#i forget to clean and take care of open wounds on my body. that burn i got months ago? never cleaned it. didn't get infected. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heeseung-min · 2 years

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Hi, I hope you're doing well. Is your request open? If so, can you do a yandere!enhypen when they got sick (fever maybe) and their s/o taking care of them? Thanks(◍•ᴗ•◍) have a good day/night

Hello! Sorry for the late answer and thank you for the request😁 I hope you have a nice day

Yandere Enhypen Reaction: When they are sick and their s/o take care of them

Heeseung

Heeseung has been overworked nowadays and you can see it too. Even he is too tired, he never forget to take a good care of you. Preparing for your meals because he doesn't want you to hurt yourself when cooking, he washed the clothes and even clean the house. It's not like you are lazy or you don't want to help. It is because of Heeseung is too scared of you getting sick, tired or hurt. You tried to convince him so you can help him doing chores but he always reply "If you want to help, you can sit cutely and wait for me to done."

It's annoying sometimes.

However, today is become too much. Due to the stress at work, he became weaker and get dizzy often. When he was back, his body became limp and nearly passed out at the door. Luckily you were fast on caught his body in your arms. You pulled him to the bedroom and laying him on the bed. It was difficult because he is heavy.

After you successfully put him on the bed, you stared at his pale face. There were sweats on the forehead and the colour of his lips become light coloured instead of pinkish indicates he is sick. You take off his clothes and change to the new one and left him on the bed so he can rest.

You decided to cook him a porridge using online recipe and of course his favourite food ; ramen. Even though it is your first time cooking but you are being careful to not hurt yourself because you don't want to make your boyfriend worried.

After two hours of sleeping, Heeseung's eyes slowly moving and opened. It took him few seconds to realise where is he . The man immediately sit up and looked for his girl.

"Oh you already wake up? How do you feel now?"

Heeseung looked at you with a confusion on his face. You couldn't help but giggled at his bambi eyes. You straddled his laps and made him look at you.

"You passed out at the living room. I carried you to this room and ergh you are so heavy. You need to take care of yourself, hee."

You said with sarcasm tone and it made Heeseung felt guilty a bit. He tugged you closer to his body.

"I'm sorry baby."

"No need to be sorry hee but you need to promise that you will ask for my help to do chores or we can do it together.Also you don't need to worry about me hurting myself. I will be cautious."

"Alright I will do that next time."

You smiled brightly and bring the porridge to your hand.

"Let's eat this first and your favourite ramen next. Then you need to take medicine."

"You...you cook..this?"

You saw that look on his eyes that indicates he started to worry.

"Hey, what I told you just now? I will not hurt myself. Look, there's no single of wound on my body."

Heeseung pecked your lips and leaned his forehead on you.

"Thank you y/n. I love you so much."

Jay

Jay is very stubborn. You didn't notice at first he was sick because he literally looked fine. But after hearing four coughs out from him, you started getting suspicious.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes honey I'm good."

But obviously you didn't trust him and hold him closer to you to feel his forehead.

"Gosh Jay you are burning and you must have sore throat too since your voice sound hoarse."

"I'm fine honey. You don't need to worry."

Huh. What a stubborn boyfriend you have. You cupped his cheeks and stared at him for few seconds. His cheeks slowly flushing red at the sudden closeness but he loves it.

"I am not fine with it. You need to rest, Jay.”

Without waiting for his reply, you immediately went for looking the medicine that Jay should take. Your boyfriend ran and tried to stop you from doing anything but because of his weak body he can only screamed which made it worse to him because he has sore throat and to you because he never scream at you before.

You stared at him with shock face and lowkey wanted to cry because you didn’t like people scream at you.

“I-I’m sorry honey. I-”

“I was just trying to help you, Jay. Why are you being stubborn so much? Can’t I take care of you? Do you think I am useless??”

It’s the first time you getting angry at him. It shook you too that you can let out what you feel. Jay went closer to you and hugged you closer to his body.

“You know I never think of you like that. You should not say things like that y/n. I don’t like when you raise your voice at me.”

“Well, if you don’t like that then can you stop being stubborn and let me take care of you?”

Jay smiled weakly at you. He realised he should not shout at you at the first place. You just wanted to help him.

“Okay doctor. I’m sorry for my behaviour just now.”

You giggled at him and brought him to the bed to let him have a rest that he deserves.

Jake

You woke up when you felt Jake's body warmer than usual. You also heard he whimpered few times in his sleep.

The man opened his eyes when he felt his lover caressing his hair.

"My darling, good morning."

He leaned closer to you to have some kisses but getting startled when his lips met with your palm instead of your soft lips.

"You are sick, Jake."

"Am not darling. Come on, I want kisses."

"No, you stay on the bed. I will make you food."

You left Jake being dumbfounded on the bed and went to the kitchen. He doesn't want to let you go and keep chasing you just to get kiss but failed many times. So, he caged you in his arms to make sure you will not run again from him.

"Please y/n, don't leave me."

"Jake, I just want to cook for you."

"Then, give me a kiss first."

"No, I don't want to get sick."

"Darling, how could you? I just want to get a kiss. Am I that disgusting?"

Jake manipulative mode is on. You sighed at the sight of him sobbing quietly.

"Jakey, you're not disgusting. I just don't want both of us getting sick together. It will be difficult."

Jake didn't reply to your words. He keep sobbing to show you how hurt he is when you didn't kiss him.

"Alright, let's make a deal. I will give you kiss if you're not sick anymore."

"Kiss and cuddles?"

"Yes, jakey. Kiss and cuddles."

It's nice to say that Jake finally got what he wants after two days being sick. He never let you go even you want to pee. He always follow wherever you went.

"You look beautiful."

"Jake, I'm peeing."

Sunghoon

"Baby, I'm strong. I don't need this. I just need you."

Sunghoon pushed away the tray that has his medicines and pulled you closer to hug your body but instead he got smacked lightly on his head.

"ACk!!! Did you just hit me??!!"

"Yeahh, you need to take this, hoon."

"Who are you to tell me what to do, huh?"

You can't deny even he is sick, his aura still intimidating. Sunghoon doesn't like when someone asked him to do something. You calmed yourself and put the tray on the table and caressed his hair to comfort him.

"Love, you are sick right now. You have fever. I don't want you to get sick." You said while touch his warm cheeks made him melted on your arms.

"But, I want you."

"You can but after you eat this, okay?"

Sunghoon grumbled and rolled his eyes and let you do what you wanted. You pecked his forehead and cheeks then tugged him with the blanket so he can rest. At first, Sunghoon demanded you to sleep with him because he wanted to hold you. Then, after an hour you slowly let yourself go when you knew Sunghoon finally really asleep.

You went to clean and arranged the furniture in the house. You enjoyed yourself doing what you want.

You decided to cook for lunch however you felt something was watching you. It's impossible because there was no neighbour around your house.

"What are you watching?"

"ARGH"

Now, you were the one who screaming. You turned at your back to look at Sunghoon who just probably woke up from his sleep and stared at you confusedly.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"10 minutes. What were you watching?"

You sighed at his statement and pulled his body to hug.

"Hoon, you scared me. I thought someone was watching me while I'm prepare for the lunch."

"I already make sure no one will know about us, baby."

You unattached yourself and pulled Sunghoon to sit on the chair while continuing the cooking.

"Let's eat together. I can see your fever is reducing."

"This will be first and last you cooking, baby. I will cook after this."

"Yes, hoon."

Sunoo

Sunoo is sick and he knew it but you couldn't explain why the man cooked for you like you were the one who is sick.

"Sunoo, you need to rest."

"Baby, you are the one who need to rest."

Sunoo sassily said while continue preparing the lunch. You can see his cheeks became red because of the heat and his body nearly lost its stable so you walked to him and hugged him from behind.

"Sunoo, you are sick and you need to rest. I can do this for you."

Your boyfriend turned himself to look at you. He can't say anything when you were pouting with your alluring eyes. He sighed and let you brought him to the couch to let him rest and finished the cooking.

"Sunoo, now it's the time for you to take medicine."

Sunoo rolled his eyes. He doesn't like the taste of that thing. He glared at you when you innocently stare and giving him the medicine.

"Baby, I think you should go put those dishes on the sink, I will take this while you do it."

Your boyfriend tried to be sneaky but too bad you are more expert than him.

You took the pill and put it inside your mouth and cupped Sunoo's cheeks then kissed him. The man was shook at first but then melted on your arms, you pushed the pill with your tongue to him made him whimpered and let him go after he gulped it.

"..you..h-how.."

"Well, I will go wash the dishes first."

"Hey!! You can't just go after doing that."

"Do what?"

Sunoo grumbled and pulled you again to get one last kiss before he get his rest.

"Thank you for ..that.."

Sunoo quickly tugged himself in the blanket and turned away from facing you. His cheeks can't stop from blushing and it made you giggled silently.

Jungwon

Jungwon is such hardworking person but sometimes he does it too much to the point he forgot to take care of himself.

"won, are you good?"

"Yes, I am. Why, my dear?"

"You had watered the plants three times now."

Jungwon stopped what he was doing and put the watering can on the ground before looking back at you.

"Maybe I'm being forgetful today."

He giggled while you staring at him suspiciously not buying with his words.

"I'm not sick."

"I didn't say anything."

"Well, I'm just telling you in case you think I'm sick"

"So, you are sick."

"I- I just said I'm not."

You stopped his protest when you leaned your forehead to his. Jungwon's eyes soften when looking at your worried pupils.

"Why do you look scared?"

"I am worried, won. I don't want you to get sick."

You said and left a peck on his lips making him chasing more but got stopped when you pulled his hand to the bed.

"Lay down here and wait for me. I will cook for you."

"Only for today y/n."

"Yes, my love."

Oh how Jungwon is so grateful to have you.

Riki

Riki is stubborn. He really tried to show that he is not sick with playing his games energytically.

"See, I told you I'm not sick. I can play the game easily."

"You lost the game five times already, Riki."

"Hey! Don't say that. This level is hard so it's understandable if I lost the game."

"I will eat all of your bunggeoppang if you still not admit that you are sick."

Riki gasped dramatically and glared at you. The boy quickly off his game and walked towards you.

"How dare you use that to me. I told you I am good."

"Riki, you've been coughing for many times now. If you don't want take this medicine, you will get sore throat."

"It can be solve if I drink water, y/n. Don't worry."

"Let's eat food first, okay."

You secretly called the other members to help you give the medicine to him because you knew he will run away from it.

"No y/n! I don't want to eat it. It tastes disgusting!!"

"Oppa, hold him for me!"

"Y/n! Faster, this kid is too strong."

"I will remember this y/n. I will not forgive you."

finally, a yandere reaction🤧🤧 its been so long sigh. this is soft yandere so only see fluff and funny scenes. I hope this will satisfy you guys😁😁

And also, I have been thinking about having tagging list🤔 so when I posted something you will get notification about it. So, who wants to be in tagging list😆 pls comment

#yandere au #yandere imagines #yandere kpop #enha x reader #yandere enhypen #kpop yandere #lee heeseung #nishimura riki #park jongseong #kim sunoo #park sunghoon #sim jaeyun #yang jungwon #enha drabbles #yandere x reader #yandere enha #enha yandere #yandere enha reaction

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gfguren · 1 year

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itachi | angst | cw: cursing, mentions of death

-the memory of itachi haunts you-

You want to say you've forgotten him, left the memory of him behind just as he left you all those years ago, but that would make you a liar, you suppose. Despite how hard you try to forget, with each day that passes and every wound your heart mends, you're still never able to forget the specter that is Itachi.

He's always beside you, trapped in the loneliest corners of your mind, dark eyes lingering, fingers tracing your skin, a smile you haven't seen in years haunting you like a chill you just can't seem to shake.

You miss him.

Still.

And the cold weather doesn't help, a fever striking you mid January, leaving you high on cold medicine and with way too much time to think, to regret, to yearn.

The illusions torment you. The ghost, with its gentle brown eyes and honey laugh, lies its phantom hands on either side of your flushed cheeks and then over your forehead, a scorching hundred and two degrees.

"You're sick." Its voice is so far away, a deep, distant echo that you wish you could forget. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

He smiles and the butterflies burst to life, if only for the moment before reality sinks in once more and you're plummeting back down, down, down to planet earth, to the place where you're wiping the tears from your eyes and forcing down the feverish mirage. "Don't do this to me."

As if he doesn't hear you, he - the memory - continues, "Stay here, I'll warm up your favorite soup."

And you wait, like a fool you wait. But he doesn't return, just as he never has before; and you know he never will again.

Kicking off the blanket with all the strength left in your feeble body, you force yourself out of bed, driven only by the ire and hatred for your kryptonite, for those memories that perpetually linger and your predisposition to cling to them so pathetically. The hallway has never felt so long before, your hand grasping at the white paint with petty desperation as you all but drag yourself to the kitchen.

Old countertops hold you steady as you rummage through your cupboards, a layer of dust laid thick over the wooden shelves. Maybe you'd ate out a few too many times recently, and maybe you didn't have the drive or the time to clean them, or maybe, just maybe the thought of thrift store China and coffee mugs in matching pairs made you too afraid to open them, afraid to face the little things he left behind, afraid to fall back into that god forsaken abyss you'd fought so so hard to escape from, afraid to relive the memory of Itachi.

Warm breath fans past the nape of your neck and you shudder, goosebumps pricking your spine. You sigh as a warm presence wraps its arms around your waist, sunshine that lulls you into a false sense of security. Exactly how you remember him.

"I told you to wait." The illusion reaches past you for the pot on the highest shelf. "Go sit down, I said I'd take care of you, didn't I?"

You shake your head, hand slipping through his to grab it first, afraid to fall into the memory again. He huffs, mumbling something about you being stubborn before leaning against the marbled counter. Your hand lingers a little too long over the cream of chicken and you hear him hum disapprovingly.

"Eat something light, you'll only make yourself feel worse."

"Whatever you say, darling," you roll your eyes, a small laugh slipping past your chapped lips before you freeze, remembering you're talking to a ghost -- no, worse. A memory, a mirage, a being that only responds in the ways you remember him.

"Oh?" His eyes light up as he takes a step towards you. "You finally acknowledged me?" You hold your tongue, emptying a can of flavorless broth into the pot and placing it on the burner. "My love," he whispers. "Don't ignore me."

You focus every bit of attention on the stove, needlessly stirring the soup to avoid meeting his desperate gaze. Still, his eyes burn a hole in your center where an unmistakable emptiness lies, aching you to the core and making you want to scream. Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you choke out a desperate, "Please just go away."

He sighs, placing a hand on each of your frigid shoulders. "I'm here because of you, for you. You know that, right?" His voice holds a sadness that's all too familiar. "Just look at me, please."

And you do, with quivering lips and sweaty palms, you face him fully for the first time. "What do you want from me?"

He smiles and your heart reels. "Isn't it the opposite? Isn't there something you want from me? That's why I'm still here after all this time, isn't it?"

"What?" you murmur, incredulous. What you want from him? You've said it a million times before.

To go away.

To leave me alone.

To disappear like you never existed at all.

But looking in those eyes that have always seen right through you, it catches on the precipice of your tongue and you know deep down, it's not the truth at all.

To come home.

To be here with me.

To spend just five more minutes by my side.

"I can't," he whispers, though you're sure you said nothing at all. "I'm sorry."

"Then stop making this hard on me, and just go! Please!"

"Why is it hard, my love? Tell me, I'll make it better."

Your throat is closing up but you manage the broken syllables as best you can. "Because I miss you, is that what you want to hear?" You wipe angrily at the tears burning your eyes. "I miss you so goddamn much and I hate you for leaving me behind. And I know-" you choke on your words, biting back a sob. "I know you'll never come back to me, and that fucking hurts but you know Itachi, you know what hurts even more than that?

"That I don't know what happened to you. That you never told me why you left, hell that you were going to leave me at all! I don't know if you're living a happy life somewhere, or if you've lost your memory and are wandering aimlessly, looking for that empty space in your heart that's waiting here with me or... or..."

You fall to the ground, hands covering your face, red and puffy from crying. "I don't know if you've left this world forever and that, that is what haunts me the most. Can't you just tell me you're okay? I promise I'll let you go, just please, please. I'm begging you."

He leans down, pulls you into his phantom embrace, strokes your hair with such familiar tenderness that a broken sob rips past your throat. "You know I can't." The illusion is crying too, you realize. "But wherever I am, I'll always be watching over you, protecting you-" His hand moves to cradle your tear stained cheek and you let yourself fall into it. "-forever. I promised, remember?"

Your eyes meet his one last time before the memory fizzles away like static and leaves you feeling empty, empty and alone and pathetic; with nothing but a headache brewing behind your heavy eyelids, and a pot of soup boiling away in the background that you have no appetite for anyway.

#itachi #itachi x reader #itachi x you #naruto #naruto x reader #naruto x you #akatsuki x reader

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chisakifiles · 9 months

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you save me over and over again | chisaki kai overhaul yume/comfort oneshot

by popular demand. (im kidding) hope this is enjoyable since its my first time writing for tumblr. anyways an intervention was necessary and i need a lil kiss on the forehead yk

content warning; self harm (literally the first line of text), suicidal tendencies, angst, genderneutral!reader. disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction and is not based on any real events.

I sat on his bathroom floor and watched the blood pool. I felt the emptiness get replaced with the sting of the wounds along my arms and everything was finally quiet. This wasn't my first time doing this and expecting my life to end. I cut my arms and wrists before. I tried a gun in my mouth, and another one to my head. I even “accidentally” took too many pills on purpose. But every single time I deliberately forget to lock the door, and he has found me every single time. I tell myself to lock it every time I plan, too. Yet something deep inside me hopes he will open the door, and he does. Every single time. This time was no different.

The static noise in my head is replaced with the peaceful buzz of the burn in my arms, but I felt dizzier too. As if the sound echoed through my head, I heard the bathroom door open in the distance, even though it was directly to my left. Oh dear. Someone's here, I thought. I wonder if it's him.

"Fuck!" I heard them scream, and then rush to their knees in front of me. Oh, it's his face. It's him. Again. He's so lovely. Fuck. He held my face for a second and called my name. I blinked slowly and surveyed his frantic body. He immediately picked me up and placed me on the closed toilet seat. Grabbing bandages and rubbing alcohol, he attempted to clean my wounds before dressing them. The cuts were deep enough to make someone scream if alcohol were to touch them, but when he rubbed it across my arms, all I could do was flinch. My face remained empty. He looked at me with worry for my lack of reaction. "Y/N? Are you still here?" He asked me. I blinked again to answer, since I didn't feel like responding. Then he got up to get me some water.

When he returned, he held it close to my lips, but I refused to move. "Y/N. Please?" I still couldn't move. "Alright. We don't have time," he said, picking me up by the waist. When I refused to walk, he grabbed the rest of me bridal style and carried me to his lab. On the way there, he knocked on Chronostasis' door. "Chrono, come to my lab right now. Y/N needs help," he said, then continued onwards.

Upon arriving, he placed me in the hospital-like chair and immediately hooked me up to the IV. Chrono joined to aid Kai in taking care of me. The more I came back into focus, the angrier I became. I felt the frustration reach my fingertips and I almost jumped from my chair in a blind fury. Chrono grabbed onto me and held me down to the chair. Chisaki locked his eyes on mine. All I could see was worry. "Relax, hey relax. It’s okay,” Chrono said, barely audible to me. I couldn’t hear anything thanks to the sudden tunnel vision I was experiencing, so I ended up taking an arrow to the neck. Then I felt my entire body slow down within seconds. Even my heart. I could hear again. When I finally stopped huffing, Chrono removed the arrow. I stayed still and Chrono affectionately ruffled my hair, stepping back.

"Why do you do this? You make this hard for me," I finally spoke quietly.

"What is it that I’m making hard? Why do I make it so difficult for you?" Chisaki asked, a slight tremor in his voice as he squatted down to look at me. We both knew the answer to his questions but I stayed silent, tears in my eyes welling. I avoided his own eyes, training mine on his shoes. After a moment, he says "I do this because I love you. It's only natural for humans to protect the things they care for." He leans down to hug my waist, sighing shakily. It was then that I noticed he was wearing only a regular black mask. I felt his breathing through the cloth of his mask and my shirt, onto my stomach. A moment passed in complete silence. You could hear the IV drip.

"I detest you," I said almost furiously. Chrono saw Chisaki's face drop in silent fear, hurt deeply by the words. "I hate that I love you." His face softened as his tears began to well in his eyes. "I hate that I look forward to you always being there. It makes this so much more harder. Why do you do this to me? You have no business preserving someone else's life for your own selfish reasons. This feels...like hell." He pulled back and just watched me, tears threatening to fall. The guilt dropped its weight. "I'm sorry. Chisaki, I'm sorry. I...I know you're trying to help. I...you don't deserve this," I sniffled, rubbing my eyes. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to put you through this. You deserve better than that. I'm sorry." I gently raised my hands, motioning for him to stay away from me.

He speaks slowly. "It's worth it because its you. I wouldn't rather live any other life. You deserve to live because I think you are worth living for. You have changed me for the better. I can only return the favor. If I had to choose...I would choose to find you and pick you up and be there until you get better, and keep doing it over and over until you're free from it." I stare at him in suffocated silence. Then my own tears fall, and continue to fall until I can no longer speak.

After a moment, I mumble, "Why do I always hope you find me? Why?"

He holds a conflicted look on his face. "I'm...not sure. You...you love me, right? I'm something you care about right?"

I nodded. "I can't...protect you if I'm gone. But you're protecting me instead."

He pulls his mask down and smiles softly. "That's okay. We can take turns taking care of each other. That's what relationships are for." He raises from his knees and sighs. "What makes you feel better? Anything you need. I'll do it for you," he says quietly.

After a moment, I look at him and sigh, pulling the IV out. "You can get me a glass of water," I say, tired.

Chrono begins to move, holding a pensive expression on his face. Chisaki tells him he'll get it himself. Chrono pats Chisaki on the shoulder, then steps out, closing the door. Chisaki gets the water and I stand up to take the glass and drink it slowly, holding back more tears. I put the glass down as he comes in close and envelopes me in his arms. He had put on his jacket that he had left in the lab and wrapped his jacket around me in the hug, and I hold onto him, clinging tightly and taking in his scent. Feeling me grab onto him, he squeezes himself even tighter around me. I began to openly sob into his shoulders. "Please, please, please don't let me go. I don't want you to leave me," I whispered.

Petting my head, he answered just as quietly, "I would never. You could make me furious beyond reason and it will never be enough for me to leave you alone. Then we'd both be alone. You are my spouse, I am your husband. I'll die with you." Somehow I clung even tighter. I felt my fingers begin to ache. I don't know how long we stood there until I heard him laugh softly. "Come on. Lets take a bath." We headed back to the bedroom, walking slowly. He interlocked his fingers with mine and pulled me along behind him. When we reached the room, he lead me to the bathroom and began running a bath. we stand next to it and he offers to help me undress.

