#like i said: just the slightest twinge when i move my hand in a very specific way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magiccath · 7 months

Text

A matchmaker of sorts

tenth doctor x GN!reader

summary: In which Donna is fed up with her love-sick, oblivious best friends.

Warnings: brief use of y/n

Donna had always known that her best friends were in love with each other. She wouldn’t call herself the most observational person, but it really didn’t take much to notice. She was honestly surprised that neither of you had figured it out by now.

The two of you were different in the ways that you showed your affection, but she had picked up on it.

The Doctor always looked at you with that big, stupid grin. He only ever smiled that much when you were around. He looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. She supposed to him you were.

He always made excuses to touch you, even in the slightest of ways. He would ghost his hand on the small of your back when you were in crowded areas, something he never once did with her. He was always holding your hand, and you were the very first person he hugged after any victory (no matter how small).

You, on the other hand, were always flustered around the Time Lord. You turned scarlet from his little touches, especially when he hugged you. When he got super excited he would sometimes pull you into a tight hug, spinning you around the room ceremoniously. She could have sworn she once saw you grin bashfully into his shoulder as he whipped the two of you around the room.

When he walked around the ship your eyes would always follow him. Even off the ship, you seemed to be constantly looking at him. You always managed to look away embarrassed before getting caught, though.

The two of you were clearly head over heels. Donna would even admit that you were good for each other. The only issue was that neither of you could seem to see the other’s feelings, no matter how glaringly obvious they were.

Donna was pondering this issue one afternoon when she got an idea. She could try and mastermind the two of you into each other’s arms. At the very least, maybe she could encourage you to admit your feelings. Mischievous antics were already brewing in her brain.

“Doctor?” Donna asked, walking over to lean casually against the TARDIS console.

“Yes?” He acknowledged, not looking up from his work. He was fiddling with the controls in front of him. You and Donna had stopped asking specifics beyond that long ago. Sometimes he just needed something to do with his hands.

“Let me set you up on a date,” Donna smiled cheekily.

“Not interested,” he grumbled, eyes still trained on the console. Maybe he actually was doing something purposeful.

“Why not? I know you’re lonely.”

“I have you.”

“Oi!” she gasped, slapping him, “not like that!”

“I mean, I have you to keep me company,” he sighed, taking his glasses off to pinch the bridge of his nose. “And y/n.”

“Don’t you want someone you can be with romantically though?”

“It doesn’t work like that,” he sighed, turning away from her, “I don’t age, I regenerate,” he said, a twinge of sadness riddled in his voice.

“That’s not a valid enough reason,” Donna put her hands on her hips. If that’s all the cause he had for never asking you out, he needed a proper whacking.

“I can’t spend the rest of my life with someone.”

“Can’t you just enjoy the time you can?” “Why risk it? It eventually ends,” he groaned, moving back to the console. He was clearly done with this line of questioning, but she wasn’t.

Donna knew the Doctor could get lost in his thoughts, but they usually weren’t this pessimistic. Self-effacing and anxious? Sure. But properly “glass half empty” wasn’t the Doctor’s style.

“What about y/n?” She gandered. She examined her nails as if her words weren’t carefully planned.

“What about them?” The Doctor raised his eyebrow in confusion.

“Why don’t you go on a date with them?” She clarified. The Doctor's eyes widened and he looked away with a scarlet flush.

“I- uh.”

“I see the way you look at them,” Donna poked, feeling she was getting somewhere.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, avoiding eye contact.

“I think you do!” Donna groaned, moving away from him. He could be so stubborn at times.

She started to walk away when the Doctor’s voice caught her attention. His gaze was glued to the console, so she wasn’t even sure if he was talking to her at first.

“What if I did?” He finally whispered. Donna looked back with interest, her eyebrows raised. “What if I did have feelings for them?”

“Do you?” She asked lightly.

“What if I’m so very in love with them and it scares me more than anything ever has before? What if I think about them all the time and the only thing I want to do is kiss them?” He shoved himself off of the console and started pacing, his hands raking through his hair anxiously. “What if they’re the most beautiful being I have ever seen and I want to spend as much time as I can with them?”

Donna stared at him wide-eyed and flabbergasted. She hadn’t expected him to admit his feelings to her.

“Hypothetically,” he added. Donna chorted. Of course, he needed some plausible deniability in the matter.

“Hypothetically,” she confirmed, smiling to herself.

“It really hurts, Donna,” He looked at her, pain etched into the features of his face. “Being this infatuated with them, and knowing it can never happen.”

Donna leaned her head sympathetically on his should, but before she could respond a crash came from the nearby hallway. Both Donna and the Doctor turned in the direction of the noise, clearly confused.

You cursed to yourself, bending down to pick up the book you had dropped. You had been walking down the hallway when you heard Donna say your name. You picked up that she was talking to the Doctor and didn’t want to interfere, so you just remained in the hallway. You hadn’t intended to eavesdrop at all. Once you started listening, it had just become a little hard to stop.

So much for subtly you thought to yourseld, moving slowly out of the hallway and into the room with a wince. Talk about awkward.

The Doctor looked at you with shockingly wide eyes before quickly averting his gaze. He acted as if you had just walked in on him admitting something horrible.

“Hi,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The Doctor was still fidgeting his face bright red, refusing to look your way. You stared at him awkwardly, the tension in the room at an all-time high.

You wrung your hands anxiously, not sure what to do now. You hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead.

“Right!” Donna sprung up, her voice breaking the deafening silence. You stared at her in shock, her sudden contribution had startled you.

“I have things to do,” she lied, pointing to the hall. You nodded meekly, and the Doctor didn’t respond. Awkwardly, Donna made her way to the door. She turned back around to send an encouraging thumbs-up in your direction. You smiled painfully back at her.

The room remained silent for a few minutes after she left. It was an awkward and uncomfortable kind of silence.

You sulked over to the console to stand adjacent to the Doctor, but you didn’t know where to go from there. You settled on leaning back against the cool metal, your eyes focused on your trainers.

“How much of that did you hear?” The Doctor finally mumbled.

“Quite a bit,” you admitted, rubbing your arm absent-mindedly. You really hoped everything he had said was true, but a small part of you still refused to believe it. You’d been in love with the Doctor for so long, the thought of him feeling the same way was so far fetched.

“I- Uh, well,” He choked. You tried again to catch his eyes, but he averted his gaze.

“Doctor?” You asked, running your hands along the console next to him. Next to you, he stiffened.

“Just forget it ever happened,” He said, shoving himself off the console. He ran his hands through his hair aggressively, still not looking you in the eye.

“What?! No!” you gasped, shoving off the console too, “you can’t take it back! That’s such a coward move!” You snapped.

The Doctor looked at you, shocked. His mouth was slightly agape, and he met your eyes for the first time since you had walked into the room.

“Especially not when I feel the same,” you mumbled. Now it was your turn to avoid his gaze, your eyes settling on the floor.

“What?” He asked, stunned. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t this.

“You heard me,” you whispered, deciding it would just be worse to double back on yourself.

The Doctor moved closer to you so he could delicately trace the lines of your jaw, guiding your face gently upwards. Your eyes landed on his and you had to fight the urge to look away.

“Do you really mean that?” He whispered, his breath dancing across your face.

“Yeah,” you gasped, voice hardly a whisper.

The Doctor smiled brightly before lightly gripping your face to guide it up to his own, his lips crashing into yours.

The Doctor kissed in a way that was so very him. He couldn’t stay still, his hands constantly moving in one way or another. They danced around your face, rubbing small circles into your cheeks, they tangled themselves in your hair, or ran elegantly down your sides. Every touch sent sparks through your body, a warmth spreading with it.

He wrapped his long arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground. Your feet dangled comically, and you couldn’t help but feel silly.

You hummed happily, sinking deeper into the kiss. You felt more at home than you ever had in your life, and you never wanted it to end.

The two of you were happy, the world only consisting of each other.

That was until Donna started loudly clearing her throat.

The Doctor pulled slightly away and lowered you down to the floor slowly. However, he didn’t remove his grip on you, still holding you gently against him. He wasn’t ready to let you go yet. Begrudgingly, you turned your head to look at Donna.

The fiery redhead stood with her hands on her hips, eyebrows raised in question. You felt a scarlet flush flood your cheeks, and you avoided eye contact.

“Been waiting for you two to stop being so thick,” she rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Now, if you two will stop snogging, I would like to go somewhere”

The Doctor threw his head back laughing, arms still lightly wrapped around you. After a minute, you joined in.

“Allons-y!” He cheered, grabbing your hand with a bright smile.

#10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor/reader #tenth docotor imagines #The Doctor and Donna #Donna noble #doctor who #10th doctor #tenth doctor #doctor who fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #david tennant

240 notes · View notes

84reedsy · 1 month

Text

The Mentorship, Part 14

The Mentorship

Characters: Curt Hennig/FemOC , Scott Hall/FemOC

Part 14 of ? (Parts not chapters, parts length varies)

Word Count: 4565

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

Warnings/Considerations: Smut, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Dirty Talk, swearing

Though it was summer and still hot in the middle of the country. The heat and humidity of Florida was oppressive, but a welcome change. Brinkley finally was looking forward to refreshing her wardrobe. It was summer so she'd likely rely on short shorts and cropped tops. She might buy a few things with longer sleeves until her arm healed. Whatever she bought, she was just relieved to add anything new to the wardrobe rotation.

Even though both were thoroughly exhausted, Brinkley had insisted she go shopping once the plane landed and they’d gathered their bags. Kevin departed for Daytona from the airport with the plan of returning daily for training; he had no interest in spending a day at a mall or department store. He didn’t envy Scott at this moment. Brinkley tried to be as expeditious as possible. She resisted grabbing arm loads to take to the dressing room and have her own mini fashion show. She could see that Scott was beat from traveling and was being benevolent enough to entertain her. She grabbed a few dresses, shorts, and tops and at Scott’s request, some lacy things that he could benefit from later.

Brinkley found herself nervous as Scott pulled up to his house. Suddenly, everything felt very real and intimate. Staying the week with him after one date and a handful of sexual experiences felt perhaps a little premature. She could hear Curt’s objections to it in her head.

“So, this is the castle,” Scott followed her in the door. It was a beautiful house, and Scott seemed to be very proud of it.

“Wow, this is nice,” She walked around the entrance, then into the living room, “Hope I make this much money someday,” She smirked at him, “So where will I be staying? Do you have a guest room?” She said playfully.

“Yeah, it's the right side of my bed,” He took her bag, “Allow me to show you to your room, miss,”

She followed him closely, gulping when she saw the large king bed in his room.

“Jesus, how much money do you even make?” She blurted out, looking at the furniture.

“I get paid well, pretty much the main reason I jumped ship to Atlanta,” He set her bag down, coming up behind her, “But I can think of some other things I’d rather talk about,” He ran his hands down her arms.

“Is that so,” She shivered a little, barely in his room for a minute and he was making a move. She ignored the twinge of pain as he passed over her welt, “Like what, exactly,” She leaned against him, having no plans to resist.

“Well…one thing first, I want to see how hurt you are,” He turned her to face him, with genuine concern in his voice.

“It’s not that bad…” she mumbled, but gave in, knowing he’d see it at some point. She slipped off her shirt and let him gently hold her arm.

“Damn, was he trying to yank your arm off?” Scott looked mad, but she knew it was out of worry, “I mean…I’m no angel, I’ve done some dumb things drunk…I promise you he’ll never have a chance to do this to you again.” Scott swore, “Not while I’m around,”

His protective nature made her instinctively more attracted to him, now loosening her bra as he watched, licking his lips.

“Are you my big protector?” She plied him with an innocent tone, “And here I thought you were the big, bad wolf,” She teased.

“I might just be both,” He took a step toward her, stalking her towards the bed.

He hovered over her as his lips lightly toyed with hers, her neck, her earlobe, her chest, her shoulders. He moved slowly, lingering so that the slightest touch made her gasp. She lay captively under him, basking in his romantic attentions.

She kept her hands soft, too. She touched his body gently, running her fingers along his leathered skin, tough from years of abuse. She felt every line, every crevice, every rippling muscle that flexed beneath.

Scott kissed around her bruise, promising to make her feel better and forget her pain. He wasn’t lying. He entered her slowly, intently watching her every reaction as he slid deeper.

“You feel so good, baby… I just wanna live inside you all the time…” He mumbled as his forehead rested against hers. His hips rolled slowly, but he pressed himself deep, drawing a whimper out of her each time, “Tell me how good I make you feel…”

“So good…” She moaned breathily, “I love the way you feel in me…” She mumbled, whimpering as he slowly sped his pace. She could feel him teasing a release out of her, but she didn’t chase it, “Please…harder…I wanna cum for you,” She begged. “My baby girl wants to cum for me?” He flexed his hips firmly, the force nudging her farther up the bed, “

“Yes….god yes, let me cum for you,” she slid her arms under his, her fingernails lightly digging into his back.

Scott mumbled a curse as he buried his head against her neck, driving himself harder into her as he gave up trying to subdue his own release. Just as he moaned loudly into her skin, he felt her climax around him. She tried her hardest not to, but she couldn’t help dragging her nails down his back a little, stilted whimpers leaving her in time with his orgasmic pulses.

He lay on and in her for a while after, kissing her neck softly, silently taking her in.

It felt different, all of it. Brinkley had to wonder if this was what making love was about. It had been intense and intimate. She felt different afterwards, too. As if she were more of a woman because of it.

“I know I’m no great prize…” Scott mumbled, grazing his lips across hers, just out of reach of a kiss, “But I’m really happy you gave me a chance,”

“Are you serious? Scott…” She slid her knuckles across his stubble, “You’re a better guy than you know…you’re a prize to me. I wouldn’t love you like I do if I didn’t think you were worth every second of it,” She bit her lip immediately and knew her entire body was flushing when she realized what words left her mouth.

“Is that so?” His eyebrows raised at her statement, recognizing the embarrassment of a compulsive outburst, “What exactly did you just say?”

Brinkley shook her head quickly, “Nothing…just you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,”

“No no no, I heard you say something else. Say it again,” He held her by her chin, stilling her. He smiled at her discomposure.

“Scott…It just slipped out,” She felt stabbing nerves in her belly.

“Let it slip out again,” He ran his thumb over her chin, looking down at her affectionately. Brinkley sighed, but couldn’t argue with him on it.

“I wouldn’t love you like I do…if I didn’t think you were worth every second…” She said it slower, looking into his dark, brown eyes.

“That’s a pretty serious thing to admit,” He looked down at her, knowing he should just let it be. It would be stupid for him to admit the same thing, “You know I care about you a lot, right?” He held his tongue. Though he could say it and mean it…he knew it was too early. And she was so young…could he really trust her to be the adult he would need her to be or would she turn into a love sick puppy.

He felt guilty as she looked up at him in the moment.

“You don’t have to say it back, Scott…I know its not always the same for both people,” She blurted out now, not wanting things to turn awkward, “I know you care about me, Scott. Just leave it at that,” She’d take that rather than having to hear him say he didn’t love her.

Scott kissed her softly before sliding off of her to the side, pulling her with him so she lay on his chest. He knew he’d possibly ruined the moment for her, but she didn’t seem to mind as she snuggled up to him. Having not slept since the night before the show, both fell asleep quickly.

Scott roused her a few hours later, though they could have slept for several more. It was important that they stay on as close of a road schedule with only 4 days off. She felt like she could have slept the entire 4 days if he’d let her. She was excited to wear something new, opting for short cutoffs and a red halter top.

“Damn girl,” Scott said as she made her way into the kitchen, “I’m gonna have to make sure I keep myself hydrated this week,” He winked at her as he took a drink of his beer and offered her one. She shook her head, instead looking at the small selection of wine on his counter, “Oh hell, you’re not a wino like Kev are you?” He sneered playfully.

“Big Kev’s into wine?” She laughed a little, having a hard time picturing Kevin at a wine tasting with crystal flutes and his pinkie out, “Wouldn’t have called that,” She grabbed a white wine, not sure what she would like and looked at the cork curiously. Scott smirked, taking it from her and fishing a corkscrew out of the drawer below the wine. He poured her a glass, handing it to her.

“Speaking of Kev,” He went back to his beer, watching her intently for any reaction to his question, “What would you think about sometime inviting him in on a little fun while we’re on the road?”

Brinkley took a sip, but held it in her mouth as she looked at Scott with some surprise.

“What exactly do you mean…a little fun? Like…poker or something?” She said hoping he wasn't implying what she thought.

“Ha… not exactly.” He sipped his beer watching her reaction, “Something a little more…physical,” he was thoughtful with his word choice.

“Oh…I, uh….” She felt awkward, wondering how often girls were shared between the guys and if she should have been more prepared for something like this.

“I mean, just you were into the idea of Curt and me…” he reminded her, trying not to sneer at the mention of his former tag partner.

“I didn't know that was happening until it was happening though…not really something I was prepared for.” She reminded him that she was blindsided.

“So that's why I'm asking ahead of time,” he reasoned.

“I don't really like the idea,” she said, wondering if she was already going to be a disappointment, “I just want to be with you. Plus, I mostly annoy Kevin… not sure he'd be into it.” She surmised.

