say as the boys crowd to head pat sammy. you smile as you watch your boyfriend hug jt and the other boys. they managed to pull through with another win despite a pretty persistent game. the credit goes to not only ilya but also to the game winning goal scorer: william. the same man who you’ll be waiting to come through your door once again, so you can show him just how proud — and worked up — you are.

you waited around watching the post game coverage, fidgeting in your sweatpants. closer to the time you know william would be in his car, you decided to get up and strip yourself from the sweats. you figured you’d save him the time. so you sat back down on the couch, with a crewneck of willy’s and just your baby pink panties underneath.

just as you draped the blanket on your lap, willy unlocks the door. walking in while taking off his coat and shoes, his eyes find yours. he sees how dark they are, but you didn’t budge. he walked up to the back of the couch, letting your head fall back so he could lean down and kiss you. he was quick to pull you close, turning you around so you were kneeling and facing him, reaching for his kisses once again.

letting your fingers run through his hair, he looked down and saw the thin pink fabric. “mmm nice to see you too baby” he says, lips forming into a smile. “you took too long” you whined at him, as you felt everything to be dreadfully longer than usual.

he snickered, his hands running down to rest on the small of your back. you desperately kissed him again, not knowing how much longer you could wait till he could pin you down on your bed and make you cry. “oh what a needy girl you are”

you smiled, as he gripped your ass and pulled you up and off of the couch. he carried you to the bedroom, your kisses never leaving his warm skin. throwing you down on the bed, he bites his lip at the site — resulting in you letting out a cheeky giggle. he follows quickly after tossing away his suit jacket, choosing to take off your sweater at the same time. his lips trail over you some more, leaving wet kisses on the curves of your breasts before going down and kissing your stomach.

you shiver when his mouth gives you small pecks on your thighs before he lays another on your clothed cunt. you can’t hold back a moan even at the barely present touch. he looks up at you smirking at your squirmy state. “got you all worked up from my goal, didn’t i?” he states more so than asks, taking his sweet sweet time to discard your wet panties. you're practically rolling your eyes.

“well i’ve been thinking about you all evening. how i left your tight pussy dripping wet. figured i’d give you what you wanted so bad earlier.” you whimpered. “a good girl should get what she deserves, don’t you think?” his voice grew lower as he looked up at you, your pussy throbbed again. “yeah-yeah she should.” he hums.

“the real question is whether she can actually take it?” he threatens, as his fingers graze your cunt and he quickly nips on your buds. fuck you’re screwed you thought. making his way down he hauls your hips with him. he gave one bold swipe from your already dripping hole to your clit and you let out a small gasp.

his tongue moved quickly, flicking softly at your clit until rotating to lap at your entrance as he groaned at the taste of you. his nose bumping perfectly into your clit, he was feasting like it was his last meal on earth.

your body was squirming, your hips trying to grind on his mouth if you weren't attempting to close your thighs around willy’s head. that made his beard scrape against your inner thighs even more, making pleasure curl throughout your body.

he knew, will always knew. so he purposely moved his face side to side, painting red patches on your velvety skin. the two different feelings numbed your mind. you pressed your head back into the pillow as your free hand reached to grip his hair aggressively. moans spilled into the room and you pushed him closer into you as you chased your orgasm. “mmm—don’t stop—fuck will”

willy’s cock throbbed against his dress pants as he saw your back arching from the bed and felt your nails digging into his scalp. he groaned into you again and the vibrations sent you spiralling while his teeth teased your bundle of nerves. he sucked hard on it and you cried out his name.

when his three fingers slipped inside, no problem, the coil snapped and your wetness soaked his hand and mouth. he cleaned you up, lapping at the most unholiest drink. his beard rubbed against your pussy and you whimpered at the sensitivity. he did it again before he kissed your clit and connected his damp lips with yours.

you moaned at the taste of yourself, and willy smirked. “delicious, no? fuck i can eat you out for days, princess.”

you sat up and grabbed his neck to pull him in for another kiss. you needed something to ground you and you didn’t know what else to do other than kiss him until both of your lips were puffy and pink. willy gripped your ass and pulled you close to him, he was still dressed and you didn’t think that was right.

your soft hands unhooked the last few buttons on his shirt, he had the first three open anyways. willy slipped it off as you rubbed your hands against his chest, down his stomach and traced his v-line like he loves. your fingers targeted his zipper next, “take it off” you mumbled. he smirked in response, getting off of the bed he dragged his pants down and threw them in the direction of his jacket. he walked back to the bed but you dragged down his boxers before he could get back on, “this especially.”

his cock was shiny, precum lacing the pink tip. you licked your lips, his dark eyes steady on you. he had the whole night planned out already, and you could only picture how you would already feel after the first round.

he sat down beside you, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into his open lips. as you leaned in, your leg draped over one of his legs before william folds it upwards. you gasped, feeling how the stern muscles of his thick thighs pushed right under your wet cunt. “you like that?”

what a stupid question you thought. as if he doesn’t see just how much you stare — in sweats, in dress pants, in jeans, so be it. you thought about them a rotting amount of times everyday. and oh how you’d be lying if you didn’t physically ache over how much you wanted to be writhing on top of them.

you scoffed at him. “can i?” you ask softly, nipping at the inside of your lip as you look at him with your needy eyes. he smiled as he grabbed your hips and started a steady rhythm for you.

your hands found his shoulders as you rocked back and forth. willy gave you kisses on your collarbone, “that’s it, keep going” he was eating up your little moans and whines as you glistened his thigh. nipping down on your soft skin, he flexed his leg. “oh fuck” you yelped as your head fell back at the action.

“eyes on me, darling” he demanded, and you did so. looking at him as he flexed again and your lips fell open. “come on baby girl, soak these thighs” you pull his head into your chest at his words. gripping a handful of his hair as you moaned and twitched. he flexed again, and god forbid if his thumb so happened to rub a circle on your clit. but it did, and he didn’t have to do many before you were chanting his name.

keeping his thigh nicely pushed up against you, he guided you as your juices dripped down his leg. he groaned at the sight, and how you didn’t stop cumming, and how it began falling on the bed sheets. “what a fucking good girl.” he moaned out, seeing how flushed your face got with the lazy last rolls of your hips.

you stopped at the tremble in your own thighs, your head falling on his shoulder and kissing the crook of his neck. your hands found his upright cock and stroked him. he grunted in your ear, feeling how it twitched in your snug grip.

you kissed once again, your forehead against willy’s. “i need you. inside of me” you mumbled into his lips. “please baby”

“my pleasure” he states as he rolls you over. as you get on all fours willy kisses your shoulder, “gonna be my pretty little slut, are you?” he whispers in your ear.

“always am.” you shoot back and will snickers.

he guided himself to you, purposely avoiding your entrance as he teased. sliding his tip to your clit then back down your slit before he slides in seamlessly. a loud throaty moan threatening to escape at how stretched you felt. how you always felt.

he pumped in and it of you devilishly long and slow. as he dragged out every thrust, he would fully exit before retentering. you were dying at the inconsistency of his pace. “faster willy, please.” you begged, “i can’t take it much longer”

he had a smirk plastered on his smug face. he was fucking with you, oh indeed. but it was your choice: either be teased and edged the whole night or well…

he pushes you down, pinning you hard, as he buries his cock in you once again. he pushed down on your lower back as he felt like he could enter not only way deeper than before, but more predominantly. and you expected it.

he thrusted in you at a more familiar pace before he increased it more and more. your face found home in a pillow you had dragged down to you from above. gnawing on it, your moans were still hard to muffle.

the sound of skin slapping skin had your eyes rolling, as his hands sternly gripped your hips into his own. willy could be found groaning as well, even nipping his own lip to try his best to outlast you. but it was hard as you clenched around him every time he was balls deep.

though he easily kept an angle that made you repeatedly chant things like “fuck fuck fuck fuck ugh fuuuck” and he hit it visiously.

“feels so good willy so fucking good”

“i know baby girl. let go for me” he mumbles against your shoulder, placing wet kisses and nibbles.

and so you did, again. feeling the rush of pleasure consume you as willy hushes your whines and moans by pulling you up to him. resting on his chest, your head lolled to the side he held you close as your high faded away.

his hand moved from your neck and gently made its way down your curves. his fingers found your soaking pussy and he groaned at the feeling of his fingers playing with all the gathered juices.

you turned to lay on your back and willy followed. but you knew he hadn’t cummed yet and the look in his eyes told you enough. he kissed your neck, “do you think you can take another hm? wanted it so bad earlier” he teased, though he kept a more gentler tone as he understood your overstimulated state.

you looked at him, playing with his hair. despite knowing just how sensitive you’ll be in a moment, fuck was this so hot. “you know i’ll always be ready for you. this is your perfect little tight pussy. it’s yours willy all fucking yours”

“that’s it princess, it’s all mine.” he says with a smile, taking his cock and thrusting right in. he lifted your hips high in the air as he started at a firm pace once again. he hit that faultless spot deep inside in less than a second. you couldn’t help but scream out a series of expletives, as the oh too familiar haze felt like you were starting to lose all possible control.

he spat on your clit, which was exhibited for his full disposal. using his thumb to push harsh circles. your lip was on the verge of extracting drops of crimson red with the way you were biting down on it. willy continued mumbling things to you but you were in no capability of hearing, understanding or responding to any of it. he was impelling you to the verge of your fourth orgasm in just the bit of time of his return. all you could do was scream.

you ate at the blazing pleasure from both his vigorous hands and his thick cock, giving into it as you gripped willy as hard as you possibly could. william could feel himself twitching at the way your saturated pussy clamped around him. it felt so cruel as his cock ached of its own release.

will’s thrusts never stopped after your high, as he dropped your hips from his high grip. he kept his hands under your knees, widening your thighs far apart. you felt the burn in your eyes as willy wiped your cheek. “i’m so proud of you, baby. taking me so fucking good like the cockslut you are. you can do it, just another for me, princess.”

“y-yeah, yes, ye” you whined out, fuck you didn’t even know what you were saying. he was pounding into you, your boobs jumping with every move of his. so did his chains, in which you gripped, yanking as willy followed down with them. you wanted a kiss, letting willy taste your warm and salty tears. when he moved upwards, your hands kept at the cold metal around his neck.

willy’s deep grunts infatuated you. a bruise would most likely be found on your hips and thighs as he kept you as wide open as you could for him. his hips began to stutter, as your sensitivity only got worse. your thundering heartbeat in your ear and the fire in your lower stomach making the world around you a blur. your chest heaved and drips of sweat fell from willy’s chest. “cum-gonna-cum fuck yeah so fucking close- shit” you moaned out, “come willy, come for me”

“mm baby i can’t help with that fluttering cunt of yours”

with one last twitch, and one last sloppy thrust, you cry out again, now at the feeling of his warm seed coating you. as he pulled out, your conjoined cum dripped out of your pink pussy. willy bit his lip before he decided to dive down and lap you clean. you winced at his flat tongue, gripping the sheets for dear life. “jesus christ william”

he came back up as he kissed your cunt before kissing up towards your mouth again. “you’re so perfect. love how you can take what you tease for all the time” he says in your ear as he moves to the side, letting you follow him to rest on his chest. you smile,

“i get what i want.”

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heartbreakgrill · 7 months

Text

stiles stilinski: breakable heaven; pt. 7, “i’m drunk in the back of the car and i cried like a baby coming home from the bar. said, ‘I'm fine,’ but it wasn't true.”

a/n: sad, but gets hopeful! one more part after this, i think :)

“i’m glad i never ended up having a party at my house.”

danny fell into step beside y/n, their shoes scuffing against the sidewalk. they had to park all the way down the street from jack’s house because there were so many other people here. because it was so late at night, the air in beacon hills was cool. y/n hugged her arms around herself, wishing she hadn’t worn a tank top beneath her jacket. her breath came out like a fog as she spoke.

danny made a face at the thought, “too much work. imagine the clean up.”

“yeah, no thanks,” she shivered.

the music coming from the house ahead of them got louder as they neared it. some popular radio song reverberated in their ears. y/n felt her heart beat in her throat, thumping along to the bass. danny lit up once they reached the door, excited to drink, dance.

he always was the party type. he had so much fun moving to the music, losing himself in the crowd.

on the other hand, there was y/n, who didn’t normally drink at parties. she was a go-to for being the designated driver, choosing to watch out for her friends and play with whatever animal the owner of the house had sniffing around.

tonight, however, she wanted to let loose. needed to, more so.there was nothing better after a heartbreak than getting messy-drunk at a high school party.

it had been a week. a whole week since her and stiles’ fall out. a week since she’d seen his face. sure, she saw his figure in the hallways sometimes, but she would run the other way. he’d start to chase her down, but danny was usually close by and he’d shoot stiles a glaring look. it turned him away. he’d texted her nonstop, called her about a million times. but, after the fourth day, when he realized she just wouldn’t be responding, he stopped. all lines of communication fell out. any hope of fixing what was broken was squashed out.

when y/n thought about it too much, she felt sick. nausea tumbled through her stomach. her head became fuzzy. stupid, naive girl, she’d think to herself. it’s all your fault. so, every single time her mind started to wander, she’d shove her nose into her homework, pick up a shift at work, get so high out of her mind that reality felt like a television show.

tonight, her choice of thought erasure was getting wasted at a high school party.

y/n squeezed her hand around danny’s bicep once they walked in. in response, he kept her close to his side as they wormed through jack’s house, in search of their friend group. eventually, they found leo, megan, jack, and a few others. they were in the kitchen, standing around the island counter. glasses were scattered around the house already, though the party had just started barely an hour or so ago. the group cheered when y/n and danny came through the door, holding up some of the red solo cups.

megan came to y/n’s side, her tipsy stature morphing her usually quiet attitude into something more sentimental. she clutched onto y/n’s arm. she touched y/n’s cheek and gushed over the curls swinging over her shoulders. “i loooove the hair, girl. you look so pretty with it like that. you’re always pretty, though. oh, my god, you know we haven’t hung out in forever and it makes me so sad. please, please say we’ll hang out soon.”

y/n giggled at megan’s state, wrapping a securely protective arm around megan’s waist. “i promise, okay?”

y/n was the first to admit that she’d been so caught up with boys over the last few months. she hadn’t exactly pushed away her friends, but she hadn’t prioritized them, either. she was in her head with her own issues, and didn’t make the time others. it made her feel a little guilty. but, before that feeling could snowball into the depressive heartbreak she’d been plagued with, megan continued.

“what’s new with you? what have you been up to? i hope you’re not still sad about sam. you should know you’re so much fucking better than him. you deserve so much fucking better than him. he’s such a whore. fuck him.”

“no, i’m over that,” y/n said, confidently waving megan off through a giggle. and she was telling the truth. “i’ve just been…hanging out. ya know. working.” her gaze became distant, words slow as stiles’ face flashes through her memories. y/n didn’t say what she had been really doing. it was embarrassing to admit that she’d gotten herself into another shitty situation with a guy.

though, megan squinted her eyes, analyzing her friend’s words. she knew, “oh, no. oh, no, no, no. fucking stilinksi. i fucking knew once danny told us- okay. listen- you don’t even have to say anything, kay? tonight, we’re just gonna have fun. here, jack, pour us some shots!”

y/n couldn’t help but grin in response. there wasn’t time to imagine stiles- to envision his lips ghosting the curve of her skin, to try to remember what it felt like when he’d draw out movement from her body. because, next thing she knew, megan was shoving two to three red solo shot cups into y/n’s hand- all in a row. and y/n didn’t let herself hesitate. she swallowed them easily, ignoring the burn in her throat, her heart, her chest, and head.

jack cracked a smirnoff open for her. danny caught y/n’s eyes as she took a sip and gave her a thumbs up. when she waved him off, he winked, then wandered his way into the living room, where people were dancing. he’d mentioned something about ethan being there. y/n looped her arm through megan’s, pointed in that direction. megan nodded excitedly and pulled them to the makeshift dance floor.

they danced for what felt like hours but, really, was only maybe forty five minutes. jack and leo, avid partiers, continued shoving shots into their friend’s hands, traveling between the bar in the kitchen and the dance floor. y/n losing track of time turned into her losing track of how much she was drinking. one smirnoff turned into numerous empty glasses that she’d abandon on the coffee table beside her.

she had to take her jacket off after a while, sweating too much in the jean material. y/n tossed it, absentmindedly, on the couch. she probably wouldn’t remember it there later. she’d probably have jack in a frenzy, texting everyone tomorrow about random articles of clothing in his living room. she’d probably lose the 20 stuffed into the pocket to some wandering hands. but it didn’t matter.

nothing really mattered. not when her favorite song played, not when megan spun her around, when danny would yell lyrics into her face and ruffle her hair. y/n just kept throwing her head back, giggling like a mad woman.

it didn’t matter. it did not matter to her. the entire, fucked up situation with stiles. it didn’t matter that he had used her, that he had been seeing lydia the whole time. it did not matter that he had kept so many secrets from her. it did not matter that she broke her own rules, that she let him get beneath her skin, that she fell in love with hi

it did not really matter if she loved him.

y/n turned on her heel, dancing around in circles with megan, both girls holding each other’s hands like they were schoolgirls. her hair whipped over her shoulders, in waves behind her back. her eyes couldn’t focus on the blurred, bright lights passing her vision as they spun. the bodies surrounding them turned into smudges against her vision. she couldn’t tell who was who.

but she thought she saw stiles standing in the doorway to the kitchen, clear as day.

y/n stalled in her tracks. she nearly fell over from how quickly she stopped. megan bumped into her shoulder, grabbed y/n’s arm to steady herself.

y/n couldn’t breathe. she squinted her eyes, rubbed at them, smudging her mascara.

her sight cleared and there was nobody there.

megan laughed loudly in y/n’s ear, tugging on her arm, “why’d you stop?! keep going! spin, spin!”

y/n took a deep, shuddering breath, staring at the spot where she had pictured stiles. “i need air,” she mumbled.

megan yelled, “what are you saying?”

y/n pulled her arm out of megan’s, “i’m going outside,” she barely looked at her friend. this is why she didn’t like to drink.

y/n stumbled through the house, being shoved left and right by the sweaty, dancing teenagers suffocating her. she didn’t know when she’d started crying, but her face was slick was tears. she wiped her hands across her cheeks, smearing more mascara and eyeliner, blackening her palms. she couldn’t focus her thoughts, nor did she feel like herself. this is why she didn’t like to drink. because she wasn’t logical, she was out of control.

y/n found the side door, the one that led to jack’s garage, and slammed it shut behind her. once she reached the garage floor, she slowly lowered herself to the bottom step, hugged her knees to her chest. she didn’t know if she was having a panic attack or a full mental breakdown. but she couldn’t breathe. and she just wanted to be sober so she could figure out her shit.

y/n pressed a hand to her chest, hoping the pressure would do something: ground her, snap her back to reality. all she could do was sob, rock back and forth like a baby. as she did so, her phone fell out of her back pocket. somehow, her camera roll was open on the screen. staring up at her. a picture of stiles and winnie was there, taunting her.

y/n didn’t have any inhibitions, too far gone to know what crossed the line of boundaries she’d made when she was sober. so, she picked up her phone, her hands shaking.

and she hit the little telephone next to his contact. she stared at the picture as it rung.

she needed him. she needed him to hold her, bare-naked under his bedsheets, warm against his chest. needed him to rake his fingers through her hair and to kiss her forehead, call her baby again. even just say her name. she’d even pretend, like she did a dozen times, just for him, that she didn’t notice his lips linger there. she’d pretend it never happened.

anything for him. if he wanted her and lydia- that was fine. he could have her. she was his, completely, fully. all of his. every inch of her skin that he had laid eyes, that he had touched his with fingertips, every inch of skin that he had nipped at with his teeth- it was his.

he picked up immediately.