I lifted my arms slowly, wincing at the ache in my bandaged limbs as he pulled my shirt over my shoulders. Then I watched as he carefully undid the bandages, revealing the still fresh cuts. Tugging my waistband, he looked at me, then pulled my pants down. Despite us being married, I caught myself feeling flustered as he passed his eyes over my crotch. I took off my underwear and stepped into the large, round tub, sitting down to watch him take off his own clothes. I couldn't help but stare at him myself, watching his body.

He followed me into the tub, sitting next to me. I watched as he rest his arm on the edge of the tub behind my shoulders, almost leaning into me. “We can rest for however long you like, and then I can help wash, too. The scent of lavender and vanilla filled the room, reminding me of him.

“Okay,” I nodded and just sat back. We sat in now comfortable silence, drifting off into our own thoughts while still being anchored by one another. I thought about how completely startled I was at the fact that he wasn’t compulsively scrubbing the both of us down right now, and how he didn’t give his bloodied cloth gloves more than a second glance earlier. Not once did he break out either. He just seemed completely at ease. In turn I felt like I could breathe more easily too. “Thank you,” I said, leaning over him to place a gentle kiss on his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I continued, each “thank you” complimented by another kiss on his neck.

He sighed and placed a sud-covered hand in my hair. “Why do you thank me? I told you, there’s nothing else I’d rather be doing right now,” he answered.

I shrugged, sinking down to rest my chin on his shoulder. “I don’t know. I just feel bad. You can’t expect me to not feel even a little responsible,” I said quietly. He continued to pet me, and I felt our skin grow warmer with contact.

“You’re right. It’s okay if you do. But the reality of it is that it isn’t your fault. You’re just trying to find the best way to help yourself. Even if it isn’t actually helpful.” He turn to look at me so I raise up to meet his gaze. “There’s no malicious intent behind struggling with something like this. None of us have the right answer to being alive so what are you really responsible for in the first place?”

“…Fair enough,” I replied. He leans in apprehensively and lands a tender kiss on my lips. I close my eyes and sigh, feeling his presence in front of me. The simple thought that I was not in fact the only human being on the planet eased my mind tremendously. After a few more soft kisses I say, “Okay, I’d like to have this bath now.”

Chisaki nodded and grabbed the soap bottle, along with shampoo and conditioner, then the shower hose. "Would you like for me to wash your hair?" he asked me. I closed my eyes and nodded. He ran the water over my hair, making sure it was soaked in warm water before grabbing the shampoo and lathering his hands in it. I relished in the feeling of his fingers massaging my head, reaching every corner, crevice and ache. He washes it out and I put the conditioner in my hair myself.

Once I finished combing my fingers through my hair, I looked up to ask him, "Want me to wash yours too?" His hair was significantly shorter, so it wouldn't be too much of a task.

"Sure, why not," he sighed, and I did the same for him. As I scratched at his head with shampoo, I couldn't help but steal adoring glances of his face. His eyes were closed and he looked like he was in bliss. Then we both took the regular soap and scrubbed ourselves until we were completely clean. Chisaki grabbed the shower hose and washed my skin off then my hair, gently covering my eyes to keep the conditioner out. He lifted my face once the suds washed away and placed a small kiss on my forehead. Then he quickly washed himself off along with his hair and we get out of the tub.

I watched him drain it and clean up in the bathroom as I began to dry myself off, but as I'm watching him, I see him walk over to me, still sopping wet. He immediately grabbed fresh dressing for my wounds and recleaned them before applying it. I watched his face as he worked, completely void of any negative emotion. His fingers moved quickly and carefully, as if he were 100% sure of himself. Once he finished, he took the towel from my hands, burying my head in the towel and ruffling it nicely. I laughed softly at how willing he was to do anything for me and I took the towel back from him. "It's fine, I got it. Go help yourself, my love."

He huffed, slightly embarrassed. "Alright." I watch him dry himself off and then I follow him back into the bedroom. I went to my closet and searched for clean pajamas to put on, to commend his effort to help me. He dressed himself quickly and by the time I get my pants on he's already grabbing my t-shirt and pulling it on over my head. I sighed and smiled at him, giving in. He then helped me finish up moisturizing my hair, which was actually just him taking over completely. "I want to do this for you," he said.

"Okay," I answered softly.

Once he was finally done with me, he pulled me close and grabbed my hands to bring them around his waist. I interlocked my fingers together and rested them on his lower back as he brought his own larger arms around my shoulders to grab my back, squeezing me in an embrace. I rested my chin on his shoulder, accepting my pleasant fate. After a moment the tears threatened to return, and as if he sensed it himself, he let go, placed a small kiss on my neck and grabbed my hand.

"Let's go to bed. You must be exhausted."

I nodded, giving him another "Okay," except this time it was shakier.

He led me to our bed and let me get under the covers first before following and collapsing himself on top of me. He laughed softly and I followed along with him, which took me completely by surprise. He showered me with kisses and said, "Let's go to sleep. I can offer you myself as an additional blanket for tonight." He didn't normally act playful, so I could tell he was trying to cheer me up, and it was working.

Yawning, I answered, "That sounds good to me." He shifted above me and snuggled close. I knew he wasn't comfortable on top of me and would last 40 minutes tops up there, but I let him do as he pleased, because watching him try to make me happy was definitely making me happy. I definitely didn't last the 40 minutes, though. Before I could think of anything else to say to him, I fell deep asleep.

He kissed my forehead once more and whispered, "Good night. I'll see you tomorrow." He rolled off of me while still resting his arm on top of me, drifting off himself.

42 notes · View notes

maqicien · 1 year

Text

Two Ghosts

Andrew tugs firmly on his hair until Neil cracks open an unconcerned eye. “You look like death,” he says, voice gone low to match the somber atmosphere of the room.

“I feel like death,” Neil replies, voice crackly and used, mud in his throat.

He feels Andrew sit on the edge of the bed, body dipping with the added weight. His body unconsciously curves around him, head tipping to press his forehead against his warm, clothed hip.

“I brought you drugs,” Andrew says, shaking something in his hands as proof. Neil groans at the rattling pills, his brain pounding behind his skull.

“You, Andrew Minyard, know the way to my heart,” Neil says, words muffled by the fabric of Andrew’s hoodie.

In which Andrew and Neil are in love, and Neil finally meets the Foxes.

part 1

ao3

Neil wakes to a hand in his hair, gentle fingertips against his scalp that tug the soft strains in all the right places. He hums into the pillow, pressing his face easily into the scent of Andrew’s leftover cologne and shampoo. The simmering ache of pain thrums through his body, an all-consuming bruise. It taints the sweet awakening with reminders of days he would sooner forget.

Andrew tugs firmly on his hair until Neil cracks open an unconcerned eye. “You look like death,” he says, voice gone low to match the somber atmosphere of the room.

“I feel like death,” Neil replies, voice crackly and used, mud in his throat.

He feels Andrew sit on the edge of the bed, body dipping with the added weight. His body unconsciously curves around him, head tipping to press his forehead against his warm, clothed hip.

“I brought you drugs,” Andrew says, shaking something in his hands as proof. Neil groans at the rattling pills, his brain pounding behind his skull.

“You, Andrew Minyard, know the way to my heart,” Neil says, words muffled by the fabric of Andrew’s hoodie.

“You say that now. Just wait until I make you sit up so I can change your bandages,” Neil’s resulting groan hurts his own ears.

With Andrew’s careful help, they get Neil into a sitting position, pillows behind and around him like a safety net. Andrew is cautious as he lifts Neil’s shirt, bandage snagging on the sleep-warm shirt.

Andrew is gentle and clinical as he removes the bandage, ignoring the hiss of pain Neil lets slip between clenched teeth. He cleans the wound with ease, fresh bandage already pressed firm against his skin. Neil tangles a hand in Andrew’s hair, dropping his head back against the pillows to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. Andrew ignores the attention in favour of checking Neil’s arms next.

The process is long and laborious, and Neil tries not to jerk and shift under the precise pain it causes. He lets Andrew do his thing, watches the careful tick in his jaw.

Neil is half-way unconscious when Andrew’s even drawl has his eyes cracking open, “I’m taking you to Abby’s.”

Neil is suddenly very much awake. He blinks once, twice to dispel the confusion. “Abby’s?”

“Abby’s,” Andrew replies.

“Why?” Neil asks, the buzz of anxiety ripe and fresh under his skin.

“I can’t be here all the time. I need someone who can be there if you need something, when I can’t be,” Andrew explains. Neil doesn’t like it, doesn’t like the patronizing, the feeling of uselessness.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Neil huffs, forcefully ripping his hand from between Andrew’s, the touch like a burn on his already ruined flesh.

“You can’t even sit up on your own,” Andrew points out, a dig at Neil and a point proven.

“I’ve gone 19 years without needing anyone’s help, I’m sure as shit not going to start now.” His words are poised, a knife to Andrew’s throat. He doesn’t like the anger that builds in his chest, an ache that feels all too familiar.

“Neil,” Andrew sighs, dropping his hands into his own lap, eyes on Neil. He turns his body deeper into the bed, thigh against thigh. Neil fights every urge in his body to move away from the touch.

“Andrew.”

“Do this for me.” Andrew doesn’t ask for much, never asks for things he knows Neil isn’t willing to give. This, though, crosses too close to Neil’s boundaries.

“What will you give me?” Neil asks, just to be an ass.

“What do you want?”

Neil sighs, heavy and uncomfortable. “Nothing. Fine, whatever. We’ll go to Abby’s.”

Andrew isn’t one for smiling, but it’s a near thing.

Andrew and Neil drive to Abby’s in near silence, their only point of contact, Andrew’s hand pressed against the inside of Neil’s thigh, right where he can feel the soft flutter of a heartbeat against his palm.

Neil keeps his face dipped into the collar of Andrew’s aggressively orange sweatshirt; eyes closed in faux sleep – Andrew knows him too well to mistake his tense posture for unconsciousness.

“What is your problem?” Andrew asks, thumb tapping an incessant and erratic beat against the steering wheel. Andrew knows what the problem is, but he finds himself itching with unease, the absence of Neil’s voice like a physical ache in his bones.

Neil stirs slightly, shifting his face closer to Andrew, following the sound of familiarity. Neil doesn’t open his eyes when he replies, voice gravely and sore with fatigue, “You are my problem.”

Andrew snorts, tightening his hold on Neil’s thigh until he squirms under the pressure. His body bends, shuffling impossibly closer to Andrew’s. Neil’s hand slides free from the confines of Andrew’s hoodie to find its way atop Andrew’s own. Their fingers mold together; Andrew’s warm and steady, Neil’s cold and shaky.

“Talk to me, red,” Andrew says, the silence eating him alive.

Neil is a creature of habit, a rabbit who shivers and shakes but stands his ground, strong and immovable. He is also a creature that knows how to hold a grudge. Andrew knows this only because the first time they had ever fought, Neil had ignored him for a month straight, and upon his return into Andrew’s life, had declared him wrong and immediately moved on as if nothing had ever happened. Now, he wonders how deep Neil will burrow his anger until it is a boiling volcano ready to erupt.

“What would you like me to say,” Neil replies, words tight and tense. It’s missing his usual bite, but Andrew gets the point regardless.

“You’re mad at me,” Andrew says – fact.

“You’re not as dumb as you look, Minyard.” Neil turns his head slightly, eyes opening to reveal a winter storm. He’s looking at Andrew like he wants to melt skin from bone. His hand tightens around Andrew’s; Andrew squeezes back.

“Explain.”

Neil lets out a long, suffering sigh, grip slackening as he slides deeper into his seat. His other hand comes up subconsciously to press against his side.

“You’re bringing me to a stranger’s house,” Neil replies, a simple explanation for a simple question.

“Abby isn’t a stranger.” Andrew reasons. “I trust her enough to leave you in her care. Do you think I would put you in danger?”

Bitterly, Neil says, “No.”

“Then get over yourself,” Andrew replies, squeezing Neil’s thigh.

Neil hasn’t slept properly in days, waking himself up with nightmares and aches that startle him into consciousness as the drugs trickle out of his system. Andrew doesn’t fault him for his piss-poor attitude, or his misplaced anger. He will accept the childlike abuse as long as he can reach out and touch him, as long as he can turn over in bed and see his fluttering lashes, hear his broken voice as it croaks out a good morning. Andrew will deal with anything as long as he gets to stay here, with Neil, to know he’s safe, out of the reach of his father’s people, out of reach of Riko and his cruelty.

Neil’s hand disappears from his own; the cold is so startling that Andrew looks to Neil. He’s not looking at Andrew, jaw clenched, teeth grinding together to stop the vicious words Andrew can almost see crawling up his throat.

“I will only be gone during the day,” Andrew says, voice gone quiet.

“I know,” Neil says with a sigh, head thumping back against the headrest as he looks up at the ceiling. “I just don’t like being passed around. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Andrew bites his tongue, tries to find the miniscule part of his heart that still has any empathy left and says, “I know you don’t. But you were pronounced dead not even five days ago. I don’t trust your broken little body not to give out on you when I’m not around,” he sucks in a careful breath before continuing. “Abby is the only trustworthy person I know that can keep you alive in that time.”

“I know,” Neil replies. He sounds like a broken record. Andrew has to look at him to make sure he’s not just being an asshole. Neil doesn’t give him his attention but he does cup his hand around Andrew’s wrist, fingers cold and brittle.

Abby, for all intents and purposes, is a lovely person. Andrew is not her biggest fan, but he can, on an objective level, understand the appeal.

She’s waiting for them on the porch when they pull up in the car, smiling and still hopeful. She watches as Andrew exits the car and makes his way towards her. He can feel Neil’s eyes on the back of his head, judging and prosecuting him all at the same time.

“Hi Andrew,” she says, sweet and gentle, a mother preparing herself for heartbreak.

“Abby,” he greets.

“How’s your boy doing?” she asks, peering over Andrew’s shoulder to get a look at their enigma. She gives him a wave, smiling all the while. Andrew doesn’t have to turn to know Neil doesn’t return the gesture.

“He will tell you he’s fine, but he’s not. He will tell you he can walk to the bathroom himself; he cannot. He will try to convince you he’s not in pain, but he is - make him take the drugs, they make him feel better.”

“I can’t force someone to take medication when they don’t want to Andrew.”

“He has a stab wound, and a plethora of over injuries I will not waste my time listing.”

“He was stabbed?”

“Yes.”

“Why is he not at the hospital?”

“No hospitals. He is like a startled animal – he will run if you don’t watch him.”

“Okay,” Abby says, unease dripping from the words like syrup. Andrew takes this as the dismissal it is, turning his back on Abby as he makes his way back to the car. Neil is already watching him through the window. His anger is a palpable, tangible thing. He watches as Neil viciously wrestles the seatbelt off of his shoulder, concealing a wince of pain with a sneer.

Andrew opens the door, and without warning, tucks one hand beneath Neil’s bent knees and the other around his middle. Neil squeaks when Andrew lifts him with ease, scrambling to wrap his arms around Andrew’s neck in a way that doesn’t pull his stitches.

He stands, kicking the door shut with his foot. They stand there in startled silence for a long moment. Neil’s face is unreadable, brows pinched and mouth slightly agape.

“I’m concerned by how much I don’t hate this,” he says, startling a laugh from Andrew.

“If all you wanted was to be carried like a child, you could’ve just asked,” Andrew says, pretending to drop Neil when he pinches his bicep, hard.

“You’re already on thin fucking ice, Minyard, I would watch your step if I were you.”

It’s then that Abby makes herself known, stepping up to Andrew and Neil in silent offering.

“Hi Neil, I’m Abby,” she says with a warm, effortless smile.

For a long moment, Neil doesn’t say anything, sizing her up with careful, practiced eyes.

“Thank you for letting me stay in your home.”

“It’s my pleasure. You’re an honorary Fox; we take care of our own.”

The words make Neil uncomfortable; he squirms in Andrew’s arms, burrowing down further into Andrew’s sweater.

It takes some careful maneuvering to get Neil into the house, and then bundled up into bed. Abby shows them to their room, and then quickly makes herself scarce.

Neil sits himself carefully on the edge of the bed and watches Andrew. He tries to hide a wince, but Andrew is watching too closely. His eyes are two deep bruises, sunken with exhaustion and clear of drugs.

“Are you leaving now?” Neil asks, voice tipped low and dangerous, edging on desperate.

“No,” Andrew replies quickly, wishing for the look on Neil’s face to disappear. “Practice isn’t for another few hours.”

“Okay,” Neil says like a second thought. “Can we sleep now?” He looks to Andrew then, quiet and so utterly tired.

“Yes,” Andrew answers, because how can he refuse this man?

Neil doesn’t even bother changing into his sleep clothes, just slips the comforters carefully from their place beneath the pillows and tugs until the whole thing comes apart. He folds himself beneath the blankets, body disappearing behind layers of fabric. The pillows pool around him like a castle, its walls blocking him in safely.

“Are you coming,” Neil’s voice comes out muffled against the pillowcase.

Andrew refuses to disturb the avalanche of pillows on the right side of the bed, instead opting to crawl in behind Neil’s curled form. He presses in close as to not fall off the edge, tucking his knees into the crevice behind Neil’s as he slips an innocent arm beneath Neil’s pillow, right below his head.

Neil lets out a satisfied hum when Andrew finally wraps a careful arm around his waist. They fit together so perfectly; a key fitting into a lock, a missing puzzle piece finding its rightful place.

They lay in silence for so long Andrew is convinced he’s fallen asleep.

“I’ve never been allowed to rest before,” Neil confesses, voice tipped into a whisper.

Andrew tries to contain his anger, closing his eyes against the blinding red that clouds his eyes.

“You can rest for as long you like now.”

“Thank you,” Neil whispers before he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

Andrew doesn’t move for an hour, two hours, listening to Neil’s even breaths, counting every beat of his heart. Neil is so deep in sleep that he doesn’t feel Andrew slip easily from the bed, doesn’t notice the lack of warmth at his back.

Andrew creeps from the room with guilt in his heart. He hasn’t had Neil this close before, close enough to cup his face between his warm palms, to whisper right into his ear. He doesn’t feel comfortable enough to leave him alone, much less with another person, a person that isn’t him. But he doesn’t have a choice, he has promises to keep, games to botch, classes to fail.

Neil gets it, he may act like he doesn’t, but he does. He never expected Andrew to stop his life for him, had never let Andrew prioritize him over his own family, his own responsibilities. No matter how much Andrew had been willing to tear the walls down around the Ravens’ Nest, Neil hadn’t let him – hadn’t wanted to lose the one good thing he had in his life. Andrew had resented him at first, had ached with the anger in his chest. Now, he understands – he would have done the same thing for Neil.

Wymack is waiting for him in the kitchen, a cold cup of coffee grasped between his hands. Abby stands by the counter, brows pinched in worry and something Andrew can’t quite place. They both look up at him when he steps through the threshold, startled.

“Andrew,” Wymack greets, voice gruff and dangerous.

“Coach,” Andrew shoots back, fiddling with the edge of an armband.

“I just came by to check on the kid, Abby said you were both sleeping.”

“He is,” Andrew replies, “He does that a lot lately.”

“His body is trying to heal itself; he needs all the rest he can get,” Abby says quietly.

“I know,” Andrew replies, frustrated for a reason he himself cannot fathom. “He-,” Andrew begins, words turning to dust in his mouth. “He has nightmares. You might hear him screaming,” Andrew finishes. “He won’t want you to go in there. Just let him ride it out. You’ll just scare him if you try and wake him up.”

“Ok,” Abby replies, like it’s that simple.

“Try to get him to take these,” he says, pulling a bottle of yellow pills from his pocket. He rattles them gently in his palm before placing them carefully on the countertop by Abby’s hand.

“Ok. Anything else?” Andrew shakes his head.

“Andrew,” Wymack starts and stops like a car stalling. “He’s safe here.”

“I know.”

Neil wakes up cold and alone. The blankets are wrapped around him so tight he can barely move his arms; he squirms a little, dislodging an arm until he can worm it out of the fabric. He presses his face firmly against the pillow, the scent of lavender laundry detergent strong and unwelcome. Neil misses the way Andrew’s pillow had smelled of old shampoo and cigarette smoke – he misses how it smelled like Andrew.

He feels rested for the first time in days, body still weak with fatigue and throbbing with newfound pain, but rested. He shuffles himself onto his back, wincing audibly at the pull in his side. He lays his arms down flat by his sides, palms up, skin tight and uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to be high on drugs in a stranger’s home, but he thinks he might be desperate enough.

The house is quiet around him, the occasional creak of a floorboard and the shuffle of socked feet the only sounds to be heard through the thin walls. Neil feels weak in his own body, but he needs to pee, and he thinks the house is dormant enough to afford him the lonely, painful walk to the bathroom.

He shuffles close enough to the edge of the bed to throws his legs over the side, toes too far off the ground to reach carpet. He forces himself into a seated position, groaning all the way. He throws an arm around his side, palm pressed gently against the bandage hidden beneath Andrew’s clothes.

He gets to his feet without much fuss, stringing together enough curses to have him struck down by God himself. He shuffles from the room on unsteady feet, hands held out by his sides, fingertips caressing walls and doorways, desperate not to fall.

Neil follows the curve of the hall, doesn’t stop to look at the carefully placed picture frames on the wall or the artful sayings scattered like threats.

There are no noises coming from the kitchen, so he takes the opportunity to find himself a glass of water. He regrets the decision almost immediately; as he steps through the doorway, he spots the head of blonde hair.

Neil knows right away that it’s not Andrew; no matter how hard Aaron tries to be his brother, Neil will always be able to tell the difference. He’s wearing a black hoodie with sweatpants to match, shoes that Andrew would never be caught dead in, and an expression on his face that is too pinched to be anywhere near Andrew’s casual apathy. Aaron is sitting at the dining table, arms folded across his chest, watching, waiting.

He’s looking at Neil with open distain, lip upturned in a half-aborted snarl.

“Nathaniel,” he says, words dripping poison onto the clean floors. Neil quirks an unimpressed brow, curious.

“Aaron,” he replies. “Looking for Andrew?”

Aaron lets him simmer in awkward silence for a beat too long; Neil counts the even ticking of the clock on the wall.

“No, I was looking for you,” Aaron finally replies. Neil frowns, body sagging against the wall as a wave of fatigue hits him. His hand finds its place above the bandage on his side subconsciously; he desperately wants to sit down, but he doesn’t want to show weakness.

“Lucky me,” Neil replies, exasperated. “Where’s Abby?”

Neil isn’t scared of Aaron, but he doesn’t like the uncomfortable itch that crawls up his arms at the look in Aaron’s eyes – it’s the look of a predator that knows he has his prey cornered. Neil may be weak, unfit for a fight but he doesn’t think he has it in him to let Aaron win this, whatever this is.

“She went to the store,” Aaron replies, eyes following the path of Neil’s arm to where his hand lays, guarding.