“Are you kidding?” Scott chuckled, “He acts like that because he wants to nail you. Pretty standard for Kev.”

“Is…is he gonna be mad if I say no?” She chewed her lip feeling nervous that she was going to be goaded into this regardless of how she felt.

“I'm not gonna force you,” he smiled, but it fell as he saw the concern in her face, “baby, it was just a question. I never want you to do something you don't want to.” He walked over to her, “I just thought you might like it. But gotta say I like the idea of wanting just me,” he tried to corner her apprehension, “forget I said anything,”

Kevin wouldn't be heartbroken by a long shot. Scott was actually looking forward to bragging about what she said.

Training the next morning was slightly awkward at first while she tried to adjust to the different methods of Scott and Kevin’s teachings.

Scott could tell she was nervous around Kevin and that she'd gotten in her own head. It was likely why she got tangled in the ropes on a simple run and fell out of the ring. She landed awkwardly, but luckily without injury.

“Better be on your game a little more than this in the ring with us,” Kevin leaned over the top rope looking down at her as she lay across the mat, “You get lazy or sandbag me and I’ll give you a receipt you won’t forget,” He teased a little, but glanced at the healing dark ring around her arm. He felt bad for joking about hurting her for a moment.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know,” She lay flat on the floor with her arms and legs splayed, “I’d deserve it, too,” She sat up, pulling herself back into the ring, “Let’s go over when I get tagged in again. So Curt is going to keep from tagging me until I grab his hand and tag myself in. Push him out,” She mimicked kicking him with her foot, “And I’m going to lock up with Scott, right?”

“Right, if I happen to still be in, Scott will tag himself in acting like he really wants to get ahold of you.” Kevin rolled his eyes at the look that Brinkley and Scott exchanged.

“Then you go low, I’ll bend over and you can hit me with a facebreaker or stunner if you’re feeling up to it,” Scott mimicked his moves and Brinkley walked through her options.

“The stunner would be better…” She thought out loud, “Obviously,”

“I think it would make sense for you to go for quick covers a lot,” Kevin suggested, “After all, you’ll be the odd one out.”

“Should…should we go over this again when Curt gets down here?” She asked carefully, noticing a look shared between both of the men, “He is in the match, you guys…”

“I assume he’ll pull you out of the ring when we go for you. You probably won’t have a TON of actual skin to skin,” Scott guessed that WCW was not super into the idea of two men beating up a woman half their size, “He’ll probably tag himself in a lot,”

“As if he’s protecting me,” She rolled her eyes, knowing he would do exactly as they said.

“That’s fuckin’ rich,” Scott scoffed, “Forget about that for now, lock up with me again,”

“Forget that, she was asking about chest chops earlier,” Kevin entered the ring again, grinning sinisterly.

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

Brinkley was ecstatic to pick up her new gear the next day. She took Scott with her to the tailor, trying it on and modeling it for him. It was just sparkly enough. It had orange piping around the edges, and was a shiny purple fabric. She had two tops, one strappier and showier. Another was more like a sports bra, but of the same fabric. A fishnet crop top was included that could be worn under either. It was enough of a cover that with tape, she could wear it without her bruise showing.

She had a pair of black shorts that had purple and orange stripes on the waistband. Another pair was skimpier, letting a little backside cheek show. It also came with two pairs of fishnets to wear under the shorts. Lastly, a pair of long leggings that had mesh cutouts up and down both legs.

Scott had an idea of what he thought she looked the best in, planning on suggesting it for their match at the pay per view. He paid for a pair of black wrestling boots to add to the outfit after she went back and forth about how her white boots would look.

She held them happily in her lap, still giddy when they left. She kept thinking though, that Curt had paid for them. After a couple of days, her anger had lessened and she knew she would end up forgiving him. But she wasn’t sure things would ever go back to the way they were before.

Maybe that was for the best.

“Are you guys ever gonna forgive Curt?” She asked, riding along with Scott. He rarely drove anywhere, but he’d promised to chauffeur her around while she was there. It gave him an excuse to stay sober, though it was a struggle some days.

Scott frowned, looking at her arm then her face.

“Would it make you mad if I said yes?” He had forgiven guys for worse - just another part of being in the boys club.

“Well…no, I guess it wouldn’t.” She said honestly, “I figure I can’t ice him out forever, either,”

“Well you have more of a reason. You can forgive him, but not be as close as you were,” Scott suggested, a little bit of a self-serving comment.

“Do you think if I forgive him I’m just gonna jump on his dick again?” She asked with genuine curiosity.

“I think he may try to use sex to get close to you again. He may go around saying he’s not interested in anything with you, but I’m not sure how true that is,” Scott responded with his own honesty, “I mean…of all people, I can understand how he’d wanna get back in them britches,” He slightly teased.

“Britches? Ok, grandpa,” She teased back, earning a warning look from him.

“Just…I hope that you remember what you told me,” He turned serious for a moment, “That you wouldn’t be with him while we’re together,” He reminded her.

“I know, I won’t,” She covered Scott’s hand that lay on her thigh with her own. She thought about her verbal slip up earlier. She couldn’t do that to someone that she felt like this about. Curt wasn’t here in front of her, but she couldn’t imagine wanting to give herself to him like that ever again.

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

She finished packing her suitcase, feeling a little melancholy over it. They were headed to Tampa this afternoon once Kevin arrived. It was where the tour picked back up. Kevin would be stopping by in a rental car to pick them up on his way. She’d wondered if Kevin and Scott had discussed the suggestion Scott had made the other evening. He’d spent the evening after their last training and work out at Scott’s place.

She hadn’t answered Scott yet definitively, but she’d almost felt targeted during his visit. It could have just been that both were pretty inebriated. But, Kevin had eventually left after sobering up a bit and Scott had been the only man in the bed with her afterwards. He lasted twice as long, wearing her down to the state of a rag doll.

Brinkley stretched her back and thigh muscles still sore from that marathon. She tried not to think about seeing Curt this afternoon. It made her nervous. Her arm looked much better, but there was still a discolored ring around where he’d grabbed her. She would need to wear tape and the mesh top if she wanted to try out the new gear.

Tampa was not a long drive, but it was for the best since the longer the ride, the more her anxiety built. She wondered if Curt would be in their locker room. She wondered if anybody else knew what happened. She hoped not. She knew it would again, affect her reputation more than anyone else's.

“Please, please, pleeeease, don’t make a scene,” She begged both of them, but looked at Scott as they made their way into the arena. They'd arrived earlier than most, so the activity was minimal. All available hands were likely setting up the ring and entrance ramps. He reached for her hand, holding it at his side as they walked in.

“I’ve got something I’m going to say to him alright,” Scott promised as Brinkley groaned a little, “But…only when its just me and him,” He followed.

“Thank you,” that worry was quickly replaced by the realization that he was still holding her hand as they walked. She tried not to draw too much attention to it, but it made her stomach flutter a bit when they passed other people.

She stayed close to Scott or Kevin at most times, letting Scott help tape her arm before she slipped on the fishnet sleeves. She paired the leggings with the strappy matching top. She decided to leave the most revealing pairing for the pay per view.

“Sure you don’t want me to go with you?” He asked as she was finishing fixing her hair. Curt hadn’t shown his face in their locker room. He hadn’t expected him to; he wasn’t stupid.

“I’m sure,” Brinkley tried to reassure him, “It’s not like there won’t be people around. You’re still coming out to interfere right?” She smirked at him, knowing the next week or so would be a lot of that with one or both of them ‘torturing’ her in the build up to their match.

“Wouldn’t miss it. Gonna be hard not to throw you over my shoulder when I leave,” He grabbed her ass through the skin tight leggings.

“Save it for after the show ...then you can do whatever you want with me,” She pulled him down to whisper in his ear and nip at his lobe. He growled and pulled her against him.

“I have half a mind to let that jackass walk out alone and go get really disrespectful with you in a closet somewhere,” He popped her ass, not caring too much if anyone around the corner of the locker room heard.

“Promise?” She teased, stepping just out of his reach. There were more people in the locker room now as she left and some seemed to be hiding amused reactions. She had to assume she and Scott were now no longer quietly seeing each other.

Brinkley felt her heart racing as she approached the dark tunnel of the gorilla and as expected, Curt was waiting. It felt awkward, neither of them speaking as they stood next to each other. Curt glanced at her wrapped arm, wondering if it looked any better yet. Once he looked away, Brinkley glanced back at him, noticing a cut on his face under his eye, butterfly strips holding it together.

“Oh my god, what happened??” She asked, looking at the injury.

“Nothing,” He shook his head, “Ran into a door,” He fibbed.

“Did you get in a fight?” She had to pull her hand back before it touched his face.

“I wouldn’t call it much of a fight. More of like a sucker punch,” Curt recalled the fist that seemingly came from nowhere.

Brinkley slowly realized what he meant. She remembered Kevin being late to the car when they left Omaha.

“So…that’s because of me?” She shouldn’t have but she felt guilty.

“No.” Curt told her quickly, “This? Was because of me,” He had been pissed at first, but a few days of reflection had calmed him down, “I did it to myself, Brinkley,” He hoped that she hadn’t spent the week resenting him like he feared. The look of concern on her face brought him some relief.

He enjoyed her valet performance, walking to ring more slowly than usual to soak as much of it in as he could. She interfered as if they’d never missed a beat. She and Curt had to pretend like they didn’t hear the crowd reacting when Scott and Kevin snuck down the ramp. They each went to either side of the ring, essentially trapping her between them as they approached.

They toyed with her and teased her, nearly backing her against the ring post. Curt stepped through the ropes, attempting to block them, Kevin distracting him as Ray Traylor blindsided him for an upset finish. Scott tried to drag her away from ringside and she slapped him, the sound much worse than the sting, but the audience “oooh’d” over it. Just as he was about to grab for her again, Curt slid out of the ring and stood between them, warning them to get backstage.

He pretended to console her, enjoying whatever moments he could of closeness even if it was a facade.

Back in the gorilla, he took his hands off of her, but she pulled him back, touching his cheek gently. It had started to bleed again.

“You’re bleeding, you should go to medical. It might need stitches,” She fussed a little over him. He took her hand from his cheek, kissing her palm before putting her hand back down.

“Go on, I’m sure you have some people waiting on you,” Curt would hang around until she was gone. He didn’t need Scott evening things out on the other side of his face, “The new outfit looks amazing, by the way,” He called after her. She glanced back over her shoulder at him with a smile.

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

Unsure if she should spend the money on her own room or find some other woman backstage to share with, Brinkley bunked up with Kevin and Scott after she was convinced that Kevin wasn’t bothered by it.

Scott was accurate in saying it wouldn’t take long for Kevin’s pet anaconda to make an appearance. She was sure he liked being caught with it out. At 11 inches soft, she didn’t blame him, though it only convinced her she wanted nothing to do with that trouser snake.

After a few days though, it began to feel like she and Scott were living together. She wasn’t getting enough sleep for a variety of reasons (though the main one left Scott with some sleepless nights as well) and though it took some mild convincing, Scott understood why she would want her own space, though occasionally he was sure he could convince her to stay with them.

There was only one altercation out back of one bar where Scott and Curt stood toe to toe. Of course Brinkley was there, having been the reason Scott was there in the first place. Heated words were exchanged, though Curt’s were mostly apologetic and he took ownership of the situation. Scott had shoved him, but that's where it ended. Curt knew he would end up with a receipt over it in the ring and he was fine with it.

Backstage, Brinkley had resumed talking with Curt on occasion - he was in their dressing room most of the time. Before a house show in Fort Lauderdale, they were the only two at the gym on a rainy, gloomy day. They had paired up and it felt like old times when Curt spotted her. Brinkley wondered if she missed him, or just missed her routine.

“I can give you a ride,” Curt offered when she stopped at the gym’s front desk to call a cab to the arena. Everyone else had been nursing severe hangovers likely caused by whatever pill bottle was making its way through the crowd at the bar. She’d known better than to participate in that.

Brinkley looked at him for a moment, pausing as she dialed. He could tell she was contemplating taking him up on the offer, but knew it would likely upset, at the very least, Scott.

“Are you sure?” She asked, already laying the phone handset down, “Are you going to the arena now?”

“Well, I can. Thought I might grab something to eat,” He shrugged, “But I can drop you off if you want.”

Brinkley thought a moment more before letting go of the phone completely and grabbing her bag.

“I could eat…” She admitted as she walked past him.

#wrestling fan fic #wrestling fic #wrestling fanfiction #curt hennig #wcw #wwe #wrestling #fanfiction #pro wrestling #1999 #Scott hall #kevin nash #The Mentorship #wrestling smut #cameos by a lot of wrestlers

14 notes · View notes

melodyschaos · 2 years

Note

Since you said it was okay for me to request some more fluff, could I ask for a continuation of my last request?

I've been strugglin since I'm not a very emotional person, like, I don't show love through words that much, my love language is acts of service and my ex made me feel like that's not valid and I should've just switched to words of affirmation, on top of that I've been having nightmares about my friends abandonin me because of the same thing

So for the continuation, could it have somethin to do with that maybe? With Liu Er and Sun Wukong, male reader again please

Again, you don't gotta write it! And please do tell me if I get annoyin or smth!!

~💮

It had been two days since the breakup, and both monkeys had noticed the continued change with Y/N. Sadness was to be expected, but it worried them that even their usual tricks and shenanigans hadn't been able to draw more than a small smile from them. Tonight, they both were curled up with Y/N between them in their bed. Though normally it would be a violation, Macaque's intuition nudged him to close his eyes and gently lift his consciousness to the ever-fluid realm of dreams. It was black at first, with no substance, but then he heard the sobbing. Moving as lightly as the wind, he descended and found poor Y/N sobbing their heart out as faceless figures turned their backs on them. Present in the center was their ex, glaring at Y/N with disdain.

Macaque had seen enough. Gathering his powers, he extended a hand and wiped away the dream as if he were clearing a window. With one swipe downwards, the betrayals were gone, and in the upwards movement he gently ended the dream, opening his eyes to meet Y/N's, filled with tears. He scooted closer and put his arms around them, shushing them and wiping away their tears.

Wukong's golden eyes opened in response to the crying. "What happened?"

"They had a bad dream." The shadow-wielder's eyes met Wukong's, warning him not to ask questions just yet. Understanding, the monarch carefully put his arms around Y/N's waist and gave them a gentle hug.

"It's okay, Y/N, it was only a nightmare. You want us to get you something?"

"I-I'm fine." The poor thing sniffed. "You two won't ever leave me...right? Even if I'm annoying?"

Sun Wukong felt his heart twinge. "Of course not, Y/N. No matter what happens, and you're not annoying in the slightest."

"Hey," Macaque tilted Y/N's face up to look at him as he gave one of his mischievous smiles. "How about tomorrow we go out for some ice cream, huh? You can get whatever you want. I'll even get a ring and propose to you so we can get it for free."

"And why don't I get to fake-propose to them?"

"Because, Wukong, you'd probably mess it up and embarrass Y/N."

"I would not."

Y/N interjected, "Hey, no arguing. You can both fake-propose to me so we can all get free ice cream. Now can we please get back to sleep?"

The two monkeys apologized before settling down, encasing Y/N once more in warmth and acceptance. This time when they slept, Macaque was sure to enter their dreams and use his magic to give them a more happy setting: An entire island made of candy that never ran out that they could eat to their heart's content. If he had to observe their every dream to keep the nightmares at bay, then he'd visit them every single night for the rest of their life.

#lmk x reader #lmk wukong x reader #lmk macaque x reader #lmk wukong x reader x macaque #lmk x reader fluff #lmk x reader comfort

65 notes · View notes

lightandwinged · 2 years

Text

It’s been a hot minute since I said anything about my life on here bc people just... haven’t been around? I guess? Or maybe I haven’t felt the need to, I don’t know. BUT there are important updates, and I can break them down into three categories:

1. I’m sterile, but this time, it’s on purpose.

2. I have an official diagnosis of fibromyalgia.

3. I’m going to fight God in a Wendy’s parking lot.

Sterility-wise: after Roe got undone in June, I decided that even though the odds of me getting accidentally pregnant are very small, I wanted to make those odds zero. My health is Very Not Good (more on that in a minute), and while emotionally, I’d love to have a fourth kid, it’s just not practical right now. And I didn’t want anyone to control whether or not that happens but me.

So I called my OB-GYN, the one who took care of me through both of my pregnancies, and on October 3, I officially had a bilateral salpingectomy, meaning that my fallopian tubes no longer exist. Ideally, I would’ve kept them in a jar of ether or something for Maximum Creepiness, but that’s also not practical with three kids (two of whom are four-year-old twins), so instead, they were shipped off to pathology and then discarded as medical waste. Before, I couldn’t get pregnant because my body was just a dick. It was still a possibility, but a remote one. Now, though, this one thing is completely in my hands. If I really do want to be pregnant, if Kyle and I decide at some point that we want one or two or six more kids, we’ve got six embryos in storage.

But for now: my body is mine and mine alone. Nobody gets to decide who lives here but me. And that feels really fucking good.