“y/n? oh, my god, i’m so fucking- i’m so sorry. i don’t know what i did-“

“stiles,” she cut him off, voice barely above a whisper.

his tone instantly softened. a soothing one replaced his usually hectic vocal demeanor, “oh, baby.” he knew, from just the smallest whimper barely uttered between her lips, he knew that she didn’t want to fight. she didn’t call to argue. she didn’t call to make up, either. she just called to hear him, to talk to him. she needed him.

she’d never know how much he needed her, too.

his voice, breathy in her ear, sent a shiver down her spine. y/n sniffled, knuckles white on the hand which held her phone. her head lolled down, chin hiding into her chest.

“what’s wrong?” he asked.

y/n chewed on her lip for a moment, willing it to stop wobbling, “i mis-“ she stopped herself, jamming a different word onto what she was saying to cover it up, “i mistake. i-um, didn’t mean to call you.

it took him a second to reply, “oh. ok.” he knew it wasn’t true, but he didn’t know what else to say. he didn’t want to press her into a conversation she didn’t want to have. but he didn’t want to end the call. he wanted to be whatever she needed in this moment.

they sat there in silence for a good two minutes, not even the sound of their own ragged, anticipatory breaths making any noise in the other’s ear. y/n’s hand was shaking. she loosened her tight grip on her knees and stretched her legs out in front of her. the shift in position helped her breath a little bit better.

she sniffled again, tilted her head back. as she stared at the ceiling, she suddenly laughed. “i didn’t make a fucking mistake, stiles. god, i meant to call you.”

“oh, good,” his tone remained still and flat. he was focused on reading her words. there was meaning between the lines that he couldn’t read. and she was acting strange. he was decoding everything.

“i mean to call you because every single second that i’m not with you, i feel like i’m going to die!” she exclaimed, tossing her other hand in the air.

stiles rubbed his lips together, brows furrowed, “i’m glad that you called.” he, also, felt like he was going to die without her. but, he didn’t know if he should tell.

if only stiles knew that if he would have just told her, honestly, how he felt, as soon as he felt it, months ago, this entire situation could have been avoided. alas, it was a lesson he was still learning.

“good,” y/n huffed. hearing him calmed her down. knowing he was there coaxed her off the edge of anxiety. now, her drunken self took back over her body. and drunk y/n wanted to dance, “okay. i’m going back to the party-“

“party?” stiles interrupted her, his concerned tone back. she was annoyed that he cared where she was at. he didn’t have any right to that feeling- though, also, it made her feel good, that jealousy, that toxicity.

drunk y/n was feeling a lot.

she nodded, though he couldn’t see her, stating matter of factly, “party. i’m at a party, stiles. i’m drunk, and i’m having a blast. well, i was having a blast until you popped into my mind. god, do you know how badly i want to punch you in the face? i just wanna give you, like, a knuckle sandwich, ya know? maybe being hit will make you figure your shit out. okay, whatever. like i was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, i’m going back to the party. i’m going to go dance with my friends-“

stiles had just left the animal clinic, where he, lydia, allison, and scott had met to discuss plans to combat the killer still in beacon hills. chills were lingering on his skin, thinking about all of the photographs stolen from the station, picturing dead students cut at the throat. every time they’d pull another out of the beige manila folder, y/n’s face would appear in his head, attached to a battered, beaten corpse. he’d been worried sick about her the last week, especially since the murderous rampages had slowly spread, closer to home. and, they were more vicious as every day passed. he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t stay outside her house every night, parked in his jeep down the road, barely able to sleep.

her, drunk at a party, was the last situation stiles needed her to be in. it was dangerous. he didn’t want to show up to a crime scene with her corpse lying within a body bag. he couldn’t lose her.

of course, she didn’t know that that was a possible ending to her night. everyone knew about the serial killer, but average citizens of beacon hills didn’t really seem concern themselves with something that seemed so out of reach. teenagers, especially, were naive and vulnerable to things like that.

“who’s with you?” he interceded her words, again. y/n groaned in response and went to complain about how he always did shit like that. but, he spoke again, more firmly this time, “y/n, who’s with you?”

“my friends, just danny, megan, jack, leo. a bunch of other people i don’t know,” she listed off, staring into space. “why do you care?”

“where is it?” stiles demanded. sure, he didn’t have claws, fangs, or anything that would stop a literal supernatural serial killer besides a beat-up baseball ball and his annoying attitude which would eventually drive the creature even more insane. but, he needed to be there. heather had died at a party. the ending scene of a slasher film always happened at a party. parties were breeding grounds for death, as if they were the tenth circle of dante’s inferno or something.

y/n, danny, leo, megan- they were all sitting ducks. targets for something really bad yet to happen.

so, he needed to be there. convince her to leave, if he could. if she wouldn’t leave, he’d stay. he’d stay for her.

anything for her.

y/n hung up on the phone once he said he was on the way. she’d scoffed and said, “yeah, fucking right. danny will beat the shit out of you.”

the beeping tone of a hung up line hit stiles like a truck. he still didn’t quite understand what he had done. if he did, he’d had fixed it by now. he was always good at fixing things. maybe he didn’t have glowing red eyes, or the ability to predict death, but he always was able to fix the jeep. he pulled his dad out of his alcoholic pit after his mom’s death. he was a problem solver. he was good at it.

but, he didn’t what was broken.

tonight, he intended to find out. he didn’t care if danny beat the shit out of him, or if y/n wouldn’t listen. he’d wait for her to open her ears to his incessant bickering, holding an ice pack to whatever bruises danny had left. he knew she’d break eventually.

if she really was done with him, if she really didn’t want to hear him out, why else had she called him?

–

stiles broke about a billion traffic laws. but he managed to get there, quickly, in one piece.

he couldn’t locate y/n anywhere inside the house, but did find all of her friends dancing in the living room. had they been there the whole time? did they even know y/n was on her own? probably not. you’d think, with a serial killer on the loose, they’d care more about each other’s safety.

his jaw dropped at the sight of them, carelessly floating through the crowd while one of their friends was drunk and alone, in some dark corner of this house. it pissed him off, as did all of the people pushing against him, alcohol sloshing over the rims of their cups and onto his shoes, the smell of sweat, and the sight of teenagers making out against walls, doors, other couples.

he had always hated people, but parties reminded him just how much of that hatred existed within his chest.

stiles checked the upstairs bedrooms, bathrooms, called her name out, down the basement steps, peeked into the empty garage, and even looked inside a pantry in case she’d stuffed herself somewhere like that.

stiles was grateful to, eventually, find her, outside, on the edge of the pool. her sneakers and socks were flung into the yard behind her. she swung her bare feet in the chlorinated water, completely soaking the bottoms of her jeans. y/n’s palms were planted on the concrete beside her thighs, her head thrown back, eyes closed as she swayed to the music. she didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

stiles huffed when he saw her, the deep, worried breath rattling in his chest. “y/n,” he said, hoping to garner her attention. his hands flung about him, as they normally did when he spoke.

she didn’t seem to care that he was there, but she definitely heard him. he knew she had because he watched y/n’s shoulders flinch, ever so slightly, at the sound of her own name.

stiles squatted down beside her, curling a soft hand around her bicep, “y/n, hey-“

she pulled her arm away, as if his hand was made of lava. “go away, stiles.” his hand stilled in the air where she’d pushed it, fingers flexing at the rejection.

stiles then pressed the hand to his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut with frustration, impatience. “y/n, please-“

she looked up at him, jaw slack from her drunken state. her eyes looked darkened, the deadly stare enhanced by her ruined makeup. “what the fuck do you want?”

stiles met her eyes. his face softened, concern overwhelmingly her features. just seeing her face, though it was a wreck- it sent goosebumps across his skin. she was so fucking pretty, even though she’d been crying. why had she been crying?

“i want to talk to you-“

“go away,” she waved him off. y/n then pulled her legs from the pool, dripping water all over the concrete. stiles’ eyes moved down her body, ensuring she was in one piece. he noticed the goosebumps all over her bare arms. she was freezing cold.

he stood with her, following her quick feet. “where’s your jacket?” stiles began to pull off his zip up jacket while she grabbed her shoes. he reached out for her arm again. his fingertips on her shoulder felt like a zap of electricity.

y/n flinched away again. she whipped her head back towards him, a deep frown enlisted on her features, “fuck off, stiles! don’t even try pretend like you care about that shit right now! seriously, go the fuck home! i told you not to come!”

stiles took a step away from her. he wished he knew what he had done so fucking badly. he wanted to kiss her eyelids. he wanted to clean off her makeup, wrap her up in his bedsheets, rub circles into her back until she fell asleep, soundly in his hood.

but, all of that couldn’t really be at the forefront of his mind right now. it couldn’t matter. he was here to protect, whether she wanted him there or not. and, she very obviously did not want him at this party. well, too damn bad. he pushed the thoughts aside.

“i’m not going anywhere,” stiles threw his hands up, as if to challenge her. if she wanted him gone, she’d have to drag him out of there. he continued to follow her. she found a chair and sat down in order to put her shoes on. he continued, “look, i don’t know what i did, but you don’t even understand what’s happening in this town. i have to protect-“

“bro, get the fuck away from her!”

stiles felt a pressure against his chest as someone’s abnormally strong had pushed him away from y/n’s presence. she looked up from her shoe laces that she was struggling to tie, brows furrowing at the sound of stiles’ grunt. she watched as stiles stumbled over his feet. he straightened up, quick, and met the eye of his assailant.

“oh, fuck off, dude,” stiles tilted his head to the side, slowly shaking it in annoyance. his jaw clenched, fists flexed at his sides. he took an intimidating step forward.

y/n glanced between stiles and sam owens, taking a deep, shuddering breath. sam puffed out his chest, towering over stiles by a couple of inches. although he was buffer, taller, a couple years older, he didn’t seem nearly as threatening as stiles did. the devilish qualities to his features seemed to heighten themselves in defiance to sam’s presence.

the black haired boy glared his eyes at sam, pupils blown out out with a stormy darkness. she knew it was wrong, but seeing him so angry at sam- y/n couldn’t help but admit that it made her stomach twirl.

they’d never really had the sam talk, at least she hadn’t told him every single thing. she’d mentioned sam, once, when she and stiles were talking about something else. it was offhanded, when she brought him up. danny, however, had spilled his guts to stiles about the short situationship y/n and that “douchebag” had been in all summer.

and stiles was pissed the fuck off. he knew about sam’s girlfriend at college. he knew sam had used y/n for sex over the summer. he knew that sam had told her he loved her right before breaking up with her.

oh, was stiles angry.

that was, after all, his girl now. and nobody was gonna fuck with stiles’ girl. nobody was gonna fuck with stiles.

he stepped forward, now nearly chest to chest with sam, who replied, “who the fuck are you? y/n told you to leave! want me to show you the door, kid?”

“who the fuck am i? watch your mouth, dickhead. you have no fucking business here-“

y/n quickly stood, wary hands before herself, “stiles, it’s not worth it, i promise.” she stalled his words, but stiles wouldn’t even look over at her. his dark eyes bore a hole through sam, and she knew he was probably going to hit him.

y/n, who was now feeling quite sobered up, glanced to the house. she knew that if they started fighting, stiles would get his ass handed to him. sam was a wrestler in college, the best in his weight class. he was a fucking state champion.

so, she needed to get to danny, who was definitely stronger than stiles, at least. he’d probably be able to keep them apart long enough for her to calm stiles down.

but, she didn’t have any time, because sam was mouthing stiles off again. and stiles really was the best at banter. so, he was getting himself into a lot of trouble.

“you put your fucking hands on her, and she told you to stop. makes it my goddamn business-“

“oh, my god, shut the fuck up!” stiles rolled his eyes at sam. he opened his mouth to shoot off some other sarcastic remark when sam reared back a fist and clipped the side of stiles’ face. stiles nearly fall back on the concrete alongside the pool, but he caught himself. having a werewolf as a best friend had taught him a thing or two. so, he was ready to fight.

stiles hit sam in return, most likely breaking his hand- definitely breaking his hand, he knew it. but the punch tossed sam onto the lounge chair behind him. it surprised both stiles and y/n, who had to jump out of the way. she nearly getting taken out by sam’s thrown body.

stiles met her eye and the sight of her, standing there, scared, softened him. he reached for her, closing the distance between then within two long strides. he set his hands on her biceps, ignoring the throbbing pain in his left one. blood dripped from his cracked knuckles, bleeding onto her skin. she clutched onto his elbows in response, any anger for him washed away by fear and worry.

“shit, are you okay? i’m so-“

before he could continue, y/n was shoved to the ground. she scraped her palms, cut her elbow open, and busted her tailbone, hard, on the concrete. she thought she hit her chin, too, but she couldn’t really tell, because y/n’s vision blurred from the fall.

sam tackled stiles to the ground with another punch. they landed in the grass, and went at each other. it took y/n a second to clear her pained head, but she managed to push herself up on her feet. some of their classmates continued partying around them, most just ignoring the fight. but a small crowd gathered to watch it, like it was something exciting, something fun to do. the bystanders made y/n feel sick. nobody was doing anything.

she didn’t even take a second to look at stiles, knowing that seeing him like that would stall her in her tracks. instead, she turned towards jack’s house, danny’s name screeching out of her throat.

she ran inside, feeling like she was pushing through thick, slow jello. she continued to yell out his name. luckily, she found him, on the dance floor still. ethan was there, too. good- he could help.

ethan was already meeting her, setting a kind hand on her arm. “what’s wrong?” his eyes glazed over, and he looked to the side, as though he could hear the fight. he ran outside.

danny shoved through the crowd, towards her. he caught her chin in his hand examining her wounds, “what the fuck happened? what’s going on?”

y/n, breathing heavily, sobbing again, stumbled out, “sam and stiles!”

danny pushed aside as he fell into a run. y/n followed, though the burning of her cuts and scrapes became more intense on her nerves. she seethed a breath between her teeth, stumbling over her feet, but pushed on.

ethan had shoved sam to the grass, though he was getting back up, again. danny immediately lunged in between them before sam could get to stiles. danny sent a harsh punch to sam’s gut, forcing him backwards again. danny then grabbed stiles by the shirt, helped him become balanced on his feet, before danny pushed him away, too. ethan came back in, grabbing stiles around the chest to hold him back, though stiles fought against the tight hold. sam somehow got up, again, clutching his stomach, and jumped towards stiles. danny punched him again and shook out his fist after. the look on his face was annoyed, but also, somehow, vengeful. he had been waiting all summer, all of fall, to punch this motherfucker.

“fuck you guys!” sam spat at danny and stiles from his knees, more blood trailing down his already slick chin.

stiles grunted, fighting against ethan’s hold. “you’re a piece of fucking shit! pussy ass bitch-“

“shut the fuck up-“ sam cut him off, then added, “i don’t even give a fuck about that bitch!“

danny shook his head at the words spitting from sam’s mouth. stiles looked angrier, if at all possible. ethan’s hold loosened on him, shocked by the insults sam threw at y/n. ethan did care for her, too, even if he barely knew her. she was everything to danny.

all three boys were seething with anger. sam had called her a bitch, and they did not like that.

sam simply smirked up at them, his words and expression challenging them. he went to wipe his mouth with his sleeve, but he didn’t get a chance to even take another breath because danny had lunged after him again.

ethan let go of stiles, purposefully, and the boy followed suit. ethan, a little more controlled- even though the situation pissed him off, too- grabbed danny, but not before allowing him to get a few punches in.

y/n ran forward and tried to grab stiles’ arm. she failed, and instead tripped over his shoe. she tumbled into the grass. she quickly pulled herself up, again. when she looked for stiles, she saw him being restricted again, this time by scott’s arm. she didn’t know when he had arrived, but she was glad for the extra help.

it made her heart swell that all of these men cared about her so much to fight sam like they were, but it really needed to end already. it shouldn’t have even gotten out of hand in the first place. she was nauseous, hurting in all of the places she’d been wounded, and extremely tired from the alcohol still coursing through her system.

y/n stood up. scott was rushing out words to his friend, “hey! stiles! stiles, cmon, dude! calm down! stiles!”