“Did you want something?” Neil finally asks, tired of the careful avoidance, this dance of indifference.

Aaron ignores him at first, eyes cataloguing the intricate bandages on his body. Neil lets him take his fill, lets him wonder, curious as he acts uninterested.

“You’re fucking my brother.” It’s not a question, but Aaron still expects an answer. Neil doesn’t owe him shit – Andrew doesn’t owe him shit.

“Am I?”

Aaron’s lip quirks up into a sneer, ugly with rage.

“I was there when you met,” he pauses, “How did this happen?”

“I don’t think it’s any of your business actually.”

“He dropped everything to go with you. Andrew doesn’t care about people, what makes you special?”

Neil snorts, “If you think your brother doesn’t care about you, you’re more fucked up than I thought.”

Aaron stands to his feet; it’s meant to be menacing but Neil doesn’t so much as blink at the display.

“You don’t know anything.”

“You’re probably right. But I do know Andrew, and if you think he isn’t capable of caring, you’re not paying close enough attention.”

Aaron turns away from Neil then, back hunched, fists clenched at his sides. He walks over to the sink and pours himself a glass of water. Neil takes the opportunity to sit in the closest chair. He tries to hide his wince at the pressure in his side, but Aaron still catches it. He spins where he’s standing, eyes intent on Neil.

Neil can see him bite his tongue on the concern that bubbles up in his throat. Neil knows Aaron wants to be a doctor, can imagine that his natural instinct is to help, but his hate for Neil is so strong he has to fight it.

“Did you know each other, before Kevin came to recruit Andrew?”

Neil frowns, “No.”

“Then why did you help him?”

Neil has to think about it - it’s been so long now. He remembers it wasn’t a conscious choice, it wasn’t premeditated. He’d made the decision on the plane, as they’d watched clips of Andrew playing. He’d seen the potential, he’d read about his past, and he’d seen himself in Andrew, just a little. He’d wanted better for this stranger.

“I just did. Andrew was worth more than the Ravens were willing to offer him.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Aaron frowns, in thought. Neil can tell he desperately wants to understand, he’s pulling at straws just to see a glimpse at this person that is meant to be his brother. “You never stopped anyone else from being recruited.”

“That was the first time they brought me along. And the last,” Neil adds with a sharp smile.

“Did you get in trouble?”

“They couldn’t really prove that I’d done anything, not really. But Riko knew, and he didn’t really care that he couldn’t prove it.”

“You helped him knowing that you would get hurt in the process.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I was going to get hurt regardless,” Neil says, “I was never one for self-preservation.”

Aaron doesn’t look so angry anymore, too busy fighting with something like gratitude.

“That doesn’t exactly explain how this came to be.”

Neil laughs, he can’t help it. Aaron doesn’t deserve answers, especially not from Neil, especially not about Andrew, but he finds the pain has loosened his tongue. “He told me to text him if I ever needed a getaway car.”

When Andrew bursts through the front door, Aaron is placing a piping cup of hot coffee in front of Neil. Their heads are bent as if in conversation; Neil has a sharp-edged smile on his face as Aaron stutters, turning his back to get away from the attention.

“What the hell are you doing?” Andrew asks, eyes turning to him.

Neil’s smile goes from predatory to sweet, eyes warming up at the mere sight of Andrew. “Talking.”

“About what?”

There’s a spark of amusement in Neil’s eye; Andrew will do everything in his power to make sure it stays there.

“You, mostly,” Neil replies evenly, bringing the mug up to his mouth.

“Is that right?” Andrew asks with the quirk of a brow. Neil’s lip tugs upward, a smile he’s trying to fight.

“Abby went shopping, she asked me to stay until she came back,” Aaron offers the information easily, but Andrew is so used to dealing with Neil that he recognizes the signs of a lie.

“And what were you doing here in the first place?”

Aaron runs a careful hand down his face, uncomfortable. “I heard you brought him here.”

“Where would you have heard that from?”

“I overheard Kevin on the phone with Wymack.”

Andrew turns his head to the side, taking a deep breath in to dispel the anger in his chest.

“Did you get what you came here for?” Andrew asks, voice tight.

Aaron looks to Neil, eyes flickering between the two of them, and nods.

Just as Andrew is about to open his mouth to kick his brother out, the front door opens behind him. Voices filter through like smoke, darkening the walls around them. Neil frowns, hands gripped tight around the mug. Andrew turns just in time to watch the Foxes trickle in.

The hallway that leads into the kitchen is short; the meeting that is about to go down, inevitable.

Neil turns his head just enough to meet Andrew’s eyes over his shoulder. His gaze is tired, skin purpling under his eyes as he blinks away the ghost of fatigue.

Neil has been tired for a long time.

Dan is the first one to enter the room, all warm colours and vibrant spirit. Her face stutters, smile simmering into a frown. “Andrew, what are you doing here?” She asks, like he shouldn’t be asking the same thing.

“What are you doing here?” Aaron counters in his stead. He can see the tight set of his brother’s shoulders, the anger, like mist, coming off of him in waves.

Dan’s gaze catches his, then falters at the third person in the room. Behind her, Matt almost crashes into her back, hands coming up to catch himself on her shoulders. She watches the back of Neil’s rumpled, red head, putting pieces of the puzzle together slowly, carefully.

Neil turns then, light catching the harsh red line down his cheek.

“Why is Nathaniel Wesninski in Abby’s kitchen?”

Andrew remains stoic, unfazed by their approach, their questioning. When Dan doesn’t get an answer from Andrew, she turns to Aaron, expectant.

The rest of the Foxes, safe for Kevin, shepherd themselves as close to Dan as possible, desperate to get a good look at the scene before them. Allison shoves Matt aside, making room behind Dan. Nicky’s head surfaces above her shoulder, eyes roaming, hungry.

When Dan doesn’t get an answer from Aaron either, she turns to the source of the question. Neil quirks an unimpressed brow and turns slowly in his seat.

“Do you have a problem with Nathaniel Wesninski being in Abby’s kitchen?”

Dan sputters, hands coming up as if to ward him off, settle him down. From behind her, Allison snorts.

Before Dan can answer, the front door opens again. Abby’s voice is distinct beneath Wymack’s gruff one, conversation carrying on as if their Foxes aren’t at a stalemate right in front of them.

The door slams shut, walls shivering with the force of it. There’s a pause in conversation before Wymack’s annoyed voice says, “What the shit is going on?”

As the Foxes turn, attention momentarily diverted, Andrew inches his way to Neil’s side, hand subconsciously coming up to run through Neil’s hair.

“Have you taken your pills?” Andrew says, voice tipped low, edging on a whisper.

Neil merely shakes his head, pressing his forehead into Andrew’s side, expecting the arm that automatically comes up to wrap around him.

Andrew watches, detached as Wymack shoves his way through the Foxes, too many grocery bags in his hand. They make way for him easily, shifting along the walls to let Abby by without much fuss.

“What are you lot doing here?” He asks, dropping the bags on the counter, unceremoniously.

“Abby invited us for dinner last week,” Nicky replies, taking this opportunity to enter the room. Andrew watches him warily.

“Shit,” Abby says under her breath, “I did. With everything going on with Neil I completely forgot to cancel it.” She looks sheepish, but Andrew is still annoyed with her.

“It’s alright Abby, shit happens. You all need to leave though, there’s no dinner tonight.” There’s a resounding groan that ripples through the upperclassmen, disappointment tipping like dominoes.

“Why would we cancel it, this is a perfect opportunity for us to meet Nathaniel,” Allison says, her eyes mischievous and entirely on Andrew.

“Nathaniel is not up for introductions right now,” Wymack says, eyes flickering between Neil and Andrew and the rest of his Foxes.

“So, Aaron gets to meet him but I don’t,” Nicky says. He’s not pouting but it’s a near thing.

“Aaron doesn’t get special treatment, he was just doing me a favour,” Abby replies quickly.

Wymack’s reaction proves the lie before it’s even half way out of Abby’s mouth. He tries to stifle it with a heavy-set frown, but they all catch the crippling confusion that overtakes his face.

“I will not argue about this. Get out,” Wymack makes it sound like a threat, but really, it’s a promise.

“Neil?” Kevin’s voice is a shock, but not completely unexpected. Andrew has been waiting for Kevin to show his face since this morning.

It’s the first time all evening that Neil has openly reacted to someone’s presence, back going rigid against Andrew’s hand, head leaving the safety of Andrew’s shirt.

His hair is more rumpled than it was five minutes ago, and he looks like he’s just woken up from a nap, eyes swollen and red.

“Kevin,” Neil replies, voice gravelly and burnt. Kevin reacts to the sound like he’s been shot, taking a short step back before taking two forward. He’s looking at Neil with sadness in his eyes, worry that he doesn’t know how to feel, doesn’t know if he’s allowed to show.

“You look like shit,” he says, instead of the myriad of other things he wants to say. Neil laughs, surprising them all.

“I still look better than you, asshole,” and he smiles, blindingly wide. Kevin steps closer, blocking him from the Foxes.

“You should be dead,” he says, breaking the moment in two.

Instead of anger, Neil scoffs, rolling his eyes. “And you should be a deadbeat coach.” The words sting but Kevin masks it well.

“Well, this is nice and all, but I have so many questions,” Nicky says, looking at the scene openly. Andrew wants to reach over and smack him.

“Shut up, Hemmick,” Wymack says, back turned as he helps Abby unload the groceries.

“’Drew,” Neil whispers, dragging Andrew’s attention back to his boyfriend. He’s looking up at Andrew with quiet eyes.

“Bed?” He asks.

Neil shakes his head, “I think I’ve slept enough for the next century; I need to move to a softer surface though,” he explains, and as much as Andrew wants to argue with him, he doesn’t think Neil will be able to sleep with all of the noise the Foxes are sure to make.

“Couch,” Andrew agrees, taking a step back to give Neil the room to stand. The room comes to a sudden standstill, the shuffle of Neil’s socked feet loud against the silence. Andrew watches tentatively as Neil grasps the kitchen table and the back of his chair for leverage. He levers himself slowly to his feet, and when he’s straight enough Andrew slips a careful arm around his waist. From there it’s easy to guide Neil into Abby’s living room, most of his weight against Andrew’s side.

“How do you even know each other? Do the Ravens even know what the sky looks like?” Allison asks, voice following them down the hall. The Foxes move with them despite Wymack’s insistent disapproval.

Andrew ignores them, but Neil snorts driving the attention back to him.

Andrew deposits him on the lounge chair, the seat just big enough for Neil and Andrew to sit comfortably side by side. They go down together, Neil’s shoulder pressing into Andrew’s chest.

The Foxes swarm the room, taking seats around them like scattered clothes. All eyes are on them, questions ready and waiting to be asked.

“Kevin won’t tell us how you met,” Nicky says, shooting daggers at the striker. Kevin’s too busy watching Neil to care.

“I thought that was obvious,” Neil says, dropping his head back against the leather.

“To you maybe,” Dan says with a scoff, “I’ve never been so blindsided by something in my life.”

“Not even when Kevin showed up on our doorstep with a broken hand?” Matt asks, curious.

“It’s a close second.”

“Is there a reason you are all still here?” Andrew cuts in when their voices begin to scratch his ears uncomfortably.

“Yes!” Nicky exclaims, “We want to meet your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Andrew says, because it’s true. He doesn’t think there’s a word in the English language that could adequately describe what Neil is to him.

Neil snorts, creating space between them so he can look at him straight on. “This is news to me.”

Allison’s smile is blinding and evil from where she sits across the room.

Andrew looks at Neil, can see the shimmer and spark of amusement in his eyes.

“Ok but seriously, settle a few bets for us,” Allison says, leaning forward in her seat. “Did you meet at the banquet last year?”

Neil laughs, quiet and hesitant, “I wasn’t at the banquet last year.”

At this Aaron frowns, “Yes, you were. I saw you outside by the buses.”

Neil shrugs, “Yeah, maybe. But I didn’t attend the banquet. I wasn’t technically on the team yet.”

Confusion ripples through the group like the wind.

“Then what were you doing there,” Nicky asks.

Neil lifts one eyebrow, perplexed by their stupidity.

“Don’t be an idiot. He was there to see Andrew,” Aaron replies, exasperated.

“So, you’ve known each other longer than that. How?”

Kevin, out of frustration, replies tersely, “They met when the Ravens tried to recruit Andrew.” And then turns to Neil with intent. “How bad are your injuries? Can you play?”

Before Andrew can reach forward and wrap a single hand around his throat Abby steps into the room. “Give him a few weeks and then ask me again,” she says to Kevin, stepping up to Neil’s chair and handing him a pill and a glass of water. “Take this, you’ll feel better.”

Neil takes it without hesitation. Andrew knows he’s only being easy because Andrew is there, watching his back, trusting Abby. He doesn’t make a fuss about it but deep-down Andrew knows he wants to.

“Thank you,” Neil says once he’s swallowed the pill down. Abby takes his empty glass, and disappears down the hall again. Wymack replaces her in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m giving you 5 minutes to get out before I kick you out. Neil needs his rest; you can bombard him with questions in a few weeks when he starts coming to practice.” His words are directed at the Foxes but Neil feels the way they are thrown out there for him, subtle, a question he already knows the answer to.

Dan’s head whirls so fast she startles Matt. In outrage she asks, “You’re signing him?”

“If he wants to sign with us, yes,” Wymack replies. His tone implies it’s the end of the discussion but the Foxes rally behind their Captain.

“Do we really need another Raven on this team?” Allison asks, eyes gleaming, smile like a sneer.

“Besides the fact that we’re in desperate need of a striker sub, he’s probably the only one of you lot that can keep up with those two,” he says, jutting his thumb towards the corner where Kevin and Andrew sit.

Andrew can practically feel Neil vibrating beside him, excitement like an itch just below the surface of his skin. Andrew reaches forward to snag a cold palm along his thigh, squeezes just hard enough to stop the jumping of muscles.

“Will this bring more unwanted attention?” Matt asks, eyes flickering to Kevin and then back again.

“Not any more than we already have,” Coach replies.

“No one’s really seen him play before, what if he’s awful?”

“He plays better than you ever will, Reynolds,” Kevin snarls, shoulders tense and rigid.

“Alright, enough. You can bicker about this somewhere else, Abby has had enough of your company,” Wymack says, standing out of the doorway to usher them all out. They all stand in unison, shoulders slumped, a group of school children who have just been reprimanded by their teachers.

Dan lingers in the doorway for a moment, lip pinched between her front teeth. Finally, she says, “Welcome to the team, Freshman. You’ll fit right in.” And then she’s gone.

Wymack follows them out, and then they are, for a moment, blissfully alone.

Andrew lets Neil stuff his face into his neck, accepts the gentle press of lips against his pulse like a thank you. Andrew wraps one arm around his shoulder and tugs him closer.

He’s never been a touchy person, has never enjoyed the feeling of someone else against him, but he finds the years of distance, of yearning, has left him starved. He takes as much of this as he can get now.

Andrew can tell that Neil is drifting, disappearing into unconsciousness again now that the drugs have settled comfortably in his veins.

“What did Aaron really want?” Andrew asks, just as Neil is on the edge of sleep.

He hums against Andrew’s throat, lips tickling as he replies, “I think he just wanted to understand you a little bit. He doesn’t think he can just ask you himself.”

Andrew makes a noise of understanding. “I’ve always just wanted you for myself.” Andrew admits quietly. Neil laughs gently, making Andrew shiver against the sensation.

“You’re full of shit. You just like telling your brother no,” and this time Andrew laughs.

Silence settles over them like a blanket, Andrew waits a single heartbeat before he breaks it. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Okay,” Neil replies, voice a croak.

“Okay,” Andrew returns. He sits up, dislodging Neil as he goes, standing to his feet before Neil can change his mind and drag him back down. He holds his hands out and waits until Neil lazily swipes at them, fingers cold to the touch but clammy all the same. Their fingertips kiss, palms sliding together until Andrew gets a solid grip on Neil’s wrists. He tugs gently, letting Neil use the momentum to swing to his feet.

He's unsteady at first, but quickly lets go of Andrew; the pull in his side feels nice for once.

As Andrew steps away, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He frowns, fingers tense and cold at his sides. The only person he texts is in this room.

His right hand reaches into his pocket without conscious thought, fingers sliding along warm silky fabric until he hits the hard exterior of the phone. It vibrates again.

Neil takes a step back as Andrew turns, frowning. He pulls the phone out quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid. The text is from an unknown number, and when he presses it with his thumb, it’s a link to an article. Without thinking, he clicks it.

The headline reads:

Politician Nathan Wesninski released from max security prison.

Neil’s heart grows cold in his chest, his vision fuzzy along the edges. Andrew inches closer but all he can see is his father’s smiling face looking up at him.

Another text message comes through: You can run but you can’t hide, Junior. -R

The phone slips from his fingers and hits the floor like a gun shot.

#Andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #raven neil #andrew x neil #andreil fic #SOFT ANDREIL #the foxes #aftg

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1kook · 3 years

Text

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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milazka · 3 years

Text

not the greatest feeling ever | 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝.

the less i know the better masterlist

main masterlist

summary: fuck it, i’m not doing a summary, i’m so bad at it. oh! there’s smut btw.

warnings: smut, cursing, mentions of blood, underrage drinking

last thought: i’m proud of this one, took me a lot of time to write, but i think it was worth it! enjoy your reading! love, milz.

─── ° • ❀ ───

The gentle breeze twirls her golden locks in all directions. She hums the lyrics of You never can tell, having watched Pulp Fiction for the hundredth time last night. Her irises are fixed to the slightly damp roadside covered with fresh fallen leaves from this morning rainstorm. The last rays of sunlight caress her baby-like skin as they disappear into the horizon, painting the sky in a mixture of orange and rose.

“C’mon grandpa, you’re slow as hell!” she teases Marcus, turning her head back to stick her tongue out at him. Standing on his skateboard, he sends her the finger, scraping the pavement with his over-used black vans to gain speed and eventually catch up with her.

“That’s how the turtle won the race, dumbass,” he gently nudges her shoulder with his hand as he rides his board besides her. She gives a sharp turn of the handlebars to move her tires out of the sand and back on the pavement, giving him a death glare.

“I almost fell in the ditch, shithead!” he simply laughs, his head falling backward. His dark colored hairs, normally slicked back, are ruffled by the warm September wind, giving him a laid back look that fits him perfectly. She adores hearing his laugh; it's one of the purest and most delightful sounds. It was only recently that she heard him laugh again, having not heard it for months after the day they lost the third musketeer of their trio. It was one of the hardest moments of their lives, but sharing this kind of experience brought them closer than ever. Charlie was there for him when he hit rock bottom, stroking his back while he cried on the shower floor, freezing water running down their damped bodies. She was also by his side the first time he went to therapy, soothingly squeezing his hand before he entered the office.

“If someone had to fall in a ditch, it would be me.”

“You know that Max and I made bet on how long it would take you to fall in a ditch?” she replies, checking his reaction at the corner of her cerulean eyes. He grins.

“How much did you bet?” he curiously asks, one eyebrow arched.

“Fifty bucks,” his eyes almost snap out of their sockets. He stops, stepping off his board.

“Fifty bucks?! That’s insulting, thought I was worth more than that,” he shouts as she makes a u-turn, retracing her steps, stopping in front of him.

“I’ll give you half of it if you wait ‘till June,” Charlie sarcastically says to him, elbows leaning on the handlebars of her bicycle. He caught a glimpse of light in her gaze; a twinkle of amusement he always finds in the corners of her softly crinkled eyes when she smiles truthfully.

“Deal,” he winks at her, drawing a small laugh from her slightly parted lips. He picks up Charlie's polaroid from the basket at the front of her bike, signaling for her to ride so he can immortalize the moment for her. Marcus knows she keeps those famous polaroids in an old converse box as a source of happiness; they're memories of moments she doesn't want to forget.

He takes the little camera to his eyes, snapping a picture when Charlie turns her head to the side to look at him, smiling like there is no tomorrow. As the picture is slowly developing, he hears a squeal of tires and a squeal of surprise from the distance.

“Fuck Charlie!” he shouts, running towards her as she sits, holding firmly her right forearm. His heart tightens at the sight of her painful face, her traits are torn by pain and he can see tears gathering at the corner of her squinted blue eyes. Marcus hates to see her in pain; he knows she's not the type to complain about anything so when he sees her azure eyes filling with water, he knows it's serious.

“You got a few scratches,” he whispers, running his eyes over her legs and arms. “We’ll go to your house and clean you up, okay?” she nods, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Marcus tucks his skateboard under his arm, grabbing the handlebars and seat of Charlie's bike simultaneously.

─── ° • ❀ ───

“Hold still,” his hazel eyes are focused on the mid-depth cut on her forearm. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, giving him a severe, almost cold sober look. She takes a big gulp of the rich whiskey she borrowed from her father's secret stash.

“Oh fucking hell!” she swears between her clenched teeth when the rubbing alcohol makes contact with the exposed flesh of her forearm. “That’s not the greatest feeling ever,” she whimpers, her forehead resting on his shoulder covered by his green olive shirt.

“I know, angel, I know,” he runs his hand through her blonde hair, gently stroking her scalp in a soothing way. She keeps her head resting against his shoulder, holding back the tears that threaten to run down her flushed cheeks.

“I’m usually the one taking care of you,” he knows it refers as much to all the times he fell off his skateboard as it does to when he hit rock bottom when their friend passed away. Charlie isn't used to being taken care of; she has always been able to look after herself without anyone's help.

Crying is for the weak.

She swallows her tears, putting her mask back on with a slight smile.

“Your new neighbor saw me fall,” she changes the subject, pausing to take another gulp directly from the whisky bottle. “Great way to make a first impression,” a light laugh escapes from her lips, but she halts when she notices his gaze turning away almost discreetly. “What’s wrong?”

Over the years, she has learned to read him like the palm of her hand; she knows he looks away to the left when he is hiding something from her and that he scrapes the back of his neck when he is embarrassed.

“I-I had sex with her,” he blurts out, avoiding her gaze while he still applies pressure on the bandage covering the wound on her forearm.

“Holy shit,” her eyes widened, not expecting this kind of disclosure. “Wait, what about Padma?”

“You know she is not my girlfriend, Charlz,” he sighs, finally sustaining her non-judgmental azure irises. It' s one of the things he likes about her; she never judges him and even if she did, he wouldn't know since she hides it so well.

“Was it good?” she does not insist about Padma, knowing perfectly well that she is the first one to know. He doesn't answer, looking thoughtful as if a million thoughts are running through his head. He steals the bottle of alcohol from her, gulping down a few ounces of the throat-burning liquid.

“What aren’t you telling me, Marcus?”

He shuts his eyes, exhaling loudly.

“I don’t know if I was good… God, I don’t even know if she came!” her heart tightens; he looks distraught and she knows that this is a big deal to him, after all, he just lost his virginity. He breathes heavily, his jaw as tightly clenched as his fists.

“Show me.”