Fibro-wise: about two years ago, I dealt with a major spine injury. Nothing paralyzing, nothing severe, but it left me with permanent nerve damage in my left leg and sent me to the ER in excruciating pain on Thanksgiving Day (definitely my worst Thanksgiving, 0/10, I want a refund). Calling it traumatic is severely understating the matter; any time I feel the slightest twinge in my back or left side nowadays, I have to talk myself down from panicking that it’s starting all over again.

Worse, I couldn’t get any of it treated because of insurance bullshit. Kyle’s company laid him off around the beginning of the pandemic, and then his new job laid him off exactly a week before I was due to have the surgery that would have solved my issue entirely. I lost my insurance, and the hospital didn’t want to accidentally have me foot the bill for it, so the surgery got put off and put off and canceled. By the time Kyle found his current (and very excellent) job and got on their insurance, the spine issue had technically resolved itself, but not before leaving me with zero feeling in a lot of areas of my left leg and with a foot that likes to cramp up randomly because it’s a little slow to get the nerve signals that it’s time to move a certain way. It’s awesome.

Shortly after the injury itself, I found myself getting really tired, really easily. I was also in a lot more pain than usual, and all the doctors I saw had different thoughts about what was causing it. I saw a sleep therapist and got on a CPAP, but her diagnosis was ultimately “bad at sleep schedule.” I talked to my primary, but her diagnosis was something along the lines of “fat also drinks soda.” BUT to my primary’s credit, she did get me a referral to a rheumatologist (even though she said, “it’s probably your diet. Have you considered cutting out carbs?”).

The rheumatologist did easily one of the more painful examinations of my life. She poked and prodded and pushed and pressed, and when it was all said and done, I’d apparently demonstrated pain in all of the areas necessary for a fibromyalgia diagnosis.

Fibromyalgia, essentially, is a disorder of the nerves. It typically happens after a physical or mental trauma, and it results in the brain misinterpreting every signal sent to it by every nerve as pain.There are a whole bunch of therapies available--some with more evidence behind them than others, some more accessible than others--but there’s no cure. It’s essentially a diagnosis of “you can do things to make things a little easier on yourself, but as of now, you’re going to be in pain the rest of your life.”

Which is neat.

So I’ve been processing that. On practical levels, I feel somewhat like I’ve been given permission to give myself a small break. No, I can’t do the things that I used to do, but I also didn’t used to have this condition that makes my everything hurt all the time and, gloriously, makes it so that NSAIDs and other pain relievers are more sugar pills than anything else. I don’t beat myself up as badly anymore when I look around at my messy house because I’m like... okay, it’s not just having twins and depression and no time. It’s having twins and depression and no time AND EVERYTHING FUCKING HURTS. And in that vein, too, I don’t feel terribly bad about renting a wheelchair for our Disney trip later this year OR about ordering a handicap placard from the state.

There’s also some vindication in that fibromyalgia isn’t caused or worsened by a lot of things that you, personally, can do. It can get easier to bear with exercise (essentially, you’re pointing out to your brain that pain is not the correct sensation here, so we can still walk and function), but it affects people of all walks of life in roughly the same way. It’s annoying as fuck, but I feel vindicated that no, this is not my fault.

BUT the biggest emotion is just... grief, I guess. Something is fucked up about my body, and it’s not a fixable thing at this point in time. I can do a lot by myself, but there’s also a lot I can’t do by myself, and that leaves me more than a little dependent on my family and friends for everything, and I do not like that. I was hoping that when the doctor checked me out, she’d say that I had RA or OA or something that’s inflammatory because at least then, I could look into anti-inflammatory treatments, but no. This is a pain disorder where anything inflammatory-related is completely irrelevant.

And I’m mourning because I hoped that it was something that I could easily reduce the pain about. There are nights I can’t sleep because I’m so uncomfortable and there are days when I can’t write or use my computer because my fingers hurt so much. And I’m moving into a treatment plan (after we get back from Disney because I literally do not have time for anything right now), but it’s still like. Ugh. UGH.

I feel unworthy of anyone. I’ve been flirting a lot more lately, and I’ve been pursuing some things casually, but I also feel like there’s never a real chance for anyone who doesn’t already love me to love me because I’m pretty damaged goods. And YES I know this is not intellectually honest of me and that I wouldn’t even dream of saying those things to someone else I know dealing with this, but it’s not always easy to turn off that spiral when it starts.

Which leads me to...

Fighting God: Ages and ages ago, I wrote a big long treatise here about my religious history, but the tl;dr is that I’m nonreligious/vaguely witchy. I’m a pastor’s kid, grew up all gung-ho about the whole thing, but gradually, it all slipped away. I was content with that, and up until recently, I wasn’t really mad about anything with the church because, hey, not my thing but whatever. At worst, following 2016, I was kind of :| at all the people in my life who weren’t considering how their actions affect others, but I was willing to give people the benefit of the doubt.

Not anymore.

In late August, I lost someone to cancer. He was someone who meant a lot to me for most of my life, and we met through church theater things. In a way, he was a sort of last tie back to that life--I built an imaginary life around him when I was a teenager, loved him like crazy. They say that you truly become an adult when you realize who “Landslide” is about for you, and for me, it was about him.

Anyway, he died of cancer, which is awful in and of itself. The church that we’d both been part of had this big fucking spectacle planned around his death and were thanking God for his death in the “at least he’s not in pain anymore” sense, which I found kind of sick. Like God put the goddamn tumor there, why would you thank God for literally any of the situation?

But THEN I found out that he had refused conventional treatment in favor of alternative bullshit, like he wanted some sort of miraculous “and then I had my scan and the cancer was just GONE and the doctors couldn’t explain it!” cure or he was anti-science or whatever the fuck. He refused conventional treatment until this past summer, and then he had surgery and it became apparent that, no, God had not chosen to do things bombastically, but by that point, it was too late. He died of a cancer that could have been easily fixed, had it not been for his faith, and that disgusts me.

Add my fibro diagnosis to that--because it’s treatable but not fixable--and I am very put out with God in general. And yes, we can obviously go into volumes of bullshit the church does anyway that I’ve always hated, and I’ve never been happy about any of it, but now I’m fucking pissed. Anti-Christian, anti-god, anti-whatever. And maybe that’s 3edgy5me, but anger is part of the grieving process, and I’m enjoying it far more than I enjoy when the anger fades for a minute and I can’t do anything but sit there and cry.

(yes, I am seeing my therapist about this, and we’re working through it, slowly but surely)

So there we go. My update. I’ll post pictures of the kids later.

#abby’s physical health #or lack thereof #abby's mental health #infertility #family planning #bilateral salpingectomy #abby and religion #and a partridge in a pear tree

25 notes · View notes

heejayy · 2 years

Text

True Mate

Warning • mentions blood, death, and

Genres • angst, fluff at the end

Pairing • Emmett Cullen x Reader

Word • 1.5k

Requested: @drugrats

“Someone call Doctor Carlisle now!“

You had no idea what was going on. Your eyes fluttered open and shut looking up at the ceiling at passing lights as you laid on what you assumed was a stretcher. You tried to look around, but you couldn’t move much all you saw doctors rushing from each and every angle in complete panic and blood everywhere.

‘Is this my— blood?’ you thought but you didn’t stay conscious long because all you could feel was pain, pain everywhere. It almost felt like your flesh was on burning from the inside out you squirmed in discomfort but it didn’t help much. The only thing you heard before loss complete consciousness was a soft but deep voice saying.

“I’ll take care of her.”

—————————

You shot up from your slumber in complete panic, you scanned your body for any injuries but couldn’t find any. You touched your face, arms and legs making sure this they were all over there. You calmed down for a split second but quickly noticed you were in very expensive looking pajamas and that’s when you became fully aware you weren’t in a hospital, nor your own room. That’s when the panic set back in.

‘was it all a dream?! did i get kidnapped?!’ you mentally slapped yourself for going hiking alone. Your mom was right sooner or later some weirdo in the woods was going to take you.

You rush out of the bed and tiptoed to the door, you cracked it peeking just the slightest so you wouldn’t be noticed. You were about to make a run for it when you heard that same voice you heard before you went unconscious.

“It’ll be fine there’s no need to panic I saved her life just like I saved yours” your furrowed your eyebrows ‘saved my life?’.

“Carlisle this was a stupid and dangerous idea she’s going to get us exposed” a firm female voice spoke up and she didn’t sound too happy. What did she mean by expose?

“Well I don’t see a problem the more the merrier, right jasper?” There was a chuckle then followed by the sound of a loud slap.

“Shut up Emmett.”

“Listen carefully, I don’t need any of your opinions I did what I had to do and whether you like it or not it’s already done. I was simply letting you know we are adding a new member to the family” family? New member? You panicked backing away from the door but accidentally bumped into the bookshelf that was so conveniently by the door.

“Shit” you whispered picking up a few books that fell.

“Y/n? Are you awake?“ you continued to panic as you heard foot steps approach the door. The door slowly creeped open and that doctor from before peeked in.

“Do-don’t come any closer!” You threatened throwing a book at. Instead of smacking him in the face he effortlessly caught it and sighed “we need to talk.”

_______________

“What do I do now? Can I return home? Will my family notice?” You once again panicked with a thousand thoughts running though your head “do they even know where I am at right now?!” Carlisle placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You’ll be staying with us for now on and your family thinks you relocated to another hospital to undergo surgery” your eyes stared at the floor still trying to process all of this.

“Well for starters you can get to know all of us” a handsome, tall, buff guy spoke up offering you the sweetest smile.

“I’m Emmett, that’s Jasper his mate Alice, Edward and Bella and Esme and Carlisle.”

“Do you have a mate?” You ask curiously hoping he was single, but before he could answer the unnamed blonde girl cleared her throat as she shot daggers at Emmett.

“Ye-yes I do, y/n meet Rosalie my— mate” you felt a twinge of disappointment in your chest as he said that. You just put on a smile and nodded “nice to meet all of you as you know now I’m y/n” they all nodded.

“We’ll try to make this stay as comfortable as possible for you” The pretty girl with the pixie cut smiled as she held out her hand.

“Alice right?” She nodded as you shook her hand.

“This’ll be interesting” you heard Edward whispered as he smirked.

__________________

“So you and y/n seem to be getting along” Alice smiled coming from behind Emmett as you walked away.

“Yeah she’s so sweet” he gushed.

“I had a vision about you…” He nodded as Alice took a seat on the steps in front of the house.

“Well—“ she paused before peeking around “you know how we say Rosalie is your mate right?”

“Mhm” Emmett hummed not quite getting where Alice was going with this.

“Well that’s not exactly true…” at the mention of this his ears perked up.

“Alice don’t say anything you’re not sure of” he warned her hoping no one was around to listen.

“No no I’m positive of what I have seen. I had a vision last night while she was getting to know everyone, I saw you and her alone hugging on the balcony and you whispered ‘I’m so glad you’re my mate’ and you kissed her forehead” Emmett froze and this new information. He didn’t know what to feel because he was attracted to you, but him a Rosalie have been together for decades on end.

“Wh- what about Rosalie? I truly do love her but if she’s not my mate what do I do?” Alice became quite to this question, it’s the one question she didn’t know how to answer.

“I- I’m not sure.” They sat there in silence looking out into the forest with their thoughts running, but they weren’t aware of was that Rosalie was listening the entire time.

{A Month Later }

You were just getting comfortable in your bed with a book in hand when you heard a quiet knock on your door.

“Come in” you placed your bookmark in your book expecting Bella to come in for a late night chat, but to your surprise it was Rosalie.

“Oh hi Rosalie! What do you need at this hour?” You said a little to cheerfully, you were just excited to see her because she’s been avoiding you the past few weeks you’ve been here and you were hoping to get to know her better.

“I just came to talk” she muttered taking a seat at the foot of your bed. This is unusual behavior for her so you were worried.

“Is everything ok?” You ask.

“Yeah I just— well you and Emmett have been bonding very well and I-“

“Oh no, Rosalie if you want me to you back off I absolutely can” you felt uneasy, she probably thinks you want to steal him “he just has this personality that makes him so approachable and fun to be around” you continued hoping she didn’t want to rip your throat out.

“Oh trust me I know” she giggled quietly “he can be a big goof at times” you both shared a giggle. “But that’s not what I’m here for” she continued “Emmett has—“ she huffed in frustration trying to find the right words “listen your his mate” your eyebrow furrowed.

“But you-“

“No I thought I was…but once I saw how he looked at you and the way he couldn’t detach himself from you I knew you two were meant for each other, your his true mate. And no you better not be feeling sorry for me because I don’t except a pity party, I just want you to take care of him and love him that’s all” with that sad confession she left leaving you confused.

———————————

“You sure you’re ok with this?” You asked Rosalie as she gathers the snacks aka blood packets for movie night.

“I’m positive I’m fine I would not want you two to be miserable just to make me happy. And besides you two have been dating now for a few months now enjoy yourselves” she smiled as she walked to the living room. You returned the smile as you helped her, but thinking about Emmett made you wonder where he was.

“He’s on the balcony” Edward blurted out. You gave him a tight lip smiled “can you stop doing that?” He shook his head.

“Can’t help it, you think loud” you rolled your eyes as you made your way to the balcony. Emmett had his back turned to you so you snuck up to him and gave him a back hug.

“What’re doing out here alone?” You questioned.

“Thinking” you hummed “about what?” There was a slight pause of silence. Emmett pulled you around to where he could see you and placed his hands on your hips.

“About you, and how I’m so glad you’re my mate” you smiled and gave him a hug burying your face into his chest.

“You’re so cheesy Emmett” he laughed. “I know.”

As you two shared your sweet moment on the balcony Alice stared at you two with a smile on her face. “What’re looking at babe?” Jasper asked leaning on the counter “oh nothing.”

©heejayy 2022 — any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission.

#twilight imagines #emmett cullen #Emmett imagines #edward imagines #carlisle imagine #Emmett x reader #twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #bella cullen #jacob x reader #x reader #Rosalie #jasper hale #quileute wolf pack imagines #ask heejayy

422 notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 3 years

Note

For mafia harry, I just love the fact that’s he’s only soft for his girl. So something soft!!!! Plss n thxx

He’s literally so soft for her it’s ridiculous.

Warnings: fluff, talk of murder, mafia type stuff

Check out our Patreon!

—-

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to come home with bruised knuckles. While he tended to have his men take care of business, he couldn’t help but be hands on sometimes.

When it came to certain motherfuckers, he truly couldn’t help but get in on the action and keep his name at the top of the’ who not to mess with’ list.

But his one and true weakness was sleepy eyed and soft as she stepped into his arms. He had gotten home from some business only an hour ago and put on the coffee pot. Being out all night was not ideal in the slightest, mainly because he had Y/N at home. Before meeting her he could go days at a time without sleep, without even being home. But having a woman he loved so deeply in his bed, who truly adored him and looked past his very unusual career path. She was so giving to him, with her time, energy, body, affection. He had hit the jackpot when it came to women and he knew all to well. So did anyone else.

It took a lot to get a man like Harry soft. He was hard and jagged around the edges. Throwing a punch or getting rid of someone wasn’t a big deal to him. Then Y/N stumbled into his life by accident and he found the heart he had covered with ice melted into a puddle of mush that she hand shaped in her own form. It was comical at times to see his attitude change when she would walk into the room.

“H?” She whispered sleepily. She shouldn’t be awake, but her body had somehow known her hero was home. While Y/N was well aware of his faults and his dangerous job and tendencies? He fiercely protected and cared for her. Provided for her. Gave her a home and a best friend and loved wrapped into one. No one was perfect, but Harry was perfect for her. “Where were you all night?” His stomach twinged with guilt as he pulled her into his chest, large hand cupping the back of her head and keeping her body close to his.

“M’so sorry, angel.” He whispered, pressing multiple kisses to her hairline. “We found one of the rats.” He grumbled, making Y/N freeze. Her head pulled up from his chest and her eyes were a dangerous glint. One that, quite frankly? Made him hard. As soft and gentle as Y/N is, she had come to take Harry and his men as family. You fuck with them? You fuck with her.

“And you took care of it?” Her tone was low, Harry still shocked at how fierce his little angel could be. How protective. She made them cookies and tea and brought sweets to the underground clubs, but was willing to put someone on their ass if they hurt Harry. It was fucking hot.

“Y’know I did, sweet girl. M’always taking care of my people.” He was cut off by her lips pressing to his jaw, her head tucking back into his neck. It was early and she hadn’t slept well. Y/N usually didn’t when it came to Harry being out and doing dangerous things. Her sleep schedule had been the worst it’s been since dating him, but it was the easiest sacrifice to make because she was getting to be in his arms. When he was home?

She got the best sleep of her entire life. Especially after getting dicked down.

“Know you do.” She relaxed, hand running over his broad back. The shirt was slightly damp form his sweat but she didn’t mind. The skin under was hot and it did get her mind going to think about how sexy he looked when he was mad. As long as it wasn’t at her? It went straight to her cunt.

Okay. Maybe even when it was at her. But it was very hard to make him angry at her. He was 100% a pushover for his girl. Y/N was the only one ever allowed to raise her voice at him.

The first time it had happened around others, they’d all nearly choked. Harry had ate the last of the cookie butter, which Y/N had been saving. It actually pissed her the fuck off, and not realizing he was in a meeting she had stormed down the hallway with her volume on 10. The girl wasn’t one too raise her voice often, but Harry knew how to push her buttons.

