#oh his hand is so busted and swollen yet he’s out there getting that bag!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tabletopwhumper · 2 years

Text

Set just after my previous post, "Blowback," Ali recovers after her tangle with the spurned ganger. No real CW here, just fluffy caretaking and a little angst.

RECOVERY

“What the HELL are you DOING?!”

Ali freezes in place but knows full well she's busted. Turning slowly, trying to hide the stiffness in her movement, she's unsurprised to see Jordan storming toward her from the open garage door.

“I’m fiiiiine. See? Up! Walking! No blood, no ruptured organs.”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you reaching for that panel Ali.”

She sighs, about to insist that he's over reacting, when another voice echoes from the opposite end of the garage. “What the fuck you doing?”

Shit. Double busted.

Jens steps between her and Jordan, an uncharacteristically stern glower pulling at his features. “I left for five minutes!”

“And here I am, completely intact! I don’t know what you guys are getting all fired up about.”

Jordan finishes crossing the space between them and exchanges a look with Jens before settling a firm hand on her shoulder. Ali tries to tell herself the pain doesn't broadcast across her face… but her brother's glare deepens and she knows her poker face is shit.

“Sit.”

Sighing, Ali allows her aches to show as she gingerly settles back into the chair Jens had brought in for her. She doesn't dare protest as Jordan unzips her sweatshirt. His brows furrow at the dark and angry bruises clearly visible beneath the straps of her undershirt before gently examining the wound in her middle. The stitches haven't torn, but blood oozes through all the same, causing the discolored and swollen flesh around it to look friendly in comparison.

“Shit,” he murmurs, pulling a fresh bandage from his bag. “When did this start?”

“Must’ve been just now.”

His glare returns. And she's sure he enjoys her wince as he applies a temperate amount of pressure to her middle. "Hrm. I wonder why?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah…yet.”

“Oh sweet Jesus, I'm not dyin.” Stillness settles across them and something dark tears across Jordan’s face. But the moment passes as quickly as it came and he continues his ministrations without further comment. "What?" she asks, looking from her brother to Jens. There's a tense silence between the three of them that she's never known to exist before. But Jens avoids her gaze, conveniently finding himself very busy in that second. "What'd I say?"

"Listen," Jordan snaps before he finishes bandaging her stomach. “If you can’t sit here like you're supposed to then you’re going back to The Last Round and you’ll stay in bed. I’ll strap you down if I have to.”

"Fine," she concedes. "No shenanigans. Scout's honor."

“Prove it. And there’s a security camera in here now. So I’ll know if you're full of shit.” A solid nod toward Jens and Jordan leaves through the same open door he entered through.

“What crawled up his-”

But the mechanic won't have it as he brandishes a wrench toward her. “Nuh-uh, don’t be like that. He’s right and you know it.”

Ali sighs, slumping as much as her aching torso will allow. She does know. And that's the issue. Sure, the twins know about the damage done by their armed intruder. But Ali is sure Chuck hasn’t told them what a near thing it had actually been. “That trauma patch saved your life kiddo,” he’d murmured while checking her over. “If Steve hadn’t found that you’d have bled out before we got there.”

Doc left strict orders: no driving, lifting, no sudden movement, minimal bending at the waist. Bed rest had been included in his instruction but after nearly a week of isolation Ali found her patience and sanity waning dangerously. “I can’t take it anymore!” she had begged Tim. “There’s GOTTA be SOMETHING that needs fixing! Or maybe some armor needs upgrades? I’m losing it over here!”

Finally, after much shameless pleading, Jens swooped in with an elegant solution. “I’ve got all those armored panels stacked in the back of her van. She can work on a few projects for me while I install them.” He’d raised his hands in supplication at Tim’s glare. “Basic maintenance! No lifting, no bending. If she can’t fix it sitting at the workbench it’s off limits.”

And already she’s gone against instruction.

I just wanted to look at it! There wouldn’t have been any actual lifting of armor panels. Not that Jordan will ever believe that-

“Do you blame him?” Ali feels her cheeks flush, not having realized her disgruntled mumbles were loud enough to be heard. But Jens’ gaze turns into an amused grin as he returns to his own work.

“I just wanted to look.”

“Riiiiight. Cuz you’re known for following instructions?”

She sighs. He’s not wrong. “Fair point. Sorry Jens. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

“Eh, you didn’t kid. Just… go easy on your brothers, huh? It’s been-”

“-rough. Yeah I know.” Something Jordan mentioned earlier comes back to her. “So… security camera? In the garage?”

From where she’s sitting Ali can’t see Jens’ face. But the way his shoulders tense is enough to tell her that the question bothers him. “Yup!” He’s trying for levity, but that weird sort of tension ripples just beneath the surface.

“Huh. That’s… new.”

“Yup.”

Now the weird silence is back. What the fuck? “Okay, what’d I say now?”

“Nothin kid. We’re just… making sure this shit can’t happen again.”

**************************************************

Later that night, sitting across from Steve 1 amidst the noisy crowd of The Last Round Alison Merrick nurses a much needed ice cold… glass of water. She can’t help but glower. It doesn’t help that Steve is smirking behind his own towering mug of beer.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink water,” he muses, taking deliberately slow sips from his glass. "Does your liver even know what to do with that?"

“Doc’s orders. Only water till the stitches come out. And it’s kinda tough to sneak booze when your brother’s the bartender.”

“Hrm. I would offer you a sip, but… your brothers scare me.”

“Aww, c’mon! We both know Tim’s just a big cuddly teddy bear.” Steve’s skeptically raised eyebrow makes her snort. “Okay, maybe not cuddly. But he’d be up my ass before he got to yours. You know how he is.”

Steve nods but doesn’t offer anything more, solemnly sipping from his mug. The feeling is tense again and Ali finds she can’t deal with it anymore. “Okay, why does that happen??”

Genuine confusion crosses her friend’s face. “Why does what happen?”

“THAT! Seems like every time I open my mouth I step in a pile of shit everybody can see except me. Did something happen that I don't know about?”

“Not really.”

“Then what the hell am I missing?”

Leaning forward, arms folded on the table between them, Steve sighs. “This thing, with the elf,” he motions toward her still healing torso, “is not the normal backlash. It’s… personal. The guys are all taking it hard.”

“I get that-”

“No. You don’t. Think about it: we, as a group, have never been hit like this. But the fact that it wasn’t one of us? The fact that you’re a civilian-”

“Hardly! This happened because of the job to take out the Ancients' little shit hole. The job I went on. That-”

“-doesn’t matter. For these guys…,” Steve gestures behind him where a handful of Knights are gathered near the bar, “you’re Jordan’s sister first. That makes you a civilian. And that makes it personal. Your brothers…” His sentence trails as he cringes.

“What about them?”

Steve has proven himself to be many things: clever, stealthy, subtle; serious has never been a word Ali would use to describe her Armenian friend. But the look he levels on her is a heavy one. “I have never seen them like that. Me and Jens, we had to tell Tim what we found. At the garage. It was… difficult.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. You’re my friend. I’m glad you’re okay. But the Knights? Your brothers? I think it will be a very long time before anybody is ready to make jokes. Give them some time, eh?”

Swallowing around the lump in her throat, Ali nods. “Yeah. Sure.” Her movements are slow as she gets to her feet and gingerly picks her way through the crowd to Tim and Jordan’s regular spot near the end of the bar. “Hey,” she greets, gently setting her empty water glass on the polished wooden surface.

“Hey Sprog. How’s the gut?”

Her first instinct is to roll her eyes, make a joke about wrestling with armed elves… but Steve’s warning brings the sarcasm to a halt before it reaches her lips. “S’okay,” she offers instead. “Sore.”

“Hrm. Yeah, I heard about today.”

“Of course you did.” Ali levels a glare at her human brother. But she can admit, if only to herself, that there’s no real heat behind it. “Just had to tattle on me?” Jordan only shrugs as he finishes the cigarette dangling from his lips. It feels wrong. Any other day he would toss shit back at her, tell her she’s being stupid, anything other than this weird brooding silence. “Okay, guys, enough. Let’s make a deal.”

Jordan scoffs. “This outta be good.”

“If you guys can quit crawling up my ass and acting like I’m going to drop dead any second… I promise to follow Chuck’s instructions.”

The twins consider her words silently, exchanging subtle expressions she has no hope of interpreting, before Jordan turns back to her. “You'll follow Chuck's instructions?"

"Yes."

"Without fighting or bitching?”

“…With minimal fighting or bitching.”

The twins share an amused expression before Jordan chuckles. “Fine. But the minute you step out of line-”

“Bed restraints, yeah yeah, I remember.” Ali smirks. “I notice you and Teagan been hanging out….”

“Hrmph. So?”

“....she gonna lend ya the straps?"

A hand snakes through his hair, but Ali is pleased to see a grin creeping across her brother’s face. “Jesus. Did she tell you or…?”

"Nope. Just a guess."

Tim lets out a low laugh before going back to work and Ali is pleased to note a sort of comfortable familiarity renewing between them.

#shadowrun #original character #whump writing #angst #whump #caretaking

0 notes

cades-outsider · 3 years

Text

Hawk X Reader

Warnings: Prepare for the emotions!

Surprise- I Guess

You were super excited to say the least, Hawk's- or well Eli's birthday was coming up in a couple days. You had planned a whole surprise for him, Hawk had mentioned how he wanted to get a new motorcycle.

So you asked your dad Daniel LaRusso for some extra money for some extra chores here and there, and what do you know he agreed as long as you got back into karate with him.

You took him on that offer, recently Daniel had changed the pool room into a at home karate dojo. You never really quit, you practiced here and there unlike your sister Sam who hadn't practice in eight years.

Both Miguel and Demetri had offered to help you pick out the motorcycle. You were instantly surprised that Demetri would offer considering the history between the two wasn't good after Eli became Hawk.

But of course you took them both up on the offer considering they knew personally what style motorcycle Hawk would like. The bell ring indicating that lunch period was here.

You, Demetri, and Miguel all decided to hang back a while in the hallway so you could discuss a few matters with the surprise and how you were to give it to Hawk.

"Okay so how about you call him up, and tell him it's an emergency and carry him to your backyard and boom-" Miguel makes a hand explosion "-surprise!" He says proud of his idea.

"That's a great idea Miguel!" You exclaim excitedly.

"Or... you could just give it to him.." Demetri states as if he's the smartest person on the earth.

You tilt your head to the side furrowing your eyebrows "and where would the fun be in that?" You smirk.

Miguel nods his head, eyes wide "yeah I'm gonna have to agree with Y/n on this one" He states.

"Oh bummer-" Demetri reply's, unfazed.

"Demetri did you actually want to help us?" You ask now concerned.

"Well not really, but Eli was my friend once upon of time you know..." He states obviously.

"We know..." Miguel says, remembering once who Hawk was.

Hawk was in the mix of laughing along with one of his new 'friends' playing with his soccer ball when all of a sudden his attention is brought to you, Demetri, and Miguel.

It was safe to say Eli was not happy, he didn't like the thought of his girl with two other boys without him, whispering.

He felt vulnerable, he felt.... anger. Even though Demetri and Miguel were technically still his friend, his past best friend and his former best friend did not sit well with him.

Walking with a more furious pep in his step he reaches both you, Demetri, and Miguel. You and Miguel immediately stop whispering, not wanting to ruin the surprise.

You turn around with a smile on your face as your heart races, almost being caught. You did not want the surprise to get ruined so soon anyways.

"Hey Eli" You say walking up closer to him, Hawk only allowed you to call him Eli, home or not he didn't mind hearing his name come from your sweet mouth, when being moaned, screamed, or just in general.

Eli cocks his head to the side flaring his nostrils, he keeps it cool for the most part as his friend behind him scrambled away noticing the boiling tension that he did not want to be around.

"Hey Y/n what's going on here?" He asks, obviously suspicious.

You couldn't risk Hawk knowing the surprise yet so you come up with the most cliché answer given "Demetri is just helping me and Miguel with our science project" You quickly say, probably to quickly causing you to cringe at the horrible convincing sentence.

Hawk smacks his lips together "yeah right" he scoffs before walking away, you wait until he's fully out of sight to turn back to Miguel and Demetri.

"Really? Science project?" Demetri scoffs using hand gestures.

"Did you have an excuse?" You asked sassily.

Demetri goes silent, rolling his eyes knowing he was stuck "he's going to be pissed" Miguel states referring to Eli.

"Yeah but it will all be worth it in the mean time yeah?" You ask hopefully.

"We'll see, or he could completely go out on a rage-r and never talk to you again!" Demetri says faking excitement.

Miguel hits him gently with the back of his hand "ow!" Demetri says holding the spot he hit.

Miguel looks at him in disbelief "I didn't even apply pressure!" He laughs.

Demetri rolls his eyes "I have fragile bones, okay?" He says putting his hand up.

"Alright, alright calm down Demetri" You joke.

"So when are you planning on giving it to Hawk?" Miguel asks curiously.

"The day before his birthday, that's my plan anyways" You say stuffing your hands in your pockets.

The rest of the day ended in glares from Hawk to Miguel and Demetri, and even you. You knew he didn't believe a word you said which was not apart of the plan but you didn't know what else to do to make him not ask questions.

The next in counter you had with Hawk had a lot of tension, little did you both know it would be the last time you talked to each other for at least a few weeks.

You pulled into the driveway of the grocery store beside Johnny's dojo, you instantly notice Hawks red Mohawk he was with a couple of his new karate friends.

Well the situation would’ve probably went different if you were alone and not with Miguel or Demetri. But you happened to be with them both today, you wanted to grab a few snacks to munch on because who doesn’t like snacks and both Miguel and Demetri wanted to come so you couldn’t say no.

You had finished everything for Hawks surprise so you decided to treat both you, Demetri, and Miguel to snacks basically as a thank you for there help. You had the keys for Hawks motorcycle and all you needed was to wait for the day before his birthday.

You all walked into the store, the old squeaking bell catches the attention of Hawk, he looks your way and sees you with Miguel and Demetri and all he can see is red as his face contorts into anger.

Hawk forces something that was in his chest to one of his friends causing them to stumble over the isles. He walks over to you with his head held high, you huff knowing he was going to start something out of nothing.

"Nice to see you here... together" He grits his teeth together as he spits out the last word with hatred almost.

You had enough of Eli’s crap so you grabbed his hand roughly as you pulled him outside. You had a feeling you knew what was wrong but you wanted to make sure.

"What is your problem?" You ask gently, not wanting to spark something.

"What is my problem! What is yours? Why are you hanging out with Demetri?!" He practically yells out.

"What so I can’t hang out with who I want?" You question, now becoming heated.

"I didn’t say that! But why Demetri!" Hawk pushes, his jealousy getting the best of him.

"I- he- he knew you best!" You try without giving to much information about the gift.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hawk asks now confused.

"I can’t tell you... not yet anyways" you reply, not knowing what to say. You had everything else planned out not a fight.

Hawks jaw clenches and you would almost say that was a nice sight if it wasn’t him getting mad at you like that. "So now we’re keeping secrets?" He says walking closer to you, every step causes you to back up.

You soon hit the back of a wall as Hawk towers over you putting his hand on the wall behind you. "I-I-" you stutter out.

"So now you don’t know?" He pushes.

"What do you want me to say?" You question, tired.

"I don’t know that you’re not slumming it with Demetri or Miguel, h*ll or even both I wouldn’t even be surprised" Hawk spits out dryly.

Your face contorts "oh wow how low of you Eli" You spit now fully angered.

"Don’t use my name like that" He says gritting his teeth, pushing his body closer to yours.

"You wanna know what we were doing so bad huh?!" You yell grabbing the keys to the motorcycle from your pocket.

Hawks face fully contorts from anger to confusion as you press the keys into his chest with pressure and push him away as you get into your car driving away.

That leaves a very guilty Eli as he pulls the keys into vision, the label of the motorcycle on the set of keys. Hawks heart breaks as he now knew there was nothing going on between you and the other boys.

Tears spill out in his eyes as he places both of his hands on the brick wall breathing heavily as he starts beating on the brick wall with his bare fists causing blood to spill out.

Two weeks.... you hadn’t talked to Eli, it wasn’t your intention but it happened. Now it was Monday, school was still into motion. You dreaded it like any other day, getting out of your car and walking through the doors.

You subconsciously look for Eli like every other time you have, your heart drops when you’re brought back to reality.

Your head drops as you get ready to walk to first period until you run into someone. You knew that scent and you almost didn’t want to look up, but you did.

Oh boy the sight you’ve witnessed was enough to break your heart even more, Eli didn’t look like himself. He had dark bags under his eyes, he looked tired and worn out. He had red cheeks, and busted knuckles that were swollen, he looked in pain.

"Eli..." You whisper out, you didn’t know how to feel but you knew that you didn’t like that feeling.

"Y/n... can I uh talk to you?" He almost whispers.

You nod your head letting him lead you to an unoccupied class room "I’m sorry Y/n, I didn’t know I was just jealous and insecure I didn’t know- I didn’t know how to react..." He busts.

"Eli.... I’m sorry to I should’ve tried to understand-" but you were soon cut off by Eli walking closer to you putting both his hands on your cheeks.

"No Y/n that was all on me I said some pretty messed up things that I didn’t mean you have no reason to apologize" Hawk says resting his head on yours.

"I love you Eli" You cave.

"I love you more Y/n and I’m so so sorry" He says as tears prickle his eyes.

"I forgive you" You say smiling as you press your lips to his crashing your lips together.

It felt like the first time you kissed, sparks went off as your lips continued to move together in sync. That all stoped to soon when you both pulled away.

"I love you for infinity..."

_______________________________________________

Thank you @peachymelon69 for requesting! Hope you enjoyed!

157 notes · View notes

lavaffair · 3 years

Text

Tongue Tied

Inukag Fluff Week Prompt: Secret/Stolen Kisses

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33168943

Miroku stared at the half demon with raised eyebrows as he growled impatiently.

“How long does it take for two women to get ready?” It sounded more like a complaint than a question, and the raven-haired man chuckled.

“Inuyasha, this happens every time, why do you seem to forget this?”

Inuyasha huffed in frustration. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”

An annoyed, muffled voice interrupted the men in the living room. “Inuyasha, shut up! Miroku, baby, we’re almost done!” His girlfriend, Sango, called from behind the door. She and Kagome were getting ready for their night out.

A dumb grin immediately appeared on Miroku’s face at the pet name Sango called him. His girlfriend of four years, they have been in this successfully established relationship for a long time. Inuyasha had no idea he would have ever seen his best friend be so loyal to one woman. He was happy for them, no doubt about that, and he was glad there was someone in the world that made Miroku happy.

Miroku was such a huge playboy back in college, and it was not until they both met the girls that Miroku’s main focus turned to Sango. It was an overnight change, a switch that had gone off in his head at the sight of her. Suddenly no other girl mattered, with pointless one-night stands and aimless flirting meaning nothing to the guy.

Back then, Miroku’s mission was to somehow get Sango to agree to go on one date with him, and she would refuse every single time. It was entertaining honestly, and he and Kagome would place bets on the sidelines to see what would happen. The winner would treat the other to a meal of their choice, and the stakes only got higher as Sango’s feelings started to get more obvious.

Eventually, she cracked and agreed to go on a date with the persistent man. They were casual for a while, with Sango being not very confident in how true Miroku was with his feelings. Though, he proved himself every time. And as they spent more time alone together, Inuyasha and Kagome’s friendship only became stronger.

For Inuyasha, it was a big deal, although he would never admit it. He was never great with women, and he was stuck around Miroku most of the time watching him flirt with a random girl every night. He was not the best influence, and Inuyasha was not going to take dating advice from a guy who never took dating seriously.

Kagome was his friend and an incredible one at that. She was always there for him, and he found it really easy for him to talk to her about things he had never told Miroku. At first it scared him; being so open and honest to a person was new to him, but Kagome calmed him. She brought him reassurance and safety, and it engulfed him in a warm aura that he had not felt since his mother was alive. She meant a lot to him, and he was grateful for the events that happened in order for their friendship to grow stronger.

Which, of course, had led them to secretly dating each other for the last month and a half now.

“Aw, baby, they’re almost done.” Inuyasha teased with a shit-eating grin.

Miroku laughed, “You’re just jealous you don’t have a beautiful woman calling you baby my friend.”

Inuyasha chose to ignore the jab and smirked in return. “So I can get whipped like you? I’ll pass.”

The bedroom door clicked open, revealing the two girls who had been hidden behind it dressed to the nines. Sango looked great dressed in dark blue pants that shimmered every time she moved and a halter top with the same color. The top had a crossing design that wrapped around her waist and went underneath her bust. Although, it was the girl beside her that grabbed all of Inuyasha’s attention, and it was incredibly difficult not to make it obvious.

Kagome took his breath away with every second that passed, her wavy raven hair cascading downward and framing her face as if she was a painting. The dress she had on had his body temperature rising at a steady rate. The way the satin material melted into her curves had his heart skipping a beat. It was olive in color, and Inuyasha made a mental note to buy her more clothes in green.