“What?!” he opens one eye, eyebrows furrowed as if he was questioning if she was being serious.

“Show me what you did, I’ll tell you if it’s good,”

“You’re drunk, Charlz…I don-” he stops as soon as her silver rings coated hands grip the hem of his olive shirt, grazing the soft skin of his lower abdomen with her fingertips. Sitting on her knees, she brings her head up to his neck, pressing her lips against the skin. The feeling of her wet lips on his burning skin sends a shiver running through his spine.

“I’m sober enough to remember everything and give you my consent,” she whispers to his ear and he almost moans when she slightly nibbles his lobe. Her hands slips to the back of his neck, forcing him to hover over her as she lies on her back.

Both his hands are lingering on the buckle of her belt, struggling to undo it. She clutches his chin with one hand, plunging her reassuring gaze into his. He looks nervous, his hands trembling slightly when he takes off her jeans. She presses her lips to his Adam's apple, feeling him tense up at first, but relax as she sensuously slides her tongue up to his sculpted jaw.

“A-are you good with two figers?” he nervously asks, his right hand resting on the edge of her panties.

“Yes,” he hesitantly slips his hand into her panties, parting her legs with his other hand before sliding his index and middle fingers up and down her folds. She can see him blush when an almost quiet moan escapes her lips at the feeling of his fingers inside her core. He pumps them in and out slowly, as if he was afraid to hurt her.

“Try to curl them in a ‘come here’ movement,” she demonstrates with her own fingers. He nods and mimics her actions, making her whimper under him.

“That feels good,” she encourages him. “What did you do next?” she softly asks, rubbing her thumb against his cheek to sooth him.

“Hum, well, we-um, you know, did it,” he says, blushing like a little child who just got his first kiss with the popular girl.

“You didn’t go down on her?” she asks, looking quite shocked. He seemed clueless. “I mean, you didn’t use your mouth?”

“Uh no, should I have?”

“You boys really know nothing about female pleasure,” she sights. “Try watching lesbian porn next time, you will learn A LOT more,” He almost chokes, not expecting to hear this come out of his best friend's lips while his fingers are still inside her. They've always been comfortable with each other, but not to the point of talking about the kind of porn they listen to. The idea of her best friend watching porn and getting herself off almost made him cum in his pants.

“You do know what a cunniligus is, right?”

“God, Charlz, I’m not five years old! Yes, I know what it is!” he exclaims, his ego lightly bruised by her question.

“Well, show me then, playboy,” she challenges him, a cocky smile slipping on her lips. the alcohol going slightly to her head.

He pulls her to the edge of the mattress, kneeling at the foot of the bed between her legs. His lips kiss the skin on the inside of her thighs, sucking it until he sees a dark red mark appear. He gets rid of her underwear in the blink of an eye before placing her legs over his shoulders. He darts his tongue out of his mouth, licking a long strip between her folds without giving her the chance to acknowledge what was going on. He stops once his tongue rests on the bundle of nerves, licking around it in a circular motion.

“Fuck,” she moans. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You really think I've never watched lesbian porn?” he teases her, biting the inside of her thigh, making her body jolt. He dives back his head to her core, sucking her clit into his mouth.

At leats he know where the clit is.

"Oh my god Marcus," she moans, squirming against his grip. He places his arm over her lower abdomen, pinning her body against the mattress. She can feel his two fingers sliding back into her core, the sudden feeling causing her hips to buck up against his face.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me, hun?” he praises her, fingers curling inside her just like she taught him. She could barely feel herself, letting out a series of high-pitched moans as Marcus tongue was working on her bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers, her head pressed down against the matress. Her fingers tangle in his dark hair, tucking at the roots as she let out a cry, the euphoric feeling taking over her body for a moment. Marcus looks up to see her eyes shut tightly, her legs shaking on his shoulders. He can feel her core pulsating around his fingers as she comes down from her high.

He took a mental picture of her, engraving this moment in his memory forever.

─── ° • ❀ ───

taglist; @cognacdelights @ellegotohell @janedartist

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luminnara · 3 years

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It’s Been A Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega! reader Part 2

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part one | Part two | Part three |

Warnings: NSFW, Knotting, ABO

Tags: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch

The soldier’s rut seemed to come around on a perfect schedule. Like clockwork, every few months Amoretta would be pulled out of her usual living space and sent to the rutting cell to wait for him. Sometimes, he came in smelling fresh and clean, like they had just hosed him down. Other times, he was covered in dirt and blood, most of which didn’t seem to be his own. She didn’t care; her heart soared every time she heard his heavy boots stomping towards her, and she always faced him with a confident, even gaze.

They would spend his rut together, the soldier knotting her over and over until it passed. He grew bolder with her, showing her affection she never thought he was capable of. He would carefully lay her down on her side so that he could curl around her, waiting for his knot to go down so that he could start all over again. His hands became increasingly gentle, calloused fingertips brushing over her folds carefully as he tried to pull those beautiful moans out of her throat.

He often succeeded; Amoretta woke up to his touch more times than she could count, her thighs already trembling as he played with her clit. The soldier was good at getting her ready for him, though she was almost always prepared to take his cock anyways. Her body responded to him eagerly, slick always pooling between her legs whenever he was nearby. She couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like if HYDRA didn’t have her on so many heat suppressants.

Even without her hormones raging, she was falling for him. He was big and strong and protective, always putting himself between her and the guards whenever they appeared in the doorway. If it weren’t for his trigger words, Amoretta was positive he would tear them apart before they even got close to her. Did that mean he felt the same way about her, too? Or was she just being a silly omega, stuck in a cold series of tunnels, latching onto the only alpha she was ever permitted contact with?

She couldn’t tell.

She didn’t really care.

All she knew was that she wanted him. She had begun looking forward to his ruts, and by the end of her first year in captivity, her body had begun being able to predict when they were coming without the use of a calendar. It was like waking up on Christmas Day, excitement flooding her while she waited for the guards to come let her out of her cell. It always put her in a good mood, knowing that she was about to see the one person who seemed to care about her in that godforsaken place.

And he did.

He cared.

Whenever he saw her, the soldier felt his chest swelling with happiness. There were no bond marks on either of them, but she was his, and she knew it. His omega knew that he was there to keep her safe. He was driven by a simple urge to take care of her whenever he saw her, his need to protect her always taking over his mind. She was so much smaller than him, but she took him so well and fit so perfectly against his chest when they laid together. He never wanted it to end.

“Alpha?” She asked one night, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His knot had gone down a little while earlier, but he was too exhausted by a full day of fucking to go at it again yet. Instead, he was dozing, an arm draped over her protectively while she snuggled up against his chest.

“Hm?” He grunted, cracking an eye open.

“Do you…” she sighed. “Never mind.”

He was fully awake now, both eyes open as he looked at her. “Do I what?”

She bit her lip, feeling stupid. “Do you think we would be together outside of this place?”

He was silent as he thought about it. He didn’t know anything other than HYDRA. Shit, he had never stopped to wonder if there was anything other than HYDRA. Did he have a life besides killing? He had no memory of it, if he did.

“I’m sorry, it’s dumb.” Amoretta said, burying her face against his chest. “Forget it.”

“‘Mega,” his chest rumbled with the word. “It’s not dumb.”

“Then why didn’t you answer?” She huffed.

He snorted quietly. There it was again. That brazen attitude she always had.

“Because...I don’t remember anything outside of this.” He finally said.

Amoretta looked at him. “Nothing at all?”

“It’s always been HYDRA.” He didn’t sound too concerned.

She frowned. “Well...if it wasn’t. If we were just two normal people.”

“Normal?”

“You know.” She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Just...two people, living in a city—“

“New York.” He interrupted quietly.

She paused. “New York?”

“A city. To live in.” He said. “New York.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. Why would he choose New York? It was a large city, to be sure, but it seemed out of character for him to interrupt with something like that, especially considering that they were currently being kept somewhere under Eastern Europe. They were as far away from the States as they could get, and she had expected to be talking about someplace like Paris, or Moscow, or Berlin.

She knew the soldier was someone HYDRA had captured a while ago, which meant he had to have had some sort of life before they pumped him full of the serum. Could this be part of it? Was he...remembering? If he was, she wanted to know more. All HYDRA used her for was getting their asset through his ruts, so she had plenty of time to think, and plenty more time to be curious. The most interesting thing in the compound with her was him, and she had spent hours just wondering about him. This could be her chance to actually get him talking about something other than rutting, and she wanted to encourage more.

“Okay, New York.” She said, a reassuring hand on his arm. “What part?”

He thought for a moment, trying to concentrate. “Brooklyn.”

“Why Brooklyn?”

The soldier shrugged. “Heard about it. I think.”

“Never been there?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Hmph.” She played with a strand of his dark hair. “If we lived in Brooklyn, what kind of life would we have?”

“A house,” he said.

“We’d have a house?”

He nodded, his nose finding the scent gland on her neck and rubbing against it. “Filled with lots...and lots...of pups…”

Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately felt heat coiling around in her belly. She couldn’t help it; she was pre programmed to get excited at the concept of being bred. Even without her heats, the thought filled her chest with butterflies.

“Wanna breed you…” his voice pulled her back to reality.

Amoretta licked her lips, grinning. “Then breed me, Alpha.”

He let out a playful growl, somehow finding the strength to roll her onto her front and grab her hips. He held onto her tightly enough to leave little red marks, but he never had to worry; she was strong. She was made for him. He knew that she could take whatever he gave her.

“Want my knot?” The soldier asked, toying with her wet folds for a few moments before he shoved his cock inside of her.

“Y-yes, Alpha!” She squealed, pussy immediately tightening around him. She had grown so used to his size by now, she hardly even needed any preparation to take him. Her body accepted his girth eagerly, wanting nothing more than to feel his knot catching on her.

He groaned appreciatively as he began thrusting in and out of her, setting a lazy pace for himself. “‘M gonna fill you up, Omega...gonna fill you up, get you nice and pupped…”

Her cheeks were flushed as she listened to him, skin burning as her alpha fucked her. She loved the sound of his voice. She loved everything about him.

“Please,” she moaned, melting down against the sheets.

“Yeah?” He let go of her hips, moving both hands to hold her ass. He gave it a squeeze, chest rumbling happily at the feeling of so much supple flesh in his grip. “Fuck, omega...my pretty ‘mega…”

She sighed happily, her pussy squeezing his cock as a little orgasm fluttered through her. He was good at that, and giving her those tiny little ones every so often with nothing but his words.

He snarled at the feeling. He wanted more.

A metal hand snaked around her front, finding her clit and rubbing it roughly. She immediately cried out, surprised by the sudden stimulation, and it wasn’t long before her thighs were shaking and she was a moaning, crying mess underneath her soldier. How did he know what to do? Why did he even care if she got off, when she was only there to please him?

He had to be more than just a flesh and bone HYDRA machine. She knew he had to be.

As she tipped over the edge, he followed close behind, his breath hot on the back of her neck as he bit into her shoulder. The pain felt dull, despite his massive fangs tearing into her. It always did; Amoretta was never worried about it, often sporting bruises and bite marks after her soldier mounted her. With the quickened healing abilities her body now had, nothing lasted very long before fading anyways.

She wished they would stick around, though. She wanted to feel claimed.

She felt his knot swelling and she sighed happily, slumping down onto the cot as he pressed his chest against her back. He began lazily licking at her shoulder, swiping his tongue over the bloody wound to soothe it.

“One day,” he grumbled, “One day, ‘m gonna mark you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Wh-what?” She asked, looking back at him.

He nodded, sure of himself. “You’re my omega. An’ one day, I’m gonna make sure everybody knows.”

—

How many years did she spend there, in HYDRA’S compounds? After the first, it was easy to lose track. She was kept on a monotonous schedule that consisted of a few feedings a day, exercise sessions, and the occasional “doctor’s visit.” Those always just meant that her suppressants were being increased, as her body was growing steadily angrier about them. She was building up a tolerance, the doctor said, and they would simply have to keep ramping up her dosage.

She dared to ask why they couldn’t just let her have heats like normal, and the answer was simply that they didn’t have the facilities ready to raise super soldier pups. The thought of being separated from her own offspring mortified her; it was bad enough that she was always so far away from her alpha, and she knew she couldn’t bear to give up her pups for some twisted HYDRA program.

So she shut up, and learned to deal with the side effects of the suppressants. They made her constantly nauseous, not enough to make her vomit, but definitely enough that she was uncomfortable all day. As her dosage increased, so did her headaches, and there were moments she considered begging the doctors to take her off of them so that she could feel at least some relief.

But she knew that would be a bad idea. She had to continue acting like she had absolutely no interest in returning to her normal heat cycle, or else risk HYDRA thinking about how quickly they could get things ready to start a new super soldier program. Amoretta wanted to keep their minds off of it for as long as she possibly could, and it seemed like she was successful; it never came up during her visits to the lab, the doctors seeming much more focused on how to keep her from getting pregnant at all.

It was for the best. She knew that. But part of her whined and yearned to be allowed to start a little family with her alpha, even though he hadn’t given her a bond mark. With every rut she spent with him, she felt herself growing more and more comfortable at his side, wishing more and more that they were normal people. She wanted to live that life in Brooklyn with him, to smell fresh air again instead of the recycled oxygen they pumped through the compound.

Sometimes, Amoretta was moved to different facilities. They were always underground, always just as gray and dingy as all the others. The guards always tranquilized her in order to transport her, and she would wake up in a similar, yet different cell from the last, groggy and even more nauseous than usual. She figured they were moving both her and the soldier around, depending on where they wanted to send him off on missions. She just wished that she could go outside once in a while, too.

One night, she got her chance.

She woke up early, her body fighting off the tranquilizer she had been given. She could tell that she was in a cramped, dark transport crate, moonlight filtering in through the air holes on the top of it. Fresh air was coming in, too, the scent of grass and pine filling her nose. It smelled so delicious that she was gulping in lungfulls, immediately shifting to press her face up against one of the holes.

It was small, barely large enough for her to see out of it, but she could spot a few twinkling stars up above her.

She wanted more.

The crate was heavy, reinforced with metal bars meant to keep her in and the soldier out, but she was determined. She hadn’t seen the outdoors in...shit, decades?

A few good kicks was all it took before she was scrambling out, bare toes digging into the dirt as she stood and looked around. She was in the middle of nowhere, it seemed, a few trucks idling nearby as HYDRA workers moved supplies into the compound.

As soon as they noticed her, she ran, sprinting off into the trees. She could hear shouting behind her, but she didn’t stop, too excited by the feeling of the wind against her bare skin. The night air was cool and refreshing, and as she skidded to a stop at the edge of a field, she could hardly believe she was really outside.

Turning her eyes up to the sky, she let out a happy gasp. The moon was full and bright, an entire galaxy of stars twinkling in the inky blackness of space. Amoretta hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

Heavy footsteps drew her attention away from the stars, but she didn’t turn to look. She could smell her alpha approaching, his scent seeming more curious than angry now that he had found her. He was alone, free of the entourage of guards she had expected to come after her.

“Omega,” he growled, his low voice rumbling.

“Look at them,” she sighed.

He stepped up next to her, his side brushing hers. “At what?” His blue eyes were scanning the treeline, searching for anything that could be threatening his omega. When he found nothing, he tilted his head to look down at her curiously. “What is it?”

“The stars,” she sighed again.

Stars?

He watched her face for a moment, surprised to find her smiling up at the sky. When he finally followed her gaze, he paused to admire the stars. He never really did that, did he? Whenever HYDRA let him out, he was sent with strict orders. There was never any time for stargazing. Though...it was nice, and the look on his omega’s face was even nicer.

“That’s Ursa Major,” she said, pointing up to a collection of stars. “See? It’s a bear.”

The soldier snorted. “I don’t see a bear.”

“Then look harder.”

She glanced over to see him actually squinting, the lower half of his face obscured by the black mask he wore on missions. The sight made her laugh, quiet giggles quickly turning into full, hearty laughter that had her gripping her sides. There he was, a huge, terrifying super soldier, the most dangerous assassin in the world, and he was trying to figure out constellations.

“What?” his head whipped around to look down at her.

“N-nothing,” she giggled.

He gave her an exasperated look. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I might be.” she nudged his side with her shoulder. “You’re just...cute. That’s all.”

She could see him raise an eyebrow. “Cute?”

“Mhm. You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you outside of a rut.” she leaned against him, looking up with big doe eyes. “I like it.”

His chest puffed up a little as he looked down at her. “You do?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” his throat rumbled with a low purr. “I have to take you back now.”

She deflated with a sigh. “Already?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Not safe out here.”

“There’s nothing out here scarier than you, Alpha.”

His purr grew louder, a little more smug. “You’re right. But I have orders.”

“Can we stay for just another minute?” she pleaded. “Then you can drag me back.”

The soldier considered her offer. He really did enjoy watching her gaze up at the stars, and he had no idea when he would get this chance again. “...Fine.”

Amoretta smiled. “Thank you, Alpha.”

His arm found its way around her waist, pulling her up against him. “You like stars, omega?”

“I used to sit outside and look at them every night back home,” she said. “Well, when it was clear.”

“Back home?”

She nodded. “I grew up in this quaint little village, tucked away in the mountains...at the foot of the alps.”

He cocked his head. Something about the alps...it felt like there was a memory nudging at the back of his mind, but he didn’t know why. Maybe he had gone there on a mission? HYDRA was good at always wiping his memory between outings. It was hard to tell where he had been.

“Let’s go.” he said, suddenly uncomfortable.

Amoretta didn’t resist as he scooped her up, instead resting her cheek against his chest and trying to surround herself with his scent while he walked. She could tell that something was bothering him, but with no idea what, and with him nearing the HYDRA base, there was little she could do to try and pry it out of him.

She would just have to wait and try again during his next rut.

#alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes #abo #omegaverse #it's been a long long time #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #tw blood #tw self harm #tw cannibalism #blood blood blood oops #I wrote this instead of sleeping because my hands cannot be stopped #typeity type type type #sorry if the formatting is off #i'm trying the new editor or whatever #if it's fucked I'll fix it whenever I wake up

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

Text

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 32

Original Title: 二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 32 - This Venerable One is Coaxing You, It's Alright

Through the heavy lotus leaves, Mo Ran reacted like he had been struck by lightning. He was frozen in shock, all the conflicting feelings in his heart going wild, his expression unable to hide his emotions.

Shock, anger, bitter jealousy, irritation; all burst in him like fireworks. He moved his lips but was so angry, he couldn't even get a word out. He didn't even know what he was angry about. There was only one thought going through his head --

This Venerable One has slept with this guy. You think you're worthy enough to touch him?

Chu Wanning, you arrogant, egotistical, lewd slut! You, I can't believe you . . .

He didn't react at all. In this life, Chu Wanning didn't have the slightest passion or desire to engage with him. In an instant, something in his mind snapped.

All in all, it had been more than ten years, a lifetime, from birth until death.

When he was in his right mind, he was able to play it off easily, pretending to be calm.

But under the circumstances, his thoughts were chaotic and the truth was revealed. He still subconsciously believed that Chu Wanning belonged to him. Even now, he realized that he could even remember the taste of Chu Wanning's lips when they kissed . . . not to mention their desire-fueled, lustful interaction and passionate sex.

It was something that he didn't dare think about after he was reborn.

Until he saw Chu Wanning's naked back, saw that familiar figure, - broad shoulders and long legs, tight muscles, thin and powerful waist - immersed in the clear water.

These things that he had deliberately avoided, the lingering feeling he tried to forget, burst through his mind and swept away any resolve.

Mo Ran's mind went blank.

. . . This body made him react.

And it was a strong reaction that couldn't be contained at all. Just looking at it, a fire burned in his belly.

When he came back to his senses, he angrily shouted: "Chu Wanning!"

Chu Wanning actually ignored him.

The two people on either side of him held his shoulders. Steam rose from the lotus pond making it hard to discern the specific identity of the two people. But they are very close together, the distance between them dubiously close.

Mo Ran cursed. He plopped into the lotus pond and waded towards Chu Wanning—when he got closer, he realized —

I-It was actually two mecha men made of metal and redwood!

Even worse, they seemed to be taking advantage of the spiritual energy of the lotus pond water, channelling that energy into Chu Waning. Mo Ran, foolishly jumping into the water, had completely broken the spiritual energy flow . . .

He didn't know what kind of array Chu Wanning was using. He was unconscious, supported by the golden light coming from the metal palms of the two mechs. Those rays kept surging upward and converged on the wound on his shoulder, clearly healing it.

Mo Ran's intrusion caused the golden light to quickly dissipate. What was even more unexpected was that the array actually started to undo!

As the golden light dissipated, Chu Wanning's wounds began to rapidly spread. He frowned, stifling a grunt, and coughed out a mouthful of blood. Immediately, all the scars on his body began to tear open. The blood spilled out like smoke, seeping across the flower pool in an instant.

Mo Ran froze.

This was Chu Wanning's "Flower Spirit Sacrifice Technique"!

He realized that he might . . . be in trouble . . .

Chu Wanning's spiritual flow is a dual system of metal and wood. The metal energy was like "Tianwen", focusing on attack and defence. The redwood energy was used for healing.

Flower Spirit Sacrifice was one of those healing techniques. Chu Wanning could gather the spirits of hundreds of flowers to heal wounds. However, during the process, no other people should enter the array, otherwise, the spirits would scatter. Instead of healing, it would exacerbate the injury. In serious cases, Chu Wanning's spiritual core would most likely be snatched up by the spirits of the flowers.

Fortunately, Mo Ran had dabbled with the Flower Spirit Sacrifice Technique in his previous life and immediately severed the energy flow from the spirits. Chu Wanning, who had lost the support of the array, fell down and was steadily held by Mo Ran.

The unconscious shizun's face was pale, his lips blue, and his body was as cold as ice.

Mo Ran dragged him onto the shore. It was too dark out to see anything else. He half-held, half-dragged Chu Wanning back to his bedroom and lay him on the bed.

"Shizun? Shizun!"

After calling for him several times, there wasn't even the slightest tremble in Chu Wanning's eyelashes. Other than the slight rise in his chest, he looked dead.

Seeing Chu Wanning in this state reminded Mo Ran of his past life.

Inexplicably, his throat constricted and his heart raced.

In the last life, there were two people who died in Mo Ran's arms.

Shi Mei and Chu Wanning.

The two of them, one the love he had endlessly longed for, the other an enemy he had been entangled with all his life.

After Shi Mei was gone, Mo Weiyu ceased to exist in the world.

After Chu Wanning?

Mo Ran didn't know. He only remembered that, on that day, he guarded the person in his arms as he grew cold. He didn't cry, he didn't laugh; joy and sadness became out of reach.

After Chu Wanning was gone, Mo Weiyu no longer knew what the world was.

The lights were bright, illuminating Chu Wanning's exposed upper body.

Yuheng of the Evening Sky typically wore tight clothing. His overlapping collar was folded tight and high, and his waistband was wrapped around his waist three times, proper and simple.