“Harry fucking Styles! You better hope to god you’re busy because I’m going to shove this jar up your ass!” She seethed, the stomping of her feet making everyone’s eyes widen. The men he worked closely with usually had a softer version of her. But it was earlier in the day, not their normal time, and gathered in the office in Harry’s large home.

Harry froze, realizing what it was and winced as he watched the door fly open. There, in all her big shirt, no pants and freshly woken glory was his beautiful Y/N. Empty jar in hand. Her eyes cut around the room but the fury she felt was too deep. This was personal!

Of course, they all were tense because No One talks to Harry Styles in a tone like that and got away with it. The shock that crossed their faces when Harry sheepishly got up and crossed the room, hushing her and trying to approach her like a wounded puppy was pure and utter insanity. The big man who always had a straight face, mean punches that knocked out cold, little regard for most people and took care of many a week was letting his woman talk to him like that.

“M’sorry, baby, I meant to get more but we called an emergency-“ he was cut off by a single hand raising, lips snapping closed as he watched his little love step closer to him.

“If you aren’t ready to go to Trader Joe’s in the next 15 minutes….” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll be cut off.” And Harry knew exactly what that meant.

No sex.

There was no way he was risking that.

“Okay, okay.” He raised his own hands in surrender. “M’gonna finish up. Go get ready, we’ll take the Audi.”

They all learned that day that you didn’t mess with Y/N’s food, and Harry Styles only had one singular weakness.

Granted, Harry never was ashamed of it. He always said that his woman was half of his strength. She didn’t need him, but he needed her. Harry loved her so wholly and deeply that he knew that she was it for him. He had bought an engagement ring only 2 months in. So no, he didn’t ever deny it.

If anyone ever tried to use Y/N against him, they ended up in the river. Or in several pieces. He had very little restraint over that, considering all threats he took very, very seriously. The one light in his life was something he kept close, protected, and loved.

“Why don’t we go shower n’then we sleep? Hm? M’sorry to keep you up late, angel.” He puckered his lips down at her to be met with a soft peck, nodding her head at the idea. “And then we can make some ‘brunch’, whatever you call it.”

It got a laugh out of her, so he considered it a win.

“Mhm. If you thought I was letting you into our clean sheets smelling like guns and sweat. It’s sexy for dirty sheets but I’m simply too tired. Got the new ones I got online too.” She sighed, playfully teasing him because she knew it would get him to smile. He saw horrors every day, and if she could get some silliness in him it would lessen his stress.

“Oi. Don’t be callin’ me smelly, little girl.” He pinched her cheek, obnoxious kissing her mouth. “Better get your ass up there and get naked so we can pass out. M’Gonna need those pretty hands helping me wash, I fear… I’m a dead man walking.” He was dramatic, obviously overtired and it got a giggle from her.

“In your dreams, Mafia Man. Let’s move.”

“You’re right, I do dream about that.”

#writing #harry styles one shot #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #mafia harry #mafiarry #mafia Harry styles #gangrry #gang!harry #gang Harry styles #blurb #blurbs #fluff blurbs #Harry Styles blurbs

1K notes · View notes

ppersonna · 3 years

Text

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults.

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow.

“What’s got you so perky this morning?”

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead.

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness.

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts.

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag.

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams.

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer.

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words.

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists.

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares.

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer.

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces.

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”.

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues.

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?”

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches.

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic.

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help.

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?”

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply.

“Yes, I would l-love that.”

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away.

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey!

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp.

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?”

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes.

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.”

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off.

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

tag list! - @jimidol @aretha170 @dearbambideer

#kim namjoon smut #kim namjoon #bts smut #bts fics #namjoon smut #out of my league #knj #knj smut #rap monster smut #JOOOOOOOOOONie

1K notes · View notes

heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Feeding the Weary Traveler

Mitsuri Kanroji x She/Her Reader

A/N: Warnings for this one are homophobia and a mention of physical assault. Let me know if you think I should mention anything else. It’s a relatively light story considering. I usually like to keep the sexuality of the reader undiscussed so it could be anything, but this time around reader doesn’t seem to be interested in men in the slightest. It’s only a couple of lines but just a heads up. Hope you like it! Sorry if there are more errors than usual. My internet is painfully slow and it makes uploading a chore and a half. Word Count: 6,388

Mitsuri hummed happily to herself as she surveyed the various food stalls lighting up the night around her. She wasn’t sure where she should begin, it all looked so good! She was so lucky to have stumbled upon this bustling little village, and during a festival no less! This dinner was going to be legendary! Hopefully there would be an inn nearby where she could rest between missions and take some time to enjoy it all.

Mitsuri decided that the sweet dango stall was calling her name so she made her way over there first and purchased four skewers. She chewed happily as she walked around and tried to decide what to try next. The dango tasted so good she had half a mind to go back and get a couple more.

The Hashira was about to approach a yakitori stall as she finished her last dango when her crow landed none too gracefully in the dirt beside her. She flapped her wings frantically, her little clover shaped crown slightly askew.

Mitsuri whined as she chewed the last bit of dango before swallowing it down. It looked like dinner was over before it really even started. Well, when duty calls...

She cast one last longing glance at the sizzling meats and followed after her crow out of the village’s well lit valley and into the dark mountains above. Lives could be on the line, dinner could wait.

Mitsuri scaled the rugged terrain, hopping from tree to tree. Her crow flapped erratically just ahead, guiding her to whatever demon was wreaking havoc tonight. Her fingers wrapped tightly over the hilt of her blade as the air became heavy with an overwhelming dense dread that could only be brought on by the demon’s bloodlust.

Mitsuri unfurled her blade and kicked off of the next tree branch particularly hard as a scream ripped through the craggy boulders. A few more leaps and bounds.., she did not slow, a scream could mean many things, it wasn’t over yet. They could still be alive!

Her crow cawed in alarm just as Mitsuri’s eyes locked onto a struggle in the brambles below. Almost on instinct, she cracked her whip-like blade over the demon’s grotesque form, causing it to shriek. The Hashira twirled in the air to land in front of the beast and the young woman trapped and writhing beneath it.

“Get off of her, you miserable fiend!” Mitsuri commanded, readying her blade to lash at the demon again.

The demon wailed again in anger, crushing the dirt beside its hostage’s head before tearing off into the forest in an attempt to get away from the powerful newcomer.

“Oh no you don’t!” Mitsuri called after it, cracking her nichirin blade over its retreating form. The blade sliced into the tendons in the back of one of its legs, causing it to tumble to the ground. Before it could skitter off to heal, Mitsuri swung her blade around again. The specially forged metal curled around the demon’s neck and with one clean yank, it’s head came clean off.

The slayer stayed alert, scanning the area for any other nearby threats. An exhausted caw from her crow alerted her that it was safe to let her guard down. She quickly turned on her heel to asses the young woman’s condition, observing her as she shakily got to her knees.

Her kimono was ripped and dirtied. Blood seemed to be seeping through her cloth of her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and frightened while her breath came shallow and quick.

“Are you alright?” Mitsuri spoke gently, slowly moving into the girl’s line of vision. She didn’t want to scare her anymore than she already had been tonight.

“I don’t know,” she said between gasping breaths, “I, I’m alive. That’s something.” She tried to get to her feet, but something twinged in her ankle and she fell back to her knees.

Mitsuri knelt at her side in concern.

The girl would need some medical attention. “My name is Kanroji Mitsuri. What’s your name?”

“(L/n) (Y/n).” She shakily replied.

“Let me help you home, (L/n)-san. Do you live in the village down below?” Mitsuri asked, helping (Y/n) to her feet, carrying most of her weight for her.

“No,” (Y/n) answered quickly, almost as if the insinuation pained her, “no, I don’t. I live here, in the mountains. My cottage isn’t too far from here.”

“I’ll help you get home, (Y/n)-san. Don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.” Mitsuri assured.

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

Mitsuri eyed the young woman sympathetically. The poor dear was still shaken, but managed to direct Mitsuri in the direction of her home while the Hashira carefully held her up, guiding her through the tough terrain.

Mitsuri frowned at the sight of the worn down shack as it came into view, this couldn’t be it, could it?

“There, I live there.” (Y/n) proclaimed, her voice laced with exhaustion. She must have been able to feel the shift in Mitsuri’s mood at the declaration because she then added, “It’s not much, but it’s home. I built it myself even.”

“Do you live here alone?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but ask, slightly horrified.

“I do.” (Y/n) affirmed, missing Mitsuri’s open-mouthed, wide-eyed shock when she stumbled towards the weathered door. “Thank you again, for saving me and bringing me back home.”

“You’re welcome but...” Mitsuri tried to find words but none would come finally she just shook her head and followed (Y/n)’s stumbling form to the door. “Do you have any medical supplies? Let me help patch you up.”

“I have some things. I’m not sure how helpful they’ll be. You needn’t concern yourself. You’ve done so much for me already, Kanroji-san.”

“Your shoulder could get infected without proper care and your ankle looks sprained or even broken. Let me see what I can do. We might need to take you to the village, there’s got to be a doctor down there.”

(Y/n) shook her head furiously, wincing a bit and grasping her head soon after, “I’m not going into town for anything. I’ll invite you to do what you can here, but that’s where I draw the line.”

Mitsuri was concerned by the girl’s reluctance to go to the village, but she took (Y/n)’s offer and entered the small shack. She was surprised by how homey the inside looked once (Y/n) lit a few lanterns. Not only that, but it smelt heavenly inside.

(Y/n) cursed under her breath as she hobbled over to some kind of makeshift oven and carefully peaked inside before sighing in relief and opened it fully. “It didn’t burn! Thank the gods for small favors I guess.”

“What have you got there, (L/n)-san? It smells very good in here.” Mitsuri said, holding a hand over her stomach in an attempt to quiet its rumbling.

“Bread. Please, help yourself. It’s the least I can offer for all of your help tonight.”

“Really? Thank you!” Mitsuri was practically glowing at the invitation before she remembered why she was here in the first place. “Later! First, let’s check you over.”

(Y/n) gestured to another corner of the space to a wobbly, rustic shelf next to a futon so flat it couldn’t possibly be comfortable to sleep on. Mitsuri’s heart went out to this girl. She couldn’t be too far off from her in age, this was no way to live, and alone no less.

Mitsuri recovered the tin sitting atop the bottom shelf and motioned the girl to sit on the ground as she noted there were no chairs. She kneeled beside (Y/n)’s injured shoulder. A pained grunt rumbled at the back of the hermit’s throat as she painstakingly loosened and lowered the fabric around her shoulders, baring the bloody claw marks to the Hashira.

“Oh you poor dear...” Mitsuri cooed as she gently probed the torn flesh. At least it wasn’t too deep.

“It’s fine,” (Y/n) shivered and looked away, “could you wrap me up now please. Try to be sparing with the bandages if possible.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Mitsuri frowned. She disinfected and wrapped the wound as Shinobu had shown her during her first aid training and managed to only use about a third of the already meager roll. “There,” she gently patted (Y/n)’s shoulder, “that’s all set. Now I just need a look at that ankle. Oh my, it’s swollen pretty bad. We’ll need to elevate it and you should really lay down.”

“I am pretty tired,” (Y/n) sighed wearily, pulling her kimono back up over her shoulders. “Could you help me up?”

“Of course!” Mitsuri eagerly replied, easily scooping (Y/n) up in her arms and standing to her full height.

(Y/n)’s hands scrambled for purchase on Mitsuri’s uniform from the sudden movement. Once she realized Mitsuri’s hold on her was solid and unwavering she relaxed a bit before pulling her hands back to her own chest and jerking her head outwards away from the pale expanse of the demon slayer’s chest. If at all possible, she was sure steam would roll out of her ears like active geysers.

Mitsuri didn’t notice anything amiss and took the few steps needed to lay (Y/n) down in the sad little bed. Then she paid careful attention to (Y/n)’s leg, tilting and rotating it while getting feedback from the girl.

“Well, I don’t think it’s broken, but you should definitely stay off of it for awhile.” Mitsuri informed, feeling anxious. “So you know anyone nearby? Someone that can assist you with your recovery?”

“I’ll be just fine, trust me.” (Y/n) had said.

“That um, didn’t really answer my question.” Mitsuri smiled a bit tightly as more worry settled in her heart. “Do you have family nearby, friends, close acquaintances?”

“If you must know,” (Y/n) weakly spat, “there isn’t anyone. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for nearly two years now.” She finished bitterly.

Mitsuri flinched back at (Y/n)’s tone and the bedridden girl immediately felt bad. She was only trying to help after all. (Y/n) would have been dead without her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”

“It’s alright. You’ve had a hard night,” Mitsuri patted (Y/n)’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll just have to watch over you then.”

“Cawww!”

Mitsuri looked over her shoulder at her crow, flapping and comically sweating buckets from her uneasy perch on the windowsill.

“I can take care of myself,” (Y/n) voiced her stance once more, “besides, it looks like your work isn’t over yet. Take a couple loafs for the road as thanks. You’ll need to keep your strength up.”

“I couldn’t.” Mitsuri shook her head. The girl already had so little, it would be a crime to take advantage. She was already paid plenty as a Hashira, she could hold out for a few more hours.

“I insist. I make more than I know what to do with. Quite a bit gets thrown to the wildlife.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” Mitsuri’s resolve crumbled like loose gravel. She was hungry, and the bread smelled really, really good. If (Y/n) was going to insist, how could she say no? Then Mitsuri straightened as an idea formed in her mind. (Y/n) startled as Mitsuri loudly smacked her hands together.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, tomorrow before the sun sets!” Mitsuri said with conviction.

“What?” (Y/n) blinked, watching Mitsuri pack three loafs of bread into a rucksack before giving it back to her crow to fly off with.

“I’ll come by tomorrow to check on you.” Mitsuri said before taking a bite out of a fourth loaf of bread. “Mmm, this is so good!”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I have to get going now, but I’ll be back! Keep your weight off that ankle and don’t strain yourself!” Mitsuri called as she opened the front door.

“No, wait, Kanroji-san!”

But she was already gone, the door closed tightly behind her before she ran off headlong into the dangerous night.

“And she’s gone,” (Y/n) sighed, “just who is she anyway? She’s practically superhuman,” she covered her face in the crook of her good arm, “and she’s really pretty.”

***

By morning Mitsuri was halfway through her last loaf of bread and standing before the familiar sight of the Butterfly Estate. After seeing the state of (Y/n)’s medical supplies, Mitsuri thought it prudent to visit Shinobu and procure a kit for the girl.

“Mitsuri, hello.” Shinobu greeted upon looking up from her microscope. “What brings you here today?”

“Shinobu, you have to help me,” Mitsuri immediately started in, “I saved a girl last night and she got a roughed up a bit before I got to her. Can you help me make a medical kit for her?”

“Of course I’ll help you,” Shinobu smiled, “but I must ask, why not just take her to a civilian doctor? Surely they would be able to provide the help she may need.”

“She lives alone in the mountains. She seems to have a bad relationship with the village in the valley below, but I don’t know why.”

“Just be careful then,” Shinobu warned, “who knows, you might be dealing with a criminal.”

“No way!” Mitsuri gasped, waving the last couple bites of bread in front of Shinobu’s face, “Could a criminal make bread this good? I think not!”

“Please stay vigilant regardless,” Shinobu giggled before switching gears, “now, tell me what happened last night.”

Mitsuri explained the situation the best she could, detailing (Y/n)’s injuries and what supplies she had left. Shinobu helped her pack up a new med kit that would not only replenish (Y/n)’s supplies, but give her some other helpful medicines that she didn’t have initially. Mitsuri thanked Shinobu with a tight hug that forced her fellow Pillar to dangle in the air for a few moments before being lowered to the ground once more. Then she made her way off the property, running off into the woods. She had a lot of ground to cover before sunset.

After a few hours of travel Mitsuri was feeling peckish. She had unfortunately finished the last loaf of bread before leaving Shinobu’s estate and didn’t have time to replenish her snack sack that her crow carried for her. If she was lucky, maybe the festival she had stumbled upon last night was a multiple night event and she could stalk up once she checked on (Y/n).

With an excited hum, she practically flew up the mountain, making her way in the general direction she knew (Y/n)’s shack to be.

“Oh dear, was it a left at this boulder or a right?” Mitsuri mumbled to herself. The forest was more inviting in the evening light but it looked so different. Cautiously, she tried the left path and scoured her surroundings for anything that looked familiar.

Mitsuri had begun to grow a bit anxious, worried that she had taken a wrong turn. She took a deep breath through her nose to calm herself which was quickly followed by a few more testing scentings of the air. Something smelled delicious. She couldn’t be sure, but it was the best lead she had so far. She followed the hearty aroma and cheered to herself as the rundown, misshapen hut came into view.

The Hashira wasted no time hopping up to the door. She gave a courtesy knock and announced herself before letting herself inside. She smiled to herself as she imagined how happy (Y/n) would be to have such an arsenal of medicinal goods. That smile quickly became a shocked, open mouth of light horror upon seeing (Y/n) up and moving about her small home.

“Ah! I thought I told you not to put any weight on that ankle, you’ll hurt yourself!” Mitsuri worried. She quickly went up to (Y/n) with her arms out in front of her like (Y/n) would collapse at any moment.