He felt like he was going to die, and he could not do a thing about it except stand here pretending like he was not staring at the most beautiful person in the room. Kagome was having a hard time restraining herself as well, seeing Inuyasha dressed up a little more than usual while still staying true to his comfort and fashion had her mouth-watering.

They had to control themselves. This was not the time. They both agreed to keep this a secret for now, only because they wanted to test out the waters before announcing it to their best friends. As nosy as they were most of the time, it was a miracle that they had yet to find out. The new couple wanted to enjoy their private time together. Besides, it made things a lot more fun. Miroku and Sango would l find out eventually, with it probably being a lot sooner than later since Inuyasha and Kagome were realizing that they definitely could not go back to strictly being friends.

The attraction was there, deeply welled into the ground with no chance of coming loose. Their friendship had blossomed into something they both had not expected, and it took a long time for Inuyasha to come to terms with it before he came clean to Kagome. He was a nervous wreck that day, but so was she, and when he had laid out his heart to her she was right there with him. It was surreal for the two of them, which is why they decided to keep it a secret for the time being. Everything was very new to the pair, as they had not planned on ever falling for each other in the first place.

Quickly, Inuyasha played it off and groaned, “Finally! You guys took forever.”

“Thanks! You look great too. You dress up nice.” Kagome fired back, but he could tell it was just a gimmick.

Sango, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. “It must be so nice to put on a pair of pants and a shirt and call it a day. Maybe even cologne if we’re so lucky.” She smirked, “Kagome and I, on the other hand, love to go all out. We’re hot already, so we don’t have to, but we want to.”

“Yeah, we all agreed we’d go out dressed up for once! We never do this as a group, and it’s going to be fun!” Kagome chimed in. Her smile was contagious, and it was taking everything within him to not launch himself at her and kiss her.

Miroku cleared his throat, “Well unlike someone over here, I think you both look wonderful.” He walked over to Sango and slowly slid his hand down to her bottom, “I think your butt looks great in these pants.” That earned him a slap to the hand.

“Ever the charmer.” Inuyasha retaliated.

“Let me praise my woman in peace.” He said as he feathered his girlfriend's cheek with kisses.

Kagome stuck out her tongue in mock disgust, “Ugh, Inuyasha, let’s go before they decide to bail on us.” She grabbed her bag and walked out in front of him, secretly allowing his eyes to look at her as he followed her out.

Their friends were quick on their tail, and out of the door, finally making their way to Miroku’s car. When they had all sat down inside, Kagome felt around for her phone and realized she had left it inside.

“Wait! I gotta go back for my phone. I left it on the bed!” She yelled.

“Ugh.” Inuyasha complained, “You’re so forgetful. I’ll go with you.” He unclicked his seatbelt to get out of the car, “We can give these two some alone time.”

Kagome giggled and wiggled her eyebrows at Sango, “Have fun. We won’t be long!” She scurried out of the car.

The journey back to the apartment felt endless as the couple felt the tension build between them. As soon as they were both out of sight, their hands met and entangled with one another. They walked in silence, the air felt too heavy between them to spare even one word to one another.

When Kagome turned the key to let them both back into the apartment, Inuyasha's hands were on her quicker than the flash, his lips crashing into hers before she could even get the door closed.

“You little liar.” He whispered into her mouth. “You left your phone on purpose.”

She kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck in an attempt to bring him closer. They were both smiling into the kiss as they savored finally being alone together.

“Did I?” She kissed his nose, “What if I actually left it here? You did say I’m forgetful.”

Inuyasha looked at her with awestruck eyes, taking her in completely before kissing her again. “I don’t believe you.” He kissed her face all over, leaving no inch of skin without a touch from his lips.

He left her in a fit of giggles while he continuously kissed her all over, making sure to leave some around the ticklish spot on her neck. “ They're gonna get- haha suspicious if we-“ More giggles, “-Take too long!” She let out.

The half-demon slowed down, kissing her forehead and nose before withdrawing. “It’s not my fault you look so good in this dress.”

“Hmm. If I remember correctly, you didn’t say that when I first walked out.” She teased, “But I do remember hearing you tell Miroku that he’s whipped.” She raised her brow.

Losing the battle, he pressed his lips against her plush ones once again. “Well, he is.”

She laughed, and he took in the beautiful sound. “You sure you’re not talking about yourself?”

He could not take his eyes off her lips, pink and a little swollen from their shared kisses, her big brown eyes, and the freckles that danced on her nose. “Oh no, definitely not.” He lied.

That earned him another giggle from her, and he wanted to keep kissing her so that he could get her to keep laughing. “I wonder who’s the liar now.” She tapped his nose with her finger, earning a little nose scrunch from him. “Now if you excuse me, I need to go get my phone. Sango’s probably spammed texted me by now!”

With one last kiss, Inuyasha let her go into her bedroom to find her cellphone. It was exactly where it was, right on the bed with five texts from her best friend. Although, that will not be the story she tells when they get back into the car.

***

The bar and lounge were packed as any normal bar would be on a Friday night. There were people sitting on the stools right by the bar, as well as the tables and couches that were spaced throughout the room.

The group of four were lucky enough to find a couch with a table and claimed it as theirs before someone else could take it. The music was blaring loudly in the building as the group of friends were figuring out food and drinks for the night. They had agreed on a bar and lounge because clubs are rowdy, don’t have any food, and Inuyasha cannot handle them whatsoever. However, he can definitely handle a bar and lounge. It was a plus that they also sold food along with their drinks.

Inuyasha and Kagome, seated side by side, did their best to fight the urge to hold hands. Unfortunately, they were not seated at a table where they could get away with it. Their hands were on full display, and therefore, could not interact the way they wished they could. Their best friends, on the other hand, were already showcasing their relationship to everybody in the room.

“Alright, what are we getting to eat?” Kagome spoke up, a slight jump coming to her the more she got excited about their orders.

Just as much as he loved to eat, so did his girl, and every time she was able to eat he noticed that she did a little dance in her chair from excitement. She never noticed how often she did that, and he quickly realized how cute it was that she did.

Sango looked through the menu with her best friend, “We have to get wings. I don’t make the rules, I just enforce them, and wings are part of tonight’s menu.”

Miroku laughed, “Babe, get whatever you want. Kagome, the same goes for you. We’ll pay for the tab.”

Kagome scoffed, “You guys always pay! Let us do it for once.”

Inuyasha nudged at her, hoping no one noticed how he poked at her thigh. “Not a chance. It’s not up for debate.”

“Agreed.” Miroku continued, “All you ladies need to do is sit there and enjoy your night.”

Sango rolled her eyes, “We’re paying next time! No excuses.”

Kagome flexed her arm to show off her strength, “We’ll arm wrestle next time and the winner pays! Meaning, Sango and I will pay.” She smirked.

Inuyasha raised his eyebrow, “Did you forget I’m stronger than all of you?”

“Mmm, you wouldn’t dare beat me.” His girlfriend struck back, a playful smile present on her face. All he wanted to do at that moment was kiss it away.

“Haha!” Miroku laughed, “She’s got a point.”

While the girls continued to check out the menu, Inuyasha let his hand linger closer to Kagome’s exposed thigh. It was not much, but to him it was something. This allowed him to remind himself that she was all his and vice versa. They could not be openly affectionate yet, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back.

Once the girls put in their food orders along with everyone’s desired drinks, there was nothing else they could do but wait. The night was still young, and normally the little dance floor in the middle of the room did not get packed until people were drunk. If the girls chose to dance, they would have to wait.

“Alright, so, what are we doing after this?” Sango asked, her voice rising an octave higher to attempt to speak over the music.

“What?” Inuyasha asked, “We’re already at the spot we planned to come to, and you wanna go somewhere else?”

“Inuyashaaaaa,” Kagome dragged on. “Don’t be such a party pooper.” She smacked his cheek playfully, a low growl immediately vibrated deeply in his chest. His girlfriend could not hear it, but oh boy could she feel it, and she was reveling in the effect she had on him.

It was not fair, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to take her away and kiss her senseless again, he wanted to bask in her warmth and in the comforting sound of her giggles.

He already wanted to go home.

He relaxed and raised an eyebrow at her and put on his best-annoyed face. “I’m not a party pooper, Kagome.”

“Au contraire! My friend, you never want to stay out past 2 AM because you’re tired.” Miroku laughed.

“Face it, dog boy, you can’t hang.” Sango teased.

Kagome watched him pout, his annoyance extremely clear on his face, and all she could do was giggle at him. She understood why he hated staying out so late, seeing as how he worked so hard at the shop and knew he was very tired from his job. She knew he knew that they were just teasing him, but he was still going to complain about it.

“Tch. I’m gonna go get the drinks, maybe you guys will get tired after a few shots.” He stood up and made his way towards the bar, his broad back on full display for Kagome to see. She really could not believe how lucky she was, scoring someone so handsome and attentive like him.

Would she admit that it drove her a bit mad that other girls had their eyes glued to him when he walked to the bar too? No, not unless he asked her to. But it did bother her.

Quickly, she shot out of her seat, alarming her friends from her sudden burst. Sango looked at her concerned, and a little confused.

“I’m just gonna go help him out.” She lied. “Four drinks isn’t easy to carry back.”

“Don’t get lost.” Sango called back to her, but it went straight through one ear and out the other.

Kagome sauntered towards the bar, her brown eyes directly on her white-haired target, and smoothly positioned herself right beside him. He was standing beside the long table with no drinks in sight, casually waiting for the bartender with a pout still on his face.

“Baby,” Kagome chimed. “I was just kidding. You’re not a party pooper.”

He did not look at her and decided to keep staring at the fluorescent bottle displayed in front of him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She wrapped her hands around his arm and nuzzled into him, selfishly hoping the women at the other tables were watching. “You look cute when you pout.”

A blush crawled into his cheeks, staining his face red while he tried his best to look like the compliment did nothing to him. “I’m not pouting.”

She laughed again, and it sounded breathless and full of admiration all at the same time. “Do you want me to kiss it away?”

He looked at her eyes, and then at her lips, and back up at her eyes again. Those full, plush, soft lips that he could kiss all day long, for the rest of his life, enticing him to follow through.

“You’re okay with Thing 1 and Thing 2 knowing about us now?” He looked straight into her eyes, making sure to catch any hesitation or discomfort at the question.

“No,” she bit her lip to suppress the grin she had on her face. “Kissing you in secret is always fun, and we can do that anywhere, but I don’t want to hide us anymore from our friends.” She squeezed his arm for emphasis.

“If you’re okay with telling them now, so am I.”

Inuyasha looked down at her, a beautiful pink colored her cheeks at her revelation, and he could not help but smile at her. He kissed her forehead, careful not to smudge her makeup, and grinned. “Babe, get ready to be shown off to everyone. Because after this, everyone’s gonna know about my hot, annoying, and sweet girlfriend.”

She wrinkled her nose at him, “You gonna keep the annoying part in there?”

The half-demon laughed and patted her head. “That’s the part of you that made me fall for you so hard.”

“Drinks for Inuyasha.” the bartender interrupted.

It was Kagome’s turn to pout as the couple made their way back to their friends. With two drinks in each hand, they carefully placed them down on the table and sat back down.

“Inuyasha..” Sango asked, her voice coming off more threatening than usual. “What did you do to Kagome?”

His girlfriend's plush lips were still in a cute little pout, and he could tell immediately that she was trying to get back at him for calling her annoying. They were both messing around with each other as they normally do, but looking at her soft lips and with their previous conversation still fresh in his mind, Inuyasha knew what to do.

“He called me annoying.” Kagome answered, “So, I’m giving him the silent treatment.”

He could not stop his eyes from rolling at her, a humongous grin showing on his face. “Oh, relax, you know I didn’t mean it.”

Kagome’s brown eyes narrowed at him, but instead of looking angry, she looked like she was challenging him. “Hmm, remind me of what you said back at the bar then.”

That was it, the urge to kiss her again was too strong, seeing her so playfully riled up at his antics. She looked so good in this green dress, with her wavy hair cascading down her arms and face, her blushing cheeks that makeup could never compare to, and her challenging eyes that were staring right into his.

It was an instant pull, like a magnet, that led him to immediately latch his lips onto hers. Inuyasha felt her body give a little jolt in surprise, but she quickly molded her lips right against his, the feeling of kissing him was too addicting. She fisted her dainty hands onto his leather jacket and latched on for support while her body turned into putty because all she could think about was kissing him back. One of his large hands lay firmly on the small of her back while the other was caressing her cheek.

If they had a choice they would do this forever with one another and never go back to reality again. But half-demon or not, they both needed to pull apart to get some air. Their chests heaved dramatically while they stared at each other, both of their faces the reddest they have ever been.

“Finally.” Miroku snorted, “I was wondering when you two were going to crack.”

Inuyasha’s eyes widened. “W-what?”

“You guys aren’t exactly the best at keeping secrets, you know.” Sango added.

“Yeah, especially when you guys look like you will jump each other at any second,” Miroku smirked, his eyes flicking back and forth from the couple in front of him.

Kagome huffed, “I figured this would happen.” She could not help but laugh. “Why didn’t you guys just say anything?”

“You placed bets, didn't you?” The half-demon glared. He, too, had his suspicions that their best friends had figured it out a while back, but for Kagome’s sake, he continued with their agreement on staying a secret until later on.

“‘Course we did, we wouldn’t be your best friends if we didn’t place bets.” Miroku’s violet eyes looked into Sango’s, and he smirked. “Also, we both liked to watch you two pretend like you weren’t into each other. It was fun.”

“Keh. Assholes.” Inuyasha scoffed.

“Never mind that,” Sango pulled Kagome in for a hug. “I’m so happy! This couldn't have gone more perfect!”

Kagome was in a fit of giggles all over again, and immediately she was pulled off from her best friend and into her boyfriend's arms.

“Well, guess we couldn’t keep it a secret after all.” The half-demon smirked.

A bright smile that Kagome could not hold back appeared on her face. “Nope, I guess not.”

They kissed each other again, and again, and again. By the time the group of friends all left the lounge, Inuyasha and Kagome looked spent, with swollen kissed lips and a drunken look in their eyes.

#inukagfluffweek2021 #inukagfluffweek #inukag #inukag fan fiction #inukag fic #inuyasha #inuyasha x kagome #ao3

43 notes · View notes

jean-kayak · 3 years

Text

Finally

Summary: A heated argument makes him accidentally confess his feelings

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x black!gn!reader

Warnings: a HUGE amount of angst, but don’t worry there’s a happy ending, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, one (1) bad chem joke, and a lot of tears

Word Count: 2,629

A/N: Um, you could say this is to make up for the Gojou angst I wrote earlier lolol, and I wanted to write for Kuroo cause I hadn’t written a fic for him yet and this is what came out of it

Tags: @her-majesty-kiara, @iwascrybaby

Kuroo groans when he hears his doorbell ring, wondering who's bothering him during his one-person movie night, and he haphazardly gets off the couch, pausing the movie before he walks to the door.

The annoyed, apathetic look on his face is quickly wiped off when he sees you standing on his porch, eyes red. He sighs, wordlessly stepping to the side to let you in, softly closing the door as he follows you back into the living room.

He sits back in his spot with a heavy sigh, and you follow, but you don't sit right next to him, which is normal behavior whenever you come to him like this. He throws an arm over the couch as you sniffle, your eyes on your lap. "So, what was it this time?"

He hates how he has to add that every time you show up at his door. He's lost count, and he hates that too. You wipe at your eye before you shrug. "He broke it off," is all you say, your voice not loud but not quiet either.

And he hates how it seems like you've just come to terms with this situation. Every time there's a new boyfriend, there's a new issue. Sometimes he wants to grab you by your shoulders and shake you, hoping that it'll make you see that it doesn't have to be this way for you.

Kuroo sighs again. "I'm sorry," he responds. "You wanna go get something to eat?"

You scoff as you shake your head, finally looking at him. "Go ahead and say it," you suddenly speak up, and it makes Kuroo frown at you.

"What are you talking about?" he asks, raising his eyebrows at your sudden outburst and change in demeanor.

"I can hear it in your voice, Kuroo. Just go ahead and say it." The anger in your voice, makes him sit up.

"What are you going about? I--"

"Just say I told you so and get it over with." He falls silent for a few seconds. He guesses after the same event happening over and over again, he got worse at hiding his true feelings. "You sound like that every single time. God, it's so annoying."

Now it's his turn to scoff. "I'm sorry? I've been telling you for a while now that they weren't good enough for you," he argues, your words rubbing him in the completely wrong way.

"And how are you supposed to know that? You've never liked any guy that I've dated, and it's like you just wait for me to get my heart broken just so you can rub it in my face that you were right."

"That sounds like a you problem, y/n. You think I'd do that to hurt you? You think I'd lie to you?" His voice is starting to rise, and he's never liked doing that, but you're pissing him off. How you let yourself get treated is pissing him off.

"God, you are such an asshole," you spit before you're standing, and he's quick to follow, grabbing your wrist.

"I'm the asshole? Oh, that's fucking rich." You snatch your wrist out of his grip before turning to face him.

"What is it, Kuroo?" you start, your voice now matching his. "Why is it that every single guy isn't good enough for me? Are you sure you're not trying to tell me that it's the other way around?"

He clenches his jaw. He has to choose his next words carefully before this hellhole of an argument really blows over. But he doesn't know what to say, and his silence spurs you on.

"If you thought I was that bad of a person to be dating then why would you let me go out with them anyway?" He feels the anger bubbling violently in his chest, the cap on the lid about to bust. "You just wanted me to think lowly of myself?"

"Because I FUCKING LOVE YOU, and I know that I could treat you better than any of those guys combined!" he screams, his voice booming through the house, making you flinch violently.

And he's trying to calm himself down, realizing what he said. The fucking cat that he's been trying to keep in the bag just leaped out with flying colors. He looks at you, your face completely different than it was before his accidental confession.

The silence is literally making his ears ring as he looks down at the floor. "Get out." He stops you when he knows you're about to say something.

"Kuroo--"

"Get the fuck out." He doesn't look up. He can't. But he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to lose you, but he just did. He couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut and now he's paying the price.

"Fine," he hears you say, the words bitter. And he hears your footsteps moving towards the door, and the door opening.

And he jumps when he hears it slam.

He lays in his bed for days. The pillows and sheets are stained with tears, his head pounding from the consistent crying. The more he replays the scene in his head, the harder he cries.

He could barely reach for his phone without crying because usually, the first thing he does when he reaches for his phone is think of you. He gets stupid drunk, but that only makes him cry worse, his headache making his head feel like it's being split open.

He wants to smash everything that has any memories of you tainted on it, but every time he goes to shatter a picture frame, he can't let it go.

How could you ever think about yourself that way? About him? The last thing he ever wanted you to think was that he thought you weren't good enough. But his annoyance was winning out.

He was tired of you boasting about a new guy you were potentially about to go on a date with. How you would tell him about all the dates you went on. And then you would come to him, crying because they broke your heart.

He was tired of being the guy that helps you fix your broken heart instead of being the one that got to hold it.

And he ruined it all. He had just been fucking content with being your friend then none of this would be happening. He wouldnt've lost the person he loved the most.

He wanted to call you his so bad. He wanted you to be the first thing to wake up to and the last thing to see before he went to sleep. He wanted to kiss you under the mistletoe like in those stupid cliche Christmas movies.

He wanted to dance with you in the kitchen, no music playing, just the two of you, relishing in each other's touch. He wanted to get down on one knee and tell you everything that he loved about you. That he had been in love with you from the moment he met you. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, but having the privilege of calling you his.

You were so close to him. Yet so, so far away.

But he put up with it. He watched you in a happy relationship, hoping it would get him to get over you. But it failed. No matter what he did, what he tried. It hurt to see you in a relationship, and it hurt to see you crying due to the relationship crumbling.

He calls Kenma, barely able to retell the story because of how bad his voice is breaking, the tears falling all over again as his body heaves with sobs. But he's never seen Kenma come over to his house so fast.

Kenma stays for nearly the whole day, Kuroo spending nearly two and half of the hours convincing Kenma that it was completely fine for him to go home.

He felt empty. Like his body had been hollowed out. He cleaned up his house, the gloomy feeling settling over him only lifting slightly, but he was proud of himself for making progress. Slowly but surely.

He pretty sure things are starting to go back to "normal." The word having a different meaning now that you're no longer here.

He's scrolling through his phone deciding on whether he should cook or get take out when the noise against his door makes his whole body freeze. He tells himself that he was imagining it, that it was nothing, but he can't stop himself from walking into the living room to make sure he told himself right.

He nearly drops his phone when he hears the familiar knock. The only one that you use. He finds himself conflicted, not knowing whether to run to the door and throw it open and hugging you or running to his room and not coming out until your gone.

You knock again, and he feels like his legs are going to give out as he slowly walks towards it. He stands in front of it, not making a move to unlock it, but picturing you standing on the other side.

"Open the door, Kuroo," you say, your voice muffled, but he can hear it clear as day, and he hasn't heard your voice in so long that it makes him realize how much his heart still aches, and it almost makes him open the door.

He knows that once his eyes land on you, he'll cry. He knows it.

"Please." And he feels himself crack. Might as well get this over with and finally move on.