Therefore, no one had seen how injured his body was after two hundred strikes . . .

That day, while he was being punished in the Court of Discipline, Mo Ran saw the beating wounds on Chu Wanning's back with his own eyes. At that time, he only knew that it was bloody and extremely grotesque. But then he saw that Chu Wanning walking around like normal and thought that he probably hadn't been hurt that badly.

Only at this moment did he realize that Chu Wanning's injuries were far more serious than he had imagined.

The five holes left by the Master of Ceremonies Ghost had fully reopened, the deepest of the holes even exposing some bone.

Chu Wanning probably didn't let anyone help reapply the medicine. He did it all by himself. The ointment was unevenly applied, and some places that he couldn't reach were inflamed and ulcerated.

Not to mention the bruises from the cane. They covered his entire back, almost no skin left unmarred. Plus, with the backlash from the array, now Chu Wanning's wounds were all torn open, blood flowing, staining the sheets underneath him.

If he didn’t witness it with his own eyes, Mo Ran wouldn't have believed that the person who insisted on wiping the bridge pillars and opening a huge rain-blocking barrier for the disciples was the person in front of him - this kind of serious injury could be classified as "debilitating".

If Chu Wanning hadn't lost consciousness, Mo Ran really wanted to grab him by the collar and ask him——

Chu Wanning, are you really that prideful?

If you bow your head and give in, who will stop you? Why do you have to be so stubborn? You're an adult. Why don't you know how to take care of yourself and treat yourself better?

Why are you so reluctant to ask others to help treat your wounds?

Why would you rather have two mechs help you with a healing array rather than ask for help?

Chu Wanning, you're delusional!!

Are you that stubborn?

He cursed to himself while he quickly tapped some acupuncture points to stop the bleeding. Then he fetched some hot water and wiped away the bloodstains on Chu Wanning's back . . .

The sharp knife was quenched and cut off the flesh that had completely festered.

For the first time, Chu Wanning groaned in pain, and his body jerking subconsciously. Mo Ran held him down, irritated: "What are you moaning for? Haven't been fucked recently? If you make any more noise, I'll stab you straight in the chest. If you die, it won't hurt anymore! It'll all be over!"

It was only at a time like this that Mo Ran could reveal his violent nature and scream at him like he did in his previous life.

But there were too many places where the wound was white and rotting. He gradually cleaned it while Chu Wanning was muttering and panting.

Even if he was unconscious, he worked hard to suppress his discomfort. He didn't shout or cry out in pain, simply covered in a layer of cold sweat. His body, which had just been wiped clean, was soaked in sweat again.

After working for almost an hour, he had finally applied the medicine and bandaged the wound.

Mo Ran helped Chu Wanning into some clothes and grabbed a thick blanket to cover the fevered shizun. He breathed a sigh of relief. Remembering that Madam Wang mixed medicine was still sealed in the paper bag, he took some boiling water and brewed a bowl of medicine, bringing it to Chu Wanning's bedside.

"Come on, take the medicine."

He picked up the sleeping person with one hand, letting him lean on his shoulder, and spooned the tonic with the other hand. He blew it and tried a sip first.

Mo Ran immediately frowned, his face screwed up: "Damn it, it's that bitter?" But he still let it cool and feed it to Chu Wanning.

Inevitably, after just half a spoonful, Chu Wanning couldn't stand it. He choked and coughed, spitting out the concoction, most of which splashed on Mo Ran's clothes.

Mo Ran: ". . ."

He knew that Chu Wanning didn't like anything bitter. He was almost afraid of it.

But if he was in his normal state of mind, the stubborn Elder Yuheng would definitely push through his disgust, swallowing the medicine in one swig. At most his face might pucker afterwards and he'd secretly eat a piece of candy.

Unfortunately, Chu Wanning was currently unconscious.

Mo Ran couldn't help it. It's not good to lose your temper with someone who's unconscious so you have to be patient and feed him small sips. From time to time, you have to use a handkerchief to wipe the tonic from the corner of his mouth.

This wasn't a difficult chance for Mo Ran. After all, in his previous life, for a while, he regularly had to feed Chu Wanning. At that time, Chu Wanning resisted, and Mo Ran slapped him in the face. Then he'd grab his chin and roughly kiss him, his tongue rushing in, blood flowing . . .

He didn't dare think too deeply about it. The last few spoonfuls Mo Ran fed him were a bit sloppy, almost half of them coughed up by Chu Wanning. Then he put the man to bed, Chu Wanning harshly twisted the covers.

"I'm so kind. Don't kick the blankets off, you'll get a fever. If you're not careful, you'll catch a cold again . . ."

Halfway through his rant, he suddenly lost his temper and kicked the leg of the bed.

"Forget it. What do I care if you catch a cold? I hope you get sicker and sicker and die.""

After speaking, he turned and left.

When he reached the door, he felt a tug in his heart and couldn't ignore it. So he turned back, thought about it, and put out the candle for him. Then he left again.

This time he walked to the edge of Red Lotus Pond. Looking at the increasingly beautiful water lilies that had been dyed with Chu Wanning's blood, the annoyance in his chest only grew.

He was annoyed but still returned to the bedroom.

He stiffly walked around the room like a rusty and ageing mecha before he finally reluctantly stood next to Chu Wanning's bed.

The moonlight peaked in from the half-open bamboo window, the silver glow fanning across Chu Wanning's handsome face.

His lips were pale, and his eyebrows were slightly furrowed.

Mo Ran hesitated and closed the window for him. It was very humid overnight. Sleeping with the windows open at night was always bad for a person. After doing this, Mo Ran inwardly cursed:

Just walked through the door and leave, you damned dog!

So, just as he walked to the door, with a bang, Chu Wanning actually kicked the blanket off.

Mo Ran: ". . ."

How could this person's habit of kicking the covers off the bed be changed?

In order not to be a dog, the sixteen-year-old Emperor TaXian had the backbone to ignore it and walk away.

He was true to his word and would never walk through that door!

A few moments later.

-- The wise and powerful emperor opened the window and tumbled in.

He picked the blanket up off the floor and covered Chu Wanning again. Mo Ran listened to Chu Wanning's soft painful groan. He twitched. Watching him curl up in the corner of the bed, no longer looking even half as fierce as he normally did.

His lips were cursing that he "deserved it", but, out of his compassion, he still started moving.

He sat by Chu Wanning's bedside and stood guard. He wouldn't let him kick the blanket off again.

It was late at night. After an exhausting day, Mo Ran couldn't keep his eyes open. His head slowly nodded down and he fell asleep.

It wasn't a good sleep. Chu Wanning kept tossing and turning. In his sleepy state, Mo Ran seemed to have heard him humming lowly.

Through his drowsiness and restful sleep, Mo Ran could barely distinguish between what was day or night. Somehow it had become natural to lie next to Chu Wanning and hold his twitching and trembling figure. He squinted his sleepy eyes, subconsciously stroking his back. He held the person in his arms and muttered softly in his sleep: "It's alright, it's alright. It doesn't hurt . . . It doesn't hurt . . ."

Mo Ran fell asleep, murmuring, as if he had returned to the Life-Death Peak of his previous life, back to the desolate and empty Wushan Hall.

Since Chu Wanning died, no one had slept beside him.

Even if their intimacy was bred out of hatred, those days after days spent in the cold made him think of nothing but his heartache, like ten thousand ants were devouring his heart.

But when he thought about it again, Chu Wanning couldn't come back.

He lost the last flame in his life.

On this night, Mo Ran embraced Chu Wanning, half-asleep and half-dreaming. One moment it was clear that he was living a new life, and in another, it was like it had been way back then.

He suddenly couldn't bear to open his eyes for fear that he would wake up tomorrow to an empty pillow and cold sheets. He was the only one left in a long life in this uncertain world.

He undoubtedly hated Chu Wanning.

However, when he held this person in his arms, the corners of his eyes grew a little moist.

He was the thirty-two-year-old Emperor TaXian, holding the warmth that he thought he would never find again.

"Wanning, it doesn't hurt anymore . . ."

His mind was hazy. Like before he had been reborn, Mo Ran stroked the hair of the person in his arms, muttering softly, unconsciously blurting out such a tender line.

He was so sleepy that he didn't even realize what he had said or what he had called the other. He spoke the words without any thought. They had just slipped out naturally. Mo Ran's breathing evened out and he plunged into an even deeper sleep.

Early the next morning, Chu Wanning's eyelashes fluttered and he leisurely awoke.

He had a strong cultivation base and the high fever that he had gotten overnight was already gone.

Chu Wanning drowsily opened his eyes, his mind still a bit fuzzy. He was about to get up but suddenly realized that someone was lying in the same bed as him.

. . . Mo-Mo Weiyu???

His shock wasn't something trivial. The colour drained from Chu Wanning's face. He couldn't remember what happened last night. What's worse, his movements had woken up Mo Ran.

The young man yawned. With a smooth and delicate face with a healthy blush that was typical of a sound sleep, he raised his confused eyes. He glanced at Chu Wanning lightly, and languidly said: "Ah . . . let me sleep a while longer . . . Since you're awake, go and cook me a bowl of preserved egg and pork congee . . ."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

What was all this nonsense? Was he talking in his sleep?

Mo Ran was still out of it. Seeing that Chu Wanning didn't move, nor did he urge others to get up to cook the congee, he lazily smiled. He stretched out his hand and lowered Chu Wanning’s face, giving him a familiar kiss on the lips.

"It's okay, you don't have to get up. I just had a nightmare. In my dream . . . ah . . . nevermind." He sighed and embraced the man who had become completely lifeless and stiff. His chin rubbed against the hair of the person in his arms. He muttered, "Chu Wanning, let me hold you again."

#2ha novel #2ha translation #2ha #the husky and his white cat shizun translation #the husky and his white cat shizun #english translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #bl novel #yaoi novel #yaoi #chu wanning #mo ran #ranwan

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candychronicles · 3 years

Text

carve // k. bakugou

A/N: hello and welcome to my take on the all about bakugou bnharem collab! this is a potential intense read so please heed all warnings!

this is a continuation of quarantine that i wrote last year for a harem collab. it’s not required to read in order to read this story but feel free to read if you’re interested!

i am so sorry that i solely write for collabs now lol

CHARACTER PAIRING: bakugou katsuki x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 3,050

WARNINGS: heavy knife play (mentions of blood, wounds, weapons), super intense emotions, oral (f!receiving), good ol fashioned penetration, implications of a lighter skin tone if you squint

SYNOPSIS: your boyfriend suggested to try a new kink over quarantine yet life was beginning to resume some semblance of normalcy with no excitement in sight. what was going on?

want to enjoy more bakugou? i mean, c’mon, who wouldn’t?

head on over the the masterlist!

you did not, in fact, try anything risker. bakugou balked at the thought of hurting you once he got over the high he was in, lusting over the fact that you were able to put him in his place so easily, though he would never admit that. he wouldn’t admit a lot of things, in fact, like how he was afraid he was going to slip and cut too deep, how he thought you secretly didn’t trust him, how he wasn’t and never would be good enough. all these thoughts kept running through his head as time went on, as quarantine sunk deeper and deeper into chaos, as he got called back into action much sooner than expected and never really got a chance to spend time with you like he really wanted to.

over a year had passed since the last first and last time he had ever brought the knife up. you had asked him plenty, showing him different blades, trying to get him wound up, but he always pushed the thought away, fucked you into submission, or if you were being particularly relentless, let you fuck him. it kept you at bay for awhile but you both knew that things wouldn’t stay quiet forever.

it was on a normal tuesday evening that you sat him down for a serious chat. he had been gone for awhile, quarantines lifting up left and right, people getting vaccines and life returning to as normal as it could be after what everyone had went through. he was distant, stressed, unsure of life and frustrated with how he was feeling and you could tell. he didn’t, however, know that you were that observant and he was sure that you were going to kick him to the curb. honestly, how could he blame you with the way he was treating you, acting like you were some fragile doll that needed to be kept at arm's length wrapped in bubble wrap your whole life? fearing he would break some sort of trust between you two or worse, snap you in half. it wasn’t until he felt your gentle hand on his own that he realized he’d been consumed in his own thoughts.

“Katsuki, what’s wrong?” you finally asked, not one to beat around the bush.

“nothing’s wrong babe, just tired, you know i’ve been working a lot,” he brushed off, going to stand up.

you didn’t give him the chance though, yanking his hand so that he was pulled forward, slamming into the table.

“don’t. lie. to. me,” you commanded, anger evident on your face, brows furrowed and eyes challenging straight ahead.

he sat down with a sigh, not sure of where to begin or even if he had the strength to say anything to you, but before he could, he heard your voice, unusually meek, ask “was it something i did?”

his hand tightened around your own before he realized he was squeezing harshly, quickly letting go and rubbing his fingers as if he had burned you, which he might as well have with the way you recoiled at his actions.

“Katsuki, please, if there’s something i did, at least tell me. i’m going crazy watching you run away from me without me even knowing what’s going on.”

fists clenching under the table, he huffed, attempting to collect his thoughts once more. he knew now that there was no running from this, no more hiding his feelings or wallowing in his own despair and pity.

“i’m afraid of hurting you. during sex, especially. with the knife kink, ya know?”

you cocked your head at his, eyes squinting as you tried to analyze what he had just said.

“i’m not made of porcelain. i think that, as adults, you and i can have a conversation about boundaries, safety, how to keep in communication and what to properly do during aftercare. it’s really not any different from the conversations we’ve had before in any part of our life, really.”

“but what if i go too far?”

“then i’ll just embarrass you by going to the hospital and telling them that my boyfriend’s monster cock split me in half. m’sure they’ve heard worse,” you teased, reaching out to poke at his forehead that was set in a permanent wrinkle, face scowling at how nonchalantly you were talking about this.

“i’m serious, what if i fuck up and cut too deep or nick an artery or accidentally slip and stab you or you sneeze and stab yourself or-”

“hey, ‘Suki,” relax. it’s why we’ll educate ourselves and take it slow. you’re not putting a knife to my neck after all. we’ll learn and talk together so that we’re both feeling safe and if you still don’t want to do it after then that’s fine! we have a great sex life as is. i don’t need every one of my kinks fulfilled to be happy and satisfied with you.”

despite the insecurities and confusion that settled in his brain like a thick fog, he nodded his head, agreeing to learning and trying this new experience with you. secretly, he was ecstatic, his cock twitching as he thought about carving his name into your body, but the logical part of his brain still wasn’t convinced.

you two spent the night educating yourself, figuring out what blade you wanted to purchase, how to keep it clean, how to safely take care of wounds, both minor and major, safety do’s and dont’s and going over boundaries and safe words. it was hours later that you both collapsed into bed, thoroughly tired yet satisfied after the conversation and education that had just taken place.

three days later, a nondescript package arrived at your door, simply labeled with the postage and address. you quickly grabbed it and rushed inside, careful to close the door quietly. Bakugou had the day off and spent most of the morning doing paperwork, only now choosing to workout in order to get rid of the boredom that was already seeping into his brain.

you tore the package open as quietly as possible and shimmied the box tucked inside the package out, careful not to damage anything, popping it open and smiling at the sight inside. a shiny blade stared back at you, hilt a forest green, deep and inviting. you pulled the object out, running your finger along the cool metal, admiring the way it glinted in the harsh kitchen light.

quickly, you scrambled into the bedroom, eager to see what Bakugou would think but when you peeked your head inside the room, it was dark. you frowned before realizing he had already sat down at his desk, tolling away at the mounds of papers he had to go through. sighing, you gently placed the blade down on the dresser, forgetting about it as the day went on.

it was only when you were in the shower later that evening, ready for bed, that you remembered you didn’t put it away. you hurried to finish, barely throwing a towel on yourself before whipping the door open only to see he had already spotted the object.

Bakugou was twirling it in his hands, testing the weight, prodding at the tip with his fingers, letting out a sharp hiss when the blade nicked his finger.

without thinking, you stepped forward, taking his hand into your own before slowly lifting it up to your lips, sucking on the wound, the taste of iron and his own sweet flavor hitting the roof of your mouth. you watched him with hooded lids as your towel dropped haphazardly to the floor, body still dripping from the shower.

“princess, you’re playing a dangerous game tonight.”

you only hummed around his finger, stepping closer to him, pressing your wet body to his, shivering at the warmth he radiated. he pulled his hand away from your mouth, choosing instead to cup your chin and bring it closer to him.

“are you sure you want to do this? do you remember everything we learned?”

“i’m sure, Katsuki, i promise. we have our safety words if things get out of hand, yeah? but i’m sure it won’t,” you reassured, blinking up at him with such sincerity it nearly took his breath away.

with the knife tucked firmly in one hand, Bakugou led you to the bed, laying you down gently, propping your head up and settling into your thighs, kissing, biting, sucking.

he took one deep breath, hands trembling, before the coolness of the blade just barely grazed your skin. you took a sharp inhale of breath but before he could ask what was wrong, he heard you beg for him to do it again.

his tongue came out to press flat against your clit and you jolted, his one hand coming down to hold you still and the other using the knife to trace lazy shapes along your thighs, up your pelvis and around your stomach.

you struggled to maintain your breath, the sharp scratch of the knife as it tickled your skin contrasted with the soft and soothing tongue of Bakugou as he leisurely lapped at your sensitive nub. you begged and pleaded for more friction, white knuckling the sheets as you tried to keep your composure but all he did was sadistically smile and hum, the vibrations driving you crazy.

he kept up that pace for a while, the blade leaving behind bright pink swirls on your skin, tickling and pinching you at the same time. it was all so exhilarating, knowing that something bad could happen and yet being at the complete mercy of your boyfriend.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was stalling for time. he wanted so badly to claim you as his own and yet he was still convinced this wasn’t what you wanted. he thought you were faking it or doing it for his own pleasure and yet in this moment, all he wanted to do was please you, make you feel good, make you know that nobody would ever lay a hand on you besides him, that you were and would be his forever. he felt so strongly about you and about you being his that he didn’t even notice he was applying more pressure to the blade until you let out a gasp.

immediately he sat up, blade dropping clumsily to the bed as he examined your hips, realizing he had nicked the thin skin on your pelvic bone. he stared blankly at the red welt, a pinprick of blood seeping out of the cut. numbly, he looked up at you, ashamed he had hurt you. before he had a chance to open his mouth and apologize, however, you surged forward, crashing your lips against his own, teeth gnashing. he was sure he tasted blood but the way you were kissing him, he didn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to.

“Katsuki, i need more, please. i need you, all of you, need your name carved into my body, need to know that i’m the only one for you.”

he paused, hands coming to gently push you away, looking into your eyes to see what kind of game you were playing but all he saw was that same sincerity and desire as always.

“i just hurt you know. what if i go too far?”

you grabbed his face fervently, squishing his cheeks with your hands.

“I trust you with my life. I always have and I always will. I am yours as you are mine. I want, no I need, this from you. Please.”

his heart practically squeezed in his chest, an unusual lump forming in his throat as he stared at you, at the way the tears pooled at your lashes, how you looked at him like he was the sun, how your warm breath caressed his face and your soft hands held him so tenderly. it was in that moment that he finally realized how much you loved him, trusted him, needed him as much as he needed you.

no words were spoken as he wiped away the tears from your cheeks, laying you back down gently on the mattress, knife picked up firmly in his hand as he splayed his other across your stomach, stretching and pulling at the skin to make it taut. he didn’t even think before he put the blade to your skin and began carving the first line in the K.

the first cut stung, a slow, agonizing pain as he sliced straight up and down, pinpricks of blood following in the wake of his actions. he looked up at you, making sure you were okay, but you were already placing your hand on the blade, urging him to continue.

the next few lines continued to sting but with it came an utmost sense of security and pride. he was carving you, embellishing his name into your body, carving you, marking you, molding you to become a piece of his own flesh. you were his canvas, his artwork, the beauty that was brighter than the stars. he was the sun, hot, fiery, full of temper and you were his moon, patient, calm, full of emotion. together, you two worked in tandem, balancing each other out, keeping each other in line, never able to fully connect but never being able to stay away from one another. but today, on this glorious evening, the sun and the moon meet, an eclipse in the night, destined to become one, and as the blade finished slicing you, the final stroke, the “I” to end it all, your souls merged.

Bakugou stared back at his own name, his first name, carved along your skin, rivulets of red pooling along your skin, eager to be released from their confines. his hand came to gently wipe away your skin, wincing as you hissed.

“let me get you cleaned up.”

he tried to get up, he really did, but when you reached for him, your voice wanton, begging him to fuck you, pleading, saying that you needed him now more than ever, he sunk back down onto the bed, his shirt flinging over his head, clothes kicked off to the side. gingerly, he climbed on top of you, not even getting a chance to adjust or make sure you were okay before you were trapping him in your legs, pulling your bodies practically flush, his cock sitting heavily against your aching cunt.

“baby, please, i want you too, so fucking bad, but i need you to tell me you’re okay first, need you to talk to me before we go any further,” he begged, eyes searching your own frantically to make sure you didn’t get lost in the emotions.

“m’okay ‘Suki, promise. just need y’so bad, please.”

he breathed deeply through his nose, cock twitching painfully, before he situated himself properly between your legs, gently thrusting into you, nearly gasping out as you sucked him in, soaking wet and eager for his touch.

“fuck baby, you’re so wet. been waiting for me to fuck you senseless, hm?”

you only whined out in response, hands curling around his neck to pull him closer to you, sealing him in a kiss and wriggling your hips.

he obliged without question, too consumed in the feeling of you, your scent, the stickiness of the blood, your hands in his hair, everything about you was driving him crazy. you were everything to him and he could feel in the way your body reacted to his touch, the way you cried as he kissed you, how you whispered over and over again how much you loved him, how you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, how you needed him at your happiest and darkest moments in life, how you two would meet in every life and love each other no matter what, he felt it all. so much so that his own tears began falling, soaked in your soft skin, slipping between each kiss, sealing your fate with one another.

his thrust were slow and deliberate, taking his time, savoring every breath that he stole from you, every gasp and moan and cry and prayer as you worshipped him over and over again. your body was on fire, adrenaline making your toes curl and fingers tingle, head dizzy from lack of air but you couldn’t stop, meeting his thrust with your own, legs locked tightly around his torso, hands pulling him impossibly closer, loving the way his body set you on fire. you were drowning in the flames and yet only wanted to sink deeper into heat, consumed by the tranquility it gave you. you were at peace, body alight with pleasure as your chest met his, back curling off the bed as he rocked you through the most intense orgasm you had ever had.

it only took a few moments of your cunt clenching around his cock before he came, thrusts becoming sloppy as he rode you both through your high. breaths were caught, bodies untangling from one another as you came to your senses. after a few minutes, Bakugou gently began stroking your cheek, bringing you back to reality, going through his checklist as he made sure you were okay after what had happened.

after he had gotten you some water and began tending to your wounds, you looked at him, hand coming to gently grip his, stroking the calloused palms of your lover.