“stiles!” y/n called. she crouched down in front of him, reaching for his face.

stiles finally met her eyes and a steady rhythm graciously caught his breath. she cupped his jaw in her delicate fingers. his blood smeared across his face, all over her hands.

a few tears ran down his face, falling into her palms. she didn’t know why he was crying, if it was because of his injuries or his anger. but she wiped them away with her thumbs.

“it’s okay, baby,” she whispered, for only him to hear. “i’m okay, it’s okay. please, just calm down.”

scott, who had let go of stiles, turned to sam, who was standing up from the ground. scott was charismatic, and could usually easily demand people. he put out a cautious hand towards sam, “leave it, buddy. just leave it, trust me,” scott warned him.

stiles slumped forward, on his knees. y/n squatted, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. she used all of her strength to stand them up, brushing the sweaty, bloody hair from his face. sam watched her tenderness as she cared for stiles, feeling a surge of jealousy. sam knew he didn’t want her. he knew he had willingly given her up. but, that didn’t mean he wanted anybody else to get to have her.

so, just when it seemed like it was over, sam scoffed, “yeah, you’re right. i’ll leave it. she’s not worth it. she’s just an easy fuck and a cheap ass date-“

now, scott was angry. he roared, and y/n thought she saw his eyes flash a bright red. he went after sam, just to shut his stupid fucking mouth. he swept past y/n and stiles, who clutched onto her waistline protectively. he tried to duck them out of the way, but his foot skidded over the concrete, and they tripped towards the water.

she yelped, clutching onto his neck, as they fell into the pool. the water enveloped them, but tore them from one another. y/n kicked her feet sporadically, shocked by the cold, by the alarming fall they’d taken. she grabbed for stiles’ shirt and gratefully felt his hands fluttering for her hips.

she blew out a lot of bubbles, struggling to hold her breath from all of the shock. stiles tugged her tightly against him, again, and swam them to the surface. y/n wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched onto his shoulders. she was shaking, with fear, with pain, from the cold water nipping at her skin. it was all so much all at once that she just laughed.

stiles stared at her as she tossed her head back, giggling like a maniac. he furrowed hit brows, jutted his chin out, “what are you laughing about?”

y/n barely met his eye, continuing to laugh at the fucked up situation. “this is just so stupid!”

he remembered she was drunk and tapped her hip, “okay, let’s get you out of here-“

“it’s stupid, stiles!” she slapped a hand down onto his shoulder. “you’re stupid! that fight was fucking stupid! sam’s stupid! this night is stupid! i’m stupid!”

“why am i- why are you stupid?” he didn’t want to make it all about him. she was clearly grappling with something, something she needed to talk out.

she couldn’t continue to push everything away, including him. “i’m stupid! i let you and that stupid boy fuck up everything! i let it happen not once, but twice! what is it- fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me? i’m a fool! you and sam are, like- oh, my god, im just stupid. and that was so fucking stupid- you and sam fighting over me! you guys fought over me, but both of you are the reason im so fucked up in the first place! it’s your guys’ fault and you just had some stupid pissing contest-!”

“me and sam?” stiles sounded out his words carefully, working through her rambles in his fuzzy head.

the night she’d ran out of his house, in a craze, a mess because of his phone blowing up- what had triggered that?

who had called stiles that night? who had been blowing up his phone? was it-

it was lydia.

lydia, the girl everyone at beacon hills high knew he’d had a major crush on for, like basically, ever.

y/n must have looked at his phone. she must have put together, based off of the texts he’d been sent, based off all of the context clues laying right in front of him, that he and lydia were together.

meanwhile, am had had a girlfriend the entire time he and y/n had gone out. every day, he’d see his girlfriend. then, usually on the weekends, when it was dark, he’d bring y/n out like a toy.

y/n thought stiles was just like sam. y/n thought stiles was using her.

she had no clue that she was everything and the sun to him. she had no clue that he needed her like water, that he craved her like wine. she didn’t know that he spent every night rereading their texts, analyzing their conversations, going over their interactions, decoding everything to find a way for her to love him despite her hurt, despite what they agreed on.

she was used to being broken by people who claimed to love her, and stiles was just another part of that system.

so, he needed to tell. right now.

stiles gripped onto her hips, shaking her body just once so she’d meet his eyes. “listen-“

“no, just- get me out-“

“y/n, you beautiful, gorgeous, sweet woman- just listen to me! okay? just listen!” stiles demanded, “i’m not with lydia, alright? i’ve never been with her. i don’t want her- i’m in-“

“stiles!” scott called his name from above, standing at the edge of the pool. his eyes still glowed red, his face was still morphed into that of a wolf. scott’s chest puffed out, in, heavily, with deep, ragged breaths.

stiles knew something was wrong based off of his friend’s demeanor.

“we have to get to the school. lydia’s in trouble.”

stiles looked to y/n, who’s face had lit up from the possibility of stiles’ words. her expression morphed into confusion. he wanted to say something, to say sorry. but, he couldn’t. he couldn’t focus.

so, y/n took her turn to speak, graciously replying with, “stiles, i know there’s so much that you’re still hiding from me-“ she glanced up at scott, who tilted his head with shame, “so, i’m coming with you. if you want me to trust you, i have to come with you. i have to know.”

stiles knew she was right.

so he drug her, head first, into the world of the supernatural.

#derek x stiles #stiles stilinksi fanfiction #stiles stilinksi imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski #stiles x lydia #stiles x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf x reader

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thetraingotsetonfireonmidnight · 1 year

Text

𝕶𝖎𝖘𝖘 𝕶𝖎𝖘𝖘, 𝕱𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 ~ 2

(Adrien Agreste/Chat Noir x reader)

This was highly requested! Thank you all for the support. The fact that KKFIL got so much support shocks me! I appreciate all of you!

< Part one

"You're pathetic." Plagg said ever so bluntly in-between his chews. He took another bite of cheese, crumbs falling onto Adrien's newly cleaned desk, "Just admit that you like them and move on."

Adrien grumbled in response, "I don't like them, Plagg."

Living with the kwami of destruction always presented a challenge. There wasn't a day that passed by without the mischievous cat trying to pull some dirty prank behind Adrien's back. At first, he didn't mind it. It added something new to his day, and it was usually harmless.

But apparently hiding his phone or ruffling his hair before a photoshoot wasn't enough for Plagg anymore, because as of late, he's been turning off Adrien's alarm so he doesn't wake up for school on time. So now he was stuck in this position, shoving everything in his backpack last minute while trying to rush out the door.

Right now wasn't exactly the best time for him and Plagg to be having a conversation about his upside-down love life.

"You don't like them?" Plagg pushed, "Sure, and cheese is my worst enemy."

"Look Plagg, it's too early for this conversation."

"So let's end it right here with you admitting that you like them."

"Get in my jacket or I'm throwing out the cheese you stored in my desk." Adrien opened up his jacket as Plagg let out a shrill gasp before immediately flying into his pocket.

"For the record, this is called manipulation."

"You're insufferable sometimes."

Monday.

Adrien walked into the classroom ten minutes late, and he'd never forgive Plagg for ruining his perfect on-time attendance.

He huffed and sat down next to Nino.

"Woah, dude, you look like shit. Totally unexpected from the model of the class."

Adrien smiled at Nino's bluntness, "I had a bit of a rough morning." He made sure to subtly flick his pocket as he said that. He felt Plagg pinch his side in retaliation.

"Yeah, I can tell." Nino shook his head, turning his attention back to the teacher. Adrien wanted to follow suit, but he couldn't help but notice you.

You sitting in your desk.

You looking wonderful as ever.

You…staring…right at him.

He smiled and waved.

You waved back.

And time stopped.

He wished he could sit next to you. Ask about your morning, hold your hand under the table, and pass notes throughout the class, giggling every time you nearly get caught.

But, alas, he wasn't sitting next to you, he wasn't holding your hand, and passing notes from this distance would be a guaranteed detention.

Life was cruel and unfair sometimes.

"Psst." He raised a brow at you, silently asking you what you needed. You smiled, looking a bit bashful as you put your fingers to your lips and blew him a kiss.

Maybe life wasn't so cruel and unfair.

Tuesday.

"Are you ok? You look tired."

Your voice was something Adrien would never get tired of, and it was just the remedy he needed after dealing with an akuma who had a…not so melodic voice.

The fight was harder than he had assumed it would be. A few scratches littered his arms and legs while stubborn strands refused to stick with the rest of his gelled and styled hair. Though most of the ringing had gone away, his hearing hadn't quite recovered yet. He questioned the miraculous ladybug and why it decided that fixing a civilian's ripped tie was important, but Adrien (the person who helped stop the villain) would have to suffer the rest of the day with hearing loss. It needed to get its priorities straight.

You looked him up and down, your nose scrunched at the sight, "Did you lose a fight to a pigeon or something?"

"Very funny." He reached to scratch the back of his neck, but quickly remembered how Plagg had made fun of him for doing that when he got nervous the night before, and quickly put his hand down. "I tripped. I can only imagine how happy my father will be when he sees me." Adrien laughed, "I have a photoshoot after school. He's going to kill me."

You smiled awkwardly, "And you're laughing about that?"

He paused, realizing how strange it must've seemed for him to be laughing at the idea of upsetting his father and maybe another day, he would've been more worried than joyful…but…

A part of him felt like sticking it to his dad. It was something he never would've considered doing before, but dressing up in a cat costume everyday can change a man.

"Well, good luck with your dad." You pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned to leave. He could still feel it on his cheek, his face growing increasingly warmer.

"You like them~" Plagg whispered.

"It's completely platonic."

Wednesday.

A festival was in town.

Adrien didn't exactly get permission to go, so he had his good old friend, Chat Noir, help him get to where he needed to be. It was a risky game he was playing, but he couldn't miss seeing you.

You ran into his arms the second you saw him, hugging him for longer than necessary (not that he was mad about it).

You walked through multiple booths, picking up small snacks.

Soon a dance broke out, and Adrien couldn't resist asking you to dance.

He bowed deeply, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. "Would you like to dance?"

You looked bashful.

It suddenly didn't feel so platonic anymore.

Thursday.

You were trapped in a closet with him.

Chat noir had run in to detransform, not realizing that you had already occupied the space.

He tried to quickly turn back and leave, but the door handle broke in his hands, leaving the two of you in the closet alone.

"So…you like jazz?" Chat asked. He felt like banging his head against the wall. Talking to you was so easy as Adrien, but it was difficult as Chat Noir.

How could pretend like he knew nothing of you when all he did was think about you?

You gave him a very confused look, "Uh…is the akuma gone?"

"Yeah! And so is the doorknob!"

The joke didn't land as well as he wanted it to. You just nodded and shifted back and forth on your feet. He was terrible at this.

He knew the two of you couldn't stay in there forever, but the only way you could get out was if he cataclysmed the door….

But in order to do that, he'd have to detransform.

"Do you mind closing your eyes?"

"Uh…how come?"

"I need to detransform."

You stared at him for a few more minutes. He wondered what you thought of Chat Noir. He had never asked you about it before.

He could only hope that you liked him.

You finally closed your eyes, and Chat whispered the magic words that rid him of his magic.

Plagg shook his head disapprovingly at the blonde, though Adrien wasn't sure what the cat wanted. There was nothing else he could do, and he knew you would be trustworthy.

He fed Plagg quickly.

"I just wanted to say…"

Adrien froze, scared you would someone know it was him if he breathed too loudly.

"I'm very grateful for what you and Ladybug do for Paris…really. Thank you."

Adrien smiled, relaxing slightly. He wished to respond, but without the quantum magic to mask his voice, he knew speaking would only screw him over. Thankfully, you seemed to understand that, as you didn't say anything about his silence.

He waited for Plagg to finish eating before transforming back.

He cataclysmed the door and stepped to the side, "Victims in distress first!"

You smiled and stepped out, he followed quickly.

"Thanks again."

"There's nothing to thank me for, all I did was get you stuck in a closet."

You laughed, "I meant for stopping the akuma…and getting me out of the closet."

You smiled, and Chat could've sworn his heart stopped. He wanted to kiss you now more than ever.

Not on the cheek.

Not on the hand.

A real kiss.

Chat couldn't do such a thing, but he knew someone who could.

Friday.

It was raining.

Neither you nor Adrien brought an umbrella.

The smart option would be to seek shelter immediately, but instead you ran in the rain.

Adrien had offered to walk you home, and during the walk, rain poured down on you. It wasn't cold or uncomfortable, but freeing. Your clothes stuck to your sides and your poor shoes would struggle in the puddles, but you didn't care. You didn't care because Adrien had grabbed you by the hand, leading you down the street in a fit of giggles.

Each drop of rain let out its own ring, like the weather was singing its own love song for the both of you.

You twirled and spun, grabbing both of Adrien's hands. He seemed flustered, but he effortlessly followed your movements.

Perfectly in rhythm, you and Adrien were stuck in your own world.

"I love you."

You stopped, face heating up as you locked eyes with a now embarrassed Adrien.

"What?"

"I…I love you." He repeated. Despite his stutter, his voice was confident. He couldn't be more sure of his words.

You smiled, "I know, I heard you the first time."

You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

Finally, your first real kiss.

#chat noir x reader #cat noir x reader #cat noir #chat noir #miraculous x reader #miraculous ladybug #miraculous fanfic

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bellarkeselection · 11 months

Note

Hey, I have another Klaus Mikealson x reader idea for you. It's a little long and if you're not comfortable then that's okay.

Here is the idea: The reader is taken by an enemy of the Mikealson's who wants to kill them. The reader is compelled by this enemy to go to the Mikealson's home and steal the white oak stakes. The reader is caught with them by one of the Mikealson's who know almost straight away that the reader was compelled (their vervain jewellery taken and them compelled not to notice.)

Klaus then comes up with a plan to trick the villain after doing so he makes sure that the reader cannot be harmed by another villian of his.

Have a great day/night

You Won't Be Compelled Again

Running out of the Mikaelson mansion with the white oak stake hidden underneath my red leather jacket. My hearts was pounding in my chest where I almost met up with Damon Salvatore who had asked for my help with getting the weapon that could kill an Original vampire. Throwing my hair around I halted in my tracks seeing Damon where I started to hand the stake over until his neck was snapped and my gaze met Klaus. "Nik..."

"Y/n, where is the necklace I gave you?" He asked dropping Damon's body from his grasp placing a hand on my shoulder scanning my face.

I attempted to move around him needing to follow through with what I was supposed to do. But I didn't really know why I was so insisting on giving him this stake. "I don't know. I just need to get this to Damon and Stefan. I said I would help them. Now let go of me."

"You've been compelled haven’t you?" He didn't move from his spot instead taking a hold of my other shoulder staring deeply into my eyes. "Tell me the truth, love. What do you remember from what they told you to do?"

Shaking my head I made a confused face at him and what he was asking. "I...I don't remember anything. I just know I have to do what they told me to do...even though I don't remember anything."

"Come with me, love. I'll fix this." He tugged me inside the mansion even though I was fighting until he told me to stop and trust him. He led me up the stairs and into his bedroom where I immediately laid down on the bed really tired where he watched me closely.

The next morning I woke up I rubbed my eyes feeling off where I lifted myself up on my elbows hearing Klaus walking into the bedroom offering me a half smile. "Nik, what happened last night?"

"You were apparently compelled to steal this by Damon." He drew the white oak from inside his jacket seeing utter confusion on my whole face. "He compelled you not to remember either so don't feel bad you didn't know. I am only sorry that I didn't see this coming for you."

Running my fingers through my hair I sighed heavily feeling so stupid that I let him take my vervain necklace from me that Klaus had given me. He warned me to never lose it and that’s exactly what I did in this situation. “Nik, I’m sorry. You told me to lose it and I messed up…how could I be so stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid, sweetheart. Damon and Stefan took advantage of you. But I assure you it won’t happen again. I will hurt them both so that-“

“Klaus no!” I snapped towards the hybrid cutting off his next words already knowing that he was planning a threat in his mind. “If anyone is going to get revenge on them it will be me!”

He reached over grasping my hand in his gently. He had taken quite the shine to the human girl in front of him. She wasn’t weak as Elena. She was very skilled like Caroline and embraced the supernatural world with open arms rather then run away. “What do you suggest then, darling?”

“First you have to turn me. That way I will never be able to be compelled again. And I know what you are going to say, are you truly ready to become immortal, are you ready to not age or have kids. Yes I am. This whole thing just opened my eyes to what I needed and I am tired of waiting.” I got in his face seeing his eyes scan over my face looking for me to back out but a smirk grew when he didn’t see anything hesitation.

Klaus reached up brushing some hair out of my face resting his hand on my cheek where I leaned into his touch. “So once I turn you. What is next, my queen?”

“Then you and I will…” I trailed off climbing in his lap since he was sitting on the foot of the bed wrapping my arms around his neck. Pressing my lips onto his he smiled instantly leaning forward and deepening the kiss until I broke it smirking at the hybrid. “Paint the world red and get our sweet revenge on those Salvatore brothers.”