His hands are shaking like crazy as he slowly unlocks the door, pausing for a moment before he turns the knob. He's not looking at you when he fully opens the door, opting to look at the floor. He's not ready, he doesn't think he'll ever be.

The tension is so thick he feels like he can't breathe. Or that could be because he's trying to keep himself calm. He brings himself to look at you, and he never thought in a million years that he would struggle with looking at you. Not when he's been doing it for so long.

He feels the tears forming before he even gets to your face. He sighs heavily when he finally meets your eyes, yours looking just as puffy and swollen as his were.

He doesn't know what to say or feel. He wants to say so much, but he can't. He doesn't want a repeat of last time.

"You can't love me."

He feels his barely mended heart fall apart again. He scoffs painfully as he wipes the tears that start falling, turning back around to walk into the house, and he has the urge to stop you when he hears you walk in behind him, closing the door.

"You can't love me," he slows to a stop when he hears your voice break. "Because." Your voice is wavering, and you stop again, letting out a quick sob. "Because I love you."

Kuroo feels his whole world shift as he feels more tears flood into his eyes. He pushes away that small moment of hope, huffing as he wipes his face. "y/n--"

"That's not how this works," you cut him off, but he doesn't turn around. "I'm the one that always falls and never gets caught."

Your lips are quivering so bad that the words are barely coming out. Kuroo slowly turns around, seeing that you have tears streaming down your face. He's looking for the lie, waiting for the part when he wakes up.

You take a careful step forward, and Kuroo doesn't have it in him to stop you. "It's--"

"I'll catch you." There's pain etched on both of your faces, but your eyes widen slightly in shock. "God, y/n, I will always catch you. I--"

He steps closer to you, and he reaches out to touch you, but he stops himself, not sure if it's the right move. "I can't believe you thought I would ever think that way about you."

"I know, and I'm so fucking sorry. I was upset, and I took it out on you. I didn't mean any of it," you explain, your sentence wavering off towards the end. "I was just--nothing ever worked out for me, and I thought that you would never feel the same, so I--"

You can't help it this time, not even biting your lip can muffle your cries, and Kuroo's pulling you into his chest, and you nearly cry as hard as you did on that awful day, and Kuroo holds you like you'll slip away from him at any moment as more tears fall down his face.

Your hands are holding on tight to his shirt that he feels it might rip, but he doesn't care. The only thing that he cares about is that he finally has you back in his arms.

"I'm sorry," he breathes, resting his face in your hair, and you lift your head up.

"You shouldn't be apologizing. I--"

"I said things that I shouldn't have said too," he says, cupping your face in his hands, rubbing over some of the dried tear tracks staining your brown skin. "I swear I didn't mean it."

You sniffle loudly as you bring your hands up to wipe the tears off of his face. "I love you, Tetsurou." The sound of his name sounds amazing coming from you, and he feels his heart swell as he smiles widely, feeling tears brimming his eyes again.

"And I love you." He does. With every single thing in his body. You huff softly as his finger rubs over your cheek. "Can I kiss you?"

You nod quickly, and he chuckles softly on the outside, but on the inside, he's bouncing off the walls. He doesn't delay any longer, moving in to connect his lips with yours. He feels a shock shoot up his spine, further fueling his love for you.

This is what he imagined. What he's been dreaming of, and it's happening. And he's not in the middle of a dream, even though that's what it feels like. His arms wrap around your waist as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer to him, not even wanting an inch of space between the both of you.

He hopes that everything confession he's thought about making is being transferred through, wanting you to understand that he loves you to the next universe and back. He reluctantly pulls away, both of your lungs screaming for air, and he leans his head to rest against your forehead.

"Marry me," he breathes, and you huff softly as you look at him.

"Now?"

He nods eagerly. "Yes."

"Are you serious?" you ask, chuckling in disbelief as you move a hand to play with the strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

"As serious as inhaling hydrochloric acid," he jokes quickly, smiling when you laugh. "I'll do all of the formal stuff later. Just please say yes."

You laugh a little louder this time, and he can't help the pang of his heart at the sight, the sounding even more beautiful than music. "Yes, Tetsurou, I'll marry you."

If he thought he was already happy about his feelings being reciprocated, he was definitely through the roof happy now. He plants his lips back on yours, pulling you into an even deeper kiss, and he sighs in content.

He brings you into a hug, huffing in disbelief that you're actually standing here, that you want to marry him. And that your arms feel like home. Like paradise.

He doesn't even care how long it took.

All that matters is that he can finally call you his.

#kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #kuroo angst #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou x black!reader #tetsurou kuroo x black!reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!#hq #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu angst #hq!! angst #hq angst #haikyuu!! x black!reader #haikyuu x black!reader

116 notes · View notes

hueningshaped · 3 years

Text

★ good friend | k.sy

▰ genre: implied spice/nsfw but barely angst AND fluff, the classic

▰ word count: 2476 hhhh

▰ synopsis / request #1: fwb to lovers! soonyoung since this idea has actually been on my mind before the ask came in (also HOORAY ASK :D) hehe

▰ possible warnings :: mentions of sex and vomiting and food

▰ notes: im lame also tmi but ive never had experienced anything romantic in my life so i tell u this - i am not good with romance and im not sure how any of this stuff is supposed to go so ur ever bewildered at what i postulate, u are not alone lmfao. i hope this isn’t too bad and i hope what i write in general isn’t too rough

Most nights offered the same routine and have offered the same routine for the past few months: nights of mottled yet complete love marks ridden upon your very feverish skin, long abandoned clothes of your weekly activities, and sweet and overwhelmed sounds that were evoked from pleasure that lasted hours. However, the fulfillment of satisfaction could no longer be quelled as the filaments of your heart now yearned for something more.

And while Kwon Soonyoung did you no wrong directly, only the knowing that there was nothing more besides sex despite your growing feelings furthered an irreversible damage that rested in your hands alone.

The reality was that you weren’t his and he wasn’t yours. It would never be that way. You and he had agreed to it, but now, the guilt and pain blossomed like a bruise in your soul. Your heart always hurt afterwards and beforehand.

Just two days had passed since the last time you allotted another rendezvous with Soonyoung and he had messaged you again. Of course, upon seeing that text, which you received during your lunch at work, you soon lost appetite and utilized the rest of your break to weep into your bag in the restroom.

The meetups with him did you no good as they had frequented and seemingly were no longer just for sex.

Soonyoung learned your body and the things that made your body pleasured and joyous. He’d walk in early to bring you your favorite snacks. Sometimes, he would greet with a kiss on your nose or cheek.

When your limbs were tangled and you were at his mercy, Soonyoung would plant kisses all across the expanse of your neck and chest. On more occasions than you can count, the love marks he’d left have been often uncountable. With each passing meeting, his lips journeyed to your own, swollen and bitten raw by the time you’ve both finished. Sex was more than sex; it became that way before you even understood. He held and touched you in the way one cherished and love someone else.

Soonyoung brought forth so much joy, laughter, albeit cries from pleasure, but you were now unable to continue.

Your friendship with him was something priceless and a treasure. For you to risk that and the one thing that nearly convinced you that you were more than that would be foolish. The shift from simple friends to friends with benefits had only began due to a joke. Nearly a year had passed and you often regret trespassing the fine line of friendship and more than that.

Good friend Soonyoung also wasn’t foolish; he knew you and knew how you could be when you didn’t want to be you at times because you were precious to him. He knew this much.

Pretending his message had never been glossed over twenty three times, you managed to get on with your day, ignoring the dropping of your stomach, the sooner the clock moved closer to the time you were set to return to your apartment, which Soonyoung also knew.

And Good Friend Soonyoung was good, indeed.

SOON(YO)UNG: y/n

SOON(YO)UNG: are you busy tonihgt bc i need you

SOON(YO)UNG: if not i understand but i still wanan be with you

SOON(YO)UNG: i might not be good at this whole technology thing but i hope u do know ur read receotps are on

Soonyoung had a way with words; Not only at times where you needed comfort but also during those when you were at the edge, legitimately clutching to his shoulders for mercy to his wicked moves.

You felt yourself losing more grip and composure of reality as you sped home, having forgotten which days he actually did have practice. Was it everyday? Would he be at your place before you knew it? Were you a good liar? Was this the first time you were so open about postponing your boning? Were you even open about everything?

Contrast to last week, your meetups and reality with Soonyoung were as they had been for the past few months: frequent, intimate as always, but as more time passed, he was nearly inseparable from you.

Soonyoung was more than enough of a single person than you realized. He’d always been by your side for years and the things he did proved that. He always went above and beyond to made sure you felt good, comfortable, confident, and healthy. The kisses he left on your shoulder, bruises from his grip on your waist, aftercare of sweet touches and whispers, dedication of feeding you whatever he thought or tried to cook were just a fragment of what he did for you and of what he meant for you.

Not to mention he knew how to read you so well it hurt. Soonyoung could understand the light of your eyes; the light in his own eyes were effervescent, embers glowing with the lights of places wherever he entered, and they were never cold to you, the best of all.

But he would never be yours and you would never be his.

Luckily, upon your return to your place, you discovered that Soonyoung was not home before you, after silently screaming and double checking each and every possible place any person could have been.

He indeed would be at practice today, hopefully, but painfully wrong, you thought that maybe he would be too exhausted to even think of coming here.

There was the factual prospect of Soonyoung entering as he had his own key; however, his entrances were never outside of your consent or comfort, nor were they all strictly for sex. He was your best friend, who you had mingled with the territorial line that keeps platonic from sexual relationships.

Confronting the boy you had dreadfully fallen for was last on your list; your body told you so. Oh, it had no trouble letting you know of the conflict within your heart, perspiration, and clamminess.

All things came to a heading stop — in the midst of you tidying up your living room to keep your thoughts and stresses at bay — when a knock resonated. A bouquet of flurries within the pit of your stomach sent the broom in your hands over, whipping about the surfaces of the area you were in.

So much for ever trying to take the “not home” excuse. Clumsy hands.

“Y/N, is it okay if I come in?” Even the ginger edge to his voice offered no cloying confection — a sharp intake of breath drew past your raw-bitten lips. He was sweet as always.

Despite the fact he now was present and, on top of that, knew of your fabricated absence or intentional silence, confrontation with Soonyoung was just about inevitable. The flurries in your stomach now equated to the punch of an avalanche with endless swirls that even hijacked the means of your vision.

Could the end of your friendship await on the other side of the door?

“Darling, won’t you open up? Not the door, heh. I... to me... Are you okay?” The final question loosened the ivory pronunciation of your knuckles against the wringing of your shirt’s hem. There was nothing more visceral or internal that surpassed the knowledge of Soonyoung’s proximity and love to you.

How you just wanted the kisses Soonyoung messily left across the edges of your skin, the goosebumps and crimson flushes in his plump lips’ wake to be because of love and not strictly from the other way.

“Soon...” you stammered, a familiar stinging threatening behind your eyes.

“If you don’t want me to come in, then this is it. You don’t have to force yourself,” a somber tone shadowed his words, which left you perplexed but all the more conflicted. Only the thicket of steel and wood separated you, but you could still successfully make out that loving voice of his. “If you want to talk, I’m right here. I’m literally right here — your neighbors keep giving me the side eye, so lovedoll, open the door if you’re ready so we can talk. If not, I’ll understand.”

An answer, even a mustered, broken out noise from the depths of your throat, would have sufficed, except the swirl of your stomach returned full blow, barreling you straight to the toilet.

“I’m sorry I — ” you all but yelped to the front door.

Esophagus stretching and lungs flushing, you knew well what was coming. Words were cut short before the terribly familiar, pungent acid pounded out of your mouth in spurts and nearly imprecisely in the bathroom.

Nausea was your body’s coping mechanism for much stress: just the cherry on top.

Tears peeked at the brims of your eyes. The burn of your throat was just about the peak of your overstimulation. On top of that, you wanted nothing more than to things be right, even if it meant giving Soonyoung up. And oh, how that pain would leave this minor, minor, minor one in the blink of an eye.

A set of footsteps neared you, just as you finally were reaching for something to wipe your mouth off.

“You could’ve just said you were sick, sweet Y/N,” he sighed and you sniffled, continuing your ministrations. Confessing a possible unrequited love here was not ideal, but it would be worth a shot...if you could even speak. “Here I was fearing the worst: imagining a horror film scenario, since, you know, one of the idiots, namely Channie, decided to have a marathon the other — Y/N?”

As you moved to sit back on your sprawled and folded knees, your eyes trained upwards: a position and person you could remember by muscle memory at the least. That silly grin of his slowly dissolved into a concerned clutch of his lips, eyes roaming past that of your own eyes.

Your heart was nearly leaping before the machinations of your head could compute exactly you wanted to say. The silence was shared by your staring contest and your ventilation system that constantly busted up.

No words were said — from you, really. Confessing your love was much harder than it looked.

With the help of Soonyoung, you were eventually put to rest, after an entire system of learned routines that followed familiar episodes of your countless seasons of your friendship.

You let him choose what to watch, which he did not hesitate to execute to his choosing. His warmth was no different, he knew this. Enveloped in his lap, your feet trembled at the same rate as your hidden fingers did.

“Do you want me to make you some herbal tea?” He chimed, flipping through the cast list of whatever show that currently caught his eye. The slant of his eyes desperately deserved a kiss.

“You don’t know how to make tea,” you stated, earning the gaze that weighed tons. He pouted comically. His cheeks still possessed a flush from earlier practice, where you’d seen first hand how he dominated the room and led the others, allowing them to shine with his practice and ministrations.

“Soonyoung, you know I get sick like this. It happens occasionally.” His eyes had trained back to the screen until you let the final word escape your mouth, shocked at the chuckle rattling his voice and shoulders.

Those constellations met your eyes again: a nebulous light that could have had your knees buckling had you been standing.

“Occasionally? You get sick when you’re nervous or angry, which, for that part, is a kinda funny rarity — but I know you, Y/N,” he let your name ripple off his lips, the equivalent of having shared the most fragrant and delicate fruit between your very lips. “Why are you nervous?”

The lump in your throat throbbed, leaving you with something more than a twisted tongue. Good Friend Soonyoung was good indeed.

He leaned down to close the proximity between you more and more, taking a strip of loose hair and curling it around his finger before swooping in like a hawk. His brisk scent enveloped you, of musk and some other herb of a lotion you had purchased for him from a Christmas gift just a few months back. Soonyoung brought the hair to his lips, as your own merely parted at the proximity, quite possibly electrifying the amorous feelings even more so.

A gasp was all you could muster last until he was nose to nose with you, lips just a hair away.

“Why do I make you nervous?” He spoke lowly. You could barely meet his eyes. He planted a shallow kiss on the corner of your mouth until warm streams trailed from the corner of your eyes and of course, he cupped your face.

Concern furrowed upon his expression. He was no longer kissing you, and you were no longer poker faced, a sob billowing from the depths of your throat.

“What’s wrong?” And of course, you cried more at that. So much for not letting him know your feelings.

“Y/N,” he implored softly. His arm was perched beside your head where you laid and he now moved back so you could sit up at the slightest, or to at least where you were able to since you were now sobbing.

“I love you, Soonyoung. I love you,” each word left more emphatic with a gasp for air in between. His face dropped and his hand retracted from your chin. You did your best to silence yourself, pursing your lips. “I'm sorry. That-that’s why I've been avoiding you and I know I’m full of crap for making it look like anything else, and I know I’m ruining everything we’ve ever had, but I just couldn't...couldn’t live like this.”

Nearly out of breath from your speech, your eyes fell to his hands, which rested on your blanketed feet.

“We had a great friendship. I’m—”

“Hey,” Soonyoung called out emphatically, earning eye contact that could have seared your soul. That same hand returned and again, your jaw dropped slightly. “Why did you assume I didn’t love you?”

His velvety mouth curled with a soft smile and his thumb rubbed your past tears into your cheek.

“I love you, Y/N. You’re just silly enough to convince yourself of the opposite,” with that, a popping kiss planted on your lips. “And this is also why you should talk to me about anything. Remember when we tried a different position and I thought you were crying about how it hurt, but you just felt—”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed with a sniffle as he rested his chin on your sternum, grinning, “so, you’re in love with me as I am with you?”

Soonyoung nodded hard enough to jolt a new yearning within you. Needless to say, he would spend the entire night proving it.

#im bad at writing angst wtf #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen hoshi #hoshi imagines #hoshi fluff #hoshi x reader #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung imagines #soonyoung x reader

165 notes · View notes

lovecanbesostrange · 3 years

Text

Okay, for the poor people on the Ruby Lucas Harem Discord suffering because of this ask (x) on konako’s tumblr that lead to things (including this fanart x), I have this wild scene out of context.

Mary Margaret was sitting at her desk, updating her chemistry flashcards. Ruby was sitting on her bed cross-legged staring at her laptop screen, waiting for this English essay to write itself.

“Ugh,” Ruby groaned and let herself fall backwards. Out of habit she put her hands to her face, but winced when her fingers touched the band aid over her eyebrow. It’s been five days.

A knock on the door made them both turn. They usually could tell who it was by the exact sound of the knock. Like Charming had one hard knock followed by two quick ones or Mulan knocked four times in a specific rhythm. So whoever this was, was more than unexpected. Ruby drew in a sharp breath. She had heard back from the police yesterday that there would be no criminal charges, but they both knew something else would arise from this.

Mary Margaret looked at her, then turned her chair to fully face the door and Ruby got back up again. “Come in.”

“Hallo. Good, you’re here.”

“Mom!” Mary Margaret was up in a second and gave her mother a hug. “I didn’t know you’d be coming.”

Eva hugged her back, but despite the smile on her face, her voice already made them realize this was not a fun surprise visit. “I didn’t know I would be here today either.” The hug ended and she stepped into the room, her gaze landing on Ruby. “I got some news last night and suddenly I was in my car this morning.”

Mary Margaret glanced at the clock. It was a twelve hours drive with good traffic, so Eva must’ve gotten behind the wheel around 4am.

“Hi…” Ruby busied herself closing her laptop and didn’t look up.

“Honey,” Eva stroked Mary Margaret’s hair, “would you mind giving us the room? I want to talk to Ruby.”

“Sure.” Mary Margaret glanced between the two and then grabbed her things from the desk. “I’m down the hall in the common area.” When she passed Eva she whispered: “Don’t be too harsh on her, please.”

That made Eva smile. Her daughter knew exactly why she was here, but she looked out for her friend. These girls always had each other’s back and knowing they were loyal like that, dragging each other out of trouble, was certainly a good thing.

Eva took the vacant chair and rolled herself over a bit towards Ruby’s bed. “So.”

Ruby slowly looked up. Eva took in the bandaid and she could see a faint red line indicating that her lip must have been busted. Trying to hide one hand with the other was a giveaway that her knuckles were bruised as well. Eva had to breathe slowly. A part of her wanted to grab Ruby by the shoulders and shake the whole story out of her. She wanted to yell about irresponsibilties, the futility of violence and all the consequences physical assault could come with. The bigger part of her wanted to cradle her like the 9 year old she sometimes still saw, who confessed to lying about her home address, as if not having loving parents was her personal failing.

“I was at dinner with friends last night and suddenly got asked if I heard about the ruckus on campus. I was really surprised when I was shown this tiny article about a football player beating up another student. And it took me two phone calls to find out it was you.”

“I’m sorry,” Ruby murmured towards the blanket she was sitting on, playing with the seam of her sweatpants.

“For what?” Eva tried to keep her voice as neutral as possible. She had felt every emotion during the long drive and had played out many versions of this conversation. But sitting in this room she realized none of those would work.

Ruby furrowed her brows and finally looked up. “Beating up that guy, of course?” It was a bit more of a question than a statement. The question had rattled her. There was so much to be sorry for though. The beating, losing her temper at all, making Regina worry that night already, not doing so great in classes lately, clinging to Snow, making her team suffer… oh, wait. “Also for not calling… I guess…”

The board said that her mother, Anita, would be notified of this by mail. That was her home address, her contact, but maybe this was why Eva was here. The Blanchards had always cared, but now she was in college, she wasn’t a kid anymore, she had to do these things by herself. But maybe, just maybe they should have called. “I shouldn’t have put this on Snow alone… she should’ve talked to you…”

“Ruby, no.” Eva got up and sat down on the bed, gesturing Ruby to scoot over next to her. “Sure, I’m disappointed-”

The word stung and Ruby interjected immediately. “I’m sorry. I messed up, but I promise Snow wasn’t even there and I won’t-”

“Stop!” Eva took Ruby’s hands, now seeing the bruises already turning yellow, showing the passage of time already. “I am disappointed you didn’t call. And I’m glad to hear Mary wasn’t involved, but I wanted to know anyway. Because of you. I care about you. And this is serious. I know…” She paused and slowed down, knowing the next thing would hurt, but after all these years, Eva needed to say it out loud. “I know your mom doesn’t take good care of you, I know you feel like she doesn’t care at all and I honestly don’t know if she does. But I do. I am not your mother, but I care.”

The dam broke and Ruby started to cry. Eva took her into her arms and immediately Ruby clung to her. It was weird that Eva had seen the aftermath of Ruby crying quite a few times over the years, but rarely had she shed tears in front of her. Maybe Eva should have made her before, pushed her a little bit towards that to hammer it home that she cared and that she would be there for her. Just the same she had hugged Mary Margaret after break-ups, over bruised knees, bad grades, and other bad news.