“thank you, Katsuki.”

he looked at you like you had two heads before scoffing, claiming that he only did what you two wanted to do before finishing cleaning you up, going to the bathroom to take his own shower and wash the blood off of himself. you laid there, donned in one of his shirts, taking in your emotions, when the door opened up, Bakugou stepping out dressed in sweatpants, flashing you a rare soft smile as he took in the name carved on your stomach.

“y’know, that’s just the beginning,” he started, coming over to lay down next to you, gently pulling you into his side, kissing the top of your head and watching the way you looked at him, expectant and full of love.

“you’re not going to just have my name carved on you, princess. soon, i’ll give you my last name too.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #tw: knife

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

Two Luthors are better than one.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader, Lillian Luthor x Granddaughter!Reader

Word count: 3100.

If you haven’t you can check out It’s you against the world first, if you would like a little bit more of context.

You wake up feeling almost too rested to be true. You get out from under your blankets, and you expect to see blood and dirt everywhere, instead you’re cleaned. You look at your clothes and you’re wearing your favorite pajamas and they smell like home. Home.

It feels like you haven’t stepped foot home in a lifetime. So much has happened. So much pain and sorrow have taken over you and your family. You sit back on your bed, looking around. Can you even call this home if Lena is not in it?

You have slept too long. You don’t know how many hours you’ve slept, but that doesn’t matter. Five minutes would’ve been too long.

A small part of you believes Kara. Sure, it wasn’t all your fault. How could’ve been, right? How could you have been everywhere at the same time? How could you have gone for Lena when Kara’s location was right there? Still. Still-

You feel like an exposed wound waiting for something – no, not something, Lena – to care for it. To patch it up with an assertive and unquestioning ‘this isn’t your fault’.

“Momma.” You call and it doesn’t take long for you to see Kara’s face poking at your door. “How am I clean?”

“Oh.” Kara gives you a soft smile, walking in your bedroom. “You passed out from exhaustion before we got home. So, I had to give you a shower, and food while you were sleeping.”

“What?” You furrow your brows, confused. “I can eat while I sleep?”

“Apparently.” Kara agrees with her head and touches your face with a big smile. “It’s good to see your pretty face again. You were looking really, what’s the word? Dead.”

“I think I was dead for a minute before you saved me.” You exhale, finally realizing you are glad to be alive. “Thank you.”

You throw yourself in her arms and Kara catches you, giving you a little kiss on the head, then puts her cheek on top of your head, while stroking your back lightly.

“My baby.” Kara’s voice is so full of love, she doesn’t have to say anything else for you to understand what she means.

“I’m sorry about what I said.” You sigh, feeling there’s no more anger left on your body. You’re done fighting the world completely. “I was so full of rage I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Oh, my love.” Kara cups your face, making you look at her and her blue eyes meet yours. “When will you understand that you are my heart beating out of my chest? If you’re mad, I’m mad too. If you die, I will die too.”

“Momma, I love you so much, but I-I miss her. What if I can’t do it? What if I can’t get her memories back and she doesn’t-” You stop yourself, when a tear slides down your cheek.

“Then you can’t do it.” Kara says, and you furrow your brows in question. “And someone else will try. And if they can’t do it, we will live with this.”

“How?” Your voice comes out small. Kara forces a smile out.

“I don’t know, kid. But we will.” She kisses your forehead, and you close your eyes at the familiar comfort that brings. “What you can’t do is bleed yourself dry for this.”

“But it 's mom.”

“But it’s you.” Kara’s forehead rests against yours. You cry, and she cries too. Both of your hearts are beating so painfully slow. “And I can lose the entire universe, except you, my heart. And I can tell you with absolute certainty your mom feels the same way.”

“Not anymore.” You whisper and Kara’s forehead stop touching yours, as she brings you back into her arms in a comforting hug.

“We can always ask for help.”

You think about it for a second. You think about how much you wanted Kara’s help in battle. How much you needed her fighting with you side by side, because two Kryptonians are better than one. If that is true, then two Luthors must be better than one. Your Luthor is, um, unavailable. So-

No. You could never.

No. She would never.

Right?

You snap your head up, looking at Kara. She looks back at you, knowing that look on your face. The look of an idea.

“Yes?” She asks, unsettled. You super speed through your morning routine, and Kara snaps her eyes wide open at you, waiting for a response.

“I think I’ve got it.” You run out of your bedroom but come back a split second later. You kiss Kara’s cheek with a smile. “I love you. You’re the best.”

“I-I love you too.” Kara says, still surprised by your sudden change of attitude, and you leave again. This time for good.

“I have to say I’m amazed to see you, granddaughter.” Lillian says when you land in front of her. She tilts her head, and you almost salute her off. But you don’t have time for that.

“I have important pressing matters to discuss with you.” Your answer also seems to amaze her, as she raises her eyebrows at the sound of that.

“Do tell.” Lillian looks as interested as you thought she would. You never deny her your company when she appears in front of you. Once in every other month. But this is certainly out of character, so she looks curious. You look around, to be sure no one can hear you before you start.

“Some shapeshifters kidnapped Lena. They’ve mind-wiped her and hurt her, and now-now she doesn’t remember-” You think about it for a second. If Lillian’s going to help you, she needs to know exactly what Lena doesn’t remember. But what if Lena not remembering you and Kara is exactly what she always wanted? “Me.”

“Aliens.” She scoffs in disgust, almost forgetting you too are an alien, or half of one for that matter. “Let me guess. Supergirl imprisoned them in a cell and will try to turn them good eventually?”

“Well, not exactly.” You look down. Face burning at the thought of the words you’re about to say. At the truth that is about to be confined to Lillian freaking Luthor. “I-I killed them.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t have said that faster. Or have a more surprised look on her face. But slowly she comes down from her shock.

“I’ve been working on reversing their technology, but, well, I’m not much of a scientist as much as I am an inventor of sorts.” You say, receiving an agreeable nod from her.

“So what exactly is your pressing matter with me, dear?” Lillian asks. She knows what you want. It’s pretty obvious. And it’s also pretty obvious she wants you to ask for it.

“I could use some help.” You wait a beat. “Your help.”

Lillian’s nod is so tiny, if you weren’t staring at her with your undivided attention, you would’ve missed it.

“Do you still have your lab at L Corp?” She asks and you shake your head, agreeing. “What are we waiting for?”

It’s all she has to say for you to fly to L Corp with her. You look at Lena’s office to be sure she is there, before walking into the building.

“Oh, Mrs-Mrs. Luthor.” Aly shuffles in her chair uncomfortable, and you listen to her heart beating terrified and almost out of her chest.

“Hey Aly, Lillian and I have some, um, stuff to work on in my lab. You know the drill. Don’t let anyone interrupt us.” You ask and she agrees with her head, eagerly.

“Should I tell your mom-”

“No!” You stop her, before she’s half finished. “Please don’t disturb my mom. It’s all good here. Ok?”

“Of course, Miss Luthor-Danvers.” She agrees and you make a mental note to tell your mom, when all of this is over, to give Aly a raise. You thank her and make your way to your lab, with Lillian right behind you.

When you open the door, you startle yourself by the look of the place. You don’t remember the lab looking this wrecked ever before. There are cans of red bulls everywhere. Broken parts, and oh yeah, you punched a hole in your working table. Also, the amount of blood here is absurd.

“I see you’ve been working through mental breakdowns-” She pushes one can with her feet, almost too gracefully for the action itself. “Sleepless nights and-” She stares at some blood stains on the floor. “Wherever that blood came from.”

“Me. Mainly.” You point out, not entirely embarrassed by the truth of what she’s saying. You pick up your chair on the floor and point to the main computer. “You can start looking at the alien tech while I try to clean up the place a little.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Working with Lillian is not like working with Lena. It’s methodic, barely satisfactory, and it doesn’t leave space for any chat or contribution. You don’t care. You’re not looking for fun, but for results and as long as she gives you that, you don’t mind the deafening silence.

“How did it feel?” Lillian asks, after maybe two hours of uninterrupted silence. You raise your head from the new metal halo you’re making. “To kill them?”

“I don’t know.” You answer, truthfully. “I was dying with them.”

“Of course you were.” Lillian says like that’s the answer she was expecting to hear. Like hearing you had killed someone made no sense, and now with this little piece of information it all makes sense again.

After what it feels like another two hours, Lillian looks back at you with a nod. “Ready for testing.”

“Okay.” You pick the halo you made and transfer the new coding system she created to it. “I’ll make myself forget something with the mind wiper I invented and then try to bring that memory back.” You explain, but it feels stupid. It is self-evident the entire experience. “I guess I’ll forget my uncle’s name and you can remind me if it doesn’t work.” She agrees with her head. “Bye Lex.” You use your memory wiper, forgetting whatever his name is. Then you grab the halo, placing it over your head. “Ok. I’m ready.” Lillian presses a few things on the computer and nods at you when it’s over. “My uncle’s name is-”

Nothing.

“It didn’t work.” You sigh. Exhausted. “I don’t know his name.”

“I think I see the problem.” Lillian resumes working on the computer, and you wait.

“What is it?” You ask after a while, because not remembering is bothering you. “His name, I mean. What’s his name?”

Lillian turns her head back at you, to look at you from the corner of her eyes. “I don’t think not knowing will harm you more than doing so. You’re better off without this information.”

Ok, then.

“Done.” Lillian says and you do the entire process again. You sit on your chair, after erasing someone else’s name from your mind, and you sigh before putting the halo on.

“I hope this works.” You whisper, more to yourself than to her. “I miss her.”

Her eyes are filled with something that can only be described as pity when she looks at you again. Lillian blinks at you, trying to ignore your feelings. You swallow them down too. You put the halo over your head and give her a thumbs up. She turns to the computer again.

“Miss Finnick.” You say absolutely certain this time. A smile comes up your lips and, like it hasn’t been beating for all this time, your heart races on your chest, beating into your ribcage. Thank Rao. And Lillian, you guess. “It worked.”

“Luthors are geniuses, after all.” Lillian agrees with her head, and that’s all. She walks to the lab door, and you furrow your brows. “I think you can take it from here.”

“You’re not going to stay? You can tell her you did it all yourself and-”

“There’s no point.” Lillian stops you. “I won’t get any form of appreciation. And I don’t think she would trust something I made.”

“Well, she doesn’t remember me. She might not trust something I made too.” You say and Lillian gives you the closest thing to a full smile you’ve ever seen on her lips.

“Darling, look at your face. Lena might be distrustful of people, but no one is immune to your charm.” Lillian tilts her head, clearly saying this conversation is over. “Granddaughter.”

“Grandmother.” You salute her off, and Lillian opens the door of your lab. “Thank you.”

She doesn’t answer. You nearly repeat yourself, but she closes the door. She heard you. You’re sure.

Less than a minute after you called her, Kara is knocking on your lab door. You let her in with a smile, and call Aly asking her to send Lena to your lab without mentioning your name. Every second before Lena arrives is filled with anticipation and Kara has to hold you, so you don’t fly away, unable to hold yourself down.

“Listen, baby.” Kara whispers softly. “I’m sure it will work perfectly, but if it doesn’t-”

“Then we’ll figure out how to live with this.” You look up to her and she smiles at you.

“We will.” She repeats.

You hear the click on the door, when the L Corp id is accepted. You hear when the door unlocks. You watch the handle slowly opening. And what it feels like a lifetime later, you watch Lena coming in. You wait a beat for the expression on her face to reveal something. Anything. Love, hate, care, unfamiliarity. You would take anything. But Lena’s expression is unreadable.

“I’ve been wondering when I would see you again.” Lena says, directed at you. She apparently saw Kara after. “I suppose I have some thanking to do.”

That’s all. The silence lingers for another entire minute. Was that a thank you?

“But now, I’m dazed as to why and how you’re here in one of my labs.”

“It’s my lab.” You answer, taking your id card from your pocket and showing it to her.

“I suppose you’re right.” Lena agrees with her head. She takes something out of her pocket too. Looks at it for a few seconds, before showing it to you. “It’s you.”

It’s a picture of the three of you together. Old enough, but still not so old you would be unrecognizable. You were probably ten or eleven, and your faces are all smushed together, and all your smiles are so large you wish you would remember what made you guys so happy.

“How is this possible?” Lena asks, and you finally see it. Your mom, behind the façade of the strong professional CEO peeking out. And she is scared. She walks a little bit closer to you. “Was it-” She points at the large scar on the side of her head.

“No.” You say, and Kara pats your back encouraging you to say more. You breathe deep trying to calm yourself. “Alien tech, actually. I can explain it to you now, or…” You go to your table and grab the halo. “After we bring your memories back.”

“Oh.” Lena furrows her brows. She looks at the picture one more time, almost as confirmation. Like the picture is telling her that she can trust you. She goes to where you’re standing and sits on the chair you’re pointing to. You put the halo on her head and move to your computer.

“It’s Kara, right?” Lena asks and you stop looking at the computer, to look behind you. Lena is looking at your momma, who’s staring at her from across the room. Kara agrees with her head vividly. “Can you, please, stop looking at me like that? It’s, um, distracting.”

Oh great, she doesn’t even know who Kara is and already wants to sleep with her. Yes. That sounds like your mother alright.

“Sorry.” Kara’s face blushes completely. “I haven’t seen you in a long while.”

“Four days hardly feels like too long.” Lena says, and you smirk at her.

“Yeah, you clearly don’t remember anything.” You look back at your computer. “Ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Lena says and you agree, doing exactly what Lillian has done. Lena is zoomed out for a few minutes, and you and Kara just look at her, patiently waiting to see if it worked.

You only know it worked when Lena looks at you, eyes full of tears, and she throws her arms around you so hard, even you with your super strength can feel it.

“I missed you so much.” You say, crying silent but happy tears, and you feel Kara’s arms around both of you. Lena kisses your forehead so many times, it feels like she's trying to make up for the past few days when she wasn’t around to do so. She only stops to kiss Kara’s mouth, also repeatedly for a few times, and you smile, between your tears.

“You saved me, babygirl. You saved me.” Lena says so softly, your heart swells on your chest.

“Not before they wiped your memories, though.”

It comes. As natural as the daylight. The patch, the care, the healing. Everything you were expecting, it comes.

“That was not your fault!” Lena says, assertively. And if you weren’t crying already, you would’ve started now. “Hey, baby-” Lena holds your face in her hands and smiles at you, so fondly there’s no way she doesn’t remember everything about you. “You did the impossible. You saved me, cared for me, and now you brought my memories back.”

“With Lillian’s help.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t take away everything you have done.” Lena wipes your tears and holds Kara’s hand lovingly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“She almost died to save us.” Kara adds, so Lena understands all you have done.

“You have to stop almost dying.” She begs, between tears, and you smile.

“Well, like Bukowski once said, ‘you have to die a few times before you can really live’.” You smile at her.

“He didn’t mean literally!”

“Rao, you two are such nerds I feel bad about getting in the hug and lowering the IQ of the hug.” Kara says and Lena chuckles, pulling her closer and kissing her dearly. “We’re fine.”

“We are fine.” Lena agrees.

You breathe in their words. You let them go inside of your body and let them fill you, head to toes. You’re fine. You’re fine. You hug Lena, smelling her familiar scent and you smile. You are fine.

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #supercorpfamily #lena luthor #supercorp daughter #kara x lena #kara x reader #supercorp fanfic #lena x reader #lillian luthor #superkid #reader insert

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hypnomicimagines · 3 years

Text

Alone Time [Werewolf!Yamada Ichiro]

(You guys can also have this as a treat... a nice 2am treat. afab reader but no pronouns used)

Ichiro’s tail swished nervously behind him as he fumbled around with the dishes, his mind on anything but doing the rest of his household chores. Part of it was caused by both Jiro and Saburo being away, he had made Saburo promise to call him once his class reached their destination, but the other part of it was because he had been bold enough to ask you to stay over. He had even made it known his brothers wouldn’t be present which you had giggled about but said nothing more on the topic, agreeing that it would be nice to have a night in together.

“Hi!” You’re happy to be greeted by the excited werewolf who quickly lifted you up into his arms, squeezing tightly as it had been quite some time since you’d seen each other. His hand lingered on your lower back for longer than normal, as though he didn’t want to pull away at all if he could help it, but the sensible side of him won out as he pointed to the kitchen.

“I’m cooking but you can relax if you want.” You noted that the living room was cleaner than it normally was, no soccer balls around though there was a vacuum positioned in the corner filled to the brim with wolf fur. Did their tails shed that much? Poor Ichiro, it must be an endless cycle having three wolves living under one roof.

“I’ll sit with you in the kitchen if you don’t mind. I like watching you be all domestic, it’s cute. Should we get a hairnet for your tail?”

“I’ve never had any issues with-” Ichiro noted the way you were smiling at him, “Oh, you’re just messing with me, huh? I’ll remember that.”

Dinner was served shortly after and you weren’t lying about liking domestic Ichiro, thinking it was quite sweet to see him making you a plate and putting it down in front of you before sitting across the table. He even took the dishes to clean them before you could offer to help, saying he had invited you over to take a break and that he didn’t expect you to lift a finger. Your insistence was a little stronger than his stubborn need to do it all so you ended up drying and putting the dishes away as he scrubbed, pleased when everything was said and done so you could both relax together.

You managed to make it through exactly one movie before you began to feel sleepy.

You stretched, yawned, and his response came quickly.

“Should we go lie down?” You knew his request didn’t have ulterior motives, at least not in the moment, because as soon as he realized what he said his mouth hung open like he didn’t believe he’d just said that. You gave him a knowing smirk but didn’t tease him out loud, knowing he was probably beating himself up over it now.

“Sure. Lead the way, casanova.”

Ichiro hopped up off the couch and nearly forgot his manners with how quickly he was trying to leave the situation, turning before you get up to offer his hand. You thank him and take his hand, noting it’s a little sweatier than it was when you were holding it before. His anxiety is palpable and your own nerves are starting to build, knowing there’s nothing technically stopping you from having your way with each other. You had thought about it, God knows you had thought about it, and though you can’t speak on Ichiro’s own naughty daydreams you were sure there was something running through his mind with how stiff he had been acting tonight.

“Let me borrow one of your shirts, won’t you?” His eyes widened at that and you heard a shocked noise that you weren’t quite sure came from Ichiro. He stared at you a moment longer with his flustered expression before he fully processed your request, heading over to the dresser and fumbling through until he found a long, comfortable shirt suitable for bedtime. You made sure to brush your hand over his as you took it from him, shooting him a coy smile and thanking him. You admit that you’re starting to feel eager yourself as you remove your clothing, slipping into the t-shirt—And only the t-shirt.

Ichiro’s distracted as you walk out of the bathroom, mid-changing as he hadn’t expected you to be so quick. You’re disappointed that he’s wearing pants but you’d never seen him shirtless before, eyes scanning his back and soaking in all the scars that were left there. There were big and small, healed to the best of their ability; werewolves had a supernatural healing element to them so the wounds that caused scars to grow were ones either gained in adolescence, when the healing factor was much slower, or the wounds were near fatal in nature thus taking longer to heal. Your footsteps are quiet but Ichiro’s ears twitch in your direction, whipping around to face you. His eyes are on your face for only a moment before dropping to your bare legs, noting that his shirt was a little long on you but still left plenty for him to admire.

“I didn’t mean to leave you shirtless! How will you keep warm now?” You grabbed the shirt out of his hand, tossing it in the direction of the dresser as he certainly wouldn’t need it tonight.

“But wolves don’t get cold- Oh…” Ichiro was so intelligent normally but it seemed his mind was elsewhere, all your come-ons causing him confusion until you gave him a look that said ‘think about that a bit more’. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, slowly leaving a trail of kisses anywhere he could reach, helped by you tilting your head to the side to give him more access to you.

You tried to muffle your groan as Ichiro’s sharp teeth grazed against your neck, him purposely repeating the action to see if it was just a fluke. When you give him the same type of response you feel him press closer to you, his tail beginning to sway again to show how he happy he was (though it was obvious he was trying to control it as well). You gently touched his chest after you pulled away from him, fingers grazing the scarred Chuuoku brand on his skin, something that made him look away. You’re worried that you’ve agitated him at first but he grabbed your wrist as you went to pull away, pressing your hand to his chest and looking into your eyes.

He was giving you permission.

Your finger traced over the brand on his chest again, feeling guilty that you were looking at it when there was the rest of his beautiful body to admire. It was hard not to think about the burning pain that had been inflicted on him, that each and every scar must hold a sad story behind how he’d received them. You knew he had been a bit of a punk when he was younger but that seemed to be the type of lives werewolves lived, especially the ones with no parents to guide or protect them. He hadn’t talked about his father much but there was a bitterness there, a betrayal that had wedged itself deeply into Ichiro’s heart and had been the reason behind him breaking up their pack to begin with.

It wasn’t time to worry about that now.

If anything, you wanted Ichiro to forget his worries, at least for now.

You crawled into the bed first, flashing him the fact that you weren’t wearing underwear as though he needed another reason to snuggle in beside you as soon as possible. You teasingly turn to face the wall but are pleased when Ichiro pulled you flush against him, his dick hot and hard on your ass. He’s trying not to rut his hips but it’s hard, just like him, and he’s restraining himself in fear of his strength accidentally hurting you. The plan had been to allow you to set the pace, to take control so that it’d be less likely an accident like that would happen, but it seemed useless now.

His attraction, his burning desire, it was too much for him to handle.

“I guess being tempting is just in your nature,” He whispered against your neck, hands running up your leg until they caught the end of his shirt; he lifted it up, slowly, slowly, until it was at your waist, leaving it there and going down to squeeze your hip. He’s started to move his hips in a steady rhythm that was turning him on more, thinking about how soft you felt against him. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Oh, is that right? You’ve met a fairy, right?”

“They have nothing on you.”

“Ooh, I’d be careful with that.” You turned your head to look at him, eyes taking a second to make out his face in the darkened room. “The fae don’t take kindly to being outdone. You might have put us both in danger.”

“I’d do anything to keep you safe.” Not normal bedroom talk but you’d be lying if that didn’t make your chest tingle, or perhaps that was just because his hands were now sliding up your stomach, cupping your chest but making no other moves just yet.

“Oh, my hero…!” Your teasing gets you everywhere, his hand rearranging itself so his fingers could gently pinch your nipple. You moaned quietly to show him that you appreciated what he was doing, arching back against him to temporarily stop his hips from moving. He’s breathing a little heavier now, which is why his next request isn’t a surprise.

“Turn around.”

His lips crashed against yours the second you did so, his hand on the back of your head as his tongue forced its way past your lips. He’s still a little clumsy when it comes to navigating such a passionate kiss but you can tell he’s putting his all into it, allowing you to explore his mouth as well; you couldn’t stop yourself from running your tongue over his canines, squeaking as it feels like you sliced your tongue though there’s no coppery taste to accompany the slight pain. He pulled away quick, a panicked look on his face as he opened his mouth to apologize.

“Shh…” You pressed a finger to his lips, “You don’t have to say sorry, baby. There’s something I want to do…but be careful of those fangs, alright?”