He vamped me back on my back on the bed making me gasp smirking above me before he smashed his lips onto mine. “You and I are going to be the perfect pair. Now from this day on you will never be compelled again, I promise Y/n.”

“Then what are we waiting for, Nik?” I asked him where he tugged me to sit upright with him biting into his wrist holding the bleeding wound out to me. Drinking from his wrist he ran his freehand through my hair kissing the crown of my head before he placed his hands around my neck snapping it as gently as possible knowing that when you woke he would have an entirely with the woman he loved. And that revenge would taste so much sweeter with you.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

@rosie-posie08 @colbysbrocks

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wlfhrdlover · 1 year

Note

Hello again ! Can you do Ajax x reader again ? when the reader have a teddy bear and he found out and she a little bit ashamed because she doesn’t want him to judge her. Please

hello! I love your ideas btw <3

MR. FLUFFY

Ajax Petropolus x gn!reader

summary: when you tried so hard to hide your teddy bear but your boyfriend found it and didn't minded it at all.

WARNINGS! none

— Where is he?- you panicked while tossing the blankets and pillows around, Ajax was coming to spend the night in your dorm, taking a chance that your roommate were out.

The thing is, Mr. Fluffy, the teddy bear that you had since 5 years old, you always loved plushies and when you went to Jericho you needed to close your eyes every time you passed by a Toy Store, because you know that if your eyes landed in a plushie you would buy it.

It wasn't something bad liking it, but after your last boyfriend and old friends laughed at it, you immediately tried to stop. You tried to hide Mr. Fluffy but you couldn't even sleep without him in your nightstand or hugging it close to your chest.

When you started dating Ajax, you always hided the teddy bear somewhere until he walked back to his dorm, you didn't wanted him to go away or make fun of you because of your childish manners.

Not that Ajax would even care about it, he was so in love with you that was kinda impossible for him to break up with you because of a simple plushie, but you didn't wanted to risk it, Ajax was way too important for you and you can't lose him.

Your heart stopped when you heard a knock at your door, you looked around and hoped that wherever that bear was, he stayed there and didn't even thought about coming out while Ajax was here.

Quickly throwing things back to place, you opened the door.

— Hey my love, you okay?- he chuckled and fixed your hair.

— Definitely, I was trying to find something- you shrugged and let him in.

— Yeah, what?- he asked smiling and you nervously laughed.

— Nothing really interesting, can you pick a movie while I shower?- you asked and he nodded taking off his jacket, you walked in the bathroom.

Ajax turned on your laptop and took off his shoes, when he sat down on your bed he saw something between your blanket.

A teddy bear, the red bow tie crooked, he chuckled softly and fixed it, he connected the pieces and figured out that you were trying to hide it from him.

Ajax decided to not embarrass you, hiding the teddy bear under the bed and picking a movie while he waited for you.

The next day, you were studying in your room when someone knocked, you made your way to the door knowing that it was Ajax.

He had a cute and kinda large box on his hands and was smiling when you opened the door.

— Hey love, can I come in?- he asked and you nodded, letting him in.

Then, you turned around and both of you stared at the same thing, Mr. Fluffy. The teddy bear staring back, he was almost laughing at your face.

— I can explain!- you quickly said and took the teddy bear, hiding it behind your back, your heart raced even more when Ajax chuckled- I'm sorry! I know it's childish, I'll donate him some day! Please don't break up with me- you panicked and tears started to prick on the corner of your eyes.

Now, Ajax panicked, his eyes widened and he quickly made his way to you.

— Oh no love, I wasn't going to break up with you, why you think that?- he asked.

— I thought you would judge me for having a teddy bear- you whispered and he smiled.

— It's adorable really, I would never break up with you because of a teddy bear, everyone had one at least one time, I mean, my mommas still keep my old toys at our house and sometimes it's creepy but comforting- you both laughed and he wiped the tear that rolled on your cheek- Don't worry about it my love, I couldn't break up with you because of something that makes you look even more lovable than you already was- he said and you relaxed- But I'm kinda upset that you never told me about it, because I would definitely show off my abilities in those carnivals we went, I would so try to win the biggest plushie for you- he said and you laughed.

— Jax, you literally missed all the balls in that clown's mouth thing- you said and he pouted.

— It was really far okay, not my fault- he joked and hugged you- Right! Look what I got for you!- he jumped and took the box.

You put Mr. Fluffy down near to your pillows again, opening the box your eyes sparkled at the thing inside of it.

— Oh my God! It's so cute!- you jumped and took a big snake plushie out of the box, it definitely reminded you of his snakes.

Ajax just admired the light on your face when you saw the plushie, taking notes to buy you more just to see your smile every time you open the box.

— Wait... oh! You... oh my God, you found Mr. Fluffy yesterday?- you widened your eyes and Ajax laughed.

— He was between your blanket, I thought that you didn't wanted me to know, so I pushed him under your bed and acted like I didn't even saw it- he said and you smacked his arm.

— Jax!- you exclaimed and he laughed more.

— Sorry my love, so... can I meet Mr. Fluffy?- he teased and you just hit him with a pillow, turning to admire the snake again, he smiled at the sight.

God, he was so in love with you.

#ajax petropolus #ajax petropolus x reader #ajax petropolus fluff #wednesday #fluff #georgie farmer fluff #georgie farmer x reader #georgie farmer

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lady-laree-world · 8 months

Text

Mermaid Eyes

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes X mermaid! reader

a/n: honestly, I don't know what to say. I know how annoying it can be to wait even months for an update, but I hope you can understand and support me in any case. I wish you a good read and as usual, English is not my first language so please, report errors or anything else🌼🩷

Your brief disappearance had shocked your family, who had been notified by Lily of what had happened. They were already desperate, thinking they would never see you again. And yet here you are, back at home only thanks to the benevolence of Captain Bucky Barnes. You couldn't get the sound of his voice out of your head, his cold eyes that hid so much sweetness and his hard face, softened only by his small smile. You were happy to have left the ship and returned home, but at the same time you wanted to see him again, feel his hands on your body again, lose yourself in his arms again.

Mermaids used to find their life partner already in their youth, they used to exchange shells as a sign of eternal love: the ones that your parents exchanged, for example, are now part of the decorations in your home. you also dreamed of finding your life partner, but the people of your village were all so bland in your eyes after laying eyes on bucky. yet, according to your mother, sooner or later you would have to find your partner and live together forever: after all, you were now of fertile age, which meant that it was the right time for you to have children.

but the only thing you thought about at that moment was that man who had enchanted you.

What seemed like months passed and the memory of him, of Captain Bucky Barnes, was still fixed in your mind when, on the shores of the island closest to your seaside village, you saw a very familiar ship dock.

you approach with a cautious and attentive air, curious to find out if it was Captain Barnes' ship. you position yourself at the side of the ship while, with only your eyes above the water so as not to be noticed, you watch the members of the troop get off the boat. just when you were about to lose hope, there he was, you see him walking on the wooden pier: his hair tied in a messy bun, a black jacket covered his shirt, while his trousers hugged his long, muscular legs.

you were hypnotized by the sight and couldn't look away, when suddenly he stops on the pier and turns around, observing the environment. you quickly dive under the water, thinking you haven't been noticed and after a while, his silhouette, distorted by the surface of the sea, moves away.

you decided to spend the rest of the day there, and only when night fell did you dare to approach the small port again. the dark waters surrounded you, but you could just make out a figure sitting on the marina, his legs submerged in the water. you approach the man and observe him from under the pier, when a gruff voice snaps you out of your lustful thoughts.

with a flick of your tail you approach the captain, coming out from under the dock and letting half your face emerge from the water. His eyes shine in the dark, illuminated by the moonlight. <why are you here y\n? Don't they teach you that humans are bad or are you simply a lover of danger? you shouldn't challenge like that fate... when you landed on my ship I decided to free you, but other pirates wouldn't be so good>

His words almost sound like a scolding and you can't help but feel a little embarrassed <I saw your ship pass over my village...last time I didn't thank you properly> finally you show him your whole face, while his gaze falls on you.

<you don't need to thank me, it's what all people with any humanity should do> his face is tilted towards you as he seems to absorb every detail of you and silence falls between you.

you get a little closer to him and start talking to him <I've heard things about you, they say you're despicable> he looks at you, raising an eyebrow <oh, a curious little mermaid, I see... and who says it?> he says with a smirk on his face as you rest your arms crossed on the dock, emerging from the water <All the pirates who pass through here say so, and yet you didn't seem so cruel to me>

he leans towards you <well, for pirates every opponent is cruel>you look at him with curiosity <are you an enemy of many people?>

<no, only the necessary ones>

<oh okay> you reply a little disconsolately <Can I ask you one last question?> he sighs and nods <I didn't expect you to be so curious>

a\n 2(the separator is not mine, all credits go to the author)

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x mermaid! reader #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #marvel imagine #mermaid #mermaid! reader #marvel fic

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abhainnwhump · 1 month

Text

IMYM Chapter 25:

The Final Star Sans Standing: Dream

(Content warnings: Major character death, torture, body horror, whipping, amalgamation, Dream starting to lose it)

<- Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ->

When Blue’s body was found, Dream felt his soul stop.

Cross carried him in his jacket so he didn’t touch the stone. Blue’s well-built arms and legs turned into stone. His face was scrunched as if his last moments were in pain. No, not last. It couldn’t have been the last, he was still breathing. He had been waiting on the couch the entire time. He should have listened to his heart and went to help the second he felt the negativity.

“Oh my stars . . .” Dream stared at him. He set his hands on Blue’s cheekbones, then on his neck, searching for a pulse. There was one but at a slow, weak beat. Dream rubbed his hands together to summon golden magic. He pushed his hand against his chest, pulling out his soul with his other. He touched the gray edges with his glowing fingertips to heal them.

Dream’s hands shook as they attempted to focus. Memories flashed through his mind. He was eleven years old again. His beloved twin brother ate the black apple and was losing control. People ran and screamed. The sky turned dark and cloudy, threatening rain. Most of his village friends were stabbed and/or killed, their corpses dusted or bled. Dream didn’t know what to do. Nightmare pinned Dream down with his foot and cursed him, both with words and magic.

Nightmare! Brother, stop! That’s not safe! I know this isn’t you!

Isn’t me? Of course it is me.

“Dream! Calm down! You’re burning Blue!” Cross grabbed the sides of his face, snapping him into reality. Dream took a deep breath and looked down at his friend. His emotions caused his magic to flare more than needed. The stone around Blue’s soul darkened with a gold tint. Dream flustered from shame. The gold faded from his palms.

At some point during his panic, Core teleported to them. They had a grim look plastered on their face, making Dream wonder if they knew this would happen. They looked down at Blue. His fingers trembled. Stars, he almost made it worse . . .

“Cross, what happened in there? What did Nightmare do? Is Ink gone?” Dream looked at his boyfriend and moved away from Blue, afraid of causing more damage. Core came over to their side and held Dream’s hand. The guardian couldn’t tell if it was to keep his emotions in control, to comfort him, or both. Dream took deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. He couldn’t enter another breakdown, though he already did. He had to stay strong. Strong for Blue, strong for Cross, strong for Core.

Cross sighed. “I went to Ink’s room, but the door was locked. One of the nurses told me that Blue was already in there. I didn’t see what happened, but I heard Nightmare’s voice. He faked Blue's voice and when I came in, he kidnapped Ink and turned Blue halfway into stone. Then he left. I tried to heal him, but my healing magic didn't work.

Dream sighed in bitter acceptance and stood up. “I’m going to do as much research as I can. Blue deserves it. Is there anywhere I should start searching? Has this ever happened before?"

Core shook their head. “From my knowledge. I mean, thousands of humans and monsters have been turned into stone. But Nightmare’s curse has only happened one time.” They pointed at Dream. "But try your best."

"I will." Dream looked down at their friend. He wanted to say he would fix this and everything would be fine. But he said that over and over, yet the world kept worsening, and he wasn't sure anymore.

==============================================================================

Core requested the nurses and guards to sign an NDA, keeping information about Ink and Blue quiet. They still worried about causing public fear with two Star Sanses gone. Most didn't even know about the Code Purples.

Dream’s eyebags were near impossible not to notice now. He spent all his time in two places: Blue’s hospital room and the Omega library. scared that if he left, Nightmare would take him too. Two weeks have passed since he petrified Blue. The curse didn't break on it's own, but it also didn't progress.

“No . . . no . . . mm, close . . .” Dream sighed as he placed another book on the shelf. He swore he read every spell book the Omega library had to offer. The building was massive, six stories of information and fiction across the multiverse. The floor was a patterned blue and dark purple carpet. Silver made up the circular barriers and shelves. Dream sat in an armchair, flipping through another book he found.

They searched through the history of magic, going back centuries. Yet they couldn’t find anything about Nightmare’s specific curse. Dreamtale had very little information, at least compared to the other AUs. Most of the books and information burned when Nightmare massacred everyone there.

They could try using the spells to reverse petrifaction . . . but what if it did help? Dream grabbed the spell book with the stone spell.

It was worth a try.

Dream checked the book out and returned to the hospital from the library. He yawned and opened the door up, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps he could use one more spell, and then he could let his magic rest. He could sleep in Blue’s room- no. Nightmare could take both of them. Must stay awake . . .

Dream opened Blue’s door and stumbled inside. He smiled at him. In his coma, Blue looked deep in thought. Dream stood beside his bed and opened the book up. His fingers rapped across the page he bookmarked, hoping this would be a miracle. He stroked Blue’s head. “It’s going to be okay, Blue. I know you can’t hear me, but I’m here. I’m sorry I didn’t pay enough attention to you. But don’t worry, I have the cure this time.”

Dream cleared his throat. His eyelids drooped. He muttered the incantation. Gold magic glowed and turned white. Dream mumbled parts of the spell, but woke back up in jumps. Once the magic raged and swirled, they set their hand on Blue’s soul. They rubbed it like their hands were covered in lotion so the magic would stay.

Dream waited. The gray cracks on the end of Blue’s arms began to lighten and his body twinged with hope. Could it be?

The stone cracked, but then it began to melt. It was a slow drip, but it was hard not to notice. Dream panicked and opened the book up. The anxiety woke him up as he tried to process what was happening. A memory of HELP_tale entered their mind and Dream gagged. Oh, stars.

Blue’s skull dripped near his chin. His eyelids caved in and they stretched down. He was melting. Falling down, that was when a monster absorbed too much of a chemical or magic. Their bodies could only handle so much before collapsing on themselves and . . . combining with anyone who touches them.

“No! No! Oh sweet carnation!" Dream reached out and tried to touch him. His glove touched the liquid and he pulled it back, shaking it away before it could infect him. "Core! Doctor! I need backup!"

==============================================================================

Once again, Core, Cross, and Dream all stood around Blue. This time however, Fresh joined. The doctors did the best they could, bandaging up Blue and trying to repress the melting. The guilt ate Dream up. In fear he couldn't go back into the hospital, Dream lied and said Blue started melting in the middle of the visit. They reread the spell again and misspoke three words, yet that was enough to change it.

"Howza 'bout I use some paint to seal his melting bones back to his real bones? That'a stick." Fresh's glasses changed to SAVE.

"Good idea, but that won't fix the petrifcation." Dream bit his nails, digging his thumb into his palm.

They thought harder about plans to fix this. Cross snapped his fingers as he got an idea. “Wait, there’s still something we can do. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Anything to save Blue.” Dream said.

Cross leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, staring at Blue. “When my world was destroyed, I woke up in the Anti-void. I didn’t have any injuries from the battle. But the strange part was after a while, I couldn’t see my shadow. My voice had a weird stutter. I started seeing these particles around me. Nightmare . . . ” He scowled at his name and sighed. “He got me out before I turned completely. If we take Blue to the Anti-void, he’ll turn into a glitch, but he might survive. I did, and I was there for days, hell even months. I don’t remember.”

Dream considered it. He knew how dangerous the Anti-Void was, but he wanted his friend back. He didn’t care if he would come out a glitch, as long as he was okay, safe, and healthy. They nodded. “Okay, we can go together to bring him. That has to convenience Error Nightmare is a threat to all of us.”

“I’ll go with, Error has more trust in me.” Core said. They looked over at Blue and their expression turned determined. They gestured at him. “Who’s going to pick him up?”

“I can do it, I have gloves.” Dream picked up Blue’s body, making sure not to touch his melted face. He stumbled but kept holding him close.

Core, Cross, Fresh, Blue, and Dream stepped through the Anti-void portal. Strings hung in the air. Error crocheted on his beanbag. He wore a pair of red glasses to make his focus clearer, it seemed to help with the glitches. He grumbled something under his breath, something angry and vulgar.

Fresh cleared his throat and called, “Error! Yo Error-brah, we need ya help down here!"

“Who- oh great, not him again.” The destroyer quickly removed his glasses when he heard Fresh's voice. He kept sewing and turned away from them, not even looking. “Go away. I'm not dealing with anyone's shit right now."

Cross groaned and facepalmed. “Dude, stop moping around! This is important! Blue’s life is on the line!”

Error froze. He set his project down and glimpsed over at Dream. His eye sockets went wide. Error had his right arm in a homemade cast. He rushed over to Blue and wrapped him in his strings, almost in a cradle. He turned to the trio with a look of vengeance. It was strange. Dream knew Error and Blue were somewhat friends, but he had never seen him show care. He only had Blue's word to believe until now. Error's voice was a bitter calm that he never used before. “What. Happened.”