“I’m sorry for everything”, Ruby got out between sobs. Her tears stained Eva’s blouse already. “I didn’t mean to… I don’t want to hurt people… I swear I want to be good.”

There was more, but it was hard to decipher it all and Eva let her cry, rubbing circles on her back. Getting the full story would take time, that was for sure. All she could do now was to reassure Ruby. “I know you’re good, you just made a mistake. People make mistakes.”

Eva looked over Ruby’s shoulder and saw her pinboard. A few pictures were on it and she immediately recognized one taken the time she and Leopold had taken the girls to Six Flags. They had ridden all the rollercoasters until they were practically green in the face. It had also been the day she had seen Ruby at her most carefree. There was one photo of Ruby with her Grandmother, a woman Eva had met only once. Anita was nowhere to be found on the wall.

A group shot looked nice. Eva recognized David from the pictures Mary Margaret had sent her, but couldn’t even guess who the others were. It was a bit sad living too far away to meet all these people, because she had made it a point to know Mary Margaret’s friends in school by face and name. Mulan, Belle, August, Robin, Jasmin, Anna, Aurora… so many names. She smiled at the picture in the corner that showed Ruby in her team uniform, helmet in hand. A candid shot, her elbow resting on the shoulder of another girl. Or maybe it was young woman now.

Eva turned a bit to catch a glimpse of Mary Margaret’s pinboard. Cluttered with far more pictures, flyers and notes. They shared a room, they had shared the most parts of their lives for the past 11 years and yet there still was such a noticeable difference.

Ruby started to calm down and when she let go, Eva leaned forward to get tissues out of her bag. “Can you tell me your version of the story now? All I know is that you were provoked and sent a boy to the hospital. The article said something about questionable self-defense.”

“There are no criminal charges,” Ruby said after blowing her nose. “He said something to my friend. Insulted her. And he wouldn’t stop, calling her… the c-word… and when he touched me, I lost it.”

“He was in the hospital,” she prompted.

“For a broken arm.” A pause. “A broken nose.” Ruby looked at Eva again. “He lost a tooth. And has some more bruises than I do. He was on the ground fast…”

Eva put a hand on Ruby’s shoulder. “I have no problem believing you would defend any of your friends like that. But you must have hit him pretty hard.” Ruby nodded, the shame was visible. “Tell me the truth. Has this happened before? Because what I can’t believe is that you would pound someone when he’s already down. Something else is going on and I want to know if that will happen again.”

Ruby pressed her palms against the mattress and slid away a bit. Eva could hear - and even see - her breathing pick up. This was almost all the confirmation she needed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Has it happened before, yes or no?”

“Yes.”

Silence fell.

Eva closed her eyes. This was the thing she had feared. Because either Ruby had lost it very big time and the paper didn’t cover the big scoop behind it. Or something had been going on and she had been blind to it. And she needed to hear this from Ruby herself either way.

“When?”

“Back in high school… it was… at junior prom…”

Eva scrambled her brain. She remembered Mary Margaret having a date and giving her one more motherly talk about safe sex that had left her daughter bright red in the face. She also remembered that date bringing her home even before curfew and that Mary Margaret had been not very talkative that night. She had sworn nothing bad had happened with him and Eva only suspected that they’d had a stupid teen argument. There was nothing too remarkable about that. Had she seen Ruby the next day? She couldn’t recall.

While she was thinking, Ruby went on hesitantly. “This boy Peter had asked me out… from the hockey team… but it… it was all a prank… some of those guys wanted to like… set me up for a joke… and... “ She quickly glanced up and right back down again. “It wasn’t as bad, he had bruises and a swollen eye. Snow was there to stop me and we all agreed to not tell anyone. I apologized to him though. And it all… it was… like now… just more… it wasn’t just Whale being a dick to my friend, it’s… everything is so much sometimes and I explode.”

This was less surprising to hear than Eva cared to admit. “Have you ever hurt somebody with intention?”

Ruby shook her head. Her voice was broken. “One time… but only one time… I shoved Snow… I swear it was only once… I yelled at her and shoved her and the second I had done that… I apologized immediately and I never ever intended to hurt anybody.” She looked at Eva again. “Least of all her. I swear.” For this she held eye contact as long as she could.

Eva reached out touching her hand that was clenched around the edge of the mattress. “Thank you for being honest.”

There were a lot of details Eva wanted to know about, but this had been hard enough on Ruby. And now they had time to figure things out. But she had revealed a bright spot. “No criminal charges, you said?”

Ruby nodded. “The police seem very uninterested. And any civil things… well, I need to worry about what the board decides. My… friend said her family will keep things on the down-low.” She squirmed a bit.

“Who is this friend?”

“Regina Mills.”

“Mills? Oh.” Of all the people to get in a fight for, this was probably the luckiest choice. Although it didn��t sit right with Eva that there might be things going to circumvent what law dictated. But she also knew that worse people got away with far worse behavior and Ruby deserved to have one strike with minimal consequences. Even if this was technically her second. “I have looked up a few therapists in town already. I nee-”

“I’m seeing the campus therapist already. But I blew off a few appointments and I get that I shouldn’t.” Eva looked over at Mary Margaret’s bed at that. “Yes, Snow made me. She went with me the first time even.”

“What else are you girls keeping from me?” That came out more judgmental than she meant to. “I know you’re growing up, but you’re still kids to me. I always thought you knew you can come to me with problems.”

“Sorry.”

Eva scooted closer again and put her arm around Ruby’s shoulder. “Enough with the apologies. I know you’re a good kid. I remember you kept Mary from starting to smoke, so that’s something.”

“You know about that?” Ruby looked at her bewildered.

“I am a mom after all and some things I do pick up. You didn’t like it, because you’re an athlete, right?”

“Yeah, it’s super shitty for your lungs and I told her it was uncool.”

Eva laughed. “Wish that would work on Leo and his cigars. But thanks for that. I know you two look out for each other. But I will have to chew out my daughter for keeping a few too many secrets.” Ruby tensed up a bit. “What? Something else I need to know?”

“No…” She dragged the syllable out, dragging her toes over the floor.

“Ruby, I just said you can tell me. That is all I want from you, the truth. And we can work anything out from there.”

“But… what if…” She crossed her arms in front of chest, bracing herself. “What if… I’m not who you think I am?”

“You’re Ruby Lucas. You’re the best friend of my daughter, almost more like a sister. You worked your butt off to get here and you work hard to be the best version of you. I know you even send some of that money home you make at the gas station. Because you care so much about people you love, like your grandmother. I know you are a good person, even though you keep way too much inside. But we can work on that now.” She gave Ruby a kiss on the head, like she would with Mary Margaret. “What could be so bad about you?”

“I’m… I think… I’m gay.” Ruby breathed out that last word and was one tense muscle in Eva’s half embrace.

Eva looked at the pinboard again. The picture with Ruby smiling while leaning on the other girl. It clicked. On top of everything else, this secret had weighed Ruby down. She sure had enough reasons to be angry at the world already. This wasn’t something Eva had prepared for, so she just brought around her other arm to pull Ruby closer. “I want you to be happy and in love.” Finally she felt Ruby breathe in again.

((I just have to stop myself here. This could go on and on and on and on otherwise. Because I already know Eva is gonna take them out to dinner, insisting on meeting David. She gets a hotel room nearby. Of course Snow offers to let her sleep in the dorm but “Honey, that’s kind, but no. So much no to sleeping in a dorm bed.” And she freshens up a bit and passes a book store, where her eye is caught by a pride display and she gets a bracelet with a tiny rainbow flag, two actually, she wears one and gives the other to Ruby, because well, she doesn’t know exactly what to say, but this will definitely not make her think less of her!! Eva is the silent MVP of the story.))

#gender mix football AU #(where nobody gives a fuck about football)#Ruby Lucas #(sorry for spamming the tag - come to the server to yell at me about it)#this fic would be 100k words at this point already - sorry I don't have actual writing stamina for that #konako #somehow it's her fault - and the demons circling her inbox #lazylaziel #if only you knew what you started... even though it's so far removed by now... sorry #$!#RRCAU

34 notes · View notes

weneverfreeze · 3 years

Text

follow me out

AU where Steve finds Bucky after he falls. 649 words, vague references to injuries

Steve trips over him. Two days of looking and two hours of planning, one night spent stealing away from the Commandos and three hours hiding from enemy tanks, and Steve trips over him.

He’s on his knees in seconds, scrambling to brush snow away from shoulders and neck and mouth with shaking hands. It’s hard to tell in this half-asleep light but he thinks Bucky stirs when Steve says his name, soft like please and altogether too close to you promised you’d stay alive with me.

Bucky’s lips are blue. Steve takes his glove off and rests two fingers against Bucky’s throat and bows his head.

A cough, sigh. Steve thinks he might cry at that. When he sits back, Bucky’s squinting up at him.

“Not supposed to be here,” Bucky whispers hoarsely.

Steve smooths snow away from his forehead, numbly registering bruising, bleeding, scratches. There’s something horrible happening around Bucky’s left bicep that he can’t look at straight on just yet. There’s something too waxen about some of the fingers on Bucky’s right hand, one of his legs is at an odd angle and his nose looks broken and swollen and he’s too cold, and Steve needs to wrap him in blankets and everything he has but he’s alive alive alive.

“Where else should I be?”

Bucky coughs again and winces and Steve adds broken ribs to his list of things to be aware of. “They want us both,” he whispers. “You shouldn’t have come back for me.”

“You’re impossible,” Steve says. “Here—”

He uncaps his water and helps Bucky upright before helping him drink. Bucky refuses it a few times before giving in, finally, and even then Steve thinks he only does it because it shuts Steve up for a few seconds.

“Can you move?” Steve asks, packing the water away. There’s a belt in here somewhere that he can use for Bucky’s arm in case it starts bleeding again — he keeps almost finding it, as if it’s purposefully slipping away to the very bottom of his bag away from him. He snags it moments later and looks at Bucky and Bucky’s shaking his head.

“You gotta leave me behind, my leg’s busted—”

Steve says, “Listen,” and covers Bucky’s mouth with his hand. Bucky goes still immediately, and for a world-ending second Steve thinks he died just to spite him. “You said before that you’d follow me into the jaws of death. Say you’ll follow me out of them.”

“Steve,” Bucky says. It tickles Steve’s palm; he cradles Bucky’s face instead. “I’m just gonna slow you down. They want you something awful — I won’t be the reason they get you on that table.”

“Don’t be,” Steve says. “Come with me instead.”

“Go without—”

“If you aren’t coming,” he says, voice steady, “then I’m staying.”

Bucky looks too weary to glare him into going. It doesn’t stop him from trying. “Don’t be stupid.”

Oh, Steve was wrong before; this is the thing that’s gonna break him. He gives up on trying to keep his voice even. It’s too dear and desperate a thing for that.

He says, “I’m not leaving you. So either you’re coming with me and we’ll hobble our way out, or I’m staying with you and they’ll take us down together.”

“You can’t die with me, Steve,” Bucky says, and he sounds so tired.

Slowly, Steve leans down and presses his lips against Bucky’s forehead. It’s barely a kiss at all — Bucky’s too bruised for that, and there’s too much unsaid — but Bucky’s eyes flutter closed anyway.

“Then live with me,” Steve says softly. “I know it’s everything to ask, but I’m asking.”

Bucky sighs and coughs and sighs again, shallower this time. Something like determination settles in the shadows of his face.

“Okay, Cap,” he says. “What’s the plan?”

#stevebucky #stevebucky fic #stucky fic #syd writes stuff #im finding it's v fun to write snippets of things #but also #i like this and might expand on it at some point when it isn't midnight:24

37 notes · View notes

multi-fandom-inserts · 4 years

Text

A Job Just For You

Rio (Good Girls) x Reader

I’ve started watching Good Girls on Netflix and haven’t been able to stop thinking about Rio and how goddamn hot he is so I wrote something... I’m looking to make a part 2 so let me know!!

Warnings - violence, steamy, no smut yet.

XXX

Your phone rang, making you jump, snatching your phone from the bedside table you quickly scan the Caller ID – Unknown.

Signing heavily, you know exactly who that is, “Hello?” you spoke in the phone.

There was a short silence before a rough, Spanish voice spoke back, “Hey mama, I think we need to have a talk.”

Your heart sank to your stomach, quickly checking around for your boyfriend, Danny. You hide in the ensuite bathroom, locking the door behind you and putting a towel at the bottom of the door to minimise anyone overhearing you. “Now isn't a good time for a chat, Rio.” you replied sharply, carefully blotting the busted lip and examining your soon to be bruised cheek Danny had just given you, hissing in pain at the sting.

“This isn't an negotiation, I've got a job for you.” he orders.

“Fine, I'll text the others.” you say.

He lets out a gentle chuckle, “No ma, just you.”

Your heart stopped for a moment, “Why?”

“No questions, I need you to go pick up a package, the directions and what you'll need to say are in your car.” And then he hung up.

“Fuck!” you groan, you can't ignore him, that how you ended up doing half the shit you'd done. Storming out of the bathroom, you grab your bag and car keys before sneaking downstairs, Danny is passed out on the sofa, a empty bottle of booze sat next to him, you thought about killing him but quickly shook the idea from your mind as you slip out the door, completely unnoticed.

The job was relatively easy, by now you had gotten used to having guns pushed in your face, you'd picked up the package and loaded it into your car, but as you drove back to the warehouse to meet Rio, you noticed a police car tailing you, the pain in your head and face suddenly disappeared as adrenaline shot through you at a dangerous pace. And it wasn't long until the lights and sirens pulled you to a stop at the side of the road.

“License and registration.” the female cop asked, her voice stern.

You smiled and handed over what she needed, your finger drummed on the steering wheel as she flicked through your documents occasionally peaking up at you and asking you questions that weren't particularly interesting to remember.

“What's in the trunk?” she then asked out of the blue, handing back your forms.

“Just some boxes and other bits,” you smile.

The officer nodded, “Will you please open the trunk.”

If you thought the amount of adrenaline pumping through you before was dangerous, you were surprised you are still conscious after the amount your body just released. You swallowed thickly and opened the trunk, holding your breath as she rooted through the items in your trunk before closing it and coming back to your side.

“Sorry for stopping you, routine check,” the officer apologised before smiling, “Have a safe night.”

Swallowing down the vomit that crawled up your throat, you watched the police car drive away into the distance before you started your car again and headed towards the warehouse, anger filled you as you pulled in front and killed your car, opening the trunk and sift through the boxes collected.

Nothing.

They are empty.

A small chuckle pulls you from the boxes as Rio leans against his car, a smug smirk on his face.

“You asshole.” you spit, slamming the trunk shut.

He pushed off the car as you stormed towards him, “Come on now – ”

The noise of your fist connecting with his face accompanied by your heavy breathing echoed through the silent night. Rio hardly reacted to your punch, he simply looked back at you, licking the blood from his lip, almost seductively and let out a small hum in appreciation. Suddenly, his eyes darkened and he grabbed your throat harshly, marching you backwards until your back hit the side of your car.

Swallowing tightly against the palm of your throat, you just stared back at him. His breathing was rugged, your stomach tightens in a strange knot and you can't help the heat erupting between your thighs. Rio studied your face closely, there was something about you that Rio couldn't put his finger on, usually he was great at reading people, their body language and their tone of voice, but you, he couldn't figure out and fuck, it frustrated him.

You were different from the other girls – especially your sisters, Annie and Beth – sometimes he wondered if you were even related when he saw you all together. They were, for lack of a better word, plain. You were spattered in a array of tattoos, but non you couldn't hide, your hair was coloured a dark blue with piercings decorating your ears and a silver hoop through the side of your nose.

And even with his grip on your throat tightening, you didn't look scared.

Rio's gaze dropped to your lips, he wanted nothing more than to see how you tasted but then he noticed the deep cut on the side of your plump bottom lip, “What happened to your face?” he asked, his spare hand gently touching the areas around your lip and cheek tenderly.

“Careful, Rio,” you smirk, a corner of your mouth turns upwards, “I might start to think you care.”

The gangster tutted at you, “Was it the lowlife drunk you call a boyfriend.”

raising an eyebrow, “How do you know I have –”

“Don't worry about that sweetheart,” he hummed leaning in close, his lips graze just below your ear on your pulse point, you could feel him smile against your skin as your breathing hiccups at the slight contact, “I'll be seeing you real soon.”

Within a split second, Rio released your throat and moved away from you, walking back to his car confidently with his signature smirk still plastered all over his face.

XXX

“Earth to Y/N.” a voice suddenly cut through your daydream bringing you back to reality.

Blinking a few times you look up to see Beth standing in front of you, holding out a large glass of white wine, you smile and apologise, taking the glass and have a large gulp, the alcohol soothes your nerves. You hadn't told the girls about what happened with Rio but you did tell them what happened with Danny, Annie of course offers to kick his ass which you decline too.

For a while you all chatted about normal life, no money laundering, no dumping of dead bodies or selling cars for cheap, just normal life – what's happening with their kids, how Ruby's daughter is getting on with her new kidney, it was nice to feel just regular again, but it never lasts too long anymore.

Your phone beeped in your pockets, it's a message from Danny – Get home now.

Chewing the inner part of your cheek, you steady your heart rate as you say your good nights to the girls and head towards home, the alcohol had taken effect causing your body to heat up and your heart pick up it's pace. After unlocking the front door, you grasp the key in between your fingers.

“Honey, we're home.” a familiar voice echoed through the flat, “We're in the dining room.”

Oh fuck, you thought as you dumped your bags at the door and walked through to see Danny and Rio sat at the end of the table, Rio is plastered in bruises and blood but he's nothing compared to Danny who's right eye is swollen shut, his lip is busted and bleeding from a large collection of cuts. On the table was Rio's golden gun.

“Are you here to kill us both?” you ask, dropping your phone onto the table.

Rio smiled, “No babygirl, I'm here to give you an opportunity, I ain't killing nobody.”

The man stood up and walked over to you, collecting the gun on the way past, as he stood in front of you, his breath fanning your face as his eyes gobble up your image, the low cut top you're wearing gives him a perfect sight. His hand grazes your bottom lip, examining the slowly healing cut before moving to look at your cheek.

“I'm going to teach you,” he whispers in your eat, passing over the gun into your shaking hands, he slips behind you, the front of his body pressing into your back, Rio's hand grabs your hip as your ass grazes against his crotch, you can feel him tense behind you as he moves your hips to correct your stance, cupping his hand around yours he raises the gun in front of you, then the hand on your hip trails up the side of your body, across your chest to your chin were he moved your head so you were looking right at Danny.

His warm lips graze against the shell of your ear, “And now all you have to do is pull the trigger.”

Licking your lips, you hold the weight of the gun by yourself, your chest tightened as you aimed the gun at Danny, your hands shook. It was the first time Rio had seen a serious emotion on your face, a single tear trailed down your cheek as you drop the gun to your side.

“I can't, I want to but –”

“You’re a loser? A weakling, someone who everyone can walk over?” Danny yelled across the room, cutting you off.

You could feel Rio tense in anger behind you, but he stayed quiet.

“You think he's going to do anything for you?” Danny laughed, “You think he cares? No one cares about you!”

Everything just slowed down, you sniffed back the tears as your breath got caught in your throat, the sound of Danny yelling, you and Rio breathing turned into white noise, just a high pitched screech blocked out everything, except the sound of a gun going off.

The shattering noise brought everything back, you don't feel the pain in your arm for a few seconds, you just see blood and Danny's dead body slumped on the floor of your kitchen. Rio stepped round the side of you, a subtle smile on his lips.

“Well done mama,” he purrs as he takes the gun from your ridged hand and places it on the table, you find yourself unable to move from your spot, no feeling engulfs you, you just stand perfectly still. Rio kept a proud smile on his lips as he stands in front of you, pushing a strand of hair from your face, his chest heaving heavily in arousal.

Without any warning, you grasp the back of his neck, slamming his lips into yours.

XXX

Fancy a part 2 of smutty goodness? Let me know.

#rio x reader #good girls reader insert #rio good girls #reader insert #good girls netflix #rio is hot as hell

532 notes · View notes

youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years

Text

Wasting Time | Diego Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Diego Hargreeves x Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 4.1k

✦ summary— you’re an anti-love loner who somehow managed to get matched to someone by an enthusiastic and friendly pro-love super person.

✦ warnings — some angst, I think this has some comedy, probably language, Asha (OC) is a sweetheart and I would die for her, fluff.

✦ a/n — this is a repost due to tagging issues from a week-ish ago

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Your mom left the restaurant in a hurry. She had a friend to meet up with, she reminded you a few times throughout the meal as she complained about your lack of romantic partner and friends.

Romance wasn’t for you. It didn’t even make sense. There wasn’t much to it, you had never seen it end well.

As for friendships, you had never been good at bonding with people. Back in college, you had hollow acquaintanceships at best, transactional relationships like most tended to be.

You were supposed to meet up with your mom to catch up after a couple of busy weeks, but you had sadly forgotten how intense she got with the topic of love.