“I couldn’t just lay in bed all day.” (Y/n) tried to reason. “You said you were coming back so I felt the need to make dinner for you. You know, to repay you for all you’re doing for me. A little ankle pain can hardly keep me down.”

Mitsuri was touched by the gesture, it made her heart flutter with appreciation, but (Y/n) needed to follow her instructions or who knows what long term damage she would cause herself.

“It smells wonderful, (L/n)-san and I thank you endlessly, but please, lay down right now!”

“I’ve been taking breaks. I’m fine—ah!“

Ah, swept off her feet by the strong and beautiful demon slayer once again. As embarrassing as being doted on in this manner was, (Y/n) was definitely going to revisit this tender care in her dreams. Gods, she was touch starved.

“Really (L/n)-san, don’t be difficult. Let me check on your shoulder, okay?” Mitsuri didn’t even sound strained as she slowly placed (Y/n) down on the futon.

“Oh, okay.” (Y/n) fought through the fuzzy tingles, shaking them from her body as she slid her sleeve off her shoulder.

“Aw, it looks a little infected,” Mitsuri whined as she softly prodded the tender flesh, “but don’t worry! I paid a visit to a dear friend today and I’ve got everything you’ll need!”

“Kanroji-san, this is too much.” (Y/n) gaped in awe at the tightly packed tin Mitsuri presented to her.

“Not at all! Now, hold still while I apply some of this cream.” Mitsuri beamed before swirling the cool salve over the cuts. (Y/n) flinched a bit but the numbing chill soon soothed the pain.

“Wow, that feels really nice.”

“Right? I can always trust Shinobu for the best!” Mitsuri proudly proclaimed as she finished re-wrapping (Y/n)’s shoulder. She then took care of (Y/n)’s ankle the way Shinobu had suggested and looked at her handiwork with pride. “There all done! Shinobu said you’ll want to keep it elevated and free of strain for at least two weeks.”

“Okay, I’ll rest where I can. Thank you.”

“No no,” Mitsuri made an ‘x’ with her arms and pouted, “none of that, you have to rest!”

“I can’t afford to rest. It’s not easy living in the mountains alone.” (Y/n) informed, her eyes shifted over Mitsuri’s shoulder at the burning embers in her ‘kitchen’, “Could you take that off the heat please?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” Mitsuri shot up and stole to the dingy pot, her eyes shined upon witnessing the rich, golden broth up close. “Wow, this looks amazing!”

“I’m glad you think so, the mountains are harsh but there are plenty of resources if you know where to look. Please, help yourself.”

“Thank you so much! Here, let me get you a bowl as well. Food always tastes better with company after all.”

Mitsuri tried to prepare another bowl for (Y/n) but quickly discovered she only had one. It seemed like the more she looked at the place, the sadder it made her. (Y/n) seemed to notice the sudden downtick in the slayer’s mood and spoke up.

“Hey, I’ve got a tea mug I’ll happily drink from if you don’t mind my bad manners.” She laughed, provoking a smile from Mitsuri.

“Of course I don’t mind.”

They ate the broth and fresh bread together as they made small talk and Mitsuri was having a great time. It was rare to get to know someone she rescued like this and being able to see (Y/n) while the sun had not yet fully disappeared she got an opportunity to have a really good look at her.

Mitsuri’s face heated as (Y/n) laughed at something she said and she silently praised the forces at hand that allowed her to make it to her in time. It felt good, so very rewarding, to know such a beautiful soul’s time was not cut short by a cruel end. She wanted to keep it that way.

“Something on your mind, Kanroji-san?” (Y/n) asked, breaking Mitsuri from her thoughts with a start.

“Oh! I, um, I was just thinking about how good your food is! You know, the village down below was having a festival yesterday. I bet you could sell a lot of what you make really quickly if you set up a stall there.” Mitsuri exclaimed before diving back in.

(Y/n)’s face soured a bit at the thought, though she sighed wistfully and a sad smile crossed her lips.

“That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” She said before taking another sip from her chipped cup.

“Why don’t you go down to the village, (L/n)-san?” Mitsuri asked, her pastel-green eyes gazed at (Y/n)’s downcast face.

(Y/n) stayed silent for a few moments, debating with herself if it was worth delving into her strife with a girl she had only just met the night before and probably wouldn’t see again. At least, she definitely wouldn’t see her again if she were to explain her situation.

“It’s not something I’d really care to discuss. Sorry.” (Y/n) curtly replied.

“No, I’m sorry,” Mitsuri frowned, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine. It was an innocent question.” (Y/n) assured, giving Mitsuri’s knee a friendly pat before withdrawing once more.

They continued to talk about anything until the sun disappeared and the stars lit up the night sky and the lanterns were lit to illuminate the hut.

Mitsuri needed to go. The Hashira was reluctant but she wasn’t going to leave (Y/n) completely on her own just yet. She told the mountain dweller she’d come back to check on her in three days time, giggling at the girl’s surprise at the declaration. Mitsuri reasoned that (Y/n) would still need help while she recovered and although she was busy with her duties, she couldn’t in good conscious leave (Y/n) completely on her own. Especially when the girl had a tendency to skip out of much needed rest.

Mitsuri filled her rucksack to her heart’s with (Y/n)’s blessing and set off into the night. She hoped to see improvements in (Y/n)’s health when she returned in a few days.

***

The next visit went well. Mitsuri still had to scold (Y/n) for moving about, but she still, albeit a bit guiltily, heartily ate the meals (Y/n) would prepare for her upon her arrival.

Even after (Y/n) had completely healed, Mitsuri didn’t stop visiting. (Y/n) would always laugh when Mitsuri would show up unannounced, joking that feeding Mitsuri was like feeding a stray cat, she’d always come back for more. (Y/n) was happy for the company though. Very happy.

Mitsuri would also bring little things to make (Y/n)’s shack more bearable, starting with an extra set of dishes so they could properly enjoy a meal together. Before long, they considered themselves close enough to be real friends.

One night Mitsuri came by so late, she had awoken (Y/n) when she knocked on the door. (Y/n) let her in and Mitsuri nearly toppled them both over in her exhaustion.

“Hi,” Mitsuri whispered both shyly and with great exhaustion, “sorry for coming by so late. It’s just been a really long night and I think I’m about to crash any minute now. You were the closest to where I was so...”

“You know better than to think you ever need have an excuse to stop by.” (Y/n) lightly scolded. “Come lay down, are you hungry?” She asked, laying the Hashira down on the new futon that Mitsuri had brought for (Y/n) a couple visits prior.

“I could never say no to anything you make.” Mitsuri smiled, causing a prickly heat to swirl over (Y/n)’s cheeks.

(Y/n) heated up her leftovers and presented them to Mitsuri who ate them with the same vigor she would have if it was fresh.

“So good,” she sighed happily, “really, if this is what you can make in this little hut, I would die of happiness to see what you could do in a proper kitchen.”

“You flatter me, Mitsuri.” (Y/n) smiled shyly. It still gave her butterflies to speak to the demon slayer so familiarly, but it was a good feeling.

“I’m serious, (Y/n)!” Mitsuri swore, “I still maintain that I think you would do very well in the village.”

(Y/n) pursed her lips, which Mitsuri noticed straight away and mirrored before fidgeting with the now empty bowl in her hands.

“Are you ready to talk about that yet? It’s alright if you aren’t.” She hesitantly asked.

(Y/n) would be lying to herself if she thought she wasn’t nervous at the prospect of telling Mitsuri her history with the village, but she found herself wanting to share that part of her story with the sweet woman. Mitsuri had never done anything to hurt her, but that’s what made the aspect of sharing so much more frightening. What if Mitsuri became disgusted with her? Accused her of befriending her with alternative motives? But when (Y/n) met her eyes those doubts quieted and she took a deep shutters breath before blowing it all back out in one harsh breath.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to listen? It might be better if you sleep for the night first.”

Mitsuri seemed more alert already, sitting up fully in the bed and giving (Y/n) her full, undivided attention. “No, I can listen! I want to be able to understand you better and support you in anyway I can! Tell me whatever you are comfortable sharing.”

“Okay,” (Y/n) took another breath, taking a moment to decide how to proceed.

“I was born and raised in that valley, actually. My family owns an inn that doubles as a restaurant to boot.”

“That explains a lot.” Mitsuri commented with a small smile, patting at her full stomach. That earned a chuckle and a nod from (Y/n) before she continued.

“Yeah, my mom started teaching me almost as soon as I could stand on my own. She was strict, but with food that good, she was entitled to that attitude. My father took care of the inn side of things and when he wasn’t doing that, he was drinking his weight in saké.” (Y/n) took note of Mitsuri’s concern and patted her hand while flashing her a reassuring half smile.

“It wasn’t ideal, but that was just life. Incredibly, the business didn’t suffer and he never treated us badly so we saw no need to address it. I didn’t know of any other way of life so I was content where I was. Until...”

“Until what, (Y/n)?” Mitsuri cocked her head to the side.

“Until my parents arranged a marriage for me to be wed to the blacksmith’s son. The union would have brought a large sum of money to my family. The whole village seemed to know about it before I did.” (Y/n) chuckled humorlessly and shook her head while Mitsuri listened, holding herself back from jumping in to ask questions.

“They would talk over me about what I’d wear, who would be invited, even as far as when I should bare a child. I felt like everything I thought I knew was crumbling around me. I hadn’t even talked to the blacksmith’s son before. Even now I don’t recall his name. All I knew was that the idea of marrying him terrified me.”

“Did you tell your parents this?” Mitsuri couldn’t help but blurt, her eyebrows had upturned and creased her forehead.

“Yes,” (Y/n)’s eyes shadowed over as she peered down at her lap, “I admit, the middle of town wasn’t the best place to air my reservations, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They would tell me it was just cold feet or that I was overreacting. Then I had finally had it, and two days before the wedding, I screamed at my mother that I didn’t want to be married to some boy I had never talked to and made a big scene.

She had said then, since I was making such a fuss, that I must have been handing myself out to some other boy while her back was turned and it just made me so mad. I told her there was no other boy, that I didn’t want one.” (Y/n) sighed and pressed her head back against the wall.

“I told her that the only people that I had ever thought of marrying were either the grocer’s eldest daughter or the seamstress’ apprentice who had helped me at my fitting the day prior and then my mother slapped me in front of the whole village.”

Mitsuri gasped, covering her mouth. She was no stranger to the disappointment of a parent, but her parents had never laid a hand on her for any of her failed engagements.

“She was disgusted with me and word traveled fast. The blacksmith called off the arrangement, not wanting his son to have anything to do with my... perversions I think he called them. The grocer refused to sell his produce to my family and kept his daughters inside.

My father, once greatly respected, was humiliated by me and shunned by the whole village. He was furious and drunk which made for a very bad combination as you may imagine. I was severely... disciplined and locked away.

Later that night, I could hear him and my mother discussing selling me to a brothel to be trained as a courtesan. Needless to say, once I believed they were asleep I tore through the paper wall of the room I was trapped in and packed up what I could carry before I escaped into the mountains. I’ve been surviving here ever since.”

As (Y/n) finished her story, Mitsuri sniffed loudly and hiccuped, startling (Y/n) from her memories to try to comfort the demon slayer as she cried for her. Mitsuri pulled (Y/n) into her chest with such ferocity that it cracked the poor girl’s spine.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve such treatment!” The Hashira blubbered. “It was awful of me to ever suggest you go back to that terrible place devoid of love and compassion.”

(Y/n) struggled to breath and patted Mitsuri’s back. “Don’t be hard on yourself, you didn’t know. It’s okay.”

Getting all of that out there, having someone to listen and not judge her for her tale, it made (Y/n) feel so much lighter. Mitsuri kept her close and rocked their bodies side to side and how was (Y/n) not going to cry when she hadn’t been treated so tenderly since she was little. Before long, they were both sobbing messes in the corner of a dingy shack in the middle of the mountains.

By the time their bout had subsided into the occasional sniffle or the loud, gross honk of mucus being sucked back up someone’s nose, the girls had migrated to spooning on the futon with one of Mitsuri’s arms wrapped securely over (Y/n)’s side while the the other alternated between lightly scratching at the nape of (Y/n)’s neck and between her shoulder blades. The fit on the futon was tight, but neither seemed to mind.

“You know,” (Y/n) sighed, “the night you saved me I was out because there is a cliff that you can see the whole village from. I knew the festival lights would be up and I really wanted to feel the warmth I used to feel at festival season. Figures I’d be attacked by a demon before I even got there.”

“You’re going to make me cry again.” Mitsuri said, her voice coming out a tad nasally because of her stuffy nose.

“I didn’t mean for that to make you sad. I was just going to say I was glad for that night for nothing else other than I got to meet you. Thank you for sticking around, Mitsuri.”

“Now you’re being so sweet I’m gonna cry again!” Mitsuri sniffled, weakly batting at (Y/n) and making her laugh as she apologized.

“I’m glad I met you too,” Mitsuri whispered softly once they calmed down again. Then they finally went to sleep as the sun was rising.

***

“I just— mm! I don’t want her living in that rundown shack anymore. I never did! But now, I think about it all the time and I just can't stand it!” Mitsuri complained to Shinobu as the Insect Pillar tried to concentrate on the medicines she was measuring out.

“I see.” Shinobu answered simply, making a note before giving Mitsuri her full attention, “Well, if she’s as good of a cook as you keep telling me, I’m sure Aoi would be happy for another pair of hands in the kitchens.”

“What?” Mitsuri blinked.

“You know me, Mitsuri. I have a history of taking in young girls who have nowhere to go. I assume that’s why you have been telling me all of this.” Shinobu smiled mischievously, “besides, you make her sound so cute, how could I say no?”

That got a rise out of the Love Hashira.

“You—! You already have a girlfriend!” Mitsuri sputtered her face as pink as her hair at the possibility of Shinobu trying to woo (Y/n). Worse yet, the very real possibility that it would work! Mitsuri knew just how charming Shinobu could be! But thankfully, Shinobu laughed and diffused the state Mitsuri had worked herself into.

“I was only teasing, but she really can live here. I have plenty of room. I just figured you would want to keep her closer. I didn’t realize your estate was operating at full capacity.”

“Wait, say that again.” Mitsuri said, the wheels in her head turning as she tried to work backwards herself.

“(L/n)-san can live here?” Shinobu tried.

“No, after that.”

“I didn’t realize your own estate was running at full capacity. I thought you would want (L/n)-san to live with you.” Shinobu reiterated.

“Ah!” Mitsuri shrieked, making Shinobu wince ever so slightly. Then Mitsuri roughly grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her around a little bit, “You, Kochou Shinobu, are a genius! I can’t believe I hadn’t realized sooner! Thanks for the talk, bye!”

“Take care!” Shinobu saw Mitsuri off, fixing her tousled fringe as she watched the blur of pink, green and white run out of sight around the corner. Deciding she was due for a break, she wandered down the opposite end of the hall to find out what her girlfriend was up to at the moment.

***

By now, Mitsuri knew the mountain like she knew the back for her hand. The delicious scent of sizzling vegetables and meats never hurt either of course. She didn’t even bother to knock before letting herself in.

“I had a feeling you’d come by today.” (Y/n) smiled as she checked over her shoulder, “I’m not sure what it was, but I’m glad it proved true because I definitely made too much food.”

“(Y/n), live with me.” Mitsuri blurted before shyly hiding her face in her hands. How could she ask that so suddenly? Never mind ask, she definitely didn’t even phrase it as a question!

“Huh?” Was all (Y/n) could get out before she forgot how her voice worked.

“Would, would you maybe, possibly consider maybe living with me?” Mitsuri tried again, her voice raised almost to the point of cracking with every word.

“...I wouldn’t want to impose.” (Y/n) nervously replied after a few moments, busying herself by stirring a pot that was in no need of attention.

“You wouldn’t be!” Mitsuri said with more conviction. “I really want you to come with me. I know you are proud of what you have managed to do for yourself, it’s better than anything I could ever make, but the more time passes, I can’t help but hate how you still live in this rundown, rickety, shack that I can clear in four strides!” Mitsuri demonstrated her point by walking from one wall to the other before turning back to (Y/n) with pleading eyes.

“Please, come live with me. I love you and you deserve more than this.”

“La, la, lalala, lov, love... love me?” (Y/n) quickly turned back to her cooking as the fire cracked so loud it made her jump. Why was she acting like this? Mitsuri loved a lot of people, she obviously meant a friendly, platonic kind of love and now she had just made it even more awkward!

But then (Y/n) jolted again when Mitsuri’s strong arms wrapped around her middle and her chin rested against her shoulder. The Hashira hummed an affirmative as she slowly began to rock them side to side. Between the heat of the low fire and the heat of Mitsuri’s front pressed against her back, (Y/n) was sure she was going to pass out.

“Please (Y/n), live with me?” Mitsuri asked softly. She kissed (Y/n)’s jaw as she moved.

“?!??!!” (Y/n) short circuited, lost in Mitsuri’s softness. Mitsuri merely giggled and rested another to (Y/n)’s cheek, then her ear, her temple, until—

“Oh dear!” Mitsuri gasped as (Y/n) fell limp in her arms. “(Y/n), are you alright? Are you sick? Why didn’t you say something? You shouldn’t be up!”