Core studied Error, tilting their head slightly to the side. “Nightmare damaged his soul a fortnight ago and he’s been in a coma ever since. We tried everything to get him to wake up, but nothing’s working.”

“A fortnight? Oh, of course it was Nightmare. Why didn’t any of you tell me?"

“I thought you were naturally able to tell what’s going on in the Doodlesphere?” Dream asked.

“This is the Anti-void for crying out loud! Time doesn’t exist! You could be in there for a week and only a day passes in real time. You’re thinking Ink’s powers.” Error’s voice turned into a snarl on Ink’s name. Dream sighed, he must have found out what happened. That's why he was so bitter. Yet he questioned his cast.

Error put his glasses away and held onto Blue with his strings. He raised his hand and the strings on the ceiling weaved together, forming a soft platform. Error tossed Blue on it. It could have been the Anti-void’s magic, but the melting slowed. The Guardian of Destruction muttered to himself. “Oh, first he falls in love with the guy he was meant to kill, then he throws me off a balcony for making him upset. Now he does this-"

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Cross held his hands out and looked up at Error. “You knew what Nightmare’s plan was the whole time? You knew Ink’s death was fake? Why the hell didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Because he didn’t realize Nightmare was serious about how badly he would torture Ink. No did he care until he suffered consequences." Core's eyes flashed as they talked.

Error blinked at them and their omniscient eyes. “What they said. I didn’t think Nightmare was this much of a freak. He wouldn't even let me talk to him and he treats him like his personal poodle. I can't believe him . . . threw me off a balcony and I hit a ledge . . . jerk . . ."

Fresh looked at the others with skepticism. "Is this a good idea? Is he goin' to do his job?"

Cross looked at Fresh and then up at Error. Dream followed him, giving him a stern look. Error rolled his eye lights, but Dream sensed sincerity in his aura. "I'll protect him and call if anything happens, don't give me the death glare. I promise."

"Keep your promise, Error, please. I will have vengeance if you let him down." Dream waved a portal, but not to the hospital. He opened it to the Omega Central, the main hall. The other three walked through. Dream lingered to watch Error look Blue over. Distrusting, Dream muttered a prayer and joined the others through the portal. Fresh and Cross had entered a conversation about meeting up with Epic later to help him move in. Fresh held Cross's shoulder as he tensed, worrying about Blue. They walked down the hall and out of sight. Dream wanted to join them, but Core grabbed their hand.

Core gestured for Dream to come closer. The guardian did as they began to speak. “Dream, with Blue out of commission . . . I believe it to be best if you went into a shelter-in-place for the time being.”

“What?” Dream thought he misheard them.

Core gave him a solemn look. “No leaving your. Nightmare can’t find you. He took Ink and Blue, you’re the last member of the Star Sanses active. And as Guardian of Positivity, your life holds the balance. I can send members of the Omega Guard to watch over your home.”

Dream’s mouth held agape. “Core? What are you talking about? I’m not going into isolation when everyone needs me.

Core held his hands in theirs. “You need to calm down. Your powers and strength won’t recover if you keep stressing yourself out. Have you even looked in a mirror recently?” Core reached into their void eye and pulled out a mirror, holding it in front of Dream. He sighed at his worn expression, it looked like he aged another five centuries. But he was already aware of that. "Breathe, Dream. You can't help anyone if you can't help yourself first."

The Guardian of Positivity wasn’t sure he could relax. His best friend had a faint chance of surviving amalgamation with a murderer. His other best friend was still brainwashed and abused by his twin. Dream should’ve been the one suffering, not them.

Dream looked down at his soul, which glowed far dimmer. It was practically gray. His eye socket twitched and he pulled his hands from Core’s. “I will only calm down the second I know Ink and Blue are home, uninjured, safe, and themselves again! I’m a more powerful guardian than you are, don’t you dare tell me to stand aside and let the Doodlesphere fall apart!”

Core’s eyes widened from Dream’s rage. Dream felt bad for shouting, but he didn’t feel like apologizing. He didn't want to be treated like he couldn't handle himself. They didn't understand why they didn't leave Core, but then they realized something.

He couldn't move.

He looked down and noticed Core held him in place with magic. Their hand held dark blue magic. In a healthier and more awake state, Dream would have realized what it was, but he couldn't. Wisps and waves wrapped around him, making him calmer and feel colder.

“H- hey! What are you doing?” Dream shouted at Core. He scowled at the child.

"I'm sorry, Dream. You'll come to your senses once you rest. I'm doing this for you and the multiverse." Core waved their hand. Dream gasped as the wisps grew larger and surrounded him in a cocoon. He lifted his head as he fell to the floor of the Star Sanses' clubhouse, the living room to be precise. Dream got up and ran out of the house, seeing double. He didn't notice anything wrong. As he walked up to the shield, however, he was pushed back inside. Dream looked to his left and spotted a leaf blowing in the artificial breeze. As soon as it hit the shield, it flew the other way. Dream's shield only kept people in or out. This . . . this was stronger. But was it enough?

"No . . . Core, let me out! How can you do this?" Dream tried to summon his own magic, but it did little against Core's. He sighed, rubbing his exhausted eye sockets in defeat. He didn't even know if the shield would keep him safe since his own didn't work. "I . . . fine, I'll make the most of it . . ."

============================================================================

Despite his best protests and efforts, Dream never left the shield. Things became lonely without Blue around. The silence in the Star Sanses base was too much. Cross and Epic sometimes visited with permission from Core. Dream was grateful for those visits. Yet they also annoyed him, which made him feel worse because it was his boyfriend. Dream knew he was next on Nightmare’s hit list, making him paranoid. He seldom slept. The question was what Nightmare was going to do to him. Mind control him like Cross? Turn him into stone like Blue? Brainwash him into a toy like Ink? Death by soul extraction was the most likely answer, it’s been his plan for centuries. But after finding out Nightmare was supposed to kill Ink . . . he wasn’t sure anymore. Dream slammed his hands and head against the wall.

Waiting.

WAITING.

He was so tired of waiting. Nightmare hasn’t attacked a single AU since taking Ink. He sent Killer, Horror, and Dust to do it instead. And unlike before, there wasn’t a clear pattern. It wasn’t the most positive AUs anymore. Sometimes it was AUs brimming with hate and suffering, other times it was neutral AUs. He couldn't predict it and save the people in them.

Dream wished he could be doing something, he wished his life wasn’t as important to the multiverse as it was. If he was a regular monster, he could be out there fighting, not staying inside with guards watching.

Eventually, Dream decided the best thing he could do was sleep. He wasn't able to help anymore and the exhaustion was getting to him. They took a hot shower, changed into comfy clothes, and slept in their room.

No, sleeping wasn’t the best thing.

His dream started with a ghostish field. The sky was gray yet with few clouds. The knee-length grass was almost pitch black. A covering of mist stretched for miles.

Fresh walked through the field, holding a piece of paper in his hand. The other held his baseball bat, resting on his shoulder.

“Heyo! Anyone here? I got ya note.” He waved a piece of paper in the air, looking around for any sign of life. He stopped at a shadowy silhouette sitting cross-legged on a rock. The fog moved away, making the person come into view. They had a thin silhouette and an abundance of pink clothes.

“Hi, Fresh.” Ink jumped off his ledge and curtsied. He wore a pastel pink and white dress with a matching beret. He looked welcoming and friendly, even though Dream knew the truth behind that sewn smile. Dream felt nothing but pity.

Fresh lit up at the sight of his old friend. “Inky brah!” He teleported in a ball of confetti and hugged him from behind.

Ink flinched and pushed him off with a yelp. He hit him with his parasol to get him away.

Fresh cocked his head. “Hey! What’s goin’ on with ya? What are ya wearin’?”

“My uniform. You know, like the one I used to have.” Ink twirled to show off his dress. “And my name is Ribbon now! Ink was all wrong, Nightmare helped me see that."

Fresh frowned. “‘Kay then . . . Ribbon.” He didn’t say his name with as much enthusiasm as Ink. “So I get ya not my brotato chip anymore.”

Ink shook his head. “Nighty says no to friends. Well, he did suggest that maybe I can talk to people if he chooses who they are, but I don't know. I can’t have anyone ruining me. Can I see the . . . you know what?”

He paused to think about it, then he shrugged. Fresh took his glasses off, and Dream understood why he was called parasite. His white soul floated in his left socket. But the other eye socket was unique. It carried a small purple creature with five lashing tendrils. The center of its body was both a mouth and a red eye. It seemed too large for his eye socket, he assumed it was at least two feet long. “Is this what ya want?”

Ink nodded. He stared almost hypnotized at the parasite and almost reached out for it. He clutched his gloved hand to his chest. He wore soft white mittens with his dress, but it didn't seem to be cold out.

Fresh put his glasses black on. “So, did’ja come to gawk at my little friend or why are ya here?”

Ink swayed on his heels. “Well, Nightmare says you’re a bad influence on me. He didn’t like that you talked to me so much when you kidnapped me. He didn’t like you helping Dream either. He doesn’t want you to be alive, so I need to take care of you.” He tightened his grip on his parasol with a little giggle.

Fresh watched Ink run into the mist. He kept one hand on his baseball bat and summoned neon paint in the other. Shades of green and pink mixed. Fresh’s head shot up and he fired the ball at Ink. It stained his dress

Dream sensed something wrong in the aura of the field. There was too much negativity. Dream reached out and tried to warn Fresh as the two kept fighting. Ink used the mist to his advantage, running into it to throw Fresh off and trick him. Fresh smashed his arms with his baseball bat. Unlike the fights with Nightmare and the corrupted monsters, he held back. His attacks never caused serious harm, they were meant to throw Ink off balance.

Fresh changed his tactic. He smiled as Ink ran at him with his hand stretched out. Fresh grabbed him by the hand and spun around. He pinned Ink to the ground and pressed his foot against his chest.

“Huh?”

Fresh laughed, letting the purple tentacles crawl out of his eye sockets, consuming both. “Did ya think I was gonna stand there and take it? Nah. Sorry, brah!"

The tentacles shoved Ink to the ground and he screamed. Fresh’s parasite held down his arms and legs. Ink kicked and struggled to free himself. He tried to hide and curl into a ball.

“I don’t wanna hurt ya, Inky. Drop the doll thing and we can chat." His expression softened. "I miss ya. Don't ya remember me? We were besties, we did everythin' together, I met ya when I plannin' to take over ya body. But ya ended up being so fun to hang with, I let ya live. This isn't the fun Ink I befriended."

Ink hesitated. He stopped struggling as much and blinked up. Dream was so used to seeing his eyes change to his emotions it almost felt fake. His expression became curious. “Wait, friends?”

“Exactly, I’m ya friend! Stop listenin’ to that goopy freako for five minutes and think! That guy is hurtin' you and makin' ya hurt others!” Fresh removed his foot from his chest.

Ink held one arm with his other and stood away from Fresh, pondering to himself. He stood there for a minute. He began to tremble and ran to Fresh, wrapping him in a hug. He buried his head in his chest. "You . . . you are my friend, I can't believe my stupid brain forgot. I'm sorry!"

Fresh grinned and hugged him back. He ruffled Ink's head and beret. "There ya go. I knew ya were-

Ink smashed Fresh over the head with his parasol, shoving him to the ground. Fresh held his skull as the hit cracked it. Giggling, he ran into the mist. No one moved until he came back. Ink arrived with something in his hands, a new weapon that wasn't his parasol. It became clear that it was a pitch-black harpoon chain, made out of malice.

Fresh’s glasses changed to INK! NO!

Ink whipped his back. The spikes tore through his clothing. Fresh screamed. He struggled to stand up and almost succeeded, but he was shoved back down. Ink went for his legs so he couldn’t run away. Fresh could barely crawl.

Ink stomped on the spot between his leg and his pelvis, shattering it in one push. His Mary Janes' must have been strong. Fresh screamed. His legs and lower body crumbled into dust.

The parasite in Fresh’s eye socket leaped out and latched itself onto Ink. The artist yelped and tried to shove it off as it grew closer to his eyes. He lashed out back and forth, doing everything he could to throw the creature off. He wrapped his hand around its body, but it bit him over and over, covering his arm in marks. Then a tendril shot out and stabbed the parasite through the eye. The parasite fell to the ground in a pool of black blood. Fresh's upper body and head crumbled into dust, leaving only his clothes.

Ink stared at the dust of his former best friend and shook on the ground. He looked up at Nightmare, who stepped out of the mist with his tendril still in the air. He crouched down to him and hugged him with his other two tendrils.

“Well done, my little light.” Nightmare kissed his forehead with a twisted grin. He tickled under his chin to make him giggle. “I knew he would let his guard down when he saw it was you. You did your job perfectly. He will never harm you again, okay?"

"You did good too! You did the final kill and taught me that hugging trick! I never would have been able to do it without you." To Dream's horror and shock, Ink didn't seem upset at all that he murdered Fresh. His aura was difficult to read, and the positivity suppressed his negativity. His lilac eyes lit up as Nightmare hugged him. "Ooh, I have an idea! Can I tell you?"

"Of course." Nightmare picked Ink up into a bridal carry. Ink leaned up by Nightmare's skull and whispered something into him. Dream didn't hear what, but the dream ended.

Dream shot up and immediately jumped from his bed. He had to find Fresh. But it was just a nightmare, right? Fresh was fine. Yes, he had been suffering from nightmares since he was locked in here. He couldn't sleep due to his constant visions of his loved ones going through various torture. Yet, he couldn't tell which were serious and which were normal nightmares. Dream would have counted up the hours of sleep he needed and lost, but it was too many.

As Dream planned on how to break through the barrier to find Fresh. They sensed a change. It was like someone removed a suit of tight-fitting armor and gave him room to breathe. Dream looked out his window. The barrier . . . has Core removed it?

They had to ask. For as little sleep and relaxation as Dream received, his magic healed slightly. He used it to form a portal and run to the Omega Central in hopes of finding Core and speak with them.

He made the right choice. Cross, Epic, and Core sat around the long table, looking at something in Cross's hands. Fresh was no where to be seen. His boyfriend looked up. “Dream, you need to be here for this. Core found this outside their front step this morning.

The guardian's stomach dropped. Cross’s voice never wavered. He had never seen him so terrified and shocked, but he also held a stance of firm authority. Dream sat in between Epic and Cross. "What is it?"

Dream spotted Cross holding a strange box. It seemed to be a quick packaging, black construction paper wrapped with a pink string as the bow. Dream bit his tongue, fearing the worst. Epic ripped the paper off and opened the lid.

Inside the box was Fresh's dead parasite and his ripped clothes. Pink writing, a gel pen, doodled hearts and smiley faces inside it. Fresh's usually colorful clothes were no better than filthy tatters. The parasite's tendrils were chopped off and spread across the box. His pinwheel hat covered the eye of the creature, which was devoid of any life. The spiked chain broke through the upper right tendril and the rest wrapped around his body. His sunglasses lay inside the buddle of closes. The cracked lenses were empty of color and words. An aromatic stench of rot and bubblegum filled the box. Fresh would never speak, laugh, or battle again.

“Bruh . . . FRESH!” Epic dropped the box and bawled. Cross pulled him into a hug, staring at their friend’s corpse.

“Nightmare used this paper all the time for his words. The pink has to be Ink, it makes no sense for it to be anyone else. They worked together here.” Cross’s voice was a cold whisper. He slowly let go of Epic, who was starting to calm down.

Dream said nothing. He didn't have the energy to explain his nightmare, nor did he think he needed to. Cross already figured it out and the pictures spoke for themselves. Dream picked up Fresh's hat and spun the propeller. The visions of his nightmares flashed through his mind. Fresh's screams . . .

Cross looked at the child. “Core, what about you? What do you think you should do?"

Core’s eyes glowed as they used their powers. A shadow covered their face. “Fate has multiple plans for how this will end. I don’t know for certain if Ink is going to live or die, but living seems more like-”

“IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!” Dream shouted at the other three., namely Core He wiped tears off his face. when was the last time he felt so much anger at once? “If you didn’t lock me inside the clubhouse, I could've saved him! I told you I should have been there to help. Our Guardian of Creativity is gone again, a guardian! Cross, Epic, you two should know that you could die by Nightmare at any moment since you're mortal. That's why I was so worried about Blue and kept him out of this, I wanted to keep him safe. Nightmare is stronger than he ever was, he has no pattern as to who he kills and why. I'm more important to the multiverse's health, yes, but I also have more endurance and health. I don't know why I keep messing up everything, but messing up will not stop me from trying!"

"Dream? What's going on with you?" Cross'asked. His face scrunched in concern. "This wasn't Core's fault, why are you blaming them? You said it yourself, no one could have predicted this. I love you and I know how you think, even when you're sleep-deprived. You choose your emotions and need to save over everything else. I have to agree with Core here, but that's not me turning against you. I'm worried about you, you almost never listen to use anymore."

"You need to see a therapist, bruh." Epic muttered. He chuckled in an attempt to use humor to help himself. It didn't help much for the morale, but he controlled his emotions. "But seriously, Fresh's death is all Nightmare's fault. Also, you are the one who made Blue amalgamate in the first place."

"Yes, that is my fault, but at least I tried to help him!" Dream's arm shook from adrenaline.

Cross held Fresh's glasses in his hands. He managed not to cry until this point, but he wiped a tear away. "It's obvious to me. Whoever’s in that body now, it’s not Ink. Ink would never do something like this no matter how selfish he was feeling. Him and Nightmare, Nightmare and Ribbon or whatever his name is now, I'm making it my mission to kill both of them."

Dream clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes. Core reached a hand out to Dream, but he ignored it. He turned around and left the room, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them. Cross's words echoed in his head, he couldn't believe he sounded so callous over murdering Ink. He didn't want to choose between his boyfriend and his best friend. They needed to be alone, out of their own free will this time.