The only sound in the room is the shuffling of blankets as you pushed him onto his back, moving the blankets out of your way and stripping yourself of his shirt. He gets only a glance of your chest but you can tell he’s licking his lips at the thought of sucking on them, thinking he could have his way with them later when you were done with your request. You carefully positioned yourself over his, lowering cautiously as you didn’t want to totally smother him (at least not yet). Ichiro’s impatience is finally shining through and he throws caution out, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you down on his face.

Werewolves had been stereotyped as being voracious eaters and Ichiro wasn’t proving them wrong, the way his tongue was working you over being more than enough proof that he was one. You’re trying to keep yourself quiet despite knowing you don’t have to but that’s not good enough for Ichiro, no, he has to hear your voice full volume or he doesn’t believe he’s doing a good enough job. He teased your clit with his tongue, sucking, licking, going back and forth between the two as you grinded down on his face. He felt a certain thrill at how rough you were being now that you were close to the edge, being far less careful than you had before as you rode his face, desperate to come yet not really wanting the moment to end.

He would be sure to request this later, seeing how irresistible you acted when he ate you out.

You nearly pulled away from him before you came but he felt the muscles in your legs beginning to move, holding you down before you could take this delicacy away from him. You cried out his name as you came on his face, whimpering at the delicate licks he continued to give your clit as you came down from your orgasm. He could probably spend the entire night down there if you allowed him but there was another part of him you were hungry for, something that couldn’t be put off any longer.

You spend a second teasing his cock, licking up and down the vein on the underside of it as it seemed to drive him craziest. There was another stereotype about werewolves that was proven correct but you couldn’t think about it for too long, straddling his waist this time and sitting down on his length (but not allowing it to enter you). You’re slick as you moved back and forth, the head of his dick hitting your clit every time you moved forward, and you took pleasure in seeing the internal debate on Ichiro’s face. What would he do? Would he sit there and take it like a good boy, or would he let out that inner carnivore and show you who’s boss?

You’re pleased it’s the latter, legs spreading as the positions are reversed and you’re now underneath him. He lets out a growl that makes you bite your lip, his eyes on your chest once more before drifting up to your face. He leaned down to kiss you as he lined himself up with your entrance, pressing himself inside of you and waiting an extra second before going deeper. He’s thick and burning hot but it feels too damn good for you to complain about it, your body growing used to the feeling of his thick cock inside you. You’re distracted by his mouth on your chest again, tongue expertly playing with your nipple; his one hand cupped the breast he was playing with while the other held onto your hip, helping him bring your hips to meet his as he thrusted.

The pace he set was rougher than you thought he was capable of yet it still felt good, you could feel his desperation for your touch leaking through. Your hand ran through his hair, tugging as you ordered him to slow it down as you would come to quick if he kept the pace up; he didn’t listen at first which meant finding another weak spot, your hand reaching down in the dark to squeeze his ass, rising up to touch the base of his tail. He let out a whimper at this but finally obeyed, showing he still had a little good boy left in him. You wanted to memorize the way it felt to have him inside you, to have him planting kisses all over your neck and chest, to hear his begging as he didn’t know how much longer he’d last going at this pace.

“Try not to break me in half,” You grinned at him but he didn’t process it, knowing he was given permission to pick the pace up once again.

You’re pressed into the bed as Ichiro fucked you hard and fast, desperate to snap that thread, to finally come after all the hard work he had done to make this a nice night. He deserved this, you think, he deserved to feel good and you were happy that you were the one to do it. If it wasn’t you he wouldn’t be satisfied, Ichiro knew that without the love he felt for you this would just be empty pleasure but his heart felt so full as his lips pressed against yours and he came with one last thrust.

“I love you…” He gasped out, face buried in your neck as he dropped some of his weight on top of you, just enough to create a pleasantly snug sensation. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I love you too, Ichi, don’t get so worked up.” You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his ears in appreciation and trying not to laugh at the feeling of his tail wagging. “I love you so much it’s unbearable.”

“You think you have it bad, I’ve been thinking about sending my brothers out on a fake job just so we could be alone…” Ichiro sighed as he rolled off of you, knowing that the clean-up would be next but not quite finding the energy to move yet. “That would be bad, right?”

“…I mean, if they’re gonna follow in your footsteps you could at least call it training. Then it won’t feel like you’re lying.”

“…You’re right, that’s a way better idea.”

“That’s what I’m here for!”

“…Thank you for coming over tonight,” Ichiro’s voice is back to being a whisper, “We should get cleaned up.”

“Carry me to the bathroom, won’t you? I can’t guarantee my legs work right now.”

Ichiro laughed.

“Anything for you.”

#Yamada Ichiro #Ichiro Yamada #Hypnosis Microphone #Hypnosis Mic #Hypnosis Microphone Imagines #Hypnosis Mic Imagines #Hypnosis Microphone x Reader #Hypnosis Mic x Reader #Yamada Ichiro x Reader #Smut #Scenario #Supernatural AU

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parchmentedpetrichor · 3 years

Text

➳the girl in the lilac dress ♠ ♡

in which y/n meets fred's ex-girlfriend, days after fred confessed his love for her. there's still some confusion on the status of their relationship. angst -> fluff. narrated by you, y/n l/n.

fred weasley x fem!reader

word count: ±5.4k

tw: angst (not too bad though), mean words, blood, mentions of auror missions, kidnapping, needles, st mungo's

drop a follow if you wanna see more of this content!!

my masterlist:D

ft. hermione, lee and alicia

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

the girl in the lilac dress

i was in a good mood. on the way to work to receive my mission, i was humming a song that had just come out. it was catchy and worth the wait.

out of the corner of my eye, a lilac colour appeared suddenly. strange, i thought. it approached me, in the form of a beautiful woman. she had the lightest grey eyes and the smoothest milky-white skin, and the shiniest locks of dark brown hair. she walked in a flowy lilac gown, her slim model-like body walking in a model-like fashion.

i was pretty sure she wasn't headed towards me, but when her luxurious voice said "good morning" in the calmest tone possible to me, i looked at her confusedly.

"hi!" i replied brightly, smiling.

she smiled sinisterly, "my name is pretoria aphrodite, i'm fred's ex-girlfriend."

he hadn't ever mentioned an ex, but i knew he had dated quite a few people. she made me seem like a glass of water next to a glass of red wine, naive and ugly. i was those two things anyway.

"oh! i'm y/n l/n! nice to meet you, you do seem like a daughter of aphrodite," i said politely.

"darling, all women are daughters of aphrodite. i understand fred's interested in you?"

she observed me and i laughed.

"i don't think that's quite the word. he's my best friend."

"friends with benefits?"

"oh gosh no! i don't really know where we stand, honestly."

"bitter about it?"

i thought for a second, "nah, i couldn't be. love's a hard thing."

"it is, indeed, and you work for the ministry?"

i nodded, "head of the auror office. what about you?"

"i model for witch weekly."

i gasped, "you're the p. aphrodite? i should've known!"

"big fan?" she looked amusedly at me.

"my friends are, so naturally i am."

"you don't seem the type fred usually goes for."

"i wouldn't say he's even going for me," i said cautiously.

"you are much too cutesie for his type."

i glanced up at her. she was smiling kindly.

"pfft, but better cutesie than nothing, amirite?" i asked friendlily, "well it's been nice to talk with you, but i gotta hurry!"

"no worries, i'll come with you, i have some business at the ministry too. have you seen his past exes?"

"uhh, not really?"

"well they're all models for one magazine or another."

"oh, okay. and that's important because...?" i asked her carefully.

"i just thought you should know."

i laughed, "i'm not model material, am i? i don't mind at all."

she looks taken aback. "i would say, with longer hair," she plucked a hair out of my poor mess of locks, "and a shorter upper body, with perhaps lip fillers, you'd look model-like."

her tone was analysing and not at all attacking.

"only three things??" i asked, shocked.

"you are rather... pretty already," she mused, "not model-like, but cute."

we had reached the ministry.

"thanks, see you later!" she waved and disappeared.

all that was left was a buzzing fly which soon flew away.

i immediately dialled in my auror code in the red telephone box and was sent into hermione granger's office.

"'mione! how good to see you!" i hugged her.

"hello y/n!"

in the ministry and the auror department, the head of the auror office was probably more important than the minister for magic. i didn't know why. she had brought me a cup of hot chocolate.

"thanks, 'mione, you didn't need to. what's the mission today?"

"two babies are being held hostage in a coded location by a person who calls themselves the light lord. dark lord, light lord, y'know?" she handed me a coded piece of parchment.

i thoughtfully pondered, "the light lord. who do you need?"

"i was hoping you go on this mission, then you could give me some news on this light lord person."

"that's doable. we'll need to bring in hepole and a ministry official to negotiate passports and such. and a strong auror team."

"right on it. i'll get wally becker and charlotte-ann becker. they're a force to be reckoned with on the borders."

"how much experience?"

"they're twins, been doing this for about fifty years now."

"perfect. and hepole?"

"on the way."

"thanks, minister," i winked at her, getting out my telephone and dialling the disguise unit.

"hello, poplinn speaking."

"pop, we need a few disguises. light lord."

"miss l/n! o-of course!"

"and pop?"

"y-yeah?"

"call me y/n."

i hung up, dialling harry's office.

"harry, call draco and be in my office in ten minutes. i don't care what business he's doing with scorpius, we've got babysitters here. light lord, perhaps a second of voldemort."

"of course."

i picked up the ringing phone that was in the corner of hermione's office.

"y/n, me and scorpy are having a zoo day, we're at the muggle zoo you suggested."

"sorry dray, but it's important."

"there's no one else?"

"there are others, but we need your expertise."

there was a pause, "i won't need to show my dark mark?"

"it's fading anyway. no."

"i'll be paid?"

"in hundreds."

"how old are the children?"

"2 and 4," hermione said.

the silence told me he was sold.

"i'll be there."

i picked up the big microphone and said, "auror unit 156 to the brief room. no need to bring anything. see you there!"

"good luck," hermione grimly said, "be safe, head."

"mhm and cup o' coffee tomorrow? if i survive, that is," i grinned.

"'course."

i smiled, "c'ya!"

she was shaking her head.

"oi, no disappointment, 'mione! i was the one who got the ministry out of paperwork!"

"burning paper doesn't count, y/n."

"it wasn't burning paper, hermione granger, it was arson."

"no, it was the saddest form of arson i've ever seen."

"hey! that's rude."

"just go on your mission already."

i laughed, "on it, minister. kalle?"

kalle looked at me, "yes?"

"tell miss minister to take a break and play a game or something, will you?"

she smiled, "okay."

"give my thanks to your mother too, loved the cookies!"

"alright, good luck, head!"

"thanks, bye!"

i apparated to the brief room, where everyone was strapped into special camouflage clothes.

i handed hepole the parchment and immediately began briefing the unit, harry and draco, on the mission.

"please be safe out there. if you're injured, apparate or travel back here, okay?"

i looked at hepole.

he cleared his throat, "they're in albania. the forest there."

"okay. harry and draco will provide attacking forces," the two nodded.

"i want lopex, quentin blake, quentin grill and hilly to break into any establishment," i say to the team, "and eron, hawks, melv, argonas to hold the offender hostage. johnathan, team healer as always. i'll take the children. hepole, you come and accompany us till the forest, then you have my permission to stay back, and beckers, stay invisible with the cloak, write a report for the minister when you come back, understand? have faith, team! i believe in you. we travel by apparition with the machine in three minutes. call your family, chat, have a snack, drink some water, and relax."

i picked up my telephone and dialled my parents.

"hi mum, dad, i'm going on a mission!"

"alright, be safe sweetie," my mum called.

"yeah, don't die kiddo," my dad added.

"right right, i love you, bye!"

the mission was successful. we rescued the children and sent the kidnapper to trial for azkaban. i escaped with a gash on my forearm, but quickly fixed it up with a spell. it ended late in the evening, so the team healer had gone home. the wound kept opening again, but i wasn't sure if it needed stitches.

putting everything away and making sure the aurors were okay, i headed back to the apartment i shared with fred.

i felt emotionally and physically drained, ready to enjoy a good shower and a good late dinner.

when i fiddled with the key to the door and opened it, my heart absolutely stopped.

pretoria aphrodite was kissing fred passionately. i felt my heart fall ten thousand flights of stairs in disappointment. of course. i was all a rebound who was pathetically in love with him.

when they stopped and saw me, pretoria smirked and fred stood up, astounded.

"uhh, continue? sorry," i apologised awkwardly.

"wait, y/n, it's not what it looks like-" he said.

"i don't mind, be safe," i smiled, too tired and too weak to do anything, closing the door and feeling tears well up in my eyes as i took my bag and myself somewhere. anywhere away from this all. my wound burned. i cursed under my breath as i made my way to st mungo's.

"y/n, you should have come here earlier!" yvonne, my friend, says, as she slowly injects a needle into me, "it's infected! and it needs stitches."

i laughed, "everything needs stitches. this is why i didn't become a healer, yvonne."

she shook her head in dismay.

"lol."

i watched the needle go in.

then she stitched the bloody mess of a wound up, cleaning it gently.

"now i can't stay, y/n," i pouted, "no, don't give me that face, i have other patients."

i nodded, "thanks yvonne."

"no problems. take care. you're too reckless."

"am not!"

she laughed. "that's funny."

after the trip to st mungo's which was pretty short, i wondered what to do. my mind kept floating to the scene i had just witnessed.

i was just the stupid, stupid, girl he used as a rebound. he didn't even use me as a real rebound, just someone who was simply infatuated with him to help him forget his unforgettable ex.

looking at a shop window, i caught a glimpse of myself. i hated being insecure but it happened.

i looked ugly. eyes too small, nose too big, lips not full enough. my thighs touched and i didn't have abs. i had a long gash running down my forearm, surrounded by other cuts. my hair was messy and disgusting. compared to the angel on earth pretoria was, i was nothing. small and plain was nothing when luxurious and beautiful was present.

and it hurt. my heart hurt. my head hurt.

i shook my head gently of my thoughts, chuckling bitterly.

fred weasley was completely and utterly out of my league.

whatevs, i thought. hurting was fine.

deciding to get over him once and for all, i bought some groceries and apparated to the doorstep of lee and alicia's glamorous cottage.

i knocked twice on the door. "hellooo!" i called out.

"baby, can you get that?" lee asked alicia.

alicia opened the door, smiling as she saw me.

"hey ali!"

"hi! come in!"

at first glance i could tell she knew something wrong.

"can i sleep here tonight? and take a shower? and eat some of your food please guys? and maybe steal a shirt i left here for safekeep? and maybe use your telephone? i'm really sorry for troubling you, so i got you guys snacks."

i was the second cousin by marriage of lee. it was good overall, but he was super naughty.

"snacks?"

"your favourites."

"then i guess you can," he said cheekily and i laughed.

"alicia, i don't know how or why you ended up with this child, but i'm glad you did," i told her and she laughed heartily.

"he's cute, isn't he?"

"no," i quickly stepped into the guest bedroom and took a long shower, letting a few tears slip but not enough so that it looked like it. i was subtle.

i bundled up in heavy clothing and wrapped my hair in a towel.

gingerly, i bandaged the wound.

by the snores in the other room, lee was asleep. i crept out quietly, going to cook something.

alicia was sitting down, with my favourite comfort meal prepared. i felt tears of appreciation well up in my eyes.

"thank you, ali, i love you."

"you damn well do."

we both giggled.

"what happened?" she asked me.

"nothing. i just wanted a change."

"from fred? liar. i'll ask again. what happened, y/n?"

"just a long mission, that's all."

"after long missions you usually watch movies with fred."

"couldn't i visit my best friend and my cuz?"

"you visit us on weekends. it's a friday."

"well i wanted to visit you!"

"bullshit."

"is it that hard to believe?"

"what the fuck did fred do to you?"

"nothin'?"

"c'mon y/n, you have to tell me. there's a reason why you didn't go to angie and george's tonight."

"i went here because they're super kissy. you guys have space and act normally. i appreciate that."

"you're awesome at lying."

"i'm not lying!"

"does this happen to involve pretoria aphrodite?"

i nodded, sighing, "she's so nice and pretty." i played with my food.

"i bumped into her. she's pretty, but not nice."

"oh?"

"she called me fiercely ugly. she forgot i model for witch weekly too."

"what did you say back?"

"i told her to fuck off."

i laughed, "she was very nice to me. but next time i see her imma kill her."

"of course she was nice to you, you're a lil angel! anyway, she's an animagus, didya know?"

"whoa how did you know?"

"caught her in a jar. she's a fly. who do you think told hermione to catch rita skeeter in the jar?"

i laughed, "rita skeeter is a beetle! gosh, she's annoying."

"what did fred and pretoria do?"

"nothing."

"please tell me?"

"they-" i swallowed, "they were kissing, and so i came here because i didn't wanna watch anymore."

"hang on, he told you he loved you a few days ago?"

i nodded.

"that doesn't seem right."

i shrugged, "pretoria's better than me. i don't blame him."

"his mother would kill him!"

i shrugged again, "i don't think he was legit when he said that."

"molly weasley, y/n!"

"look, he can explain it to you, i don't even wanna hear it. the first stage of mourning is denial, they say."

"doesn't mean it's good."

"denial is awesome. it's ignorance, but you choose to be stupid. i'm already so stupid!" i groaned, covering my face with my hands, "so so so so so so so stupid, foolish, dumb, and i don't want you to tell me i'm not because i know i am. pathetic."

i gobbled down the rest of the meal, "ths 's delicous," i said, swallowing, "g'night!"

"don't be afraid to let it all out."

"yeah."

i shut the door softly, before brushing my teeth and collapsing exhaustedly on the bed, nodding off quickly.

the next day, i woke at 4am, and put on new clothes, apparating to the phone box and filling out paperwork for the missions yesterday.

i joined hermione quickly, handing her a cappucino and sipping my mocha.

"court sitting this early?" she asked me.

i nodded, "mistake of sirius black, now they do all court sittings within 24 hours of arrest."

"that's smart."

"yeah. it's good. he's obviously guilty right? just a dust of veritaserum to bring it all out?"

"i reckon he'll just confess."

"criminals don't go down easily."

"you guys did a spotting job. the children were unharmed."

"are they here today?"

"they're in st mungo's. being monitored."

"parents?"

"dead."

"oh gosh, those poor children. what's going to happen to them?"

"someone's adopting them, wally becker and his wife."

"that's awesome."

the court hushed as we entered the room. hermione and i shared amused glances and began the sitting.

he was found to be guilty and was chucked in azkaban.

"what an idiot, sending a message like that."

"yup," i chuckled, "what with hepole in our ministry, they never escape."

we laughed.

"how's everything with ron?" i asked her.

"i don't know if he's still into me?"

i almost laugh at her statement, "bro. of course he is."

"i never see him."

"then see him more!"

"how? i'm so busy!"

"busy enough for ron?" we both took sandwiches from the canteen lady with courteous smiles and words.

we sat down at the cafeteria.

"i guess not, but he's busy!"

"busy enough for you?"

"i guess not."

"'xactly."

"but he might not wanna go on a date."

"why? the boy's obsessed with you, 'mione!"

the aurors and ministry workers looked at us in fear as i rose up. i chuckled.

i immediately skipped over to the telephone, putting in the WWW's number.

"y/n! what on earth are you doing?" hermione said in a panicked tone.

"nothing to be worried 'bout."

"hello?" it was george. i thanked the heavens for that.

"yolo george, give the phone to your lil bro please."

"'kay."

hermione was gaping at me. i smirked at her.

"y/n?"

"hey ron, i want you to meet me in rosemary park at 5pm today."

"o-okay."

"could you also bring hermione's favourite snacks and wear an extra jumper?"

"what? why?"

"i'm curious, that's all," i said, "see you there!"

"is that y/n?" i heard fred's voice.

"nup, it isn't," i replied.

and with that, i hung up.

"hey 'mione?"

she was glaring at me, "what."

"meet me at rosemary park at 5pm?" i batted my eyelashes at her, before bursting out in laughter.

she laughed, "i love you."

"pfft, love ya too. you really are too careful. like he would reject you."

"what do you think i should wear?"

"let's go off work early today, at 3," i suggested, "we're both on top of our work anyway."

"okay! you wanna go now?"

"it's 11?"

"yeah!"

"alrighty! kalle!"

kalle turned to us, "yes?"

"hi! me and minister are going out to talk about the mission."

"alright, bye."

we apparate to hogsmeade.

"what theme do you wanna go for?"

"hmm," she thought for a second, "floral!"

"alrighty!" i fumbled for my cell phone and dialled the WWW's again.

"hello?" it was fred this time.

"heyo freddie," i said to him like nothing had ever happened, "tell ron to dress up at 5 pm in something cute but not too out there, preferably in florals or somethin', and he better bring me hermione's favourite flowers."

"wha? if he's going with you then- ohhhh."

"thanks, bye."

"wait!"

"mhm?"

"can we talk?"

"erm- about what exactly?"

"everything."

i sighed, "later, okay? i'm out with hermione and you've got work."

"okay. have a good time, lovely."

"you too."

i was utterly confused. here he was one day kissing pretoria, and now he was calling me lovely?

what the hell was going on?

"let's go, mione!"

we went and bought her a pretty pink dress with white lilies adorning it. it was cute and definitely casual, sort of like a sundress.

"what if he doesn't come?" hermione chewed on her lip.

"hermione jean granger, we both know that ron is absolutely definitely a thousand times head over heels in love with you. he wouldn't ditch you for the world! and look at you! anyone can see he's lucky to have you! you both are star-crossed. when has he ever ever ditched you?"

"with lav brown."

"lavender, she's, she's dead, hermione," i said carefully, "fenrir greyback bit her to death. it was a tragic, heroic, death. she was listed in the extended casualties sent to my office a few months after the battle. i think she's watching down on us from wherever she is up there."

"she's dead?"

"yeah," i replied sadly, "life is so short."

"yeah."

"what i'm tryna say, is that that might've happened, but it won't happen again now that he knows you love him and he loves you. understand?"

"yeah."

"and love him well, for the sake of lavender brown."

"for the sake of lavender brown," she said, smiling.

"yup, now, light lord. his name is actually pont knight."

"pont knight?"

"former assistant of me."

"pont knight?"

"yeah, i know right."

"how did he go again?"

"oh, i fired him," i laughed.

"why?"

"smart guy but terribly lazy and he kept asking for promotions! like please do something if you want money."

"interesting."

"he moved to eastern europe to chase after the trendiness of the islands. i think it was just an excuse. he's changed. he used to be clean-shaven and have the blondest hair."

"do you think he did anything else?"

"we did put him on veritaserum, right?"

"yeah, but it's illegal to put someone on it for more than 10 minutes now in court sittings."

"we could go visit him in azkaban later? i'll take gregir."

"yeah, maybe tomorrow or the day after?"

i nodded, "'course. today is a rest day for the aurors right?"

she nodded, "yeah, half of the agency is at home or working out in the gym."