“I, I’m not sick,” (Y/n) mumbled, smoke rolling off of her like a steam boat, “It’s just a lot of touching that I’m not really used to yet.”

“Oh! Should I stop?”

“Gods no.” (Y/n) sighed and gripped onto Mitsuri’s haori so she couldn’t back away.

Mitsuri beamed brightly before resting a kiss over (Y/n)’s forehead and rubbed her back. “Come with me?” She asked again.

“I’d follow you to the bottom of the ocean if you asked.” (Y/n)’s eyes slipped shut as she enjoyed Mitsuri’s scattered kisses.

“Great! I can’t wait for you to meet all my friends! Iguro-san and Kabumaru will love you, Kyoujirou-san too! He’ll love your cooking. Just watch out for Shinobu though, she’s flirty.”

“Okay, I’ll stay vigilant.” (Y/n) laughed.

“Good girl,” Mitsuri nodded, “now let’s pack up all that you hold dear. We should be able to make it to my estate by dinner.”

“Yes, ma’am.” (Y/n) nodded excitedly in return. She took the little pail of water from the floor and doused the low flame, “maybe you’d like lunch first though? I’d hate for it to go to waste.”

“Yes! Lunch first and then the beginning of the rest of our lives!” Mitsuri amended, skipping over to the meal (Y/n) had prepared.

As they are together (Y/n) couldn’t help but grin. Mitsuri was right, food really did taste better when sharing it with people you love. The kisses and nuzzles throughout the meal didn’t hurt either.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #kny x reader #mitsuri kanroji #mitsuri kanroji x reader #mitsuri x reader

218 notes · View notes

byorder-fanfic · 3 years

Text

How They Look After You When it Gets Bad: Bonnie

Preference Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Word count: 1727

Warnings: Reader going through a hard time, suggestive comments, swearing, Bonnie gets hurt (emotionally), not favourable descriptions of Small Heath (apologies to any Brummie readers- it’s for the plot)

Author's Note: Hi! I’ve had some trouble with the Ada and Finn preferences so I’m mixing up the order a bit. Those who’ve requested, your fics will be out soon! If there’s any other characters you want me to write for, feel free to make any more requests. Hope you enjoy and I’m wishing you all my best

(Gif by @sophieshelby)

The Golds were travellers. It's what you loved the most about their life, the life that you jumped into in the greatest leap of faith that came with loving Bonnie. Now, whilst watching him ditch button-ups in favour of short vests, giving you full view of his lean arms attacking bags and people with so much strength was fun, it was the wind in your hair as you sat behind him on his horse, arms wrapped around his middle, it was huddling up in your shared bed in the caravan and arguing as to whether or not you could fit another ugly knitted blanket on top of the rest of them, and the maps you kept in a drawer that was slowly becoming more crosses than roads with all the places you've visited- it was that which made you love this life all the more. Plus, living with you Bonnie and his family (who had welcomed you with open arms the second Bonnie introduced you) created a second home, a home that lived on wheels and trotted down dirt paths. You knew that Bonnie getting his boxing licence would make the travelling come to a halt, and Small Heath would have to be home for as long as there was a job to be done and a reward to be reaped. And you were okay with that. You really were. Maybe there were a few tears as you hugged Esmerelda, Naomie and especially little Floss (she was desperate to see Bonnie go head to head with the Peaky Blinders!) goodbye as they continued travelling, you knew Bonnie felt the absence of his sisters more than you would. So, you made sure he never felt lonely, and the bed never felt empty; well, it wasn't as if it was a particularly difficult task to keep him company.

Small Heath was not a particularly enthralling place. Although you were on friendly terms with the Shelbys and their clan (and that was no exaggeration, they multiplied like rabbits!) and, after many, many threats from both the elder and younger Gold, none of the younger Peakys were planning on making a move on you, it was the place itself that seemed to bore you. All those things that you'd learned to love from your life on the road- the fresh air, the constant movement, the friendly welcomes when you saw another caravan cross your path, and the freshly caught food cooked over an open fire- there was none of that here. The sky was full of fumes that burnt more than the dark char of over-exposed meat, there was no patches of grass or flowers and everything was so fucking grey. Grey streets, grey sky, and a very grey mood for you. Sometimes, when Bonnie and Aberama were busy with the Peaky business that they left you out of, you'd just go over to the Cut and sit by the water to get even the slightest feeling of being back amongst the rivers and streams where you and Bonnie would set a number of ugly knitted blankets down and spend the night besides. You always thought the sound of water, and the view of the stars was the best way to fall asleep. Bonnie said the best way was next to you. You loved him, you truly did, but things were getting hard. Bonnie was always so busy now, between boxing and whatever the hell Tommy bloody Shelby had him apart of. Wrapped up next to him under all the blankets was the most time you spent with him, and he was usually so spent from work that he was snoring after seconds of laying his head on the pillow. All you could do was hope he didn't wake as you breathed softly next to him, trying to ward off sleep as much as you can just to see him as much as you can. By the time the sun rose, he was already up and at it. In stinking Small Heath.

You didn't want to resent him for bringing you here. You wanted to be proud of him when he boasted about getting his boxing license. You wanted to be happy for him when he came back, completely sloshed, after a night out at the Garrison with the Peaky boys he'd gotten close to, and he smelt like bloody whiskey and cigarettes when he cuddled up to you, drunkenly nuzzling his nose into your neck. You hated whiskey and cigarettes. Well, at least you think you did. You hated everything right now. You had tried to distract yourself from this frustration that was slowly building up in you, especially after you 'accidentally' broke one of the cups Naomie had made. You would pay for that when you saw her again. You had gotten Charlie Strong and Curly's permission to help with the horses in the stables. Eventually, though, you just felt sorry for the poor buggers: trapped in a scrap yard in a place full of people and so little greenery. Of course, you refused to admit you were projecting your own feelings on them. After feeling lonely for too long, you decided to make friends with the Shelbys. The Peaky boys that Bonnie had become fast friends with were nice enough, and Bonnie was happy for the excuse to see you more. As for the Shelbys, you had to be honest, they were a bit bloody scary. Esmerelda had made sure you were prepared for them, and you kept a whittling knife on your person every time you left the isolating sanctuary of the caravan, so you knew full well you could keep yourself safe amongst the blood and gore of the gangsters.

Eventually though these feelings caught up with you. You didn't even bother leaving the caravan today, knowing the streets were only going to further sour your mood and, even the bright presence of Bonnie's sleepy, half-awake smile, couldn't stop your erratic scrubbing of the plates. Ever since the Naoime's-broken-pottery-you were-sure-to-pay-for incident, you had only been entrusted with the metal pots and pans that weren't so easy to shatter. Still, you managed to scrub the metal dish in such a way to rouse the weary boxer. He had the day off, as Arthur had told you the night before when you sat in the Garrison, and the rest of the boys gave such a cheer their whiskey splattered on your dress. Bonnie had blushed, but you could see the hints of mischief in his smirk. And, with Aberama taking last night and today back in Small Heath, there was no misunderstanding Bonnie's intentions. You heard his stumbling foot steps as you moved further out of the open caravan door, focusing far too much on the washcloth and the practically sparkling pot that you still scrubbed.

"Hey, dove," he said in sing-song tone that usually made your heart melt. Now it made your blood boil.

"Mornin' Bon," you replied back, far too snappy for his soft voice.

He was startled. You didn't have to see his face to know he had flinched, feeling the sudden twinge of pain in the air like a broken string.

"Are you alright?" He asked, kindly, reaching down to rest his hand over yours. Instantly, you dropped the pan and cloth on the floor, hearing it crash against the soft grass.

"Well, you'd know if you'd have been there!" Along with your swift movement to stand up, the fierceness in your voice made Bonnie back away into the caravan. He saw the frustration clear in your face, and his shoulders hung in shame. He knew he'd been busy- too busy- and it must've hurt you.

"I'm so sorry, dove, I swear I'm trying to do this for us."

"For you! And all I fucking do is stay in this fucking city!"

"It's not for long- then we can have that life we planned, with the boxing licence and our own caravan and-"

"And I don't wanna be here!"

You screamed it so loud that you were sure the birds in the trees surrounding you had flapped away from your voice like a shot had been fired from one of the Golds' many, many guns. And Bonnie seemed like he wanted to flee too, face so smushed up and hurt.

"I hate this place! It's dirty and cold and it smells like fucking shit!"

Bonnie felt his whole body crumble at the tightness in your face, the look of pure anger making your fists squeeze in so tight he knew your nails would be digging in. He was the boxer and it was of his opinion that you should never have to raise a fist like this. You must hate him. You must do, and he was feeling his broad shoulders dip at the wildness that flickered in your eyes.

"I don't want to be here!" It was the crack in your voice that revealed yourself. A crack that mended Bonnie's wounded expression into that of concern. You didn't hate him. You didn't. You probably didn't even mind stinking old Small Heath.

"Then how about we get outta here?" He suggested, giving you that lopsided grin that always made you childishly giddy. Even now, with frustration embedding your palms, you felt a kinder warmth flood to your cheeks. With more confidence, he moved towards you, cupping your cheek as you felt yourself just drop a little without the weight of frustration on your shoulders.

"Please," you muttered, leaning forward to rest your forehead against yours. "I want fresh air and empty fields and a blanket next to a stream."

"Just you and me lying down and looking at the stars?"

"That's all, Bon."

"Then you'll get it. Let's get changed, pack some food and we can get on a horse and just keep on riding, ey?" You chuckled a little at his romantic proposition, burying yourself closing into his grasp. "And get out of smelly old Small Heath that's been keeping me away from my dove."

"You're gonna have a lot of time to make up for." A little bit of frustration still hung in your mind, but the sweet look of adoration on your Bonnie's face was enough to soothe it into a cheeky remark.

"Indeed I do," he whispered into your neck. His expression got sadder again. "I'm sorry."

"So am I."

#bonnie gold #bonnie gold x reader #bonnie gold imagine #bonnie gold fanfiction #bonnie gold fanfic #bonnie gold preference #bonnie gold fluff #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders preference #peaky blinders fluff #peaky blinders oc #Aberama Gold #tommy shelby #Arthur shelby

274 notes · View notes

oddaodd · 3 years

Note

Alright then. Would you please write something with Tommy ShelbyxFemReader based on the song Where You Belong by The Weeknd. I discovered this song a few days ago and it's sooooo good! Listen to it with lyrics right in front of you the first time you do and second time just for the music. And if you've already listened to it then you know. It's soooo Tommy somehow **zones out** Thanks so muc!1 <3 <3

· Can You Feel How Fast That’s Going? ·

Author’s note: I decided to mix this request with another one sent by a lovely anon that read “Hello there xxx Love reading your blog ! Can I please get a Tommy Shelby x Reader request ? How he says I love you for the first time?” And yeah, I really loved how it turned out and I hope you do as well. As always, I wish you the loveliest of days. ❤️

Warnings: Smut, cheating, tommy being an ass.

“Oh God!” She moaned at the feeling of Tommy thrusting in and out of her “please, Tommy! Don’t stop” she pleaded going to bite his earlobe and whispering wantonly “I’m so close”

“Moan my name again” he commanded going to suck at her neck with the firm intention of leaving a mark there. “I want everyone to know I’m the only one than can make you feel this good” his voice husky and his accent heavy.

“Tommy, please!” She screamed as she felt her climax awfully close “Tommy, I’m gonna…” but her sentence for cut off short when she came at the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on her clit.

He came inside her not a second later. The feeling of his cum spurting into her egging her to wrap her legs around his waist not wanting him to pull out until he was empty.

He pulled out moments after, once their breathings and limbs had relaxed some and pulled her close to him as they laid on her bed.

“Feel “ she whispered, gently taking his hand in hers and placing it above her naked breast. Her heart was beating fast and Tommy felt pride at knowing he was the reason why.

He wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked there exhausted as she was, heart beating fast and breathing calm, her naked body and the pearl necklace had gifted her some moons ago, glimmering with the moonshine peeping through her curtain less window. But he didn’t, because since Grace he had become numb to the topic of loving. Or so he told himself.

She felt his stare and met it with a tired smile. She could see love dancing stark naked in his eyes, making her feel like he loved her despite him never saying so. Her finger began dancing across his chest, softly tracing some of the scars she had asked about in the past and received no explanation about. Oh how she wished she knew all there was to know about Thomas Shelby. All in due time, she reassured herself.

When she woke up the next morning Tommy had already left, which wasn’t strange. His absence in addition to her being sober from his touch made her wonder if he was not in love with her, but with the subject of sin and how good she felt around him. Had she been fooling herself all along? She tried to put the thought out of her mind with a sigh and got up from bed to go get dressed for work.

A weak smile graced her features as she noticed Tommy’s mark on her neck. Making the pool of emotions in her stomach stir. Tommy wasn’t good with emotions so she count just ask him about the nature of his intentions with her.

She felt strange throughout the day. Tommy always left in the middle of the night and It had never affected her before, so she couldn’t understand why it was affecting her now. After having spent all morning forcing smiles at the customers who visited the bakery she worked at, her shift ended and she left the store with a tiny basket containing peach danishes, in hand. She loved the pastries and wanted to share them with Tommy. She wanted needed too see the love she had seen the previous night in the ocean of his eyes to make her feel less of a fool drowning in unrequited love.

She was welcomed into the betting shop by Polly

“Is Tommy here?” She asked Kindly after having greeted the woman.

“He’s in his office” Polly answered, regretting her words as soon as they left her lips. Y/n shouldn’t be there.

“He’s with that rich horse trainer of his” chimed in Lizzie bitterly as she passed by.

Y/n didn’t have time to throw more questions at Polly because the door of Tommy’s office opened and out of it emerged may Carleton, her hair disheveled and her cheeks rosy, Tommy himself walking after her.

Once his eyes fell on Y/n he stopped dead in his tracks. He noticed the confused doleful expression in her face and felt a twinge of pain across his heart. Y/n didn’t even give him time to form an explanation for his incriminatory state. She bitterly placed the basked a top a nearby desk before walking out of the building as calmly as she could to keep the small amount of dignity she had left.

Tommy went after her calling out her name , but she didn’t stop nor turned round too see him. It wasn’t until Tommy caught up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder that he met her eyes.

“It wasn’t what it looked like” he said as as nonchalantly and collected as possible.

“Oh I’m sure you were just braiding each other’s hair” spat Y/N. Unable to contain her rage any further. Lizzie’s bitter tone making its way to her mind. “Do you braid Lizzie’s hair as well?!” She didn’t wait for his answer and moved to try and leave but he held her in place.

“Y/n..”

No, don’t Y/n me! Am I the only one who didn’t know I was never the only one?”

Tommy’s mouth tightened into a line.

“What a fool I was” she sighed, tears stinging her eyes.

“Your face is all I see when I’m with somebody else” he blurted out in a feeble somewhat emotionless effort to make her understand.

“Oh yeah because that makes it all better!” She huffed before escaping his grasp “and don’t follow me” Maybe If she had heard the slightest hint of emotion in his voice she would’ve let him explain.

A few days went by and Tommy didn’t get a single glimpse of Y/n and for the first few days of those few days, he thought he was doing Y/n a favor in not looking for her. He knew she deserved and wanted to be loved, he saw it in her eyes and touches every time he made love to her and he felt too incapable and empty to give her what she so very badly longed for. However, after a few more days passed he began missing her. He wanted to confine her, he wanted her to be his and unable to resist his longing any further he headed for Y/n’s home.

Standing at her doorstep, seconds after having knocked on her door he realized he hadn’t planned what he was going to say and he felt like a fool, so when Y/n opened the door his eyes widened slightly.

“What do you want?” She asked bitterly.

“I want you to let me explain” he began calmly.

“There is nothing to explain” she said irked by his tone before attempting to close the door, but Tommy took hold of It before she could succeed in shutting it.

“Cant you see that I want you?”

He saw her eyes glazing with tears “It’s not about want Tommy” she sighed “you make me feel so lost and at first I didn’t care because everything around me was beautiful but now I don’t even know where I belong” her voice breaking at the end.

In an abrupt movement he took hold of her hand and placed it over his heart “Feel” It was beating fast. “This is where you belong”

“Tommy…” she whispered in expectancy. Looking into his eyes and once again seeing love in there, dancing stark naked. A warm feeling slowly spreading through her body at the knowing that she was the reason why his heart was beating at such speed.

He cupped her face. Letting go of her hand, which remained pressed against his chest by her own will.

“I love you, Y/N” he professed.

Her own heart gave a leap at his words and shortly after her lips met his in a needy, urgent kiss. “I love you too”

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyxtommy @writeroutoftime

378 notes · View notes

hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 6

A little pain relief for everything I've put you through

Read on AO3

When Azriel landed in the training ring he shook his head, exasperated with himself. Now that he was here, what exactly did he plan to do? He couldn’t very well find Gwyn’s room, shake her awake, and beg her to forgive him.

He took a moment to survey the ring, racks of wooden weapons, steel, shields. The Valkyries had grown from desperation to get Nesta on the right track to three females surviving the Blood Rite to a small legion of Illyrians, priestesses, and other fae. They would be outgrowing the space soon, and he pondered that as the stone glowed blue in the moonlight.