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stagefoureddiediaz · 4 months

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Look at me posting a second chapter in less than a week!!!

Here is chapter two of the Buckley siblings time travel fic - we have the introduction of Taylor (don't worry this is the only time we see her!) and the first chapter that earns me the E rating my fic has!

I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think of regency era Buck - I've been having a blast writing him!

Buck stirred into consciousness, groaning at the light streaming through the window as he flipped himself onto his front and pulled his pillow over his head to shroud himself in darkness once more, cursing the fact he had failed to pull the curtains when he returned to his room last night. He stayed that way for a few minutes, before giving up on being able to get back to sleep and pulling himself from the bed to start his morning ablutions.

The light blue and gold striped silk suit he had worn the night before lay scattered around the room but Buck paid it no mind as he grabbed a fine linen shirt from the chair in the corner, throwing it over his head as he made his way to his wash stand. The water in the jug was cold, but refreshing as Buck went about washing his face and readying his razor to remove the stubble that had formed overnight, casting its shadow across his lower face and neck. He lathered up his face and set about his shave, losing himself in the methodological motions of scraping the blade across his skin.

Shaving complete he rinsed the remaining suds from his face and made his way over to his wardrobe, he spent a few moments perusing the contents, before settling on a dark green jacket, matching knee breeches and a waistcoat in the same green with a fawn vertical stripe. Suit selected he collected together the other items he needed - a fresh shirt, stockings, shoes and neck tie, and set about dressing himself for breakfast. He swapped out his dirty shirt for a fresh one and pulled his stockings up his calves, fixing them in place with ribbons tied just below the knees before pulling on his breaches, tucking in his shirt and fixing the fall into place. Next came his shoes before he took up his neck tie and set about fixing it into a simple knot, before fixing his wayward curls and pulling on his waistcoat and fastening the buttons before smoothing it down and reaching for his jacket. Griping the cuffs of his shirt he pulled his arms into the sleeves of the jacket and spent a few moments adjusting his shirt until the cuffs were sitting how he wanted and the jacket felt comfortable.

He appraised his reflection in the mirror once more and deeming himself satisfactory, made his way over to the dresser to take up his pocket watch and tie pin. Those items secured on his person he made his way out of his bedroom and down the stairs to the breakfast room to face the music for leaving the assembly rooms early the previous night.

As expected he was met with the unimpressed stares of both his mother and father. Daniel was nowhere to be seen and Buck assumed he was breaking his fast in his bedroom, tired out from expending his energy in attending the ball last evening. Buck perused the sideboard and selected what he wanted for breakfast before taking his seat at one side of the table, his mother at one end, with his father at the head. A servant stepped forward to serve him coffee before withdrawing back to stand next to the sideboard. Buck began to eat his selections while he waited for one of his parents to strike the first blow of their vitriol over his behaviour.

read the rest of on AO3 here

Tagging a few people who might be interested (if you'd like me to add you to the list, drop me a comment on this post!)

@spotsandsocks @honestlydarkprincess @lovelettertothewise @copyninjabuckley @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx

#kym writes things #buddie fic #The Buckley siblings time travel AU #911 fic #911 abc #buddie #maddie buckley #evan 'buck' buckley #eddie diaz #taylor kelly - her one and only appearance!#911 fanfic

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 9 months

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Degree of Fancy

Part 3: Bourbon, Martinis and Lies

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x College!Reader

Words: 1,779

Synopsis: The events of last week have left you wondering what’s coming next, and a date to distract you from the hot professor proves to be a dud.

Warnings: None really, crying, kissing, but this series is 18+ overall, minors DNI

Author’s Note:

“I’m actually surprised you agreed to go on a date with me.” Trent’s words jogged you out of your daydream. You took a sip of your martini, setting the glass down harder than anticipated, making a bit of the liquid spill out the side. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” you grabbed a napkin to dab at the table. “Don’t worry about it. Is there something bothering you?” You looked up at Trent.

He had kind eyes, a crooked nose from playing field hockey all through high school and most of college, and a ridiculously charming smile. Too bad you weren’t even a little bit attracted to him. Like Lela, Trent came from money, a lot of it, and his business degree was just a way to pass the time until he took over his father’s business. He had been trying to get you to go on a date with him since freshman orientation four years ago, and you had kindly declined him every time. You just weren’t interested in going through the motions of pretending you had anything in common with the Columbia elite. “Sorry, you were saying?” you took another sip of your drink; you were going to need another one of these if you were going to make it through the evening. “What made you change your mind about saying yes?” There was no way you could tell him the truth. There was no way you could tell him that you had a hot make out session with your international politics professor last week, and you were using this date as a distraction. That it was the only way you weren’t going to show up at Bucky’s office and try to continue what you had started. So instead, you just shrugged. “I’m not sure really. I’m sorry I’ve been blowing you off for the last couple of invites, I was just preoccupied with finishing my degree”. Lie. “I do think you’re a great guy”. Another lie. “It just took me a while to come around”. Three for three.

Trent laughed, swirling the bourbon around in his glass, the ice clinking against the side. “I know that I seem like an idiot, but I assure you that I’m not”. His response caught you by surprise, you did think he was an idiot. “There is obviously someone else, right?” “What are you talking about?” You straightened out the skirt of your old black dress, the only item of clothing that seemed moderately appropriate for the dress code at this restaurant. “You’ve been looking around for someone since we sat down. It’s okay, you can tell me, I promise I won’t be upset”. You placed your hand over his across the table. You were really going to have to sell this. “Look I promise you, there isn’t someone else. I’m just uncomfortable in this environment. I’m not familiar with the Upper East side”. God, you were up to four lies tonight, you were going to lose count soon. You were looking for someone, or rather you were hoping someone would show up. Ever since the kiss in Bucky’s office, you were hoping that he would show up where you were and take you right then and there. His kiss had left you hungry for more and you weren’t sure what you were going to do if you didn’t see him soon.

“We can get out of here if you want to. My dad owns this restaurant, so I’m always guaranteed a table, but if this isn’t your scene we can head out”. “Could you walk me home? I’m not feeling well and would just like to get some sleep”. You could see the disappointment in Trent’s face at your request, but at this point you just really didn’t care. Without waiting for a response, you grabbed your jacket and headed for the door, Trent trailing behind you. The walk back to campus was long and quiet, you clinging to the purse on your shoulder, keeping your eyes fixed on the sidewalk, while Trent slumped along, hands shoved into his pants pockets. When you passed by the International Affairs building your eyes were fixed on the row of teacher’s offices on the first floor. Most of the rooms were dark, but one had a soft light glowing through the window. “I’ve need to take a potty break, going to dip into the IA building, not sure I can hold it”. “Are you sure, we’re only 5 minutes away from the dorms”, Trent pointed behind him with a lazy thumb. You did a fake potty dance like a toddler to be more convincing, “I’m sure, have a good night!” You ran toward the entrance, Trent barely able to waive at you before you were inside.

You had a hazy idea of where his office might be, making a tight turn down the same hallway you remember him leading you through. You did not have a plan for what you were going to do once you were face-to-face, but you were drawn to him, and you had to see this through. Scanning the doors for his name, you passed by about 10 offices before you landed in front of his door. The soft light from the room illuminated the gold lettering on the door. You let your hand graze the raised lettering. Your shoulders dropped as you let out a sigh, what the hell were you doing? This was something crazy girls did, not people who worked two jobs to get through college. You had other priorities, and this whole situation was making you feel out of control. You let your purse slide from your shoulder into your hand and turned to walk back to your dorm. You made it a few feet before you heard the click of a handle.

“Y/N, something I can help you with?” You swung back around to see Bucky standing in the doorway, a blonde, petite woman walking out behind him. You didn’t recognize her; she wasn’t one of the teachers in the college. “I’ll see you later James”, the blond says with a heavy Russian accent. She places a hand on Bucky’s back and places a kiss on his cheek, him returning the gesture with a small hug. You begin to back away, embarrassed that you were involved in this interaction. The woman passes you with a small smile in acknowledgement of your presence and continues out to the exit. “Y/N, I think we should talk”. You shook your head as you continued to backward through the hallway. “I’m sorry, I never should have come, good night, Professor Barnes”. Your head thumped against the exit door when you had finally reached the end of the hallway. Bucky winced at seeing you hurt, but you hurried out the door before he could reach you.

You hustled through the courtyard between the buildings, tears beginning to run down your face. You tried to wipe them away with the sleeve of your jacket, but they kept flowing faster than you could keep up. Your walk turned into a run as you made it back to the dorm building. You fumbled your keys to get the door unlocked, dropping your key card. As you bent down to pick it up, the door opened, Trent walking out. When you looked up at him, he noticed your tears. “What’s wrong, Y/N? Did something happen?” He attempted to comfort you with a hand on your shoulder, but you brushed him off. “I do not need your help Trent, how the fuck could you possibly help me? You might be able to throw money at your problems, but not everyone has that luxury”. Trent didn’t even look hurt at your insult; he was still concerned about your wellbeing. You pushed past him and ran up the stairs. The hallway was empty as you rushed to your dorm room, but as you fumbled with your keys again trying to get the door open, you heard heavy footsteps behind you. Your heart raced as you began unlocking the door, but these old building locks were giving you a difficult time. “Y/N, I really think we should…” the gruff voice from behind was closing in on you. As you finally got the door opened, you felt his breath against your neck. Your attempt to close the door was thwarted by a metal hand creating a gap in the doorway.

“We really don’t have anything to talk about”. You sat down on your bed, turning on the lamp on the bedside table. You immediately noticed that he had cut his hair, leaving the scruffy beard and mustache. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t noticed it earlier, but he looked good. You had imagined having Bucky in your dorm room before, but not under these circumstances. He grabbed the desk chair and turned it to face you. He sat down heavily and slumped into the chair, resting his elbows on his thighs, head in his hands. The quiet was killing you and you could tell that this relationship was tormenting him just as much as it was you. “Listen, ever since that night, I’ve just wanted to apologize to you”. Bucky spoke to the floor, his head still hanging. “I know that I took advantage of you, and I would understand if you wanted to report me- “. You stood up and stopped him mid-sentence, grabbing his head with your hands and making him look up at you. You brushed your thumbs over the tops of his cheeks, his skin surprisingly soft. He smiled and leaned into your touch, placing his hands gently on your waist as you stood between his legs. “Just stop. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you didn’t take advantage of me. I’m in my 20s, far from a teen.” Bucky stood up, his hands still on your waist. You dropped your hands from his face, placing them around his neck. “Well, I’m technically 107, so any age gap seems a bit inappropriate”. You both laughed. Bucky pulled you in for a kiss, your lips clinging to his with desperation and hunger. You pulled away from him, “what about the woman you’re seeing?”. “What woman?”, Bucky brushes his knuckles across your face. “Oh, Yelena? We’re not together, she’s technically my colleague”, Bucky’s shoulders move as he laughs, your brows wrinkled in confusion. “Of the superhero kind”. Bucky met your forehead with his own, the breathing between you the only sound in the room. “Of course, she’s a superhero, who else would she be?” Bucky threw his head back in laughter, moving his hands from your hips, making his way to the door, and turning the lock.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x black!female!reader

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theaudacitytowrite · 2 years

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Damned Eternity

Morpheus x Reader

A/N: I hope this one is not too self indulgent so y’all can enjoy it. Basically it’s just two socially awkward beans who haven’t seen each other in over a century. My initial notes to this idea were "two emos in love".

Summary: Cursed with immortality by an unknown power you find yourself fleeing into the dreaming to cope with having to live in a world that gets worse with every century. Until the last reason that makes your life bearable gets taken away too.

(Takes place after Episode 6 when Death convinces Dream to reach out to his friends)

The sun stood high on the firmament while a still chilly breeze drifted through the park. Aside from the birds who were already wide awake as they chirped their sweetest melodies the park was quiet. Soon people would start to pour into the park to enjoy another perfect late spring day.

Along the avenue, a line of benches was set next to each other with some space. From the bench in the middle of the park one was able to catch a glimpse of the entire park.

That’s where you sat cross-legged as you stared into the distance. You fixed your hair that poked out from under the hood of your sweatshirt. You sighed as you brushed away a few strands that just wouldn’t stay where they were supposed to, out of your face over and over again until you gave up. You leaned against the cold wood with your back, shutting your eyes tightly for a while so you could immerse into the sounds around you.

Your eyes were still heavy, begging for sleep or at least some kind of rest. Even now as they were closed, you felt them burning. The night hadn’t been kind to you as the several ones before. You had laid awake on your back, staring endlessly up at the ceiling as the night fell and the sun was about to rise again. That’s when you decided to get up and watch the sunrise in the nearby park. There wasn’t much to do for you anyway, so you didn’t mind wasting your time in this park.

You must’ve sat there for a few hours already as the park had slowly started to fill up. Groups of Teenagers had already arrived while families with giddy children that ran around chasing pigeons were only just now turned up. The commotion quickly encased you in its midst, yet no one seemed to take notice of you despite the stark contrast of your all-black outfit to the vibrant colours all around you.

All of a sudden you felt the air around you shift as the wind picked up again and all at once it was wind still again. You could feel a presence behind you, so unusual yet so familiar.

“Dream of the endless.” you exclaimed, never averting your gaze from the fixed point in the distance, "So it is true, you're actually back."

"I am." his husky voice resounded from behind you, erupting goosebumps on the back of your neck. With slow steps, Dream walked around the park bench into your line of view.

“May I?” he asked nodding towards the space next to you, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket.

“Be my guest,” you muttered, and Dream sat next to you, taking in the view you were still fixated on.

“How did you find me?” you asked dryly.

“Death perhaps gave me a hint.” he smirked bashfully, “Without her help, I wouldn’t have had a chance to learn about your whereabouts.”

Silence fell over the two of you. It felt strange to have Dream sitting right next to you after more than a century. A part of you was afraid that he was only part of your imagination, wishful thinking of your overtired mind. You barely dared to look at him in fear his image might vanish if you’d look directly at him.

"I see, you still enjoy the solitude." he interrupted your line of thought.

“What else is left there for me?” you retorted bitterly, “After a few millennia life loses its appeal… especially if the last thing that brought me joy was taken from me too.”

“You stopped dreaming.” he nodded knowingly but without a hint of reproach in his voice.

“I still did for a while... But your absence made it hard to find joy in it anymore. Any time something flitted in the corner of my eye I expected to see you lurking at the edge… but you weren’t there.”

“I’m back now.” The dark timber in his voice resounded deep in your bones. Your eyes met for the first time, and you inspected his features. He looked just like you remembered him all these years ago yet the glint in his eyes seemed to be new.

“I thought it was just another Dream.” you admitted teary-eyed, “Too good to be true.”

“It is not.” he smiled softly back, his hand gently covering yours that rested on your knee, “I am here.”

To feel his warm palm cup your hand banished any of your fears, and your heart ached as it expanded in your chest. An overwhelming sense of happiness filled your chest, a sensation you had missed for too long than you could remember, and you felt the corners of your mouth twitch up into a smile. But your face fell quickly again as the paralyzing guilt in your veins fought back, suffocating the pleasant excitement all at once.

Dream watched the sparkle leave your eyes as quickly as it had appeared, the cold gaze that had greeted him earlier returning. He withdrew his hand, leaving yours cold. He gnawed on his lips as his gaze fell to the ground.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you. I still had to deal with some … incommodities.” He mumbled.

“Death told me.” Even your voice had returned to a monotone pitch.

He took a deep breath as he steeled himself for your possible answer to his next question.

“Why haven’t you visited the dreaming again since I returned?” he nervously entwined his fingers, “Do you resent me?”

His sombre remark tugged on your heart.

“Oh, Morpheus.” You whimpered sorrowfully as you couldn’t bare it any longer. You sat up properly, falling around Dream's neck in the next moment. You hugged him tightly as remorse washed over you. Dream was quick to wrap his arms around you, holding you close against his heart. To hear his name from your lips again made his heart flutter in joy.

“Why would I ever have reason to resent you?” you sobbed against his coat. Dream loosened his hug as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“Then what is it that’s bearing you down then, my little lune?” he rasped.

“It’s just…,” you stammered. You took a deep breath, working up the courage to be truthful to Dream, “If one has the right to resent someone, it’s you.”

Dreams eyes fluttered open at your words. His intense gaze made you feel so small suddenly. You created more space between you, even though your mind yelled at you for the loss of Dreams touch.

“After I heard the news of your imprisonment, I visited Lucienne right away. I had already grown suspicious about why I hadn’t seen you in my day nor night dreams, but I foolishly believed you were busy creating new nightmares.” You explained to him, “When I entered the dreaming, I was appalled to see your kingdom gradually decaying. Lucienne explained to me the dire need for people to remain in the dreaming and not turn their back to our Lord… but after a while, I just couldn’t bear to not see you anymore. Any time I’d fall asleep I woke up feeling even more unrested. Daydreaming didn’t feel right anymore either. My favourite pastime turned sour and soon I couldn’t stand it anymore… So, I’m at fault for destroying the dreaming as well. I abandoned you.”

“You did no harm, Y/N.” Dream took your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly, “No matter how much you would’ve dreamed or not, without a ruler there is no kingdom.”

“I just feel so guilty… that’s why I didn’t dare to enter the dreaming again.” You explained in between sniffs.

“You have no guilt to carry with you in this matter.” He assured you again as he pulled you back into his arms, and gently rubbed your back.

“But I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me the most nonetheless.” You whispered.

“I know.” He hummed, “You need rest now, Y/N. You can dream peacefully again.”