She acted like you would never be happy on your own. Perhaps there was some truth in there, but if there was, she would have to take responsibility because she was complicit.

A random person tapped your shoulder. Craning your neck to the side to acknowledge them, you waited for them to say whatever it was they needed from you.

“Hi! I’m Asha!”

“I’m not interested,” you breathed out, looking past her to ask for the check.

Asha sat down in front of you. “I know you think love is a waste of time, you’re not the first and you won’t be the last, but all of you are wrong.”

You were sure Asha’s intentions were pure, but you didn’t need to hear fairytale-like arguments for love. And you definitely didn’t feel comfortable around eavesdroppers.

She followed you to the parking lot, spewing things about how beautiful romance was. Nothing you hadn’t heard before in songs and films. Which meant everything she was saying was bullshit.

Pulling the door of your car open, you snapped at her, “Could you please leave me alone?!”

You wished it had worked. She started following you throughout the day, smiling at you and asking you if you had changed your mind.

Surrounded by sweet smell and beautiful colors, you walked through the farmers market. You didn’t even understand how had she been able to follow you by foot when you were driving, but you wouldn’t let her ruin this.

“Strawberries are aphrodisiacs.”

“They taste good in smoothies,” you countered, paying for the berries and nodding as a thank you to the vendor.

Someone grabbed Asha by the arm. “What do you think you are doing?”

Asha gasped, smiling brightly. “Diego! This is perfect.”

A sharp sting went through your arm. You had always attracted mosquitoes, but their bites had never made you feel weird.

And boy, did you feel weird. The urge to hug the man in front of you overcame you, and as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, he opened his arms for you.

“He’s cuddly, right?” Asha’s sweet tone filled your ears.

Well, yes. His shirt was soft and he smelled good, extremely good — holy shit, why couldn’t other men smell like him?

“Your hair smells so good,” he blurted.

What a nice voice! His words and tone gave you goosebumps. Your stomach flipped as his arms tightened around your waist, prompting you to take a better whiff of his cologne.

You hoped he would never let go of you. It was hot outside yet you needed his warmth like you needed air.

Wait, what?

You pulled away from him, trying to find an excuse as to why you had hugged a stranger.

And why had you liked it?

Asha grabbed your hand and placed it on top of his. “This is Diego,” she introduced him to you, “he’s meant to be your romantic partner for life.”

Diego sighed, withdrawing his hand. “What have I told you about doing this?!”

“She wasn’t joking?” You asked, eyes going back and forth between the two.

He shook his head. “Have you heard of The Umbrella Academy?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Yeah. All of you are superheroes.”

“Her powers are like Cupid’s.”

“Cupid’s behavior was childish at first,” Asha defended herself. “Mine isn’t.”

You waited for the punchline of the joke. It never came. He was 100% serious and you were bound to him now.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to get to know each other!”

Her words hit you instantly. “We don’t know each other,” you exclaimed, “I’m sure we won’t miss the other or anything...”

“We can just avoid each other!” Diego completed your thought, nodding along. “Perfect. I’m sorry for my sister.”

You swatted a hand. “No biggie.”

Oh, how wrong you had been. You spent your entire afternoon eating strawberries and watching tv, wondering what Diego was doing.

The subsequent days weren’t too different. Not from the strawberry part, you ran out of those too quickly.

You had many questions, less about the bond or whatever it was called and more about him. What he liked and disliked, why he did so...

It was stupid and pointless.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

You stretched, whining. You couldn’t sleep, no matter which position you tried or what remedy from the Internet you put to the test.

A knock was bestowed upon the door. You whined again, throwing your sleep mask onto the bed and reaching for your pajama pants.

You turned the lights on as you crossed the apartment on your way towards the door. Noisily, you unlocked it.

Diego waved at you, trying to smile. He had a busted lip that was bleeding just like his eyebrow.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“I— I d—don’t...”

You frowned, grabbing him by the front of his vest to pull him into the apartment. Closing the door, you softly asked, “Do you need water?”

Diego shook his head, lifting his hands for you to give him a moment. You extended an arm, inviting him to take a seat in the living room.

Observing how swollen his face was, you walked toward the kitchen and looked for something to put on the area.

Fuck, you should’ve saved that ice just in case. Oh, well, a pack of frozen cauliflower and broccoli would do.

You pressed the cold bag on his cheek, waiting for him to hold it to let go of it. He grunted a thank you.

“Did your vigilante thing go wrong?”

Diego moved the bag for a moment to speak properly. “I felt like shit and needed to see you. I feel better now.”

“Yeah, that’s called codependency.”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

You sighed, throwing your head back to rest it against the wall. “I am not blaming you.”

”You’re taking this too calmly. How?”

“I’m used to being by myself all the time, it looks like you are not.”

“You don’t feel like you can’t breathe without me?”

“No.” His disappointed look was the worst thing you had ever been forced to see in your life. The pang in your chest stopped when you told him, “I feel better when I see you, though. Less anxious.”

“Why do you think it is?”

You shrugged. “Maybe love doesn’t feel the same for everyone. Or whatever Asha did to us.”

His heart skipped a beat. “That sounds nice. Us.”

“Are you going soft on me?”

Diego pursed his lips together, glaring at you. He immediately hissed.

You took the bag off his hand and put it back into the freezer. Exchanging the pack for a ziplock bag with pineapple, you carefully rested it on his jaw, making sure it touched his lip too.

“Baby...”

“Don’t,” you warned him, ignoring the thrill down your spine upon hearing the pet name.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Every night you waited for him to knock upon your door, and although he didn’t do it every day of the week, you always opened.

He had hugged you once or twice in greeting. Much to your dismay, it had felt nice.

This specific time he hugged you tighter, holding you for as long as you allowed him to. It saddened you, knowing this was the highlight of his day. And yours.

Before meeting him, you went to bed early and woke up at dawn. Now you happily skipped sleep to hang out with him.

Diego was nice when he wasn’t being overbearing, funny even. But you would never tell him that.

“Can’t you make your sister undo it?” You asked, opening a bottle of beer for him. His favorite brand, which you had started buying after he brought a pack a few weeks ago.

He took a swig of beer. “It can’t be undone, that’s the point.”

“I won’t feel cheated on if you find someone else,” you assured him.

“But I want you!”

“Diego, I’m not made for this, okay? It doesn’t matter if I want it or not.”

“I have the worst fucking luck in the world,” he lamented, gulping down half of his beverage. “My girlfriends either die, try to kill me and my family, or hate me.”

“If it makes you feel any better, the only boyfriend I’ve had got married to the cousin I hate the most.”

“He’s a dick. I’m hotter than him.”

Well, you weren’t going to deny that. Pouring yourself some wine, you lifted the glass to clink it with his bottle of beer.

“Is he the reason why you hate love?”

Putting the glass down after taking a gulp, you shook your head. “Not really. He was more like... the confirmation? I always thought it was a waste of time, and too absurd, and corny — but everyone I knew had a partner and I didn’t want to be left out. When he dumped me for my cousin and married her, I was proven right.”

“Well, duh.” Diego rolled his eyes playfully. “You didn’t date someone you liked.”

“I’ve never liked someone.”

“I’m offended.”

“Willingly, smartass.”

He pointed with his bottle. “What about your mom?”

“I tolerate her.”

“Dad?”

“Would kill him if I could get away with it.”

“Siblings?”

“I hate my stepbrother.”

“Asha?” He teased.

You confessed. “Oh, well, she’s nice. She means well, at least.”

“What about me?” He insisted.

Shrugging, you refilled your glass. “You’re not bad when you’re talking casually.”

“Is this about my stutter?”

“Of course not, I’m not an asshole. I just hate it when you talk about me like you need me to survive when you clearly don’t.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Closest thing you’ll get me to give you one.”

Giving you a cocky smile, he moved to sit down beside you on the floor. ”You didn’t deny it, you know?“

“Didn’t deny what?”

“That you’re my girlfriend.”

You shoved him playfully, shaking your head as you tried not to laugh. “Will you ever give up?”

“Realistically?”

Both of you chorused, “No.”

“Exactly.”

It was fabricated infatuation. He wanted an idealized version of you, like everyone did when they had crushes only to find out everything they like about their significant other or love interest is a lie made up by their own brains.

Leaving the glass to the side, you drank straight from the bottle. “Would you like me even if Asha hadn’t...”

“Yes.”

You chuckled incredulously, “Why?”

“You’re smart, responsible, really pretty — and believe or not, you’re nice.”

You cupped his cheek, blinking rapidly. His skin was soft to the touch, a little warm too. Diego leaned forward, holding your chin between his index and thumb. His lips were so close, you could practically feel his bottom lip on your upper lip.

Fully realizing what was going on as your eyes threatened to lie closed, you turned your head to the side. Your hand fell to his shoulder, middle finger grazing his neck.

“Stop leading me on!”

“I can’t help it!”

“Just give in,” he whispered on your cheek. “I won’t break your heart.”

“I will break yours.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“You just complained because I lead you on.”

“And you said it wasn’t on purpose. People make mistakes in stressful situations.”

You shook your head, completely moving away from his touch as you stood up. “Feel free to crash on the couch for the night.”

Diego didn’t say anything, but you heard him leave minutes later from your bedroom.

❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎・・・・・❖︎

Asha had insisted on befriending you. She wasn’t bad company — although too bubbly and jumpy from what you were used to, she was willing to tone it down for you.

As bad as it sounded, she also served as a distraction. And who were you kidding? It was nice to have a friend.

You waited for her to finish her ice cream cone to speak, mostly because you were scared she would stamp it on your face.

“Would you find a way to undo it if I admit to having understood the importance of love?”

Asha smiled, playing with her hands on her lap, on top of the yellow skirt you had suggested would fit her perfectly. “Why would I undo it if you understand that now?”

Focusing your eyes on the dogs playing on the grass, you admitted, “I don’t like it, I feel weak. And having someone only care about me because of your influence doesn’t help.”

“I can’t match people who are incompatible.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? That Diego and I are meant to be together because of some sort of fate?”

She giggled. “No, you just fit well together. But maybe you want it to be different...”

“I just want to have control over this, Asha! I feel like I’m going crazy.”

“Why?” She tilted her head as she asked. It was like the idea was foreign to her.

“Because I miss him!” Your voice lowered then, “And I know he misses me too. He has to whether he likes it or not.”

“But you want him to do it on his own.”

You nodded, ashamed, as you felt her bright eyes on the side of your face.

“I don’t influence or manipulate what people think or feel, (Name),” she explained, resting a warm hand on your thigh in attempts to comfort you. “I only match people who will feel things similarly. That’s the gift I’ve given you and Diego, I’m sorry you haven’t been able to see it like that.”

That wasn’t comforting at all. Not now. If she had said it earlier... meh, it wouldn’t have worked. She knew you well, it seemed.

Turns out you weren’t as closed off as you liked to think.

Asha grabbed your hand, standing up as she looked at you with those big eyes of hers. They shone with determination, and for the first time since you befriended her, you felt a little scared of what she would do.

But you trusted her. Standing up, you made sure your cellphone was in your pocket and allowed her to drag you wherever she wanted to take you.

Asha made a few stops. You saw her use her powers on two gals who were clearly on a friend-date at a restaurant. According to Asha, they both were scared of telling the other how they felt. Childhood friends, she explained.

The other stop was at a coffee shop where she ordered one of those extremely sweet frappes. She made you taste it, and although you weren’t a fan and would never order something like that, you had to admit you were starting to see the appeal.

But the third stop... oh, boy, that one was unexpected. You stared up at the gymnasium’s sign, confused and a little bit offended.

“Are you implying I should start working out?”

Asha snickered. “I’m strongly suggesting you should talk to Diego.”

Right, he worked at a gym — how could you have forgotten? Scratch the unexpected part, this was the most Asha thing ever.

The place was busy with people from all genders, some of them were taking laps and others were training on the rings.

“Okay, (Name),” you whispered to yourself, “you can do this. How hard can it be?”

Too hard. The closer you got to where he was standing, the hardest you found it. Embarrassing yourself had never been something you had been through, ignoring people for decades had given you a lot of advantages and that had been your personal favorite.

You turned on your heels, determined to leave and never come back. This was such a bad idea! You were in his territory, vulnerable, and only accompanied by his sister who would probably be on his side.

“Can I help you?”

You jumped, immediately turning around. Fuck. Your throat locked up. Diego nodded upward, encouraging you to speak. He looked good, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a tank top — all black as he usually did.

You couldn’t look at him in the eyes as you examined the place, looking for Asha. It didn’t look like a place where she would enjoy herself, but no one ever knew with her; she was full of surprises.

“She left already,” Diego deadpanned.

Your mouth hung open. You weren’t really surprised, but words weren’t willing to come out. This was the first time you had tried to articulate a meaningful apology.

The fake ones were so easy! You were even able to get poetic with those, making promises you didn’t intend to keep to people you weren’t going to see ever again because there had never been a reason to stay.

“You didn’t go to the market yesterday.” He tried to say it casually.

“I went to visit my mom.”

“Oh, I see tolerance is going well.”

You huffed a laugh. “Something like that. Not much luck with my stepbrother yet, though.”

“At least you’re trying.”

“I should be more open, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

You allowed silence to settle. You needed it to, it had been your best friend for so long that you didn’t know how to cope without its looming presence.

You were nervous, this was your only chance to apologize. What if he didn’t accept the apology?

“I’m sorry, Diego,” you mumbled, “I didn’t want things to go this way.”

“You didn’t want things to go at all.”

“Why would I?” You didn’t want to fight him, but you were desperate for him to see things from your perspective.

“There are a lot of reasons. I don’t think people can be happy completely alone.”

“Okay, you’re right, but you wanted me to jump into something more. Such a big leap when I’ve been living and doing most things on my own since I was 19 is scary.”

“Want,” he corrected you.

You both stood with your backs against the wall, watching the people training as they threw punches. He crossed his arms, focused on the youngest of the trainees.

You turned to look at him. “I know Asha can’t undo the bond, but you don’t need this type of connection to date someone.”

“Maybe that’s why it never worked.” Diego shrugged, sticking his bottom lip out. “I like how this feels. He added, “When you’re not turning me down.”

“So never?” you joked.

Diego chuckled, eyes still on the young trainee. He looked like a teen, no older than 15. “When we talk like this. Or when you empty your freezer to treat my swollen face...”

“Oh, so you only like me for my frozen veggies.”

“God, I wish.” Diego placed his hand on your shoulder, “Give me a moment. Don’t go!”

Nodding, you watched him approach the teen. They exchanged a few words — well, Diego seemed to be questioning the poor boy who only gave short verbal answers or moved his head to reply.

Diego threw his arm around the teen, pulling him close into a half-hug. Both got closer to you as Diego guided the teen towards the exit, still chatting.

“Thank you, Diego,” the teen said with a nod as Diego withdrew his arm from his shoulders. “Good night, Ms,” he acknowledged you.

“Good night,” you answered politely.

Diego smiled, huffing through his nose.

“Has he been training here for a while?” you asked once the young trainee had left.

Standing closer to you now, he told you more about the teen, “Brandon started last month. He’s a good kid. Stubborn, but his heart is in the right place.”

“Like you?”

Diego lifted his eyebrows, unable to hide his smile. “Did you just compliment me?”

“What would you do if I said yes?”

“You won’t like my answer.”

You bit your bottom lip. “Try me.”

He freed your lip from your teeth with his thumb, caressing it. “Don’t tempt me, baby.”

Your face heated up. God, the things Diego was doing to you...

Grinning, he bopped your nose. “You are adorable.”

“I am not trying to be adorable,” you said, scrunching your nose.

“That’s part of the charm.” He looked up, checking the time on the clock above you. “I’m technically free in less than an hour.”

“Don’t you have other things to do?”

Diego wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Rolling your eyes, you hit him on the shoulder with your fist. “The other things!”

“Oh, yeah.” He rubbed his shoulder even though you hadn’t hit him hard. “I can do them even later.”

“We can talk even later,” you tried to reason with him.

He tutted. “I know you, and you’ll find an excuse.”

You didn’t understand what Diego had done to you, or how Asha’s powers really worked, but you were willing to compromise, to show him you wanted to talk to him and fix things.

So accompanied by a sigh, you made a gesture with your hands, indicating that you would wait for him to be done.

You had never been so eager to spend time with someone, not even as a child when your neighbor would come over for a play date.

Diego casually offered his hand to you, patiently waiting for you to either take it or reject him.

Unsure, you inched your hand closer to his. He gazed down, taking the trajectory of your hand in. Sighing contently when your palm finally rested against his, he wiggled your fingers open.

His fingers fit between yours perfectly, his palm was warm and calloused, slightly scarred. Suddenly Asha’s judgment didn’t sound too bad.

Swinging your clasped hands, Diego asked more about what you had done the past week. You kept to yourself the part about missing him, but shared everything else — including that horrible fight with your dad, and the movie Asha made you see at a midnight screening.

He told you about his apartment-hunting journey and how tedious it was. You recalled his offhand comment about wanting to move out of the boiler room, so you kept to yourself the fact that he would need another job to be able to afford it.

Ruining the night was the last thing you wanted to do.

Dropping the keys onto the coffee table, you walked directly into the kitchen. He followed you, turning the lights on.

Diego opened your fridge to take a drink out and chuckled happily. “Aww, you bought my favorite beer even though we were mad at each other.”

You stood behind him, reaching for the jug of water as you corrected him, “I wasn’t mad.”

“Well, I was.”

“Not anymore?”

“Nope.”

You smiled to yourself, pouring water into a glass. He grabbed the jug from your grasp, storing it in the fridge for you.

Mirroring your smile —outshining it in your opinion— he said, “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re flirty today.”

“I wasn’t flirting.” Diego feigned offense.

Frowning, you picked your glass and took a gulp of water. Asha tired you out earlier by dragging you all over town, but compared with how disappointing hearing him say that was, the tiredness was fine.

Placing the bottle on the counter, he clarified, “I meant that I was only stating the obvious.”

You put the glass down. “I am not used to this, sorry.”

He rested his hands on your arms. “It’s okay. I just want to know something...”

You hummed. “Anything.”

“What made you change your mind?”

You fiddled with the unbuttoned shirt he had thrown on top of his tank top. “I can’t sleep when you don’t visit.”

“That can’t be it.”

You conceded, “It’s not everything, but it sums it all up.”

“How slow do you want to go?”

You shrugged. “Do I look like I have a clue?”

“No,” he laughed. Diego inched a hand up to your neck, thumb rubbing your cheek. “Can I kiss you? I promise you can push me off you whenever you want, I won’t get mad.”

“Okay.”

Softly, he pressed his lips against yours. The slow kiss was a nice change from what you had experienced in the past, Diego wasn’t kissing you to get something more out of you or to forget about somebody else — Diego was kissing you because he wanted to do it, because he wanted you.

You pulled him closer, gripping the collar of his shirt. He smiled into the kiss, dropping his other hand to your waist.

Having Diego this close was everything but a waste of time, you decided, kissing him harder as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves x plus size reader #diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy

101 notes · View notes

bellamyblake · 3 years

Note

that bellamy-kane story seems so good 🥺🥺🥺 I know you aren't comfortable sharing the whole story but can you post your fav snippets from it??

Oh, God thank you! I’m writing for it right now too actually. I honestly tend to love the stories I do not post and they turn up much better. It’s a very whumpy story with much MUCH hurt/comfort but hmmm let me see-

TW DEATH!

I like this part:

That first month in the Army hospital was hell with him constantly losing and regainin consciousness, multiple surgeries and procedures, his heart stopping twice, him being on the verge of dying in the middle of the night-fever sky high and heart beating so fast it threatened to burst in his chest. Bellamy had seen through Kane’s fears then.

“You think I’ll regret not seeing her again before I die.” he had confronted him on a late Sunday afternoon when he was miraculously feeling a little better “But I won’t. I have my memories-the good and the bad ones, seeing her come here and breaking her heart won’t do her or me any good and she’s already had enough pain in her life.”

Kane had agreed then but he dug out Octavia’s parents numbers and kept it in his wallet in case Bellamy died and he needed to contact them. They talked about that too, then, about him dying-unafraid and unabashed. Bellamy spoke of it as if it was the weather and Kane had to sit down and listen through everything.

“I don’t want an open caskett, it’s too scary and fucked up.” he’d say as Kane adjusted his pillows “Just that nice photo from the ceremony before my first tour, okay?”

“Alright.” Kane had to swallow down his tears as he adjusted the blankets and helped him get some water. He always needed to be doing something during those conversations, because simply sitting down and listening to him would not be acceptable.

“Did you manage to get that spot next to Murphy and Miller?” Bellamy had asked for a place in the graveyard next to his team. He didn’t want to be buried with Aurora, said he’s had enough motherly love in the real life to want more in the after one and Kane had agreed.

“I spoke with the Army and the cemetary and they said if we pre-pay now there’s no problem. Usually team guys are buried in the same place unless relatives ask otherwise.”

“Good, good.” he had closed his eyes then and swallows hard-he looked worse then than he did now-half his body still had open wounds that had to be rebandaged twice a day, he could barely breathe on his own and the bad side of his face-the one that lost his hearing and eyesight was wrapped in gauzes and bandages making him look like a mummy more than a human being. “You should draw money from my account and get on it on Monday.”