Gwyn had never spoken much about the Blood Rite, not that he could blame her. The Illyrian tradition was barbaric under normal circumstances, and much more so with Briallyn’s meddling – with the intention of killing all three of the females. Azriel couldn’t help but grin to himself.

How spectacularly had her plan backfired.

He had not admitted that Cassian was not the only one sleepless and mortified that week, but where the general was a barely-contained force of will and expression Azriel was schooled in hiding his emotion. He’d had to stay stoic – to find Briallyn and Koschei, to support his brother while his mate fought for her life. But his relationship with Gwyn had begun to develop by then, as well. Slowly. It was all he could do some days not to fly in and destroy them all. She had already suffered unspeakable horrors, and the possibility that she had been at the mercy of Illyrian males – bred with a thirst for blood and flesh – had been nearly unbearable.

When that general is finished hurting her she has to feel the soul-crushing terror of watching the next soldier take his place because you don’t come to save her.

He ran a hand through his onyx hair, remembering Nesta’s words. His shadows seemed to wither around him, drooping over his shoulders and wings. How had it come to this?

The shadowsinger sat himself down on the ground, knees drawn up. He rested his forearms on them and gazed at the ink-dark sky painted with stars. Much like his High Lord, seeing the stars had always been a comfort to Azriel – a reminder that he was free from the prison of his upbringing, that he had escaped and had replaced his father and brothers with a family that cared for him and showed him what love and brotherhood really meant.

His found family had grown so much in such a short time. He was grateful for that, for so many reasons. Rhys had emerged from Under the Mountain a broken male and Feyre had helped piece him back together. She had quickly become a glue for all of them, holding them tight and treating them with such love that Azriel was often awed by it. It wasn’t hard defending her, being dedicated to her safety as High Lady. She was far more than a monarch to him.

Then came Nesta and Elain, and what a storm that had been. Cassian and Nesta were meant to be since the beginning, but that path had been long and painful, and not just for his ears and the new… sanitation concerns for public living spaces in the house. Sometimes he was surprised that he counted Nesta as his friend. She had been intentionally hurtful so many times. How often had he seen the pain in his brother’s countenance because of something she had said or done? And yet now he understood her, maybe more than he cared to admit. She had been hurting and afraid and overflowing with self-loathing.

He had hurt Gwyn for those very reasons.

Gwyn.

He felt his shoulders and wings sag with the weight of Nesta’s questions tonight. Accusations thinly veiled as questions, and each one like a carefully crafted throwing knife plunged into his gut. He’d made her cry for at least the third time in as many weeks. Training and working to exhaustion, and not being able to sleep because of the worsening nightmares – nightmares that had cruelly transformed to remind her that he had abandoned her.

Even his shadows felt heavy.

The spymaster hung his head, shame like a blanket smothering him in summer heat. How could he ever forgive himself for causing that pain? It was a fate he had personally prevented, and now she was forced to experience it in her dreams. Because of him. Because he was a coward.

Azriel let his eyes drift closed and focused on his breathing. Sleep would not be an option tonight, and he could only pray that the priestess was sound asleep in the house, getting the rest she so desperately needed. Training didn’t seem to be in the cards either, as he sifted through the torrent of thoughts and emotions. He just needed to sit and think. And in the morning, he would speak with Gwyn as soon as he could. He would fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to.

“Azriel?”

The inky tendrils flitted to life around him at the sound of that voice. Cauldron damn him, of course she would find him now. But part of him was relieved to be able to talk to her so soon – that she was even here.

“Azriel, are you alright?” His heart squeezed at the softness of Gwyn’s voice, music to his ears – a sweet melody with harmonies of concern and kindness. How could she still be so kind to him?

“I don’t deserve to be asked that. Especially not by you,” he murmured, staring down at the stone between his feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Azriel.” Her soft footsteps seemed to echo in his head, a ringing alarm that she was coming closer. He didn’t want to run from her, but his heart was still racing. How could he face her inevitable rejection? He noticed her shadow fall over the space between his legs and when he looked up she was crouching in front of him, eyes shining with sincerity. “You deserve for people to care about you. And I do. I won’t just leave you out here alone when anyone could see the weight of the world pressing down on you.”

Gods, but wasn’t that exactly what he had done to her?

The shadowsinger had no air in his chest as he studied her. The expression on her face was difficult to describe – caring and teasing and scolding all rolled into glittering ocean eyes and the slightest quirk of her full lips. She rose and his gaze followed as she held her hand out to him, beckoning him to stand with her. It took more courage than he cared to admit to place his violence-scarred hands in hers, but their warmth spread through him like sunshine warming his bones as she helped him to his feet.

She didn’t let go, and that gave him the strength he needed.

“Nesta found me at the river house tonight. She had… a lot to say,” Azriel began as he saw color bloom on Gwyn’s cheeks. She looked down to their hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for her to –“ He squeezed her hands and she snapped her head back up to meet his gaze.

“I deserved every single bit of venom she threw at me, Gwyn. Do not apologize.” The shadowsinger looked down, then, unsure how to move forward or which of his many transgressions he should address first. So he asked, “Is it true? About the nightmares? That… that I don’t come for you?” He could feel the emotion catching in his throat, cracking his voice. His eyes burned as he looked back to the priestess. Her lips were pressed together as she tried to keep the silver lining her eyes from spilling down over her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered, lashes lowering as the silent tears fell. Each droplet was a nick in his heart, the guilt and pain salting those wounds. How could she be so strong, to endure this agony and yet hold the hands that caused it? He released one of the hands and lifted it to her face, hesitating with his fingers a breath away from her cheek. Azriel had his mouth open to ask if he could touch her when she leaned her face into his palm. He brushed at her tears with his thumb before bringing up his other hand, cupping her jaw.

“Gwyn,” he breathed, pleading silently for her to look at him. The shining pools that opened to him were so enthralling, depths shimmering with trepidation. Gods, what he would do to bring back the joy in those eyes. “I will always come for you. No matter what. And I will never be able to forgive myself that there might be any part of your mind or your heart or your soul that could believe otherwise.” He watched as she took a shuddering breath, but her eyes held his and he was emboldened.

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn. For all of this. I was a fool and a coward and I let my guilt and my fear own me. And it only hurt you.”

Gwyn’s hands covered the scars on his own as she pulled them away from her face, returning them to their place entwined between them. Azriel stayed silent and her head tilted as she studied him.

“What could you possibly be afraid of?” she released a hoarse, hiccupped laugh. The shadowsinger could only gulp down a breath and look toward the stars.

“I… I was afraid of the feelings I was developing for you. And of the pain I would feel when you would see all the things I have done and the monster that I am and run away from me. Or that you would be hurt because of this darkness inside of me.” His eyes had returned to hers and, while he saw understanding swimming there, her expression was uncompromising.

“Have I not been hurt already?” Her bluntness shocked him, and he felt the slightest twinge of panic that told him to run. Her fingers tightened like a vice around his hands and he saw her eyes darken, as if she knew what he was thinking. “Don’t you dare even think about running away, Azriel. Not now. I deserve better from you.” Even his shadows seemed focused on where their hands touched, intent on keeping them tied together.

She did. She deserved so much better. Better than what he’d done. Shame washed over him that he could have thought to flee from her. Again. He had already wronged her… too many times. But he had come here determined to right those wrongs. Azriel wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to give her what she deserved, if he would ever be good enough for her. But he sure as fuck was going to try.

“You’re right,” he conceded, that panic replaced by resolution and a faint, foolish glimmer of hope. “I’m not going anywhere.” She grinned softly and he thought his chest would burst from relief. They were still here, together, talking. They were going to figure this out.

“Why did you run, Azriel? If you care for me, like you say,” she demanded, that sea-deep stare piercing straight into his soul. “Why? Why are you afraid of me seeing who you are?”

He should have known that she would demand an explanation. Gwyn was strong and confident. She knew her worth and what she deserved, and him sharing the story behind all of his idiotic decisions was the very least of that. But he was not prepared, and he didn’t want to. He never wanted to darken others’ lives with his history.

“That’s… a long story, Gwyn,” he huffed, hoping that might be the end of it. But he saw her eyes, determination and challenge and fire blazing blue in the moonlight.

“We have all night.” She released his hands and gestured to the darkness around them. She would not be deterred, would not back down until she accomplished her goal. It was one of the many things he admired so much about her. “Should we sit?”

Azriel found himself smiling as he nodded, sitting cross-legged on the stone. Even though the impending admissions rang as a death knell in his mind, it warmed his heart to know that she cared so deeply – that she wanted to know the worst of him.

He had put her through enough, and he could relive his pain and push out his fear for this night, if only for her.

“I don’t know where to start.” He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he was usually good at hiding. But then Gwyn – that sweet, incredible, special female – gathered his other hand with those long, pale, graceful fingers and he felt the tension ease. He looked at her, taking in the beauty and serenity of her features. Freckles were scattered over cheeks stained pink, an encouraging smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

“The beginning seems like a good place, don’t you think?”