“Is this an invitation?” you asked sheepishly. Dream chuckled and stood up.

“How can I make it any clearer to you?” he mused as he looked down at you with a smirk. He held out his hand towards you, “Come with me.”

Without hesitation, you laid your hand in his, sure that you would never let go of it again.

If you enjoyed this one, let me know if you're interested in another lil fic. I might have another idea...

Tagging (bc I have no idea who wants to read it): @leucoratia @kellatron55 @poetic-fiasco @vbecker10 @xwhiteoleanderx @nobody1390-24

#dream #morpheus #dream x you #dream x y/n #dream x reader #morpheus x y/n #morpheus x you #dream of the endless #the sandman #sandman fic #sandman fanfiction #dream oneshot #dream drabble #morpheus oneshot #morpheus drabble

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thranduilsperkybutt · 2 years

Photo

💍 Glimpse of Us 💍

Gif sources: 1 | 2

Pairings: Steve Harrington/Reader; Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings: MAJOR SEASON 4 VOLUME 2 SPOILERS; angst; crying; grief; marital troubles; brief mentions of OC children (I know, shocker coming from me); emotional trauma; mentions of canon-typical events & blood; short instance of drinking/drunkenness; arguing; bittersweet ending

Word Count: 5,773 words

Reader Gender: Female

Author: Meg

Summary: Said I'm fine and said I moved on; I'm only here passing time in her arms, hoping I'll find a glimpse of us. A series of events following the aftermath of the worst day of your life, and how Steve Harrington picks up the pieces that are left of you.

A/N: Committing myself for female hysteria after the events of volume 2--- that’s right, we’re bringing that diagnosis back, because I’m losing my mind. 😭😭😭 THIS IS NOT A FIX-IT FIC. THIS IS SIMPLY A COPING FIC.

Numbness is what despair feels like, when you’re wrapped in the all-black exhaustion of it. Too lost in the dull ache to shed another tear, staring down at the ring on your finger. Turning it with your thumb. The small gold band was accompanied by an equally modest stone settling, but it was worth more than anything else you own, if only in sentimentality, and that is what makes you feel the most guilty right now. It’s been years, but as much as you’ve tried to put that life behind you, you remember it like it was just yesterday.

— 💍 —

“He’d asked me for it a couple weeks ago,” Wayne Munson had said that day that you sat on his couch in the desolate emptiness that gripped the trailer which had once been so full of life. “Couldn’t rightly figure out why he wanted his mother’s ring after all this time, and I had to dig around to find it, but I think I know, now.”

The older man had simply placed it in your hand. There hadn’t been a box. There had been no knee to bend down upon. There was no question to give your answer to, but you knew what your answer would’ve been, all the same.

There was just you and Wayne, swallowed up by the grief that would always tie the two of you together, far more than his words ever could, “That boy always loved you. He didn’t talk much about it, but even I could see that much.” You were crying softly, as you slipped it on, and it fit perfectly, as if it were always meant to be placed on your ring finger, which was somehow worse than if it hadn’t. Wayne struggled through his words, having to pause between them with the emotion in his own throat, black suit jacket shifting with his anxious fidgeting, “It’s yours, now. You’ll always be family, to me… I know it’s what… what Eddie would’ve wanted. You were good to him, so thank y—”

“Don’t,” you’d interrupted, choking around a sob, tears falling onto your own black dress. Wayne didn’t know the truth of it. He didn’t know how you’d left him there. Wayne had to bury an empty casket, all because you didn’t fight hard enough. “Don’t thank me—”

“No, you made him happy, these last couple months—”

“Please,” you beg, heart breaking with every word. Shutting your eyes so tightly, because you can barely see past your tears as it is. Whispering, “I couldn’t save him—”

He had taken your hand, then. The one the engagement ring was on, squeezing your hand. Unknowing of what to say, but perhaps there was nothing at all. He was crying, too, as much as Wayne Munson tried not to.

You’d both sat there for a long while, or perhaps only minutes, and you’d known then that missing Eddie Munson was something that had seeped into your soul. You’d never shake it, and the way Wayne tried to comfort you through his own debilitating grief only made it worse.

When he had collected himself enough to promise, “You’ll always be welcome here,” you could only think about how you wished you weren’t. You wished he could turn you away, because that would be easier than mourning Eddie in the emptiness of his room. Taking the few things that you had left there back with you, and maybe if Wayne had met you with more animosity, you could have grieved Eddie in a way that allowed you to move on.

But you’d been destined to live in the past, ever since he died.

— 💍 —

You pull the ring from your finger, older, but none the wiser. It’s been nearly seven years since Eddie passed, and maybe Steve was right. Turning your eyes towards the bedside table, at the decorative plate where you’ve already rested your more formal wedding rings, you know he is.

You were still just as in love with Eddie Munson, as that night you’d refused to leave his side. That’s the worst part, the truth.

— 💍 —

Blood had covered your hands, your shirt, with how tightly you gripped Eddie to you. He was getting cold as Dustin screamed at you to get up, to move from your place on the street that you had ended up. The boy was too hurt to drag you off of Eddie, and you had long since dissolved into an endless stream of sobs, cheek pressed against the crown of his head.

Any attempt you’d made at CPR had failed when your arms did, the burn in them aching even worse after the fact of your attempt at dragging the man back towards the gate. You weren’t thinking about the danger, about the risk that surrounded you and the nearly-inconsolable boy begging you to come back with him through the gate.

It’s how Steve, Robin, and Nancy came upon you, sobbing as you held onto Eddie’s lifeless form, while Dustin weakly tried to pull you up by the arm. They tried to talk to you, tried to get you to hear reason, but there was no sense to it.

There was only the blind, hysterical hope of denial that if you held him, he would somehow be alright.

Steve had grabbed you under your arms, breath warmer than Eddie would ever be again, “You have to let him go,” and you’d screamed when he dragged you away.

“I can’t leave him! I can’t—!”

“You have to! We have to go! He’s gone—!” Steve had choked out, wrestling you to your feet as you fought him every step of the way.

“Leave me here!” you had begged in your mindless hysteria, but Steve’s grip was firm, as he wrapped his arms around your waist to hoist you towards the trailer, out of the street. “Please, Steve, just leave me! Let me stay with him!”

“I can’t, you know I can’t—!”

It felt like you had already died, as the vision of Eddie’s body blurred behind your tears, dissolving into incoherent, gut-wrenching screams, while Robin tried her best to help Steve all but manhandle you back into the trailer. Nancy handled the limping Dustin, but your legs had all but stopped working with the overwhelming sea of emotion that washed over you in that moment.

Sobbing, “No—! No, please—!” as you abandoned him there.

Steve, stopping your fight in its tracks when you find yourself inside the trailer, straightening you with a firm shake on your shoulders, tears brimming in his own eyes as he screams at you to come to your senses, “I can’t leave you here! You know I can’t leave you here! Come on!”

“Steve,” it sobs, broken, in the back of your throat, tears streaming down your cheeks at their own accord, and your old friend drags you into his arms.

“I know, but we have to go. He,” Steve swallows, “he wouldn’t want you to stay here.”

As much as you knew it was true, you hated him for it.

But you left him there.

— 💍 —

Had you ever forgiven Steve for saving your life that day? Was that the reason you put him through hell, now? Did you even realize you had done it, at all?

You’ve told yourself you’ve moved on. That the part of you who had loved Eddie Munson with your whole heart had been able to step aside when you fell in love with Steve. That, just maybe, she could bury herself deep enough that loving him would be enough to forget.

Truth be told, she was closer to the surface than you’d ever wanted to admit, and Steve had every right to feel like he did about it.

After all, he was your husband, not Eddie.

— 💍 —

“Uncle Wayne,” you’d smiled, seeing him again after all this time. Three years, and he was finally back in Hawkins, if only for a little while. The diner was bustling, but the dark-haired baby on your hip seemed to be the only thing Wayne could keep his eyes on when you slid into the booth across from him. “Sorry I’m late, but getting ready takes longer these days.”

“I can imagine, with a little one. I didn’t know you’d had the baby yet?” he’d asked, leaning back in his booth. The years had worn on him, as much as the grief had, and he looked in worse health, “I guess I’ve been gone for longer than I thought. Time gets away from me, these days. Trying to focus on work.”

“Yeah, he’s almost one now,” you chuckled. “Steve would’ve come, but he’s working today.”

“That’s alright,” Wayne reached for his coffee, sipping it. “Just tell him I said, ‘hello,’ if I’m not able to see him before I hit the road again.”

“Actually… I have something to tell you,” you began, brushing the baby’s hair along his forehead with your hand, while he tried to catch your dangling bracelet. Wayne’s eyes focus on the movement, at the three rings settled there along your fingers. You wore them every day, now. The wedding band Steve had slipped onto your finger the day of your wedding, along with the engagement ring he’d given you back in those earlier days of your relationship. The smaller, older ring, though, that was the same one Wayne had given you, that day after the funeral, in his trailer.

“Oh?” Wayne hummed curiously, eyes darting away, out the window beside where you sat, “What is it?”

“Steve and I hope you don’t mind. I would’ve asked first, but I couldn’t get a hold of you,” you had worried, nervously stroking your son’s head, before catching the stare Wayne finally cast upon you once more, “We named him Edward James Harrington, after Eddie.”

Wayne’s coffee cup had clamored against the table, when he fumbled it in his hands, but he recovered quickly. He’d always had to.

“What?” he had breathed softly, swallowing thick, as he looked down to the dark-eyed baby boy who would always look more like Steve than you. In another world, that might have been Eddie’s, and you both know it. It’s left unsaid, but in the way Wayne’s eyes had softened when he looked at the child, it’s clear as day. “You… named him after… Eddie?” If Wayne’s poker face was any less practiced, you would’ve seen the tears that threatened to brim in his eyes, “Now… you didn’t have to do that.”

Reaching across the table, you caught the hand he’d rested alongside his coffee cup in yours, rings brushing against his skin when you gave him a squeeze, “Of course we did.”

And you might as well have still been that same nineteen-year-old who had left him food for supper after a night spent planning Dungeons and Dragons campaigns with his nephew, because you still managed to touch his heart after all these years, “You know… I think Eddie would be happy, to know y’all still cared about him.”

“We’ll always care about him, Wayne,” you’d tried to keep your breathing steady, while the baby in your lap cooed. “He saved Steve’s life, and… and he saved mine in more ways than one.”

You were glad the regret hadn’t been so audible in your voice this time, if only for the sake of the person you were supposed to have become by now. The truth, though, is that you could’ve been an entirely different person, if Eddie had been there to sit beside you. You’re sure Wayne already knows, though, how you would have answered the question, if Eddie ever had the chance to ask it.

But Hawkins had different plans.

— 💍 —

The ring is warm from a day’s worth of wearing it, as it sits in the palm of your hand. The ache in your heart is tethered to the band of it, and the knowledge of what you need to do doesn’t make actually doing it any easier.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, opening the drawer of your bedside table to place the ring there. You don’t know who you’re apologizing to. Is it Eddie, or is it yourself, for never having allowed yourself to move past this?

Any taste of happiness you have achieved these past seven years has always been tinged with the hint of grief, and that, well… That was only ever your fault.

There’s no more looking back. You can’t afford it, not after the events of this past week. Not when your marriage was nearly in shambles because of it.

You’ll have to choose, and really, Steve’s waited long enough.

— 💍 —

It took a couple of months, but you had effectively pushed everyone away. Distanced yourself from your friends, your family— too consumed by the grief of losing Eddie to do much else. The reality was, you were going through the motions of living, rather than actually living.

The worst part of it all wasn’t the senselessness of it. It wasn’t even the fact that Eddie had died trying to save a town that still hated him, that called him a murderer, a satanist, to this very day.

No, the worst part was the fact that the world kept on going without him. That you had to keep on going without him.

If you had been able to crawl into that empty casket all those months ago, you would’ve done it. Part of you wished you’d died beside him, back in the Upside Down. Many a night you’d cursed Vecna, the whole town of Hawkins, and even Steve, for the result of you being here today when he wasn’t.

It was as low as you’ve ever been in your life, those months immediately following his death, and maybe you were to blame for that. If you hadn’t been so verbal in your defense of Eddie, perhaps the people of Hawkins wouldn’t have turned their ire onto you. If you hadn’t made it so hard for the people around you to help you, maybe it wouldn’t have taken so long before Steve had all but forced his way into your apartment.

Seeing the state of neglect evidenced by the clutter of your home, only served to break Steve’s heart further, “You can’t go on like this.” He’d said your name in a pitiful way, but you hadn’t wanted his pity then. His pity only made you angrier.

“How am I supposed to go on, Steve?” you had been all teeth, biting back at the man who’d been your friend, even before Eddie had ever come into your life. “Like you? Like everyone else in this god-forsaken town that can just forget?”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Steve stepped towards you, and you’d avoided the hand he’d attempted to catch you with, pushing him away.

“You don’t care! No one cares about Eddie! He died for a town full of idiots who never even bothered to get to know him!” you shouted, “Eddie died for all of you and you didn’t even go to the funeral, Steve! The only people there were me, Wayne, and Dustin!” It’s not fair to blame him for everything, but he’s the only one trying, and that makes him the only one left to blame, “Why weren’t you there?!”

He doesn’t have an answer. Not one that he can tell you.

He can’t tell you that he didn’t go, because in some deep, dark part of himself, he was filled with some bizarre acceptance of Munson’s death. That, after the past year of watching you fall in love with Eddie while he’d been standing right beside you for even longer than that, Munson dying had been something he could never be completely bereaved about.

Steve had wanted to be the last man standing when it came to you, but never like this.

Not when you were left so broken in the aftermath of it. Not when he couldn’t pick up the pieces of you that were left without them being haunted by Eddie Munson.

So, he stayed silent, as you raged at him, knowing only how to reach towards you to pull you against him, letting you hit weakly at his chest as tears burst from your eyes all over again, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”

Munson just had to go and die, instead of breaking your heart in any other, recoverable way.

Steve knows it’s a selfish thought to have, before he even dares to think it, but as you dissolve into his arms, and he holds you so tightly to him that he’s afraid he might break you all over again, he can’t help himself.

“I’m here—” Steve’s breathing shook, “We’re here— Robin and me. You don’t have to do this all alone.” Your fists had relaxed against his chest, fingers instead grasping into his yellow sweater to hold onto him for dear life as you grieved against his shoulder.

It’s only the tip of the iceberg, when you finally managed to sob, “They… they vandalized my car.” The red spray-paint along the sides of your beat-up Chevy is nothing compared to the mountain of grief that threatens to rip you apart from the inside out, but you focus on the mistreatment instead. It’s easier to talk about, to blame your tears on how the people of Hawkins viewed you these days, rather than how utterly alone you felt without Eddie.

The ghost of his presence still lingered, even when his scent had faded from the shirts of his that Wayne had allowed you to keep, and with each passing day, you were terrified that his memory would fade, too.

So, you focus on the vile words they’d labeled you with, all because you’d dared to speak up. To tell them that they were wrong about Eddie Munson. That he wasn’t a killer, or a cult leader, like they all said.

Defying popular opinion was all it took to earn The Devil’s Whore scrawled along the side of your car in red paint, and as much as Steve wished he could make it all go away, this was too big for even him.

“I know… I saw,” Steve murmured, pulling you back just enough to watch you blink up through your tears at him, brushing the hair that stuck to your damp cheeks away, along with the tears. “Let me help you clean it off, okay?”

You felt far from okay, but you tried to swallow it down, and instead nodded, “Okay.”

— 💍 —

Turns out, Steve was the one out of the two of you who was truly capable of bottling up his emotions. He’d hid his hurt so well, so completely, that you’ve been so oblivious of it for all these years. Not realizing how your lingering grief had seemed to wound him, was perhaps your biggest regret.

It might sound stupid to be jealous of a dead man, but if it was stupid, then you were the worst of all for making him feel that way. For making him question the life you’ve made together— the life that Eddie can never give you.

When Steve had once talked about his dream of a white picket-fence life, filled with a brood of little Harrington children, you never quite thought you’d find yourself in the middle of it. You had been so foolish, back then, to have never realized that he was talking about you, when he told you about that dream.

You were just as foolish now, because how could you not have realized how in love with you he had been, even back then?

The thought that you’ve somehow tainted his dream, is the most excruciating heartbreak you’ve ever felt.

— 💍 —

When Wayne died, you were surprised to find he’d left you what little he had left. Years of grief and hard work could do damage to a heart, and his was more burdened than most.

Steve had helped as you made the arrangements, always the dutiful husband. By your side as you laid Wayne to rest beside Eddie, in that little cemetery you still visited to clean the tombstone which had seen more vandalism than any brick wall in downtown Hawkins. The two of your children who were old enough to stand beside you had clung to your black skirt, while you grieved the fact that they would never get to know how good a man Wayne Munson truly was.

It was a day that had brought back too many memories, and too much grief. Losing Wayne was losing Eddie all over again, because your final tether to that boy had been put in the ground, just like everything else.

You hadn’t realized that it had brought up memories for Steve, too, until it was too late.

Steve was generally a pleasant person, and in all honesty had been your rock for these past seven years. Through the immediate aftermath of day-to-day life without Eddie, to the nights you spent waking up in a cold sweat from the dreams of that night he’d died, Steve had been there. Through everything, he had treated you with this gentle, patient hand, but that night when you emerged into the kitchen of your suburban, white picket-fenced home, the patient, doting Steve was not the same man who sat at your breakfast table with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

“I just put Eddie and the other kids down,” you had gone straight to the sink, moving to wash the dishes from your dinner earlier as you glanced towards your husband.