“Okay.” Kane had agreed, he took it all stoically, but inside his heart was bursting into pieces. “Anything else you’d like?”

“I don’t want the flowers to be white, it ain’t a damn wedding. Get something simple, let it have blue and red, maybe orange too, Gina loved orange.” Kane nods in yet another agreement as he passes him more water after noticing he’s eyeing the glass again but not saying it explicitly-he never did.

“My truck goes to you.”

“Bellamy, can we stop it already?”

“I have to say this, we don’t know if I’ll pull through the night and I don’t want you fucking my burial up.” he says it jokingly but Kane’s struggling to keep his tears at bay and Bellamy notices it “Hey...come here.” he pats the place near his leg and Kane carefully sits up “I know this is a lot, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Trust me, I wish I had died out there to save you all the trouble but here we are.”

“Don’t you dare talk like this!” Kane scolds him finally letting all of his emotions out “And stop saying you’re dying! You can do this if only you wanted to!” Bellamy smiles then and rests his head on the pillow, turning his good side to Kane so he can see his thoughts for himself “But you don’t, do you?”

“I’m tired. I think it’s time.”

“What if it isn’t?” Bellamy shrugs.

“I’d rather it is, there’s nothing else for me to give to the world.”

“What if you is enough?” Kane says squeezing his hand.

And that part that is more descriptional! TW abuse!!!

Kane remembers so clearly that one evening, it was after dinner and he was half dozing off on his couch when someone frantically knocked on his door.

He opened up to find Bellamy with his face busted and bloody, eyes angry and tired and his little sister tucked under his arm.

“Can we sleep here tonight?” he had asked and Kane had rushed them in right away.

One of Aurora’s stupid boyfriends had raised his hand on Octavia who was trying to sneak food from the table but he stood in his way.

The man grabbed him up and tossed him to the wall, hit him until Bellamy passed out.

Bellamy hadn’t said a word-he was still in shock and pumped up from everything that had happened, it was all Octavia who blabbered it out-she was crying and scared, jumped in Kane’s arms and refused to leave even though he had to take care of Bellamy’s wounds.

When he perched him up on the bathroom counter and took off his shirt he found out that not only had the idiot beat his face-he had kicked him in the stomach, the ribs-the boy was already bruising.

Kane wanted to take him to the hospital but Bellamy had refused. He grabbed his hands and shook his head hard-no, if they went there, they’d have to explain how this happened in the first place and that meant removing them form their home, splitting them up, letting them spill into the system like little tired dandelions into the world-never to be brought back together again.

So Kane had gotten angry, he wanted to go there and kick that idiot’s ass but for that night he had to take care of this eleven year old boy who was beaten up so badly, that his ribs were at the very least bruised if not broken. His mouth had already swollen and so had his eye.

Kane had cleaned him up as best as he could and then because he literally couldn’t walk, he had carried him to his couch, placed him on one side and O on the other, tucked them in and given Bellamy a bag of frozen peas to keep on his eye while he wrapped his ribs with cold towels to relieve some of the pain there.

He had been quiet the entire time, broken beyond anything Kane had seen before.

He had made them sandwiches but Bellamy couldn’t eat because of his swollen mouth so Kane just let him drink juice from a straw and fed him soups for the next few days. He had been so beaten up he slept through most of it and it wasn’t for three days later when he finally got the strength to get back up to his feet.

The entire time Octavia wouldn’t leave his side either, curled up next to her brother, even when he woke up with a start, quietly crying, even when he coughed up blood and scared the shit out of Kane, even when he couldn’t breathe and held his ribs with his hand.

#bellamy blake #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy x kane #marcus kane #whump #fanfic #answered #it's not that im not comfortable i just know no one would read it anyway #it's more for my own entertainment #it's not that well done #at all #Anonymous

17 notes · View notes

beautifultypewriter · 4 years

Text

Goodbye Earl ~ Esme Shelby

Requested: No

Warnings: Death, murder, poison, disposal of a body, abusive husband (nothing graphic), injured reader, language

Word Count: 1,964

Pairing: Esme Shelby x platonic!fem!reader

Summary: Based on Goodbye Earl by The Chicks. Esme and Reader decide that something must be done about Reader’s abusive husband.

A/N: This is quite possibly the best song ever and I love Esme to death. I wish she was my best friend. Also I got the idea for this at like 2am, so maybe not my best decision, but it’s happening anyway. This is meant to be done in a more lighthearted way as the song is, so hopefully that all comes through.

You sat up in your hospital bed, trying to keep your right eye open (the left was swollen shut), but the exhaustion was catching up with you. There was a commotion in the hallway, and you could hear some yelling as a tray hit the floor. Looking towards the door, you sighed when you saw your best friend pushing the door open. She stopped when she saw you, the anger previously on her face melting away as she rushed to your bedside. You sucked in a breath as you looked away from her. She was having none of it though. She gently pressed her hand to your cheek and turned your head. Esme sighed as she looked over your swollen eye and cut lip. There was a bruise forming on your temple and you were sure she saw it. The fire returned to her eyes as she scowled, “Y/N, you don’t have to put up with this.” She tapped your cheek, trying to get you to look at her, “He has no right to treat you like his own personal punching bag.”

You shook your head, “I shouldn’t have made him mad.”

Esme stared into your eyes, her frown deepening, “Stop making excuses for him. You know he doesn’t deserve it.” You nodded as your attention turned to your lap once again. She was right. She always was. Esme sighed as she sat next to you on the bed, slinging her arm over your shoulder and pulling you close, “I can talk to John.”

You pulled away from her, “So some peaky boys can rough him up and then he’ll take out his anger on me? No thank you.” Your eyes slipped shut as you tried to focus your breathing. Moving your hands, you grabbed the hospital sheet in your fist, counting down from ten in your head. Esme shook her head, leaning close to you again, her forehead pressing against your temple. Your hand moved up to your face, your index finger running slowly over your busted lip.

Esme turned her head, so that she was looking towards the wall, “Something must be done.” Your eyes opened as you tilted your head. Yes. Something must be done. You turned to face Esme just as her eyes landed on you again. There was a twinkle in her eye that you were sure was mirrored in your own and you managed a small smile in response to hers. She lifted her hand, pressing her closed fist against her lips and holding her pinkie out. You nodded to each other as you moved your own hand forward, your pinkie locking with hers.

You had been released from the hospital that afternoon and although you had returned to an empty house, you knew it wasn’t going to stay that way for long. You had played the good wife and started cooking dinner. You had even made his favorite. Parsnip and celery root stew. Your tongue poked out to run along your bottom lip, catching on the cut. Esme had yet to arrive and you were starting to get worried. If she didn’t make it here before him then your plan was never going to work.

The kitchen door was thrown open, startling you to the point where you almost dropped the entire pot of stew. Spinning on your heels, you lifted your spoon high in the air. Esme stared at you and then the spoon and then you again. You sighed, lowering the spoon again, “Where have you been?” You rushed over to close the door as she moved into the kitchen, pulling something from her pocket as she moved towards the stove. You stepped up next to her, “He’ll be home any minute now.” Esme waved you off as she held up whatever she had pulled from her pocket. You squinted, “Well what is it?”

Esme placed the plant in your hand, “Belladonna root.” She moved over to the cupboard and pulled your mortar and pestle out. She turned back to you, “Crush it up and put it in his stew.” Her hip jutted out as she placed her hand and stared at the root in your hand, “He won’t hit you again.”

You twirled the plant between your fingers, “You’re sure?” Looking up at her, you smiled when you saw her smirk. She nodded as she passed you the mortar. You took it and quickly crushed the root. Esme stood over your shoulder, watching as you spooned a good amount of stew into a bowl. Then you grabbed her hand as you picked up the mortar. The two of you exchanged small smiles as you poured the crushed root into the stew. Esme squeezed your hand as she picked up a spoon and stirred the soup, the belladonna getting mixed in with the parsnip and celery. She smiled over at you as she tossed the spoon back to the counter, the clink of it echoing in the otherwise quiet room. You nodded once before flashing her your own smile.

Then the front door slammed open and the two of you stared at each other with wide eyes. Loud footsteps echoed down the hall and you could hear your husband grumbling to himself as he moved towards the kitchen. You looked to the hall then back to her, your heart rate picking up as you thought of where she could hide. You pulled your hand from Esme’s, instead laying them on her shoulders and steering her towards the small kitchen closet. She should be able to fit. Esme threw the door open before she squeezed herself in. Right before you shut the door, she reached out and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. You nodded to her, closed the door, and spun around just as your husband stepped into the room.

He looked you up and down, sniffing as he did so, “Decided to finally come home then?” He moved over to the table, not waiting for any kind of response from you. He sat in the chair, his back to you and the closet, “Well, you gonna bring me my food?” Your eyes slid over to the bowl of stew with a special ingredient and you nodded. Oh yeah, you’d bring him his food.

Stepping over to the counter, you spooned some more stew into another bowl, “I made your favorite.” Your husband sniffed again as he reached for the whisky you had set on the table earlier. He poured himself a generous amount as you moved over to the table, both bowls in your hands. You placed his bowl down first before you moved over to your own chair. You ate slowly, keeping your eyes on your husband. He had downed his entire glass of whisky in one go before picking up his spoon and digging into the stew. He ate quickly, slurping as he scooped more spoonfuls of stew without pause. You scrunched your nose as you watched him, smiling if he ever glanced over at you.

The closet door opened slowly, and Esme peeked her head out. She looked over your husband before her eyes moved to you. She smiled and gave you a thumbs up. You nodded to her and she slipped back into the closet, pulling the door closed quietly.

Your attention turned back to your husband as his spoon clattered against his half-eaten bowl of stew. You feigned concern as he swayed in his seat. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Aren’t you hungry?” You picked up your own spoon, taking a bite of your dinner. Your husband blinked rapidly, as if he were trying to clear his vision, and you could see sweat dripping down his face.

He looked around the room, still swaying, “What’s…” he blinked, his hand pressing against his forehead, “what’s happening?” His eyes settled on you and you smirked.

“I made it special for you.” You rested your elbows on the table, lacing your fingers together and placing your chin atop them. You tilted your head, your smirk widening. Your husband’s body started jerking and then he hit the floor with a thud. Leaning over to the side, you stared at him on the floor, his eyes wide open and his chest still.

Esme pushed open the closet door once more, this time she stepped out and came to stand next to you. The two of you stood side by side, staring down at your husband. You nudged him with your foot and he barely moved. Esme leaned down and pressed her fingers to his neck. You waited with bated breath, your fingers gripping the skirt of your dress. Then she turned to you and smiled, shaking her head. You smiled back at her.

The two of you had had some difficulty wrapping his body in the sheet, but you had managed. Esme was able to nick a cart from Charlie’s yard and the two of you were able to haul your husband up onto it. It was the middle of the night, so the streets were empty as the two of you pushed the cart under the cover of darkness.

You made it to the cut in record time. Taking a deep breath, you moved over to grab his shoulders while Esme grabbed his feet. She looked up at you, “One, two, three.” The two of you lifted the body, shuffling to the side, holding him up maybe an inch from the ground. Esme slipped and you lost your grip on the sheet, dropping him in the dirt. Esme dropped her end with a shake of her head, “Let’s push him.” You nodded to her and both of you stepped to one side of him and started shoving him forward. You found it difficult to find purchase in the mud, but you managed to stay on your feet. Esme groaned, “This fucker is heavy.” You laughed as you pushed harder. Esme chuckled along with you, “Almost there.” And you were. He was on the edge now and one more good push would send him over into the water.

There was a splash as he hit the water, sinking down to the bottom. You straightened up just as Esme wrapped her arm around your shoulders. You leaned your head against hers as you stared into the water, “So long, Earl.” You gave a half-hearted salute as Esme laughed and pulled you closer. Your arms wrapped around her waist as you smiled. You pulled Esme away, “Let’s get out of here.” You laughed as you hugged her tightly, moving back the way the two of you had come, stumbling over each other’s feet.

The next morning, you were sat with Esme at her kitchen table, both of you enjoying a cup of tea. You hadn’t said anything about the previous night, but whenever you caught each other’s eye, you’d smile. John stepped into the kitchen, kissing Esme’s head before he turned his attention to you. His eyes lingered on your bruised eye, “Heard about your husband, Y/N.” You nodded and he returned it with a nod of his own, “Just say the word and we’ll have a chat with ‘im.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, clearly indicating his brothers, though they weren’t there.

You nodded again, “Thanks for the offer, John, but,” you and Esme shared a look, smiles growing on your faces, “I don’t think I’ll be having any more problems with him.” You looked up at the Shelby man as Esme hid her laughter in her teacup. He looked between the pair of you before he shook his head, mumbling something about how he didn’t want to know before he slipped out the back door. As soon as he was gone, you and Esme knocked your hands together, still sipping your tea.

#esme shelby x reader #esme lee x reader #esme shelby imagine #esme lee imagine #peaky blinders imagine

89 notes · View notes

captainjimothycarter · 3 years

Note

I’d be rlly interested in seeing take on infinity war!steve and peggy. You’re writing is great, but most importantly, keep doing what makes u happy & healthy 😊

Like IW Steve like FROM IW or IW looking Steve? Either way, this is what i came up with. I am so unsure if its what you wanted. Also thank you so much, you are amazing and I”m glad you love my writing <3 I also haven’t seen IW so bear with me.

“I don’t understand,” Peggy found herself saying for the unkempt time that evening. She stared down at her hands, not able to bring herself to look up at him.

This isn’t real. This couldn’t be real. This was some dream, some illusion her brain has cocked up from long, overworking hours in a hot and stuffy building because someone had painted the windows shut yet again.

And yet, her mind subtle, it has to be.

Because she does not remember ever seeing Steve with a full beard nor with hair this long, nor with this look in his eyes that has told her he’s lost everything. He’s nearly as afraid of her as she is of him.

She’s seen him with stubble, weeks of over shaving have caused his beard to come in slower than the rest. She’s seen him with longer hair than what the military rules regulate, but in times of war, rules are bent and forgotten. She’s seen him with a lost look in his eyes when it involved saving innocence from camps and even when it came to losing Barnes, but this? This is something so much worst.

He’s pacing in front of her, still having yet to remove his uniform. It’s grimy, covered in God knows what. He’s bleeding still from a busted lip, a cut above his eyebrow. He’s worst for wear with neglect and from what she can make terms of it, a war had happened. A battle had been fought, people lost to weapons beyond her understanding and stones taking people’s lives and turning them to dust.

He stops to look at her, hearing her words, taking in her appearance. She looks straight from his memory, wearing a cream blouse and red skirt. A heel is broken and the hem of the skirt is covered in dirt and there’s a smudge of it on the tip of her nose, but she’s real. She’s breathing. Every scan done to her proves she’s real.

Turning back to a man named Bruce, Steve waved his hand again in her direction, something that was getting annoying. “Explain.”

The man gave an exhausted sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. He took his glasses off and massaged his temples. “Steve, I’ve explained it - the-the fact is I can’t understand this!” His fist hit the computer, making them all jump. “The only people who can are -”

“Don’t,” Steve breathed in a tone she had so rarely heard before. Begging. Don’t admit the words that are true. That he knows to be true.

“The fact is-”

“You don’t know that!”

He’d taken a step towards the doctor, his shoulders squared and jawline clenched. She’s seen that look before - how many times had he given that look in the face of battle? How many times had he looked this determined when arguing his point during tactics of war?

Except he wasn’t arguing to save damage done to their men - he was begging for his own salvation.

“Steve.”

The voice came from a woman Peggy hadn’t seen walked in, a woman with short, cropped blonde hair. The way she held herself told her that she understood the argument between the two, that she was on edge herself, worried for her friend.

The Captain let out a shuttering breath, fists clenched as he turned to look at her. For a second, he looked like he was about to swing and hit her before his shoulders slacked.

“Go take a breather. Bruce, you too.”

When the men cleared out of the room, Peggy let her shoulders drop and ran a hand over her face. She felt a few flakes of dirt fall from her hair. How had she’d gotten so dirty?

“This is not the reunion I imagined,” she attempted to joke, looking up at the woman.

The blonde’s lips twitched slightly as she got on her level, squatting down to look at her. “I don’t think this is what he imagined either. Steve is…”

“I know,” she sighed, shaking her head. “You don’t have to tell me, I know.”

“Then you know he’ll come around to you once…” She swallowed and looked up at the holograms, watching the faces change. Her eyes reflected the hurt. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”

Peggy still couldn’t make heads or tails of what the hell had happened. She was sitting behind her desk, late at night when a flash of bright light had taken her. She had no time to react, to shout, to even grab her gun, before she was tumbling head-first and into a pile of mud. She wasn’t alone when she came to her senses, moments later. The woman with blonde hair - known as Natasha - and a man with the clearest blue eyes she’s only remembered in her dreams stared at her.

Steve.

It had been the first name out of her lips and Steve’s face twisted in pain and horror as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hand ghost over hers, just barely touching her. He wouldn’t look at her, past her, to the woman, trying to determine if this was real or not. She had touched him and he flinched, causing her hand to jerk back.

“You’re real.”

Those should not have been their reunion sentence, the first words out of his lips but they were. They were the most heartbreaking thing she had ever heard and the sound played in a record in her head.

It’s what brought the first sob from her lips, the water pouring from the showerhead washing away her tears. She was thankful for a hot shower, scrubbing perhaps too hard at her skin to wash away any trace of dirt. She wasn’t sure why she was crying.

Maybe it was the fact of everything - the horror Steve had been through, the situation she fell in on. Or the overwhelming sense that he’d been alive this whole time. Or just everything. All she knew when she came out of the shower, hair done into an un-elegant knot on the top of her head, she felt no better.

Natasha had left clothes for her to wear. A simple pair of jeans and a blouse, a pair of pajamas were left behind on a bed. She wasn’t even sure where she was staying or whose room this was. Just that she was both exhausted and hungry and wanted to find Steve to give him the comfort he needed, but not wanting to force her place.

A knock at the door distracted her from getting dressed, tying the soft, plush robe tighter around her frame as she went to answer the door. “Oh, Natasha, I’m…” The words stopped on her tongue as she found Steve standing in her doorway.

He’s showered too, given the damp hair hanging in his face. The cuts and bruises looked almost better by a small margin. He had pulled on a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans, his hands full of take out that reminded Peggy just how hungry he was.

“Hi,” he breathed, underneath the beard she could see a flush forming. “I...I brought...dinner. Figured you were hungry. Interdimensional travel, I hear makes you starved.”

“Hi.” He looked so nervous, it reminded her of the little boy from Brooklyn decades ago. “Where did you hear that one?” Peggy quipped, hand closing around the frame of the door.

“Thor.”

Slowly stepping aside, she waved him in and Steve seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind them. “I’ll have to meet this Thor, then, if he’s an expert at these travels.”

“You’d like him, he’s...he’s great…” She could see his shoulders sagging as he placed the steaming bag onto the table, gripping the chair hard enough that she could hear the sound of the wood splintering.

There was a little hesitation in her motives, but she forced herself through to take his hands. He turned to her and she wasn’t surprised to find tears in his eyes. She was surprised when he hugged her tightly, face buried in her hair.

Fuck.

She couldn’t deny herself this. Her arms tightened around him, pulling his frame closer to hers. His shoulders shook with a gasping sob, Peggy’s arms only tightening to give him the solace he deserved.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that position or who cried more, but she was reluctant to pull away. His hand held her cheek, gently wiping the tears away.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, always sounding in awe when he spoke of her looks. “You-you always were - I mean you have… you just…”

Despite the sniffling and tears on both of their faces, Peggy stood on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, arms moving to wrap around his neck. He picked her up off of her feet to kiss her in return.

The kiss was not what she imagined, how their reunion should’ve gone, but it was theirs. He gave a weak laugh as he sat her back on her feet, still holding her face in between both his hands now.

“I’m a mess,” she retorted, lips now were swollen from kissing.

“Beautiful,” he corrected, making her snort and roll her eyes. His lips twitched into a small, sad smile, kissing her temple.

They stayed in silence, time ticking by slowly and too fast for Peggy’s liking. It wasn’t until his watch chimed, making them both jumps did they slowly pull away from one another. Suddenly remembering there was food there, her stomach growled loudly and he gave her a look.

“You’re starving, you should’ve said something. Come here.”

Dishing out fried rice and orange chicken, Steve sat beside her, using a pair of chopsticks to slowly eat his rice. It wasn’t the reunion dinner she imagined, but it was theirs.

“Did Natasha send you?” She asked after a long minute.

“She talked me into my senses. She-she’s right… we don’t know what the hell is going on, how the hell you came here to be or-or if this will even last…” His voice faltered on that one, her heart clenching. “But I-I should grab it while it lasts.”

“I’m not leaving,” Peggy found herself whispering, Steve smirking at the determination in her tone.

Steve snorted into his bite of rice, choking when she gently hit his chest. “What? Are you going to fight Thanos yourself?”

“Maybe. And get you to shave that damn beard while we’re at it.”

Behind it, she can see the puppy dog pout that he was trying to get her attention with. She ignored it in favor of a bite of her food.