So that’s where he began.

~~~

Azriel was not proud that he could not find the strength to look at Gwyn as he walked her through his story, but he could still hear and feel her reactions. And he dared a glance at her from time to time, trying to read everything her eyes were saying. He told her about the cell he was kept in as a child, how little touch or affection or love he had experienced, and how the shadows around him seemed to move and react and speak. She clutched his hand tighter when he told her about what had happened to them, that his brothers had set fire to them to see how he would heal. She hadn’t said a word, but he smelled the salt from tears and felt impossibly soft strokes of her thumbs over those scars.

He explained his time in Illyria and the fearsome reputation he and Cassian had to maintain, simply to make up for the circumstances of their birth. And while Cassian had been brute force and power, Azriel was deadly calm, precision, intellect, terror. He admitted to her how he had hoped to find validation in his role as spymaster under Rhysand’s father, and that he could truly revel in his duties under the right circumstances.

“Those soldiers I killed in Sangravah,” he told her. “I would have enjoyed dragging out their deaths as long as possible for what they did to you.”

Gwyn’s hands were so gentle around his as he told her how much the death and darkness grated against his soul, and how he’d had nothing to tether him to the light. He talked to her about Mor, a waste of literal centuries. And then, somehow, he told her about Elain. Not that he’d loved her, because he never had. But that he’d felt entitled to her, like he deserved what his brothers had found with the other two sisters. That he was the third brother and she was the third sister and that was all that mattered. His entitlement, his lust and desire for the bond - as opposed to love for the person - just another ugly facet of his true self.

“So I suppose that brings me to you, to these past few weeks.” Azriel made sure to meet her gaze for this. “I panicked after the necklace, because I wasn’t prepared for what it would do to me to see that hurt in your eyes. And when I told you things would go back to normal I still didn’t know what to do. I thought distance would be best between us, because I knew you would be able to draw me out of myself. And that was dangerous.”

The shadowsinger’s throat burned with emotion when Gwyn smiled softly. He could see so much roaring in her gaze, but there was no sign of pity or disgust or fear. Azriel ran his free hand through his hair before resting it atop their other clasped hands. Wetness burned his eyes, but he didn’t care.

“When I found you in the rain that night, I could smell your tears and I saw your hands – split knuckles and bruised, swollen fingers. And,” he choked down his feelings even as the tears began their descent, “and I was torn apart with the guilt. It was my fault that you were doing that to yourself. I might has well have put those marks on you with my own two vile hands.” Azriel closed his eyes and let the tears fall – not many, but enough. The silence rang through his ears, his history hanging between them. He waited for the fear, the rejection, especially when she drew her hands away from his. But his eyes snapped open when delicate calloused fingers stroked his cheeks. Gwyn had risen to her knees to dry the wetness on them, her stare a storm of trust and understanding... and compassion.

“Thank you for telling me your story, Azriel,” she whispered. “I see you. You have nothing to fear. I’m still right here.” Then she smiled brightly, and he unraveled.

“Gwyn, I don’t know if you can ever forgive me – I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t. But I care for you as more than a teacher, more than a friend. You are a light in my dark life and these past few weeks have been miserable without you in them.” Her smile widened slightly and he reached out a thumb to catch a stray tear that had fallen from those precious, beautiful eyes. He felt his own grin pushing his cheeks against her warm hands.

“I care for you, too, Azriel. As more than a friend.”

He held that watery stare until she released his face. She stood up, brushing off her knees before reaching her hands to him again to help him to his feet. He tilted his head curiously at the determination flashing in her eyes.

“Here is what’s going to happen,” she began, looking down at her hands in his. “Before we pursue anything… romantically, I need to be sure that this isn’t something that will happen again.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she pressed her fingers against his lips. “We both have darkness and fear and I understand that. But if you feel it taking over, I need you to come to me, to talk to me. Because if I open my heart to you and this happens again – if you insist on shutting yourself off from me or deciding for me what I deserve or want – I will be heartbroken.” The confession left Azriel raw.

“What can I do, Gwyn? How can I reassure you?” He could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“We are going to go back to how things were before this mess.” She had returned her hand to his and gave both a squeeze. A shadow darted down around them, as if to approve of the contact. “The way it was that led us to realize that we feel the way we do. And you are going to prove to me that we can have what we had before I found out about that stupid, lovely necklace. Do you think you can do that?” He could have fallen to his knees seeing the hope in those ocean eyes, mirroring the spark of hope inside of him. It was something he hadn’t dared to let himself fully feel with her.

“I will.” Azriel’s voice was low and rough. “I swear it.”

“And then we can decide what comes next. And I can prove to you that your hands and your darkness are just as important to me as the rest of you.”

He was grinning like a fool, he knew. He still had a chance, because Gwyneth Berdara was the definition of grace and love. And by the Mother he would not screw this up.

He felt more than saw her wrap her arms around his back, pulling herself into him. For a moment he was frozen by the intimacy of it – shocked by her initiation of it – but he quickly let his arms settle around her waist. He breathed in, pulling her tighter, and leaned his cheek on the crown of her head.

“Don’t let me down, Shadowsinger,” she muttered into his chest. He chuckled and dared to move one hand to comb through her hair. “I want to see… what comes next.” He wanted to see, too. He wanted to know what it was like to look to the future and see more than dread and loneliness and exhaustion. He could see it with her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Berdara.”

Tag List: @tealnymph-writes @trashforazriel @secretlovelybeauty @meher-sumedha @imsointobooks @flora-shadowshine @positivewitch @tanvee1231 @imwritingthesewords @camreadsum @vikingmagic33 @shisingh @gwynrielsupremacist @sagureads @katiebellf @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @sv0430

Slide into those DMs or reply to this post if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

#gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fic #gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #gwyn x azriel #azwyn #azriel x gwyn #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction

73 notes · View notes

naralanis · 3 years

Text

little bumps in the road (pt. 26)

Previously, on LBitR...

Lena has never given much thought to what happens after death.

She’s heard all about feeling cold—she’s felt that cold, more than once. She’s heard all about darkness—which she has seen, but not exactly in a near-death context. She’s also heard all about the light.

She does see that—not exactly a light she has to follow or whatever it is people see when they die, but a blinding expanse of white, as far as her eyes can see, though a little fuzzy, darker around the edges of her vision.

Considering the way she went out, Lena’s very surprised she doesn’t see any green.

Green. Kryptonite.

Kara.

Something that feels like a sob wrenches itself out of her chest by force. That dumb, stupid, idiotic Kryptonian—if Lena’s dead, then Kara is for sure—how dare she—

“Lena?”

The voice is familiar, and close; physically close, something that Lena didn’t think was possibly in this ethereal, post-death realm. Lena turns her head and realizes that, despite the brightness of the light she’s seeing, her eyes are most definitely closed.

Huh.

She opens them, then blinks, because the only difference seems to be… a lot of fuzzy shapes.

“Lena?” the voice calls to her again, closer still.

“Eugh…” is Lena’s less-than-eloquent reply. She could have done worse; her throat constricts painfully around something, and it’s like she’s pulling air the wrong way in, which causes a coughing fit that rattles her to the bone.

“Hey, hey, it’s OK, take your time,” the voice continues, and Lena knows that voice, but right now her brain feels like actual Jell-O sloshing around in her skull, and her entire body lights up with pain, so it’s understandably taking her a little while to get her bearings.

She blinks the crust out of her eyes; the speaking blob at her side begins to take shape and look like a person.

“Lena, don’t worry. You’re alright, you’re at the DEO. You’re hurt, but we could take the implant out—there will be an adjustment period, but you’re alright.” The voice explains, and Lena finally, finally places it.

“Agh… ah—ugh… L-lex?” she tries; her tongue feels like a wad of cotton in her mouth, and her throat is just burning.

The voice grows soothing. “We got him, Lena, don’t worry, we got—”

Lena shakes her head, which is a terrible decision—there is s sharp jolt of pain that shoots down her temple and settles all the way at the base of her spine; it makes her clench her teeth, which in turn just worsens the throbbing in her head.

She attempts to raise a hand; that fails when another painful shock travels from her shoulder across her collarbones. Lena groans in frustration, she needs to ger her words out, but it’s like her entire body has decided to call it quits.

Finally, she manages.

“Ah-Alex… Alex?”

The figure releases a breathless little laugh, and a reassuring hand comes to rest very gently at Lena’s shoulder.

“It’s me, Lena. I’m alright, you’re alright. Rest now, OK? Your meds will be kicking in again any time.”

Lena is equal parts relieved and panicked; there’s the obvious relief that comes with the knowledge that Alex is fine and right here next to her. But the agent doesn’t say a word about her sister, and that fills Lena with a dread she cannot express in her condition; especially now, as her lids grow heavier by the second, as her body sinks into an undoubtedly double-padded mattress.

“K—K..agh…” she tries, needing to know that Kara is alright, that she’s alive, because if Lena made it, Kara has to be alive. The alternative is unthinkable.

She manages another unintelligible gurgle before the meds do kick in, and then she’s out like a light.

Lena dreams.

This time, she does see green—a lot of it as the entire space of her LuthorCorp office is awash in the glow of the fully-armed Kryptonite cannons, and when Supergirl—Kara—lowers herself onto her balcony, Lena realizes this is not a dream at all.

It’s a memory.

She watches Kara raise her arms in surrender, sees the crinkle of confusion on her brow as the Kryptonian stares at her as if she’s seeing someone else entirely.

Lena watches her fall once she’s hit by what was meant to be a lethal dose of Kryptonite.

The memory shifts.

They’re in the Jeep, this time. It’s the dead of night and Kara’s in the driver’s seat, hair cropped short—Christ, Lena had forgotten just how short it was during those first couple of weeks. Kara’s driving, but she’s not looking at the road—no, in this snippet of reality, she’s staring straight at Lena, her gaunt, pale complexion fixated on her passenger. She looks perplexed, but also, inexplicably, relieved.

The memories keep shifting—they’re at the diner where they finally spoke to one another again, then they’re at a gas station, a phone booth, on and on and on—until everything seems to move and merge into a blur of colours, shapes, and sounds. It’s a convoluted, puzzling mental kaleidoscope, but surprisingly, Lena finds it remarkably easy to make sense of it all.

After all, how could she not? These are her memories. She’s lived through it all before.

Lena blinks into awareness slowly, this time. Her dream—or actual trip down memory lane—fades away softly, giving way to the soothing darkness of eyes gently closed for sleep.

There’s warmth at her side, and movement, too. It’s the up-and-down, in-and-out steady rhythm of deep breathing.

Lena instinctively tucks into the warmth and feels it in a solid, unmovable presence on her bed. She blinks once, twice, registers the lower lighting of her room, the tell-tale beeping of hospital equipment…and a very warm Kryptonian, glued to her side, squeezed so tight into the MedBay bed she cannot be comfortable.

Lena shifts—she needs to get a better look, needs to touch, to make sure she’s not dreaming, that her mind (which hasn’t been extremely reliable as of late) isn’t playing a cruel trick on her.

When she moves, blue eyes rimmed by dark circles snap open; they crinkle at the corners with a smile as they meet Lena’s gaze head on, and Lena releases a breath of pure relief.

“Hey,” Kara murmurs, her voice a soft breath ghosting over Lena’s cheeks since they’re only inches apart.

Lena can’t really help it; the tears are running down her cheeks before she realizes she’s crying, and she breathes in through sniffles as she reaches out to touch Kara’s face.

She’s there, inches away, warm and soft, and alive, and Lena lets the sobs rip through her chest. Her breaths are short little stuttering gasps, really, and she can’t stop smiling.

“Hey,” she whispers back, leaning into the warmth of Kara’s touch once the Kryptonian delicately wipes at her tears with her thumb. Her hand stays there, cradling Lena’s face as they smile like idiots after one-too-many near-death experiences.

“I have to admit,” Kara says after some time, smile unwavering and bright despite the pallor of her features, “that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

Lena chuckles—she does so lightly, since her ribs (most likely broken) protest at the slightest movement. “What, crying?” she asks. She can’t really move her arms, or really anything at all, so she settles for slightly craning her neck, leaning further into the hand Kara has kept in place at her tear-stained cheek.

Kara just nods, laughing a little. There’s a warm yellow hue around them—Lena surmises someone probably moved a sunlamp to her bed once Kara invited herself in—and it makes Kara’s hair, growing at awkward, adorable angles, glow golden and beautiful.

Lena soaks it all in.

“Is this real?” she can’t help but ask. She doesn’t think she would survive another trick of the mind, especially one so cruel.

Kara shifts on the thin mattress, impossibly closer, body practically melding along Lena’s. She’s still smiling, and there’s such certainty in her gaze, Lena practically melts with relief before Kara can even reassure her.

“Yes,” Kara says. “I have to admit the details are a little bit fuzzy,” she raises her arm with some difficulty to poke playfully at her own head, “but it seems I uh, ripped the Lexosuit apart and tossed it just before it exploded.”

Lena furrows her brows, trying to remember. All she can recall was the countdown clock and the split-second feeling of weightlessness before she began falling to the earth once the suit powered down.

“And then?”

Kara shrugs—Lena notices how her movements are stilted, like moving pains her, and wonders just how close to dying Kara had been. Again. “As far as I know, J’onn got to you in the nick of time.”

Lena narrows her eyes. “And you?”

Kara looks sheepish. “I uh. Hit the pavement.”

It’s said so… matter-of-factly, so casual and off-hand. It wrenches another sob right out of Lena, and her ribs ache in protest, but all she can think is Kara falling again, crumpling limply onto the pavement again, being on the brink of death again, and she can’t—Lena can’t cope with the image at all.

“Hey, hey, no, it’s OK,” Kara moves in, ready to calm and soothe, wiping at Lena’s tears with both hands. Her lips find Lena’s forehead, and while the gesture is entirely unprecedented, it has the desired effect—Lena’s body instinctively relaxes, and her sobs begin to abate. “I’m here,” Kara says, lips still on Lena’s skin, “Good as new, I promise.”

Lena doesn’t believe that for one second—there’s an unhealthy pallor to Kara’s complexion that tells her she still has a lot of time to spend under the sunlamps, and Lena can tell just how much it hurts for the Kryptonian to move. She bets there are slow-healing bruises all over her skin under the DEO-issue henley and sweats.

Though—she considers as her own body twinges with pains she hasn’t yet had the mental fortitude or will to catalogue in their entirety—she supposes she also has a long way to go as well.

“How long have we been out?”

“A few days,” Kara replies, chin resting atop Lena’s head and showing no inclination of moving. Good. “I just woke up a few hours ago.”

Lena grins. “And then the first thing you did was come to crowd my space while I recovered?”

Kara laughs. “Of course not. I went to pee first.”

It’s worth the twinges in her ribcage to chuckle a little. Lena lets out as deep a sigh as her injuries will allow, and her breathing adjusts to follow the steady rise-and-fall of Kara’s chest, still melded to her side.

“So, what now?”

Kara’s sigh is deep, and when she speaks, her voice grows heavier with sleep by the word. She’s probably exhausted and just about ready to conk out.

Lena thinks she’s got the right idea.

“Well,” the Kryptonian murmurs, voice so soft Lena has to strain to hear over the faint hum of hospital machinery surrounding them. “Nia caught Lex—gave him a good ol’ trashing, from what I hear. Uh, your name’s been cleared. LuthorCorp is yours, or will be after Lex’s trial—again. Supergirl is alive and back, sort of. Kara Danvers, meanwhile, is due to return from a mysterious illness… or something, I’m not sure what lie Nia made up at CatCo. Oh, and…”

Lena nods, barely processing Kara’s words. She’s just sinking into warmth, and Kara’s rambling in earnest now, and it feels so familiar. Comfortable, even here, cramped in this tiny MedBay cot.

Especially here.

Lena tucks further into Kara’s neck, and that stops Kara’s talking just enough for her to get a word in edgewise. “OK,” she whispers against Kara’s skin. “But for now… we just rest?”

She feels Kara’s slight nod, and Lena’s smile stretches wider while her eyes grow heavier. “Together?”

Another nod. Another whisper. “Together.”

<<<Previous||

That’s it! It’s done! Oof! Thank you all for humouring me in this wild, bumpy ride. All chapters (plus an epilogue!) will be posted on my AO3 within the next few days.

168 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

We Keep Going, That’s All

@whimpers-and-whumpers , this is for you. Hope your surgery goes well today!

CW: Aftermath of near-death, hospital whump, recovery whump, survivor's guilt, alcohol use, referenced drug use

Ryan shows up to the hospital with Coke bottles full of liquid that absolutely is not Coke - or not much of it, anyway - and Nate doesn't refuse the gift.

He twists off the plastic cap and takes a drink, wincing at the burn down his throat. "Jesus, Ryan, this is m-m-more Jack than Coke."

"Yeah, well. Figured we could use some relaxing." Ryan gives him a slight smile, and the bruising that's been along his jaw - the obvious press of fingers - is finally starting to fade. Off-white bandages ring his neck, hiding from direct view the deep, slowly healing gashes rubbed in by the iron collar he'd worn for a year.

There are other wounds, Nate knows, underneath the lightly-draped black t-shirt Ryan wears, under his effortlessly casual, perfectly-on-trend jeans.

There are deeper wounds still entirely underneath his skin, inside his head. Nate knows those even better. He doesn't begrudge Ryan the need to find some way to fuzz out the edges of what must be written in stark, bright blood in his memory.

Nate spent a year and a half doing the same, after all, before Bram came back for Danny again.

"How is he?" Ryan asks, settling into a hard wooden chair with plastic back and cushion in a dull pastel mauve. "Any different?”

"Then y-yesterday?" Nate exhales, slowly, rubbing at his unshaven jaw. The stubble prickles his fingertips, itches a little as it grows in. There's a razor in the private room's little bathroom, but he doesn't have the energy to use it. All of Nate's energy now is focused entirely around staying right here, being right here, for the rare moments that Danny is both awake and himself.

"Yesterday wasn't... great.”

"No, it wasn't." Nate sighs, leaning over in the chair he sits in, next to Ryan, reaching out with his good left hand to gently nudge a bit of wavy red away from over Danny's face.

The love of his life - the man he's killed for, twice, and would kill for again - lays on his stomach with his head turned to one side. The hospital blanket is pulled up nearly to his chin, hiding from view the fact that nearly all of Danny seems made of bandages these days, bandages and tubes and wires. He breathes slowly, a drugged deep sleep to let his body rest and try desperately to heal itself around the nearly-fatal place the knife went into his back.

He sleeps, more than he's awake. But Nate makes sure that when his eyes open, someone is here for him, every single time.

"Today has been a little b-better, I think," Nate says after a moment's though. He brushes a crumb from the corner of Danny's mouth. "He ate a l-little, this morning. Just Jell-O and a little bit of cereal, but...”

"But something." Ryan nods, takes another drink, looks out the window. Outside, the day is bright and sunny, with a cloudless blue sky. The courtyard below is full of visiting families and patients taking walks through the landscaped flowers, all of them in brilliant bloom. "Have you even left this room since we got here?”

"No." Nate doesn't bother to lie.

Ryan looks over at him, and smiles very slightly. "Remind me to bring you by some multivitamins do you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency.”

"I'm f-fine." Nate takes another drink, feels the warmth slowly spreading through his shoulders, relaxing the knots and tension that have been slowly building day by day. The 'bed' he has here is just a visitor's couch built into the wall, lumpy and hard, with exactly one flat pillow with a scratchy pillowcase. But he'd rather be here than anywhere else. He'll be here for every single second Danny needs him. "I eat oranges for breakfast every d-d-day. No sc-... sc-... scurvy for me.”

"Didn't we joke about scurvy once?" Ryan asks, slightly faintly, looking up at the ceiling. "After Danny came home the first time?”

"M-Maybe. Don't remember. Why do you c-care if I feel good, anyway?”

“My brother can’t fuss over you right now,” Ryan says with a casual shrug. “So someone has to. He’ll never let me live it down if anything happened to you while he’s here. I’ll get chewed out if you get so much as a headcold and we both know it.”

“I d-doubt-”

Danny shifts a little and both men go silent, watching him move in the bed - just an inch or so to the right, his eyes tightly closed, body tensing as even the slightest movement brings a wash of pain.

"It's okay," Nate whispers, and Danny's eyelids flicker, slowly open. The blue in them is hazy and clouded, but not empty. This time, at least, it's Danny who is looking at him, and not the other one, the one that Nate knows only as someone else. The one who runs Danny's body when Danny can't do it any longer.

"Hey," Danny says, in a hoarse whisper. He tries for a smile, and it's faded and wobbly, but it's there. Then he lifts his head a little, looking over to see Ryan. "Oh, you're both... here. How long was I asleep?”

"Four hours or s-s-so," Nate says, standing up - ignoring the twinge of pain in his bad knee - and moving the pillow under Danny's head to still support him even as he moves. A hint of freckled shoulder shows, with its swirling trace of scars from Bram's knife. There's a star carved into the back of his left shoulder that Nate did, at Bram's command, once.

Ryan's gaze be damned, Nate leans over to kiss it, and to kiss one by one the carved letters that are still there, faded, in the back of Danny's neck. A. D. N.

He tries not to feel the guilt that twists in him at the ownership Bram had meant to make obvious, there. His own first initial with Bram's initials, his own... his own culpability.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks, leaning over close to Danny.

Danny’s nose wrinkles. “You smell like a liquor store.”

“Yeah, well. When your big brother scares the shit out of you by getting himself stabbed almost to death because of you, maybe you need a little pick-me-up now and then.” Ryan manages a half-cocked smile, but it’s fragile, and they both know it.

With a hiss of pain, Danny moves his hand up the bed, offering it to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation, leaning over so his forehead rests gently against Danny’s.

“I’m okay,” Danny whispers.

“No, you’re not,” Ryan whispers back.

Nate moves to sit back in his chair, then stands again, restless. He doesn’t want to sit there but he doesn’t know where he does want to be... until he looks at Danny, thin and dwarfed even by a small hospital bed. He sets down the mostly-jack-and-a-little-coke and climbs into the bed without hesitating, laying down behind Danny on his side, letting his good hand rest just next to a swirl of Danny’s hair on the pillow.

Danny’s smile widens - not that Nate can see that, from his vantage point. Although Ryan can. “I’ll be okay,” He corrects himself, watching his brother. “They said there’s no sign of paralysis. I’ll walk, I’ll probably even run after a while.” He tries moving and hisses again. “A long while. It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”

“You always were way more optimistic when you were high as balls,” Ryan whispers, and he and Danny laugh, until the action makes Danny whimper at a new spike of pain. “What do we do now, Dan, huh?”

“Keep going,” Danny says, voice low, barely audible even to the two men on either side of him. “That’s all. We keep going.”

“I keep thinking I should’ve died back there, ten times over,” Ryan murmurs. “But every single time, you took the pain for me. I should’ve died-”

“Nah. You’re my little brother. I need you here.” Danny manages to keep the smile, then, and his blue eyes are warm. “If you feel so bad about it, sneak me some of that booze next time, yeah?”

"Dan, I am not going to help you mix IV drugs and alcohol-”

“Just leave it in a really easy-to-reach place and I’ll help myself.”

“Danny. No.”

“Danny yes.”

“Daniel Michaelson-”

“Ryan Niall Michaelson-”

Nate’s rumbling laughter interrupts them. It’s such a rare sound that both of them go immediately silent when they hear it, and Danny even tries to look over his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the ache to see the smile on Nate’s face. It’s slight, nearly private - a smile barely noticeable by anyone who isn’t looking for it.

But Danny is, and through the fog of the painkillers still coursing through his system, he sees it.

“What?” Ryan says. “What’re you laughing at?”

Nate lays a hand over the star he once carved into Danny’s skin, and moves to rest his nose, just lightly, against the warmth of Danny’s neck, breathing in the scent of him under the hospital-smell that surrounds them. “Nothing,” He says, and Danny shivers a little as his lips move against the curve of the D at the back of his neck. “I’m j-j-just... realizing I’m g-going to listen to you two do this for the r-rest of my life.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ryan’s voice is dry.

“No,” Nate says, eyes closed. He can almost feel them in the cabin, like this, just the two of them on days Bram was gone. Lying in the bed wasting the whole morning being warm, just them together. Warm and safe. It feels like being in Danny’s apartment during their year and a half of freedom, the way sometimes when Nate couldn’t get out of bed Danny would just stay with him, holding him, until the pain inside of Nate had lessened enough to let him stand.

Now it’s his turn to hold Danny.

@tiddiroki @whump-it @bleeding-demon-teeth @finder-of-rings @whumpywhumper @endless-whump @18-toe-beans @pumpkinthefangirl @goneuntil @swordkallya @astrobly @evermetnotforgotten @whumpiary @card-games-and-pain @raigash @whump-tr0pes @orchidscript @wildfaewhump @doveotions @eatyourdamnpears

#daniel michaelson's story #hospital whump #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #referenced stabbing #referenced drug use #alcohol use #caretakers #caretaker and whumpee #whump #aftermath whump #the bad arc #injured whumpee #survivor's guilt tw

134 notes · View notes

cherryblossomtease · 3 years

Text

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

#zemo x reader #bucky barns x you #winterbaron #winterbaron x you #buckybarnes/zemo #tfatws #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #winterbaron fic #baron helmut zemo #zemo #self insert #yacht life #these two #i love them so much #also ouch

43 notes · View notes