"good. sometimes this work is so tolling, 'mione."

"yeah, i heard from st mungo's you got hurt?" her eyes were concerned.

i rolled up my sleeve, "that's it."

"that's it? what do you mean, that's terrible! you need to take better care of yourself."

"well sometimes it's hard to. it was worth it."

we continued chatting until it was 4:30.

"oop!" she checked her watch, "i have to go!"

"good luck! tell me how it goes, minister! i'll head back to check if anyone's called for you or me and dust it all up."

"thanks. i owe you."

"nah. i owe my job to you. if minister for magic didn't exist, i wouldn't either. i love you 'mione, be safe!"

"love you too!"

i apparated to the phone box and typed my letters in.

with a whoosh, i immediately spotted two letters and a beeping phone. i answered the phone, solving the problem of the woman on the other end of the line and scribbled a reply to both of the letters.

i finished the paperwork and sent it off, then visited my office. it was piling with letters. i answered all of them, redirecting some of them to different departments, before calling everyone back.

i spotted some of the aurors from yesterday's mission sitting in the cafeteria and talking.

i sat down next to them, "how are you guys doing? any injuries?"

they shook their heads, "we've been spending time in the healer's office and just exercising lightly by the orders of johnny," argonas explained and i nodded.

"take it lightly, and go home if you want to. seeing family always helps the process, hopefully not too many nightmares?"

they laughed, "nightmares all the time, miss," hawk said lightly, "get used to it in this job."

i frowned, "have you tried speaking to doctor yvonne? she might have ways to solve nightmares."

"ahh, miss, sleeping draughts can only do so much," hawk replied cordially.

i laughed, "alright, hawkeye, but just make sure you're not getting traumatised okay? what about you, lopex, quentins?"

they shrugged.

"it's okay? the door was very hard to bust into," lopex said quietly, "we had to try several bombarding charms."

"now, lop, it was easy work!" draco said, sitting down, "hello, head auror, hello unit."

it brought on a cacophony of greetings.

"how are you doing, dray?" harry sat down next to him, "hi everyone!"

we all replied with more greetings and a steady conversation started and flowed for a couple of hours.

i felt my cell phone go off and i excused myself, noting it was 9pm already.

i apparated to the apartment doorstep, knocking on the door just in case anything was happening. i checked the caller id, it was hermione.

fred opened the door, hair messy, still good looking. i smiled at him, patting his shoulder as i ran to the ringing telephone and picked it up.

"y/n!" i could just hear the beam in hermione's voice.

"'mione! how did it go?"

"absolutely wonderful, head auror, ahhh, he's so cute!"

"what happened?" i asked, smiling already.

"well it was really cold when i saw the picnic blanket, which was matching my dress for some weird reason, and ron was there in the cutest button up and he looked so handsoME and he gave me a flower, he's always handsome but i just can't! ahhhh!" she squealed and i clapped my hands in excitement.

"and then i was shivering and he gave me hiS JUMPER and it smelled like him and oh my gosh i think i might just be in love, y/n!"

i giggled, "my cooling charm did work!"

"whaT y/n????"

cackling, i said, "continue, i wanna hear more this is so adorable!!!"

i ignored the dirty glance fred gave me, quietening my voice.

"and then we had food and he said he had cooked it himself and was being such a dear and i told him that i loved him over and over again!!!"

i squealed silently again.

"and, and, gosh my english has gone out of the window!"

"english is nothing compared to the language of love!!" i giggled.

"we watched the sunset whilst cuddling, and i fell asleep and then when i woke up i was in his bed and he was looking at me intently and i just, i'm the luckiest girl alive!"

"you are but you deserve it! that's so sweet! i'm happy for you goshhh, you are the cutest couple. you're both such darlings!"

"and then we watched a muggle movie and he got scared of the spiders and it was so adorable ahhhhHHHH!!!"

"that's the cutesttttt," i gushed.

another dirty look from fred. i gave him a frown back.

"and then he walked me home and it started raining and we kissed in the rain and another check off of my bucketlist and oh my gosh he's so perfect."

"oh gosh that's beautiful," i was smiling uncontrollably.

"anyway," her tone changed into one of mischief, "wanna meet up tomorrow to talk about it?"

"sure thing! when and where? i'll be there!"

"erm, lemme chec- think," i heard the suspicious rustling of papers.

"you're sus. let's just talk about it over the phone. i don't want anything weird."

"how about 10 am in the morning at the field of fireflies?"

"that's a highly romantic place, miss minister. isn't it for couples or something?"

"no? you must be talking about fiona farm."

oh. "yeah, probs, well okay, it better have good coffee. i'm dying of boredom too, does it have a playground??" i asked, hopefully crossing my fingers.

"nope."

"awww, shucks, i don't think i'll go then. you wanna come over though?"

"no please come! there's a surprise!"

i was sold, "lovely. i'll be there at 9:30!"

"no, no, don't do that."

"what the hell, hermione, you're being so suspicious!"

"i'm not, okay? just come on time, you won't regret it."

"if there's any funny business i'm not committing arson ever again."

"oh crap."

i sighed.

"just come anyway!!! good night cheerio!!!"

"what the-"

the line ended.

i frowned, noticing the glare fred gave me yet again.

"is everything okay??" i asked him.

"no," he said rudely.

"well, do you need any help?"

"no."

"how was your day?"

"fine."

i sighed, "okay."

"you called ron cute."

i laughed lightly, "that's it?? and so what's kissing a girl huh, nothing? i called him cute because he treats 'mione like a goddess, because she is a goddess, for goodness sake. and he is cute, in a completely objective way," i added absentmindedly, "all you weasleys are."

he frowned.

"she kissed me!"

"oh i don't mind, i couldn't. my two braincells can't handle it. you kiss whoever you wanna, okay? live, laugh, love, and all that." i smiled.

he was silent.

"and we can talk after i meet up with hermione, okay?"

"okay."

"we don't needa if you don't wanna, of course. g'night."

"have a nice sleep."

the next morning, i got up and went to the field of fireflies or whatever.

it was a beautiful place. it was a full on field. meadows stretched across the near english countryside. the sky was clear and light, and the world around me was stunning.

winds blew from all directions, and i soon found myself accio!ing a jumper.

"hermioneeee???" i called, "you're leaving me hanging."

had hermione stood me up? i chuckled at the very thought, soon rolling in the field of flowers as i laughed.

"hermione you devil you stood me up! you left your poor little work wife hanging!" i shouted dramatically.

i suddenly spotted a little house? by the side of the meadow.

i ran towards it.

"whoa."

it was absolutely magnificent. beige little bricks were stacked on top of each other, grey bricks dotted in. the shillings were dark green, and plants hung out everywhere in the cracks of the house.

large windows which reflected the blue light in the sky spanned across the whole house, and a single wooden door stood ajar.

i just wish i had brought a camera. i sat on the grass, playing with the hem of my jumper sadly. even hermione didn't have time for me. i wondered what a sad person i must seem like.

"contemplating life there?" i heard a far off voice. i swung my head around, seeing fred standing and grinning.

yeah well duh i was, no thanks to you, i thought.

i immediately got up.

"we can talk here, right?" fred asked, as he brought me into the house.

"wow," inside, it was cluttered and messy, with plants sprouting everywhere and bookcases and things everywhere. i loved it.

"you like it?" he asked.

"love it."

"good, because i bought it," he laughed at my flabbergasted expression, "i'm rich, darlin'. let's sit, i cooked lunch."

"was this your plan? to have hermione stand me up?" i asked.

"love, i wouldn't call this a plan. simply just a boy trying to explain himself."

"look i don't need an explanation. i told you, you can love whoever you wanna, i don't mind, i don't care, i support."

"but i'm gonna have to explain because i wanna kiss you."

"then go ahead," i sighed, "if you're lying i will stab you."

"jeesh okay."

i looked at him.

"oh yeah, i forgot the food, here," he said casually, handing me a plate filled with yummy looking delicacies. i was willing to put up with his rubbish story telling for the food, i guess.

"alright, i'm all ears."

"okay. so she talked with you right?"

i nodded.

"did she take a piece of hair from you?”

i nodded again.

"so you came home just right about when the night lights flicker on in london. or so i thought it was you. it was actually, aphrodite, yeah? in polyjuice potion. and she knocked on the door, which i thought was strange. i opened it and she immediately kissed me, as you. and it was weird but it was you and i would give the world to kiss you like that," he said bluntly and i could feel my face heating up, "and then it went like that for a few seconds and she turned into pretoria, and by then the woman had her claws on me. then the door opened and i knew i had made a mistake and then you left and apologised so sweetly. i'm so so sorry, my love, please, i never meant to hurt you, i never meant to do anything. i broke up with her last year. i haven't wanted to be with her since. i want to be with you."

i looked at him. i knew he was genuine.

"okay. i'm sorry too, for not trusting you. i guess i was just really unsure of our relationship. it's still kinda blurry."

"what do you wanna be?"

"could we be official, please?"

he grinned, "of course."

then smiling sheepishly, he added, "can i kiss you now?"

"only if i'm the only girl you kiss from now on," i teased, smiling.

he blushed, placing my hands over his heart. it was beating very very fast.

"feel that, beautiful?"

i nodded.

"only you."

he gave me a cheesy grin and laughed at my blushing face, before tilting my head upwards and going in for a kiss but kissing my cheek.

"that's not fair!"

and that's how his head ended up falling into my lap, as i ran my fingers through his ginger strands.

he had fallen asleep just as the sunset began.

it was breathtaking. hues of orange and red danced across the sky.

"i can think of something a lot more beautiful than that," fred said, smiling.

"oh?"

"yeah. yeah."

"i don't believe you."

"that's because you can't see yourself right now."

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kaijurakunsobs · 3 years

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If requests are open could you do a Heisenberg fic with a teen or young adult reader(no older than 20 please) who stumbles into the village trying to get away from their parents and after they get attacked by Lycans Heisenberg patches them up and takes them in trying to hide them from his sister and mother miranda. Could you please do it with an AFAB reader who doesn’t identify as female? I am currently dealing with borderline verbal abuse from my conservative father who doesnt like that though I am AFAB I don’t identify as female.

first, baby, I'm so sorry that this is happening to you. I know how bad and mentally taxing that kind of living situation can get, I was in a similar situation and somehow managed to pull through.

you are not alone, you are loved and I hope everything gets better, never forget that it's you who defines yourself, your self worth should NEVER be defined by others

All you can think is...how cold everything is around you, how the freezing air burns your skin and lungs, but, you have endured something worst, physical pain can be healed with time, emotional and psychological pain is what hurts the most, what feels eternal and haunting, it coils around you, it grows and never let's go, like being branded, it leaves marks that never go away.

Running aimlessly through the snow feels like nothing.

What made you get out of the car?

Was it anger?

Desperation?

Does that even matter anymore?

You can't hear their voices anymore, so that's a win.

Farther away you see smoke and fain lights, distant sounds beckoning you closer to that place, and you let yourself smile widely when the silhouette of someone standing so close to you, you could get help, start somewhere new, be happy!

But it's so short-lived, that you question if there's divine retribution, karma, or just the universe laughing in your face.

Your "savior" is covered in blood, a man with a perpetual expression of agony lays in the snow, dead. The monster turns to you and finally the cold freezes you where you stand, it's not alone, and all the other creatures are looking at you, dark soulless eyes fixated on their new prey.

You have felt like that before under his gaze like if you were vermin, it made you furious how you were treated and consider as something lesser than a person. These things look at you the same like you are just a speck of dust in their path, and maybe you are, if the mangled body is any indication that taking a life will be nothing for them.

You see it from the corner of your eye, one of them lunges for you, and then? everything is a blur.

You remember kicking and punching wildly, adrenaline making you forget about the pain of the bites and scratches, there are memories of you running and using something to smash the head of one of the monsters, a rock, perhaps? But in the end, cold, blood loss, and exhaustion are enough to bring you to your knees. One of them grabs a fistful of hair and roars in your face and you know, that, this is it, you fought and did your best, but this is the end of your travesty...so much for your new life of freedom.

"Get the fuck away...I SAID FUCK OFF!" his voice is so loud that it makes you whimper and recoil "LET GO, CAN'T YOU HEAR ME? LET GO, DAMN IT!" the smell of blood and a warm liquid hits you hard, but at least you are free, letting your body hit the snow

"What do we have here?...this one is alive, but ya ain't from around here, do you?" he's smoking and something small and silly wants you to tell him that smoking is bad, which makes you smile so softly "...Interesting"

Heisenberg rarely gets intrigued by anything, he hasn't found anything to spark his curiosity in so long, so of course, he had to come and see what was causing such a commotion. What he thought to be a villager, fist fighting the lycans so valiantly, turned out to be a teenager, he saw you from afar, furiously kicking lycan after lycan, you didn't even notice the growing red spots in your clothes and the black eye, it was survival and feral like behavior. Truly interesting.

Now, what made him pick you up with care? years from today he will say it was just "Scientific interest kiddo! nothing more", but, it's the pain in your face that makes him act so soft, it's not the agony brought by your wounds, this goes deeper, it's different and he knows it very well.

Under normal circumstances, he would have taken you to Moreau, but he knows the loud mouth will give you to that bitch Miranda and that will be it for you. Dimitrescu is OUT of the equation, so does Beneviento, hell knows what her psychotic ass would do to you. So he brings you back to his home and takes time to clean your wounds, true, his stitching abilities are amazing...on corpses, and a lack of anesthesia and your occasional movements makes it hard for him to stitch you properly, but by the end of everything, you are bandaged and clean, isn't that the important part?

He’s done his part, the rest is on you. If you had the strength to fight and even kill a lycan, you might live to see another day

How long were you out?

You are warm and so fucking sore, cracking your eyes open is a big task and even harder to sit up in the bed you are laying on. The room is black and smells like tobacco, oil, and something you can’t place but it’s nice.

Barefoot and curious you start to get up, wincing deep and loud when pain floods your body, but you get up non-less, you feel the cold air hit your legs, and immediately pull down the shirt to cover yourself. Then it fully clicks, the jagged memories of what happened slaps you in the face and make you lose your footing, falling back on the bed you pry the shirt off from your body, you see bandages and patches placed on smaller wounds, your head is killing you and your right eye hurts like crazy.

With small breathes you pull the shirt back on and force your body to get up and investigate the room. There are piles of clothes and pieces of paper everywhere, picking one of the pants you sigh, these are yours, but they have been destroyed either by the beasts or by however brought you here. Looking around there’s nothing more, time to go out.

The only door leads you to an open room, the kitchen and living room placed together, in one of the sofas you can see someone laying down, their chest rising and falling softly, their face obscured by an old hat.

You try to be as quiet and sneaky as possible when getting back into the room “Where do you think you are going, kid?” his voice is thick with sleep but the sound is enough to make you yelp, slamming your shoulder against the door frame, the man jumps up and in a couple of strides he’s beside you “Can you more fucking careful? the stitches gonna get open and if you get an infection I ain’t risking my neck to get you meds”

He’s a bit taller than you with squared and wide shoulders, his face is stern and it seems like he’s annoyed about something, is it you? Did you anger him? You try to remember what could you have done to make him so mad but nothing comes to you, is not like you remember much, and what you do, is better to be left forgotten.

Heisenberg has seen many people look at him with fear, reverence even, but he has never been in the receiving end of a look like yours, he has to close his eyes for a second, carefully grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the kitchen, almost forcing you to take a seat in on of the wobbly chairs he owns.

“Well now that you are back with us, I can finally cook something to eat. You must be starving! I would too after the way you fought back there” he lets out a howl while he busies himself with pulling ingredients for whatever he’s cooking “I saw ya, you know? That was one hell of a show and I know about putting up good entertainment, you gave those lycans a good beating”

Lycans? So those things have names...uuuh, who would have thought.

"What's your name kid?" you get pulled out of your mind by his voice and the smell of cooking eggs, for a moment you wonder and think, that this is the time to be addressed by YOUR name "...I'm Y/N, sir"

"Cut the sir bullshit, you ain't trying to impress nobody here, you can call me Heisenberg, Karl if you wanna get my attention quickly, got it?"

"Yes...Heisenberg?"

He's rather harsh from what little you have seen of him, but he's careful when serving you breakfast, a steady hand serves you tea and makes quick work of a loaf of bread, whit that you two eat in relative silence, he eats like a wolf and that's enough to make you hide a smile.

"Once you are...better..." he's speaking between bites, eew "I'm taking you to get some new clothes, staying here ain't gonna be free, ok?" with his fork pointing at you he waits and continues without you answering "I'll have to teach you...that's gonna take time..."

"I'm a faster learner!"

Heisenberg laughs at the offended tone in your voice, taking a big gulp from his mug once he stops "I like ya kid, there's a fire in you and I respect that, we gonna get along"

It takes you almost 2 weeks to fully recover and be able to move without crying out in pain. On the day he announces that he must take off your stitches, he's kind when pulling on the thread, talking about how that same day he's taking you to the seamstress cuz he's "done" having you wear his stuff.

The seamstress in the Village seems flabbergasted when "Lord Heisenberg" comes into her house, demanding she makes you good sturdy pants and easy to move in shirts. From that sole visit is enough for people to call you "Heisenberg's assistant" whenever you are sent to the village or just went spotted by anyone. The Duke, the merchant that sometimes you have found yourself talking to, does nothing but fuel the rumor, people already fear Heisenberg on a god day, now they fear you might be spying for him.

You would be lying by saying that, Heisenberg is a normal man, he's flamboyant and loud, filled with pride, and what you can describe as...showmanship, he speaks with passion when explaining to you the ins and outs of the factory. He's always close, never breathing down your neck, just close enough to hear if you need help.

The first time you see him use his gift is the most embarrassing and awkward moment of your life.

You are working on some molds for pieces he needs to make from scratch, he taught you where you should work on that, away from whatever lurks in the lower areas of the factory. You were so engrossed in getting the mold out perfectly, tongue sticking out and heavy gloves helping you to pry open the damn thing open, you don't even jump when a hand lands on your shoulder, but you do when the ghoulish face of a corpse appears beside you.

He's running the second he hears you, a high pitched sound tearing through the noise of the machinery, he sees you bolting it towards him and a Zwei Soldat quickly catching up with you, the drill in its arm too close to your back, the moment you are close enough he pulls you towards and behind him, a metal sheet flying to the thing and beheading it in an instant.

"Kid...Kid, look at me, hey, eyes on me" you are not crying, there's no blood anywhere and nothing seems to be missing, you seem more startled than anything else, but you listen to him, concentrated on him and his voice "Y/N, it's ok kid, I'm here"

Then it happens, you let it slip. "Thanks...thanks dad"

You feel him go tense, the hands-on your shoulders shake for a second and embarrassment comes crashing down on you, you are ready for him to yell or push you away and order you to see if the mold is still useful, but he pulls you close, patting your back like you never said anything.

There are days when you can hear him talking on the phone, his voice growing irritated, and his explosive temper getting worst.

You are curled up in the crawlspace that he turned into your room, listening to him talking with someone, he sounds exasperated and nervous. This time he takes longer to come out from his room, a new cigar in his mouth and hammer over his shoulder, usually, he would tell you that he's leaving for a couple of hours, this time he's just there, tapping his foot and sparing quick glances at you.

"Get your coat, we need to leave"

That's new...he never takes you with him to wherever he goes, but you don't feel like arguing and do as he says, slipping your boots on and grabbing your coat.

Heisenberg is unusually quiet this time, only the snow crunching under your feet make enough sound to fill in the void, he takes you farther from the village and into a rundown church, you can hear new voices and the unforgettable sounds of the lycans snarling.

Inside the candlelight is soft and cast strange shadows of the people already waiting inside. There's a woman in a white dress that probably towers over you, another lady dressed in black and her covered, she sits in a corner with a creepy doll on her lap, and finally, a shy man who battles to cover himself with the torn cloth of his jacket.

"Is this why mother Miranda called us? Did you brought a new toy and never informed her? what a bad dog you are Heisenberg"

"Non of your business, Dimitrescu" Karl does everything to keep you behind him, away from the doll or the twisted man, but especially from the woman, Dimitrescu as he called her.

From where you stood, you could see how beautiful and regal she is, sitting with grace and a sarcastic smile plastered on her face. Noticing you, she moved slightly to get a better look, narrowing her eyes, making you feel small and like food. Before she can't even speak the sound of feathers caught your attention, giving Karl enough time to guide you to one of the pews, making you take a seat beside him.

The four adults greeted the new woman, the infamous mother Miranda, you have heard about her in the village and through small stories shared by the Duke, but mostly, you have heard Heisenberg curse the woman and call her every single name under the sun.

"Usually I wouldn't care for what my children do in their dominions, but, Karl, I must say I'm disappointed in you...to hide this child and avoid telling us?"

"I apologize, Miranda, the right opportunity never came" ooooh he's pissed

"I say you take his toy, Mother Miranda, and if possible, give me that lovely lady to me?" at that your gut twist uncomfortably, it's been some time since you were...addressed like that

"Excuse me?" Heisenberg cocks his head to the side, looking at Dimitrescu over his shades "Are you talking about my SON?"

"YOUR SON?! Don't make laugh, child, I can smell the sweet maiden blood running through her veins, that's a lady not one of your dirty lycans"

"And you are bitch no matter how well you dress!"

"ENOUGH!" Miranda's voice breaks them apart, everyone looking at her "Care to elaborate, Heisenberg?"

Karl takes a second to take a drag from his cigar and blow a cloud of some into the air "I found Y/N here, they fought hard to survive and I took them in, just like Alcina, and her lovely daughters...I decided it was my time to have a child of my own"

"That doesn't change the fact that you brought an outsider and didn't inform mother, and now you are trying to do what exactly? have...them...play house with you?"

"Lady Dimitrescu, that's enough" she's looking at you, mother Miranda in staring, and Heisenberg as a hand on your back, suddenly you are hyper-aware of everything, the sounds and smells, the movements each person in the room does, the way the candles flicker "I allow it, may this never happen again, Heisenberg. Next time there will be consequences"

You feel like passing out after that, the screams of Dimitrescu and the doll get drown by the ringing in your ears, everything keeping you together is Heisenberg's hand on yours cursing up a storm as he pulls you along with him.

The cold air feeling nice against your burning skin.

"Kid? I think you are ready" you are halfway through the trek back to the factory when he speaks again

"Ready for what?"

"To be introduced to the Heisenberg family true work, of course! What kind of father I would be if I don't involve you in our family's business"

You trip with your feet hearing him say that, so...he meant it? what he said in the church...that you are his son?

"Come on Y/N, I won't go easy on you because you are my kid now, quick quick"

Catching up to him is easy and you feel at peace when one of his arms wraps around you, he begins to talk about how many things he's gonna teach you and how exciting is to have a young mind to shape.

For the first time, you are eager to get back home.

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg #x reader #heisendad #resident evil 8 #re8 #answer stuff #request stuff #reader is a teen #trans reader

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