“I like my beard.”

“Mhm, darling.”

“You-I…” Steve found himself suddenly staring down at the rice, poking it around with the chopsticks. “You called me darling.”

Damnit, if he didn’t know how to make her heart flutter. She set her utensils down and turned to look at him, laying a hand on his thigh. “I did because you are my darling. The beard...suits you, it’s just...I am not used to it. The last I saw…”

“I was a scrumpy man in a too-tight uniform, becoming a human ice sculpture at the bottom of the ocean. Got it.” He grunted when she hit his chest again. “It was a joke, Pegs. A lot changed...too much has changed.”

The wariness in his voice spoke all, it tugged on her heart again. Peggy’s eyes softened as she climbed into his lap and cupped his face between both of her hands. His beard was softer than she imagined and this close, she could tell he put an effort to put aftershave on.

“Then I guess we can only do the right thing and change with it - it’s not like we can go back in time and change things.”

He nuzzled into her touch, leaned so their foreheads touch. A ghost of a smile was on his lips as they kissed.

“I’ve missed you, Pegs. So much.”

“And I, you, darling.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steggy Prompt #Nonny Prompt #Infinity Wars

17 notes · View notes

deluxedolans · 4 years

Note

okay but imagine you’re like a cashier at hollister or something and ethan comes get you for your break and then your fifteen minutes over because he decided to fuck you in his car🤤

hi love! thank you for being so patient :))) this lowkey turned into like a blurb and i’m so sorry it took this long 🤦🏻‍♀️ thank you for sending this in and i hope you’re having a fab day/night wherever you are! 💙

as a waitress all i’ve DREAMED about is having ethan just happen to come into my restaurant and hAPPEN to have me wait on him and happen to ask for my number.

this ask out here making me live my customer service fantasy. (sorry this had a very loose connection to your ask but i had to share).

warning: cheesey smut and unrealistic car sex

you’re folding clothes, watching the clock as you wait to go into the break room to eat your lunch.

you’re halfway through folding a shirt when someone with a deep, southern drawl comes up behind you, startling you from your daydreams, “excuse me, ma’am, you know where i can get some damn service around here?”

you immediately whip around, stuttering an apology when you’re met with ethan’s cheeky smile, a massive grin overtaking his face at your reaction.

relieved a customer isn’t there to attack you, you release a huge sigh, “i fuckin’ hate you,” you growl, lightly smacking him in the chest.

“what? somethin’ wrong, little lady?” he continues, chuckling as he pokes your side.

“yeah, that accent. who’re you supposed to be, woody?” you smirk.

“alright, stop roasting me. go get your shit.”

you return from the break room with your phone to follow ethan out of the store, waving at a coworker as you go.

“hey babe, got something for us in my car. know you’ve been craving it lately.”

your eyes light up, “really?! is it a snack?”

ethan’s eyes sparkle with mischief, “you could call it that.”

your lips purse in thought. lately you’d been addicted to flavor blasted gold fish, so maybe it was that. or maybe it was fruit snacks—you two had been loving those lately, too.

once the doors are unlocked and the two of your slide into your respective seats, ethan pulls you into his lap, his lips meeting yours hungrily.

dazed, you kiss back, your tongue tracing his bottom lip begging for entrance. as his mouth opens he greedily slips his hands under your shirt, brushing your soft skin. the kisses become more and more heated, ethan’s hardness growing beneath you as grind on him in response.

you two are deep into your make out session when you hear your stomach growl, reminding you of ethan’s surprise.

your chest heaving, you pull away. “wait, what’s the surprise? didn’t you say you had food waiting for me or something?”

ethan’s chest heaves too as he attempts to catch his breath, lips swollen and cherry red. a smirk painted on his lip, ethan murmurs, “i didn’t say it was food. i just said you’d been craving it s’all.” his lips attach themselves to your neck at your confused expression, sucking a bit on your skin.

“well, then what is it?” you are breathless. ethans dick keeps growing in his pants and the more you’re all over him, the wetter you get.

with a shit-eating grin, ethan takes your hand in his, guiding it down his body until your smaller hand is resting on his hard-on. “you’re looking at it.”

you bust out laughing, your head falling against his chest as the two of you crack up.

tears stream down your face as you choke out, “you’re such a fucking idiot.” ethan can’t stop laughing as you smack his chest.

“i was ready for fucking goldfish!”

“oh please, don’t act like this is such a burden for you. like you don’t want me to fuck you—.”

“watch your mouth, pretty boy, or i’m walking out of this car and leaving you with your own cravings,” you sass, your lips meeting his ear.

ethan feels goosebumps prick up on his arms as you shift in his lap. it’s moments like this where he becomes aware of how deep in love he is with you; the intimacy mixed in with humor, swollen lips and your beautiful smile is what makes his sweaty palms, racing heart and the idea of a ring in the back of his mind that much more prominent.

“you’d never leave me,” ethan husks. internally, ethan constantly prays that you never leave him, his insecurity occasionally plaguing him as he realizes that you are way too good for him; however, the love for him that shines through in your eyes is a constant reassurance—reassurance that you love him almost as much as he loves you.

you roll your eyes, “don’t expose me like this.” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him briefly, his body shaking with a laugh.

you begin to grind on him again and ethan lets out a grunt, his own hips raising up meet yours.

“take off your fuckin’ pants.” his tone is stern yet whiney as his hands dig into your hips to pull you down against him. you giggle, leaning back to slip your leggings down your legs as ethan shimmies his sweatpants down his thick thighs. you lean forward when ethan pushes the seat all the way back, giving you two as much room as the jeep can provide.

ethan’s index and middle finger dip into your wet folds spreading your wetness around and teasing your clit. you squeak with surprise as your thighs jolt with pleasure. you can’t help but lean back a bit to give him more access.

as your head lawls over to the side, eyes half lidded, you catch sight of the clock, cringing at the time. “only got a half an hour break, e, we’ve got 20 minutes.” ethan’s automatically huffing a bit in frustration, head falling back against the seat.

“don’t you pout. you’re the one who picked now to fuck.”

ethan’s eyes shut in bliss as he sticks his fingers into his mouth, sucking your juices off the digits. “don’t want you to go,” he whines, his hands grabbing your ass in his hands before delivering a hard smack.

you blush, “well, i’m here now, lemme take care of you.” you lower yourself to sit on his thighs, taking his dick in your hand as you rub his member up and down your folds in anticipation.

“come on, pretty girl, sit on me. need you now.” ethan’s deperation for your warmth and your touch becomes evident as his hips arch up as you tease him. usually, you’d draw it out a little more, but with 17 minutes left on the clock, you needed to work quickly.

“im sittin’, im sittin’. so needy for me,” you whisper as you lower yourself onto him.

“always need—, holy shit,” ethan groans, his hands squeezing your ass in his grasp as your tight walls sink down around him.

you gasp for breath as you slowly but surely make your way to bottoming out, pacing yourself due to his thickness. at the feeling of your ass against his balls, you both let out a deep sigh simultaneously, giggling in unison.

“told you you needed this.” ethans voice is cocky and taunting as he looks at you with loopy eyes. he’s practically high on you right now and can barely keep his eyes open due to the euphoria your pussy brings him.

your eyes are shut tight as you adjust around him, your walls clenching. “yeah, yeah, whatever. like your dick wasn’t hard for me as soon as you walked into hollister.” as you tease him, your hips shift, grinding a bit to generate some friction.

ethans eyes flutter shut, his jaw clenching. “you could have a bag over your head and i’d still be ready to dick you down, angel.” ethan then grabs your hips and thrusts upward, effectively knocking the breath out of you.

ethan’s hips continue to roll upwards as you lean forward against his chest, your body quickly feeling boneless from the pleasure. “you like that, y/n? you like when i fuck you this hard? can’t even sit up. tell me how good you feel, baby, hmm?” ethan’s thrust are deep, but slow, his hips pulling back completely to make sure the tip is the only thing inside you before swiftly pushing back in, bottoming out every time.

your eyes are in the back of your head by this point, your head leaning against his beefy shoulder. it is unreal how well ethan knows your body, how well he knows what you crave. ethan dolan has been a deadly combination for you from the get-go; his quick-wit, dirty words, incredible stroke-game combined with his tender touch are how you knew he is your endgame. even after all of the time you’ve spent together, his ability to work your body and know all your favorite things to get you to cum as fast as possible still make your heart swell with love and your body quake with pleasure.

at your lack of response, ethan pinches your hip, his mouth raising to your ear. “won’t touch your clit til you talk. gotta use your words, c’mon.” ethans left hand moves from your ass to below your belly button, thumbs pressing into your lower stomach to feel how deep he is in your guts.

your eyes pop open as you roll your head to the side, the two of you making eye contact through your half lidded gazes. “feels s’good, e, i love it, i love it, i love it,” you chant as he plants his feet into the ground for a few moments, drilling you, your ass jiggling from the force.

ethan chuckles at your words, his hand sliding down your stomach and towards your sensitive nub, “good girl, s’what i thought. you gonna keep being a good girl for me? wanna ride my dick like i know you can? gonna make yourself cum on my cock?” ethans rattling off questions as he stops moving, his dick as deep inside of you as possible, your breath stolen from your lungs.

“yesssss, e, love riding you. wanna be a good girl.” your head falls back as you take your time propping yourself up, arms on his shoulders as you prepare yourself to bounce on his cock.

ethans jaw clenches as he takes in your appearance; your scoop neck top has ridden down a bit to reveal your flushed chest, your cheeks red and rosey while your eyes are screwed shut in bliss. he stares at you for several seconds to commit this sight to memory; his own perfect angel, made just for him.

as soon as you begin grinding, moving up and down, ethan places his thumb between your two moving bodies to rub your clit. as usual, as soon as he touches you, your body can’t help but to react, jolting towards him and breaking your rhythm. you crave ethans touch so much your body literally can’t help but respond to it.

“uh uh, baby, gotta keep going. keep bouncing on my dick. you can do it, you can handle it. be my good girl,” he remarks. you nod, taking a moment to collect yourself before sitting back up fully and resuming your movements.

the sound of skin slapping on skin gets even louder as your ass smacks against his thighs, your heat dripping in wetness the deeper ethan goes and the more his fingers work you.

“you like when i play with your pussy, gorgeous? like my fingers all over you?”

“mmm, fuckin’ love it. you do it so goooood,” you moan, your speed increasing as you feel your legs start to shake, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“yeah? you gonna come for me? gonna cum—.”

you can’t help but interrupt ethan in the middle of his dirty talk, “yes, yes, yes! feels too good, e, don’t stop, please!” your legs feel more and more fatigued but getting to your high provides you with an adrenaline rush to power through the slight burn in your thighs.

ethan can’t help but break into a smile at you interrupting him, his ego increasing tenfold. “let go for me, babe, come on,” ethan grabs onto your hip with one hand, once again planting his feet firmly onto the car floor as he fucks up into you frantically, his finger rubbing quick and harsh over your clit.

once again, your head falls onto his shoulder as you become overwhelmed with pleasure. “come on, y/n, head up. look at me, you can’t come til i see those eyes.” ethan’s voice takes on a softer tone, his hand cupping your cheek softly so he can watch you come undone. his thumb rubs the apple of your cheek as he murmurs encouragement, your hot breath intermingling. “there we go, angel, open your eyes for me.” your eyes slowly peels themselves open, and ethan smiles warmly, your beauty captivating him and making his heart thud. “so pretty for me like this.” ethans’ voice is smooth as silk as he delivers a particularly hard thrust that has you cumming, your eyes half open and your toes curling as you ride it out.

“ethan, ethan, e! i—i can’t, so good—m’cumming.” you spit out whatever words come to mind as your body releases itself, ethan fucking himself up into you even harder. ethans can feel himself getting closer to his peak as soon as he feels your walls get impossibly tight around him, his legs stiffening in anticipation.

“so pretty for me when you cum, baby.” ethan’s always quick to compliment you as you come down, his love for you often overflowing in those moments.

as soon as your orgasm is over, you’re immediately starting back up with filthy words, edging ethan towards his own. “s’your turn now, baby. gonna cum deep inside? love it when you do that. come on, e, fuck me harder, wanna feel you in my guts, yeah?” you’re firing off all of his favorite lines, his jaw clenching like a vice as you hop on his dick, driving him closer and closer to the edge.

“such a good girl, y/n, you’re riding my cock so good.”

“always make me feel so good, e, love riding your dick, love you,” as ethan thrusts harder you start to gasp, his thrusts hitting you deeper and deeper.

“fuck, i’m cumming, i’m cumming—.” ethan pulls out quickly to release on your stomach, eyes fluttering open to watch his cum paint your soft skin.

as ethan comes down from his peak, his face is pink and his breathing is heavy, eyes shutting as soon as you run your fingers through his damp and dark locks. once your fingers start to tickle his beard, though, his eyes shoot open, a goofy smile gracing his face.

you smile back, rolling your eyes. “what are you smiling at?”

“nothin’. you’re just the shit, that’s all.”

you can’t help but giggle, “you tryna inflate my ego?”

“maybe...or, i just love you a lot,” he shrugs, facing tinting with a blush at his open admission.

“i love you too.” your hands softly trace every inch of his face, memorizing his freckles, moles, stubble; everything that makes him...him.

“but don’t worry, i’ve got something that’ll humble you real quick.” ethan reaches over into the glove compartment to grab some napkins, cleaning your stomach of his mess.

you lift yourself off of ethan to lean back against the steering wheel in preparation to redress yourself. “oh christ, what is it?”

“you forgot my clock’s 10 minutes fast; you’re fifteen minutes past your break.” ethan is already leaning over to grab your leggings off the floor of the passenger side, laughing as your face pales.

“oh my—you asshole! why didn’t you say anything?!” you’re slapping his chest as he cackles, but you can’t help but giggle a bit at the fact that you just fucked your boyfriend for so long that you are now late for work.

“gotta satisfy those cravings!” ethan retorts with a quirked eyebrow.

you respond by slapping giving his shoulder a slight shove as the two of you cackle. then, it’s a race for the two of you to pull on your pants to rush back into the store, brainstorming excuses as to why you were late considering you’d never even left the premises.

241 notes · View notes

capricornus-rex · 4 years

Note

Hey isk if you are taking requests right now, but I’ll shoot my shot anyway : Can I request an imagine with Cal Kestis where the reader is also a Jedi who’s feeling down/sad (for whatever reason you feel like) and Cal feels it through the force and helps her feel better?? Loads of fluff and kisses if possible, thank you I really love your writing🥺🥺💖

Hi there! Yeah, I’m taking requests right now ^-^ that’s an interesting prompt you got there. Coincidentally, I was starting a fic that seem to have blended well with your request ;) I hope you enjoy this fic, hun! And thank you, you’re very kind 🥺🥺💖

“Bad Dreams Don’t Come True”

Cal Kestis x Reader

Masterlist

The chirping of the crickets hidden amongst the tall grass, the whispers of the Saava within the tree roots and niches, the snoring of the Slyyygs in their damp dens—Kashyyyk is asleep. The water trickling from the rocks and trees was enough of a lullaby to drift the partisans to sleep. However, even in the midst of peace, there is a storm brewing within.

You lie awake in bed, keeping the tossing and the turning to a minimum. Cal’s breathing kept a slow rhythm. You study his face illuminated by what little light there is in the ship’s quarters; you trace the freckles that riddled his cheeks and your eyes follow the scar on his nose bridge that had already blended into his skin. Slight flits of his eyelids and the little twitches the corner of his mouth made you wonder what he might be dreaming about.

You leave bed and head on to the galley for a cup of water. Contemplating on what to do with the insomnia. After one last chug of the water, you immediately went back to bed and mentally coaxed yourself to sleep.

The next morning, Cal woke up to finding your side of the bed empty. He gets up and walks to the galley.

“Good morning, Cal,” Cere greeted while pouring tea. “Have some breakfast first.”

“And [y/n]?”

Cere shot him a clueless look, “She went out early, said she needed to do something.”

“Did she now? Where?”

“Last I saw her she was just here at the landing pad.”

Cal stepped out of the Mantis but does not see you. He finds your handiwork at the west corner of the hangar instead—tools and datapads scattered on the floor. It’s a mess.

Shortly after, you arrive back to your spot in the hangar and find Cal crouched to the floor peering over your work.

“Good morning,” you simply said.

“Hey, good morning. You’re up early,”

“Yeah, fancied fixing this speeder bike I hijacked from a scout. Nothing I can’t fix though,”

He watched you tinker away with the speeder’s chassis on the table. You were so absorbed with it, but he stayed there—watching you and sometimes handing over the tools you needed but was within his reach. He knew that you were just trying to distract yourself.

“You were tossing and turning last night,” Cal finally starts the conversation.

“Sorry, I tried to be careful. I didn’t mean to wake you,”

“Bad dream?”

“It’s nothing I can’t sleep off,”

Cal nodded, he knows that he’s not going to get to you that easily. Yet he can see how upset you are, even when you’re denying it until the lie you tell yourself becomes truth. Whatever question he throws, you either segue to a different topic or just don’t answer at all.

He gave up for now. He didn’t want to upset you further and left you to your business. There were times that he still wanted his presence known such as lending you more of his tools and parts, handing you some lunch when you forgot to eat.

He may not see the whole picture of the thoughts in your mind, but he can sense your feelings—they were strong, loud, and dark. The latter worried him. There was a swirling darkness about it that he wanted to know more about, he bit his tongue, thinking that he didn’t want to further upset you by pressing into the matter.

Later that night, Cal begged you to stop for tonight. Clearly, the speeder bike needed a lot of work considering the wear and tear it had gotten over time. The chassis you worked on was a bust and you had to figure out what else it needed to get it running again.

“Come on,” Cal coaxed. “Don’t make me carry you against your will.”

“Oh I bet you’d love that,” you teased as you unzipped your jumpsuit’s top and tied the sleeves around your waist.

You got your consequence. Cal reeled you in by the waist, riddled your ticklish neck with kisses before scooping you up in his arms and marching to the Mantis. Lying down together, neither of you spoke whilst cuddling; he just glided his fingertips over your smooth skin—he reached for your thighs, traced to your arms, and then your collarbone. Ironically, his battle-scarred hands had a certain softness that relaxed you. He planted a kiss on your bare shoulder, then his lips wandered to your neck, and then a long, final one on the cheek before drifting to sleep.

You were almost too afraid to doze off. Because there will be no control from you by the time the nightmares set in—but you were exhausted.

Your eyes shot up, you gasped and woke in a cold sweat. You could have sworn you only closed your eyes for a few seconds, but it somehow felt like hours since. Massaging the bridge of your nose, you wonder if you were awake or dreaming because it still feels like real life although a little different. You find Cal missing in bed, you hear a clattering noise coming from the galley. The anxiety faded.

Oh thank God, he must be having a glass of water. You thought.

You stand up from bed and call to him again. Not a single response, not a grunt or whatever. Nonetheless, you head to the galley—only to find it empty. Your eyebrows pulled in confusion and looked around—it clearly wasn’t your little stowaway, otherwise it would have been caught red-handed. Something wasn’t right. You immediately untied and wore your jumpsuit on and then headed out of the ship.

“Cal?”

The hangar was empty, so is the hallway that led to the elevator between the hangar and forest trench. More noise came from the narrow annex on the right, you continued to follow it in the hope that it would be Cal—it was empty again, yet something in it drew you to jump down from the platform.

Something came from behind, you sensed the danger the split second your boots touched the soil below. You turned around with lightsaber already ignited and found an opening that had never been there before. A menacing figure emerged from the pitch black mouth of the cave. Whatever it was, it didn’t idle in the darkness for too long, it was eager to face you. Here comes the one you have been looking for—but not exactly in the way you wanted to.

It was Cal. His face had been distorted. The lining of his eyes were swollen red, bags were under them too, and the skin of his face had become sallow; but there was a frightening tenacity in the way he appeared before you. You sucked in air and held your arms up.

“Cal? Is it…? No…”

The only reaction that came from him was a low, throaty growl as his face wrinkled with anger—one that seems to be directed only to you.

He wielded a red lightsaber, there was rage and hate in his eyes that you couldn’t comprehend; at the same time, there was something in you that you couldn’t stop—let alone control—you dueled with this impersonator. In a second’s notice, you immediately thrusted your saber into his heart and realized it too little too late.

The look on his face was wrought with pain. He kept his mouth agape while he choked to breathe. Blood trickled from his eyes as he croaked, struggling to either speak or catch air. Every second that he tried, more blood dripped until it filled out the whites in his eyes. You retracted the saber out of him and the body fell limp at your feet—dead open eyes crying out blood as they stared back at you. The sight was utterly terrorizing. You wanted to blink, close your eyes, or avert from it but you just can’t—you’re stuck to staring at what you just did.

“Good…” a raspy, ancient voice chanted.

You spun around, searching for the source; desperate to find it, the moving has finally made you dizzy and caused you to lose your footing.

The voice easily shifts its tone. At first, it sounded somewhat benevolent, but even so it sent chills down your spine from end to end. Although it eventually turns into a croaking snarl, adding up to the fear of its invisible yet all-seeing presence looming about. Something about that voice was oddly familiar.