“His name is Edward,” Steve bit, the bottle in his hands almost empty, “Not Eddie.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you abandoned the dishes to march towards him, taking the bottle from his grip before he could bring it to his lips once again, “You really had to try to finish this bottle, today of all days? Wayne just died—!”

Steve reached for it again, snatching it from where you’d set it on the table, only to shrug as he took another swig, “I figured I’d finally take the excuse to.”

“‘Finally?’” you scoffed, placing your hands on your hips, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means,” he was angry, despite how his voice remained level, and you couldn’t for the life of you realize why. You’d been so blind.

“You need to put down the bottle, Steve. You’re not making any sense.”

“Maybe I’m just finally thinking clearly,” he starts, the chair scraping against the tile as he pushes back from the table to stand up, moving towards you. “All this time, I’ve had my blinders on. Thinking one day you’ll someday be over Eddie Munson, but it’s been seven years, so that’s never going to happen, is it?” His voice was rising, frustration in his dark eyes, mixing with a hurt that he’d kept from you so perfectly until now. “Shit, Wayne just died, and you’re still carrying that damn torch—”

“You’re drunk, Steve,” the disgust is evident in your voice, as you try to brush off his words with that simple excuse, but he just comes closer.

“And you’re in love with him still! You think I can’t see it?” Steve shouted, reaching out to grip your arm just enough to bring your left hand between the two of you, “You’re wearing his ring!” When you jerked your arm back, he let you go, though the fire in his eyes holds you still, “I’m your husband! Eddie never was!”

“You think I don’t know that, Steve?” the sting of his words drives your own brewing anger, and you’re past regulating your tone, “You think I don’t know that I never got to marry Eddie?!” You didn’t even realize how your words had slipped into the truth, aided by the heat of the moment and your fresh grief, “You make it so hard to love you sometimes, Steve!”

“That’s rich,” he scoffed bitterly, “considering our son is a constant reminder of how much you love Eddie Munson!”

He’s saying things that hurt just for the sake of hurting, but there’s a truth to his own words, just as much as there is to yours, “Don’t you dare act like this is all on me! Eddie was your friend, too, Steve!”

“Yeah, and I wanted you the whole time! I loved you first, don’t you realize that? I was there before him, and I loved you before Munson ever had the chance to,” the ringing in your ears was from more than just how loud the two of you had become, “But he was always your first choice, right? He still is!” Steve’s chuckle is dry, bitter, and you can smell the liquor on his breath as he steps even closer, “Sometimes I wonder, if Eddie had never died, would you have ever even given me a chance?”

“How can you even say that to me?”

“Tell me I’m wrong!” he was begging as much as he was fighting, venom dripping from his words in an attempt for you to feel even a fragment of what he had felt for far too long, “Tell me you’ve ever loved me as much as you loved him!”

You had been so taken back by his words, that you couldn’t say anything at all, but that was perhaps the worst thing you could’ve done.

If looks could kill, Steve’s glare would have buried you in that very moment, “Maybe if I’d been the one to die that day, Eddie would be the one standing here, having to wonder that same thing! I guess it’s a good thing he took the easy way out, becau—”

The sound of your slap had been just as loud as your shouting match, reverberating around the kitchen while his face turned a bright, angry shade of red. The palm of your hand stung, but not as much as the straining pain in your chest did, and as tears softly fell from your eyes, Steve knew he’d gone too far.

Sobered for the moment by your slap, regret washing through the both of you. You hadn’t truly meant to hit him, but you’d done it all the same. He hadn’t meant to say things so cruel, but the words had fallen from his lips with all the loose-tongued rage that liquor could fuel. In the beat that it takes for his dark eyes to cast upon you again, watching you cry in the middle of the kitchen of this house you’ve worked so hard to earn together, part of him wants to apologize, but there’s too much pride— and too much truth to his words, to allow it.

You turned away from him, intent on storming back to your bedroom, but the sight lingering in the open arch to the kitchen stops you in your tracks.

Your oldest son and daughter, standing there with wide, frightened eyes, look back at the two of you. So tiny in the doorway, and yet filled with emotions that were much too big for children of their age. You don’t know how much of your fight they’ve witnessed, but the pit in your stomach only swells at the thought that they’d seen any of it at all.

“What are you two doing up?” wiping your tears, you moved across the tile, picking your daughter up into your arms while you ushered Edward through the doorway, “Let’s get you back to bed.”

A glance was all you spared for Steve, and it was all you needed to see how wrecked he had been by your children's interruption. This wasn’t who either of you wanted to be. You couldn’t be these people you’ve become, not now.

Not when there was more at stake than just your shaky relationship.

He watched you leave the kitchen with the kids, before bringing a hand up to run through his hair, cursing as he leant on the countertop with the weight of the crushing grief that threatened to swallow him whole. When he reflectively brings the bottle up, to take another sip, he pauses, glaring at the amber contents within the glass, before turning towards the sink and dumping the rest of it there.

Eddie Munson’s been dead for years, and somehow he still feels like an obstacle between you.

— 💍 —

You buried Wayne days ago, now, and since then you and Steve have been dancing around the eggshells of the pieces of each other that you had stripped apart in the kitchen that night. Sleeping alone is something you haven’t been used to since before you married Steve, and you don’t like the feeling of the cold space beside you, knowing he’s on the couch instead. You know you can’t keep going on like this, not when there’s a whole life that you have left to live with Steve.

A whole life left to live without Eddie Munson.

Staring down into the drawer of your bed-side table, you take one last lingering glance at the ring there, and all it represents. All the missed chances, and the dreams that had died when Eddie did. Shutting the drawer, you instead reach for the wedding band that Steve had given you that day you’d been all dressed in white, and Robin had cried as your maid of honor.

When had Steve’s dream become your dream? Somewhere in the time you spent grieving the dreams you’d made with Eddie, certainly, but the truth was, you had fit yourself into this life just as easily as Eddie’s mother’s engagement ring had fit on your finger.

You were meant to be here, with Steve, and your little brood of Harringtons. In this life, you had only ever been meant to stand here as Mrs. Harrington. Whatever piece of you that had once wished to be Mrs. Munson would be buried beside him, because you can’t keep fighting for a past that will never exist again.

All you can do now, is hope that you haven’t already messed up the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open catches your attention, and you slide your wedding rings back onto your finger. It’s strange, and there’s a bittersweet absence that comes with the lack of your third ring, but the sight of Steve standing in the doorway quells any second-thoughts about what you know you have to do.

He swings the door awkwardly, listening to it squeak again, “I should probably fix that, one of these days.”

You know it’s his way of extending an olive branch. You’ve known him in ways you would never know anyone else, and you don’t want to lose him, all because of your past.

“Yeah,” you murmur softly, shifting on the bed as he comes closer hesitantly. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Steve makes to sit beside you on the bed, hands coming to his knees like if he doesn’t grip them he’ll risk reaching out to you. You haven’t felt this uncertain in years. Taking for granted just how sure you were of him, of how unconditionally he loved you.

You were done doing that.

“Steve, I’m—”

“I’m so—”

You both speak at the same time, words jumbling together until you huff out a chuckle, reaching to take his hand in yours, and he looks down, catching sight of the rings that reside there, “I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Does this mean,” his thumb brushes over your fingers, turning the ring, and the space where Eddie’s had once been, “I can pack my little rucksack and come home?” There’s a shallow tease on his breath, when his brown eyes dart up to catch yours, but there’s a worry in them. That’s what perhaps makes your heart ache the most, because you want to be as certain for him as he’s been for you.

“Yes, Steve. God, I’ve treated you so terribly, without even realizing it,” your voice shakes, and he gives your hand a squeeze with his own. “I love you. You asked me that night if I loved Eddie.” You try to even your voice, “Yeah, I loved him. I loved him with my whole heart, but,” you reach out, catching him by the side of his jaw, stroking your fingers against the fresh shave there, “I love you, too. This life we’ve created together, that’s something Eddie never can give me. You’re my husband, and Eddie…” Trailing off, you swallow thickly, before, “Eddie’s dead.”

“I’m sorry— I don’t want you to feel like I’m giving you some kind of ultimatum,” Steve starts, but you finish his thought before he can.

“There is no ultimatum, Steve. You’re the one here. You’re the one who’s always been here,” you try to fight the tears that well in your eyes, but you can’t help it. “You’re not a second choice. You’re the man I married, and you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who’s been lost in the past.” Your hand falls from his face, onto the other that he holds, “Sometimes I do still feel like that girl who sat between you and Eddie, that day we were plotting to kill Vecna in his trailer, but I’m not her anymore. I don’t want to be. All I ever want to be now is your wife, and the mom our kids deserve.”

Steve lets out a shaky breath, relief evident on his face as he pulls you into his arms, “I’m sorry.” There’s a heavy emotion in his voice, and you finally let the tears fall as you hold him to you, “I’m so sorry for how I acted.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you pull back, when his lips brush against your forehead, seeing his own tears streaming down his face and reaching up to wipe them away, “I’m sorry for ever making you question the way I feel about you.”

Steve nods, pressing his forehead against yours with shut eyes, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you sigh, closing the distance to press your lips against his in a soft, slow kiss that you hope will seal this new chapter in your life with as much certainty as you abandon the last one.

As much as you’ll always have loved Eddie Munson, the version of yourself that you’ve become with Steve’s loving patience is the only life you want to live. At the end of the day, Steve’s the one who made you want to live it.

And you’ll never stop loving him, because he’s the one who saved you, over and over again.

Moving on was easier said than done, but if there was one person you would want by your side through the ugly thick and thin of it, it’s Steve Harrington.

#steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things spoilers #spoilers #female reader insert #stranger things female reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic by me #author meg

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thedeathlysallows · 10 months

Text

memento mori

Ch. 8: Poison Ivy

What the actual fuck is wrong with me? Did I lose my mind when I lost my job? Why did I think coming after Felix was a good idea? Why did I get drunk last night? Why did I let Felix eat me out?

The answer is, of course, I’m an idiot.

There’s no other explanation for any of this.

I’ve spent the last little bit of my life absolutely loathing this man and plotting his demise since the day we met and I just spread my legs for him like some horny teenage girl. I don’t get it. Does he have some crazy mind power I don’t know about? Was I hypnotized?

Hypnotized by that body maybe, a little voice whispers in my head.

The shitty part is the voice isn’t wrong.

Felix’s body is god like. He’s the type of guy I always imagined I’d end up with if I’d had a normal life. And I almost did. I almost had that with Paul, but… well, obviously that just wasn’t meant to be.

I sigh heavily, smacking my palm against my forehead. “Pull yourself together. You’ve got one last job to do.”

The only problem is I’m not so sure I can do it anymore. Sure, my anger is still there and I still really want to fuck up Felix’s life the way he fucked up mine, but logic is starting to settle in. I’m human now. I have no plan, no magic, no weapons, nothing. I made it to Italy out of sheer stubbornness.

What comes next? I can’t just leave. Felix would follow me anyway.

“Think, Rose, think.” I pace the length of my room, avoiding looking at the spot on the floor where Drew had been last night. Felix was at least kind enough to clean up his mess before ditching me last night.

Last night…

Nope! Not thinking about it. I won’t. I can’t. If I do I know I’ll only go looking for him and I don’t want him thinking he broke me that easily.

“Fuck!” I cry out in frustration and sink down into the plush chair by the window.

Beneath me, Volterra bustles with life and music. Families travel down the cobblestone streets holding souvenirs and each other while musicians play for change. Cafes and shops teem with people going about their day as if there isn’t a nest of vampires nearby. I scan the crowd out of habit, looking for anything that sticks out. At first I don’t see anything. Then, on my third sweep of the street I notice her. A tall woman with bright copper red hair and delicate elven features stares up at me from the alleyway just across from the hotel. She lifts the hood of her black cloak over her hair and motions for me to follow. Before disappearing deeper into the alley.

Her face looks familiar enough that it’s probably not a good idea for me to actually follow her, but I do it anyway. I grab my jacket and bag, nodding at the poor custodian tasked with fixing my door. He mutters something in Italian that’s probably a curse.

Across the street I slip into the dark alley, avoiding puddles and trash. I reach the end without seeing the woman and begin to wonder if I actually have lost my mind. As I turn to leave she steps out from the shadows and removes her hood. Even in the dim light her hair shines brightly.

“You must be Roseanna Swan, yes?” Her voice is kind and musical with a heavy English accent. “My brother Carlisle told me he thought you would be coming here. Something about a fight you’ve picked with Felix?”

“He started it, not me! And if your brother would’ve kept Edward away from my sister I wouldn’t be here at all!” I huff out a breath and cross my arms.

The woman’s eyes light up in delight and she laughs. “Ah, I see. Edward can be quite the handful. One would hope he had matured over the years, but I see he hasn’t.”

“Yeah, well, I guess asking a seventeen year old to be mature is a little difficult… even if they’ve been seventeen forever.” I look the woman up and down, taking in her expensive clothing. The dress she wears beneath her cloak is long and white with little gold detailing embroidered all over. Her cloak is held together by a bronze V inlaid with rubies. She has to be a member of the Volturi… but she said she’s Carlisle’s sister…

She takes a step closer to me, grasping my hands tightly between her own. “Roseanna, tell me, do you believe in magic?”

I laugh. “What like pulling a rabbit out of a hat? Nah, I outgrew that by the time I was seven. Your dad can only do the whole removing his thumb bit so many times.”

There’s a devious flash in her eyes that disappears as quickly as it came. “I’m sorry, I just realized I never introduced myself properly.” She offers her hand to me and looks me right in the eye. “My name is Anne Volturi, formerly Cullen.”

I smile back at her and the world spins, fading to black. The last thing I hear is Anne call for someone named Santiago.

When I come to the first thing I feel is a warm cloth on my arm and a soft bed beneath me. There’s the smell of roses and the sound of a woman humming a song that feels ancient and powerful. I can hear what sounds like a fire crackling in the distance as well. My head is pounding. I can’t feel my legs.

“I can hear your heart, little one,” a woman says. “No need to keep your eyes closed.”

No, not just a woman. It’s Anne. From earlier.

I open my eyes to be met with her kind expression. If she hadn’t kidnapped me or had the eerie red eyes of a vampire I could almost believe she’s an angel. She’s the one cleaning my arm with a warm cloth and the rose smell is coming from the brass bowl of water on the nightstand. Her face is serene as she continues humming and washing me.

“Welcome back.” Anne finally says once she’s finished with my arm. “You weren’t out as long as they usually are. We’ll take that as a wonderful sign.”

“A sign for what?”

Anne smiles softly, grabbing the bowl and walking around the bed to the other side of me. “I imagine working as an Agent for The Society that you have come across more than vampires. Tell me, lovely, what have you seen?”

“It’s easier to say what I haven’t.” I watch her closely as she methodically cleans my other arm, wiping away dirt and debris that must have gotten there after I collapsed in the alley. “What are you? There’s no way you’re just a vampire.”

“I believe the way this game works is you answer my question first. Is that right? I hear the newer coven members refer to this as Twenty Questions.”

My mouth falls open. “Is this real? Did I hit my head too hard on the way down?”

“I made sure to keep you perfectly intact. The difficult part has been hiding your scent from Felix.” Anne flicks her hair over her shoulder with a heavy sigh and sits down on the bed. Her hand is ice cold but smooth as she takes my own. “I have a proposal for you, lovely. I hope you will hear me out.”

I eye her warily, ready to bolt for the door at any second, while she continues.

“When I asked you earlier if you believe in magic I was being sincere. The Society has their magic, I’ve seen it in action, but it’s nothing close to the real thing. It’s dirty. Corrupt. I find it to be destructive in the extreme. There’s no soul to it. Magic, true magic, is full of life and beauty. It’s intertwined with the divine feminine. Do you understand, Ms. Swan?”

I nod. She sounds so certain and passionate. I wish I could feel that way about anything besides revenge. I want to answer her desperately, but there’s a lump in my throat threatening to turn into tears and keeping me from saying anything to her. I know exactly what she means about The Society’s magic. It always felt dark and demanding to me, but Titania would always reassure me it was meant to be that way. Agents are pawns that the magic works through, not the other way around. We don’t use it. It uses us like some soul draining parasite.

Anne clicks her tongue and cups my jaw with her other hand, wiping the stray tear that falls down my cheek with her thumb. “You poor little thing. I can’t imagine what you’ve seen. What they made you do.”

A strange sort of relief settles over my body and I can’t stop the sobs from coming. I can’t help it. The kindness coming from her is overwhelming. I’ve been alone and used like a pawn for so long, completely separated from my real life, and I’ve never been able to actually feel any of it until now. I always pushed the loneliness away, but it creeps up on me in the face of Anne’s motherly nature.

She pulls me close to her in a soothing hug, stroking my hair gingerly. “It’s not every day The Society throws out one of their own and I know you blame it on Felix’s interest in you, but there’s a bigger picture to look at, lovely.”

“What do you mean?” I pull away from her and press my palms to my eyes, forcing out the last few tears.

Anne grasps both my hands between her own. “The Society has been abusing their power for far too long. It’s time for the Tower to fall and the Sun to rise. Let me teach you.”

“I-” I look down at our clasped hands and nod. “Okay. Yeah.”

The same sneaky glint I saw in her eyes back in the alley returns in full force. “I’m a woman who doesn’t often make promises, but one thing I can promise you right now is you’ll never have to feel powerless again, lovely. With my help you can even be on equal footing with Felix once again.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Just listen to me. Learn from me. Together we can be a force for good.”

#felix volturi #felix volturi imagine #felix volturi x oc #volturi fanfiction

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