“He was weak, you knew from the start,”

NO! You fought.

“Your anger rewards you with great power. The Dark side of the Force favors you,” the voice snarled, emphasizing its latter words.

I SAID…

“NO!” You jolt up, found yourself in a cold sweat gasping for air with the fullness of your lungs.

You immediately jumped out of bed and walked out of the quarters, Cal felt the shuffling of the sheets and felt you leaving bed. He blinked his eyes open, saw you leave, and heard the ship door open. He got up too—he didn’t bother suiting up the top part of his jumpsuit—he simply followed you out.

He finds you sitting alone at the edge of the landing pad where he blew up an entire tank with the AT-AT he hijacked. He sat beside you and just relished the silence for a few moments.

“Nightmare?”

“Yes,”

“If it helps, you can talk to me about it,” he persisted to find your gaze as you avoided it, he shyly reached for your hand, and he fiddled with your fingers.

Oh, you sweet, clueless boy. You thought as you looked Cal in the eye while he pursed his lips in, but you couldn’t look at him for long. You look away, contemplating whether you have the strength to put the words and thought together and then say it in front of his face.

He gently cradles your cheek and turns your face to him. He brushes the hair to your ear and cups your cheeks, keeping you locked to his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay, you can tell me,”

It didn’t take long before you decided to narrate everything from the start to the end. No detail was spared until you started to hesitate when that certain part is almost there. You sucked in air, closed your eyes, and prepared yourself for whatever reaction or comment he’ll have for you.

“Your eyes were yellow. We fought. I killed you…” you choked but attempted to finish, “And then you started crying out blood while you died in front of me—by my hand.”

The concluding part was hearing the voice that was trying to reach into you, by using the Dark side.

“Has it been getting to you often lately?”

“It’s been two days and a half now—if you count today,”

Cal’s face was blank, but the slight twitches in his lips were evident; he could only wonder what the actual picture looked like and concluded that he doesn’t want to know. That dream just burned an awful picture of Cal in your mind. He noticed your erratic fidgeting: your cracked nails were ripping out the cuticles and when that started to hurt, your knuckles were white as bone when you close your hand into a fist.

He saw the way you looked down on your mutilation with great disdain, the moonlight reflected on the tears that glazed your eyes until one teardrop fell. His finger wiped away the stain that the tear left and wrapped his arm around you, pulled you closer for an embrace, and his one hand was enough to hold both of your hands to stop you from hurting yourself.

“It’s alright now, [y/n], don’t worry,” he cooed.

You wrap your small arm around him, embracing him back. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers—wounded or not—and then planted more kisses on the palm of your hand. Later on, his attention trailed to your lips. He brushes the back of his fingers smoothly against your cheek, and then tenderly locked his lips onto yours and he rakes your hair in the sweet spots. Both of you withdrew but he followed up with a kiss on the forehead before propping his chin on your head. His other hand stroked your hair while you rested your head on his shoulder.

“I know you’ll never hurt me, [y/n], you’ve nothing to fear,” he hummed in your ear as he scooped your legs and rested them over his thighs, while he cuddled you warm and tight under the moonlight.

120 notes · View notes

caiminnent · 4 years

Text

catch me when I fall (from grace) [shaundes, rated T/M]

Prompt: reluctant caretaker (@badthingshappenbingo, 6/25)

Summary:

Sometimes—at the worst of times—he thinks they had it easy, back then; the four of them playing house, trying to save the world without a thought to what comes after.

Congratulations, they did it—now there’s bills to pay.

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Tags: Alternate Universe - The Assassins Won, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Blood and Injury, Post-Break Up

Notes: Also written for @acmodernz, which was a lot of fun to be a part of. Go check it out!

4k || Also on AO3

He doesn’t bother with questions anymore.

Before, he would insist on learning all that he humanly could about any situation he was to be tangentially involved in and many he wouldn’t even skirt close to. His mind has always been like that, a terrain of whens and whos and whys, and being on the losing side of a war didn’t help his need to know, either—being on the listening side of countless deaths as he desperately tried to scramble up a connection through whichever line or feed he could get his hands on to direct whoever still remained—if anyone at all—into safety, the mission long aborted.

Nowadays, though, he only asks where, scribbles down the address on the corner of the nearest clean sheet of paper and gets up to throw on some street clothes.

Truth be told, he didn’t know there was a bar left in the city that Desmond had yet to get kicked out of.

------

Even with his back to the door—especially with his back to the door—Desmond is easy to spot on a low-backed stool by the far end of the counter, that hoodie giving him away like a beacon. He’s talking to the bartender—rather, the bartender is talking at him and he presumably responds, most of his face hidden behind the hand he’s tentatively touching on a thin line of white at his forehead.

The dread pooled in Shaun’s gut grows only heavier.

As the bartender moves to the short line that materialised on the other end of the counter, something round in hand, he charts a path through and follows it, doing his best not to touch any of the tables. Desmond is staring down at the half-full glass in front of him, one hand still at the butterfly bandage over his left brow, the other resting on the counter, the reds of his knuckles standing out brightly. Whatever trouble Desmond must have gotten himself into this time, it seems a tad more complicated than having had a little too much.

It would’ve been so easy, turning on his heel and walking straight out of this shithole before he’s spotted. He may have come this far—doesn’t owe it to Desmond to go the extra mile. He could just drive back home, switch off his phone, bury himself in his bed and let someone else save Desmond from himself for once—

Who, though?

“Lucky thing they let you in, looking like that,” he comments as he takes the empty seat next to Desmond. Smelling like that, too, he might add, now that he is close enough; not the sharp drowned in a bottle stench he had expected, but sweat and grime and something else that tickles his nose in all the worst ways.

Desmond’s shoulders tense up, for all he tries to hide it under turning in his stool. “Hello to you, too,” he grumbles, dropping his hand to send him a glare.

Shaun’s stomach slowly sinks to his feet, taking everything on its path with it.

Between the swollen right eye—almost shut, purpling around the edges—and the long scrape down his left cheek, disappearing into his scruff, there doesn’t seem to be anywhere on Desmond’s face left untouched. Even his nose looks wrong somehow—though that might also be the crappy overhead lights—and while his face is carefully cleaned, no trace of blood or anything, his clothes tell of a different story entirely.

He reaches out on instinct to touch where Desmond’s freshly busted his lip—Desmond pulls back before it makes contact, looking away.

Entirely too aware of his heartbeat, he latches his fingers together in his lap, taking a deep breath that does nothing to help the tightness in his chest. “Keep going like this and you won’t get to skate by your looks much longer,” he says, because if he doesn’t say something, he’s going to fucking burst.

Desmond glares at him through the one eye, scowl dragging deeper—then glances at a spot above Shaun’s head, straightening up. Shaun turns as well, to find the bartender approaching them with a—thankfully, clean-looking—rag full of ice, a purple pin that reads “THEY/THEM” shining over the black of the apron.

The bartender gives him only a passing glance, a quick size-up before turning and handing the bundle to Desmond, who takes it with a mumble of thanks and holds it on his eye. They reach over the counter to fix his grip, casual as you please.

The taste in his mouth turns sour.

“How’s the head?” they ask Desmond gently, open concern lining their face as they peer down at him.

Desmond winces, which seems to pass for a response. With the offending eye covered, he looks even more wretched somehow, the rest of his injuries on better display. Shaun hadn’t noticed how gaunt his cheeks have gotten, the fading spread of bruises on his face, in too many different shades to be all from today—or, possibly, even the same day.

What in the world has the bloody idiot been up to all this time?

Leaving Desmond with the bundle, the bartender turns to finally look at Shaun—through him, more accurately, as if they could get his background check and an X-ray with one glance. He firmly believes that he should be the one to dish out the suspicious glares, given the circumstances, but he’s not particularly adamant on arguing the point.

“Shaun, was it,” they say without extending their hand, not quite a question.

This tone he recognises, at least. “It was,” he confirms, making no move to extend his, either. “And you’re the mysterious voice on the phone, I take it.” Not what he was expecting to find on this side, admittedly.

“MJ,” they say with a single nod. “Mighty nice to finally put a face to the name, I’ll say.” They tilt their chin to Desmond, who has that glare fixed in MJ’s direction now, drumming his fingers on the countertop. “Dessie here told me all about you.”

Did he now. Dessie sure as hell didn’t breathe a word to him about MJ. “All good things, I’m sure.”

“Good enough that I’ll let you take him home and fix him up,” they say, sweeping a hand widely as if they’re making a generous concession on his behalf.

Right. That’s why he’s here—because he was chosen.

“And I’ll thank you for the privilege,” he says with an overplayed nod of thanks, not bothering to keep the resentment out of his tone. This whole exchange—it’s nothing more than an elaborate hand-over.

MJ leans over the counter on their hands and looks at him squarely, all hard eyes on too soft a face. Desmond always did have a type. “If you’d rather leave him here and walk away, be my guest,” they offer, grinning with too many teeth. “Your number wasn’t the only one on his phone.”

As if.

He slowly straightens up on his stool, resting his forearms on the edge of the counter. At this angle, they’re about eye to eye, he and MJ. “Probably not,” he agrees, cordial enough even as his face tingles at the jab, all his blood rushing north. “But it was the only one that would answer a call from him at this hour.”

Too harsh? Perhaps, but that doesn’t make it any less true. He knows better than to fool himself; Desmond didn’t pick him for his gentle touch and stellar company.

Ignoring the hollowing of his gut, he half-turns to Desmond. “Ready when you are.”

“’m ready now,” Desmond mutters to the counter. Shaun nods, reaching for his pocket.

“All taken care of,” MJ says before he can pull out his wallet, waving him off. They’re still watching him with that careful look, though this time it feels less like being sized up, more like he has been—and found thoroughly lacking. Oh well, he’s used to being a disappointment. “Just take him home.”

That much he can manage.

------

Desmond’s most recent rat hole is another forty minutes from the bar, on the far side of a neighbourhood considered to be within the city borders merely because no one cared enough to exclude it.

“Like fuck,” Shaun mutters and punches in the address of his own flat into the navigation system, steeling himself for the argument or the irritated sigh or whatever else Desmond might be in the mood for tonight.

Desmond turns back to the window without a word. Small mercies.

------

Soon, though, he finds himself wishing for that argument after all. Without anything to distract it, it’s all too easy for his mind to stray to other times like this: escaping towns in the dead of the night, taking turns driving and keeping an eye on the road, the radio on low so as not to disturb those sleeping in the back. Sometimes—at the worst of times—he thinks they had it easy, back then; the four of them playing house, trying to save the world without a thought to what comes after.

Congratulations, they did it—now there’s bills to pay.

Desmond has his gaze fixed on the windshield as if he can even see anything, his bag under his crossed arms, running an idle thumb over his new split. If he keeps at it, he’ll have a matching set soon enough.

“I don’t think I’ve got any ice at home,” Shaun says instead of pointing that out. Desmond drops his hand as if burned anyway. “You might have to make do with frozen peas.”

“’s fine,” Desmond sighs. “Too late anyway.”

That it is.

------

On the bright side, under the decent lighting of the flat, Desmond’s nose doesn’t seem to be broken.

The flip side he stubbornly chooses to ignore as he works down the buttons of his coat; Desmond's already stripped down to his thin shirt in his periphery, tugging at his shoelaces. Not even in long sleeves—of course not. Leave it to Desmond to strut about in threadbare clothing when it’s fuck degrees out there.

“I trust you remember where the shower is,” he says as he hangs his coat and puts away their shoes, Desmond’s bag on top of them. Desmond only grunts in answer before slinking down the hallway, likely because he’d needed to go that way anyway.

Dragging himself to the bedroom, he exchanges his trousers for a clean pair of joggers and digs around until he finds one that might fit Desmond—something that would’ve been practically impossible the last time they saw each other. Picking out a sweatshirt as well—that doesn’t seem to be his own in the first place, come to think of it—he walks back out and drops them at the bathroom door, knocking twice.

“Left you some clothes,” he calls out and waits until he gets a muffled response back. That’s one thing done.

Up next, kitchen—god, oh god, the kitchen. He had completely forgotten the state he’d left it in. The dinner table is covered with papers—in an every-fucking-where way instead of the neat, systematic thing he had imagined the sight to be. The coffee cups he truly did mean to put in the sink are still sitting next to his laptop, as the sink is already overfilled with dishes and the semi-burned pot he’d left to soak overnight three days ago, more littering about the rest of the counter. All right, things may have gotten out of hand a bit, in hindsight; but he can’t be blamed for it. Between school and his research, he’s barely had time to remember to feed himself, let alone keeping things clean and tidy. Not as if he was expecting guests.

He really shouldn’t have answered the phone.

He starts tidying up in haste—which is to say, all papers go on top of the closed laptop in a messy, uneven pile and all dishes in the sink now filled with water, including the two cups of coffee that went cold long before he could even touch them. Taking a moment to listen out for the water—still running, fortunately—he peers into his fridge, his stomach sinking at the sight once again. It’s not barren, as such; but he didn’t have the time for grocery shopping, either, which shows. He’s never had his mother’s skill of concocting something out of practically nothing, but digging deeper, he can spot just enough to prepare an early—very early—breakfast.

It is AM hours, after all. It should count.

He grabs the egg carton and piles up whatever else he can find onto the table. While at it, he dips into his—rather impressive, if he may say so himself—tea selection as well. By the time the bathroom door opens, he has what he can call a modest spread on the table, teabag steeping in the mug.

When it opens for the second time, he flips the omelette.

He’s gotten too used to the almost uniform quiet of the flat; Desmond’s footsteps stand out as he approaches, a light shuffle on the carpet right up until they stop in the doorway. Switching the stove off, Shaun wets a cloth and grabs the pan, taking them both to the table.

“All my flat plates are at the bottom of the sink,” he—unnecessarily—explains as he sets the cloth on the table, the pan on top of it. “You’ll just have to deal.”

Desmond is lingering in the doorway, glancing between Shaun and the table with this odd, almost tender look. The weight that has been dancing in his stomach seats itself in the middle of his chest, right under his heart.

“You didn’t have to,” Desmond rasps, just enough of a question mark in the tone. Shaun doesn’t know the question leading to it—isn’t sure he wants to, either.

“Damn right I didn’t,” he throws back, because the alternative is blurting out what the fuck else was I supposed to do and that’s plain embarrassing. The clothes don’t hang off Desmond’s frame as much as he feared, but he wasn’t terribly off in his estimation, either—certainly not enough to be relieved about it. He clears his throat. “But since it’s already done, you might as well sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

Desmond finally moves to the table, not without one last glance at him. Shaun keeps his glare on him until he picks up his fork and reaches for the olives just in case.

With that crossed off the list, he folds up his sleeves, unclips his watch and starts on the dishes. He hardly has a burning desire to get them out of the way, but it’s something to do, at least. Beats standing there and thinking himself into corners.

Right now, everything beats thinking.

The silence stretches between them, almost peaceful for once. It’s… interesting, the change of air that comes with having someone else in the room. He didn’t quite miss cramming into safe houses for weeks, sometimes months at a time, nothing but the same bland walls and each other’s faces to stare at; but it would be a lie to say he never looks up from his laptop to an empty flat and wishes he had someone to share this shiny thing he’s just stumbled upon, the excitement of the discovery blending with the bitter disappointment.

Paper shuffles behind him, the unmistakeable sound of Desmond getting his grubby hands on his research. The instinct is to snap don’t touch my notes; he pushes it down. Not even on their emptiest days did his work keep Desmond interested for long; he just needs to wait out the three seconds before Desmond gets bored.

“You still researching the Pieces?”

Huh. Now that’s new.

“Without much success,” he admits, reaching into the water for another cup. “With the network down, my research ‘team’ boils down to me and the occasional student I manage to snatch from other projects. Not what you could call a concentrated effort.”

Desmond makes a sound that, under different conditions, could be considered amused. A strange warmth spreads through him. “Thought you must’ve had enough of ‘em for two lifetimes.”

He snorts, despite himself. “Hardly. This was my life’s discovery; it’ll be a cold day in hell before I give it up.”

Most of the time, he doesn’t blame Lucy for the choices she’d made. Couldn’t, really; not when the woman gave up her life for what she believed was right and brought down a war that spanned millennia with her. Just, the historian in him can’t help grieving all the knowledge the world has lost without even knowing that they had it in the first place.

He turns his head a little, just enough to get Desmond in his view. “What about you?” he asks, aiming for a conversational tone. Where have you been is the burning question, followed by who broke your face? He settles on: “How have you been?”

Desmond gives him a long, considering look—uncomfortably reminiscent of MJ. Shrugs a shoulder, too stiff to be casual. “Been better, been worse. You know how it is.”

Disappointment curls in his gut, too heavy to push away. Right. Whatever made him think he might get a real answer for once anyway.

Wash, rinse, put away, repeat. The last of the dishes on the drying rack, he unplugs the sink and grabs the pot, emptying it into the water draining down. It’s probably unsalvageable, realistically, but it’s not in his nature to let go without a fight. His to-do list is long enough without adding shopping for kitchenware on it.

The chair creaks, dragging against the tiles. It’s entirely unwelcome, the tension that creeps up his spine, the sound alone enough to shift all his awareness to the movement behind him.

Desmond drops his dishes next to the sink one by one, including the mostly-full cup of tea that he puts down with an apologetic half-smile. “Thanks.”

He nods in response, scrubbing the pot harder.

Instead of stepping away like anyone with some respect for personal space would, Desmond keeps standing right there, resting a hand on the edge of the counter, seemingly watching the side of Shaun’s head. This close, Shaun can smell his own shampoo on him if he tries, the sweeter scent of his fabric softener underneath.

Desmond sighs. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers and—

And his heart still responds, the traitor.

They’ve been here before. They’ve been here so many times before that it shouldn’t even matter, now, that Desmond can still find it in himself to say the words. He’d said other words before; where did that get them?

“Well, you obviously still have my number,” he bites out, the words like ash on his tongue. “You’ve never had to get yourself kicked out of bars or—or—beaten up to use it.”

Desmond shifts away. The bastard doesn’t even care to look at him, staring at some spot on the far wall instead, the tip of his tongue back on the split as if he wants it to scar. Started something he can’t see through; how typical.

Dropping the sponge into the pot—not as if he was getting anywhere—he runs his hands under the water and grabs a towel. “Where have you been, Desmond?” he asks without looking at him, busying himself with dying his hands thoroughly, too tired to keep beating around the bush. There isn’t enough space in the room even with Desmond backed away—not nearly enough air.

“Around.”

Around. “I see,” he says, nodding slowly. “Perhaps I should ask MJ instead, see if they know all about that, too.”

Desmond stiffens, his hand clenching on the edge. “Don’t bring them into this,” he says tightly—not a threat, not quite, but a warning through and through.

So that’s how it is.

“As far as I’m concerned, you brought them into this,” he points out. “I didn’t even know they existed until tonight, now did I.” He rests a hip against the counter, folding his arms across his chest, the towel still clutched tight in his fist. “Who are they, by the way?”

“The only one on my side when I needed someone to be the most,” Desmond responds with a pointed look, his lips pressed together—and oh, isn’t that rich.

So many responses he could give to that, so many biting remarks, the weight of them almost physical on the tip of his tongue. “I thought you didn’t need people anymore,” he says simply, leaning heavier on his hip. Desmond flinches. “Big boy Desmond, running away from his problems all by his lonesome, no help necessary—just be there to pick up the pieces afterwards.”

Something dark passes over Desmond’s face, blink-and-you-miss-it. “I’m trying to do better.”

He lets his eyes wander down Desmond’s face, the cut of his knuckles that are still flaring red with a hint of purple. Desmond’s hand twitches again. “Clearly.”

“Jesus Christ, I forgot you were this much of an asshole,” Desmond mutters under his breath. It’s not even in the general vicinity of the worst names they’ve called each other—it shouldn’t sting. Not as much as it does.

“Can you blame me? You ring me up from a bar after—what, seven, eight months of radio silence, looking like this—” He waves his free hand up and down Desmond’s body. “—and expect me to give you the benefit of the doubt. Don’t get me wrong, Desmond, but you don’t exactly have the sort of track record that inspires blind trust.”

“I’m not—” Desmond starts only to cut himself off on a long exhale, shaking his head. Making the three steps over to the table, he drops himself on a chair in an ungainly heap and rests his elbows on the bread crumb-covered surface.

“I don’t expect anything of you,” Desmond starts again slowly, exhaustion wrapped around his words. Anger doesn’t drain out of Shaun, but it’s that much harder to keep going when Desmond starts rubbing at his temples with enough force that Shaun’s head throbs just to watch. “I’m not here to—I dunno, to get back into your good graces or whatever scheme you think I’m halfway capable of thinkin’ up.”

“Then why are you here?” Shaun snaps—realises, with an odd cramping of his stomach, that this was the burning question after all. This was the one that haunted him all this time, whenever Desmond’s name popped up on his screen. Whenever it didn’t.

Desmond looks up from the table sideways, one hand still at his temple. “What do you mean?”

Part of him wants to take it back, to wave it off with a curt never mind and making a hasty exit to prepare Desmond’s bed. The stupider, impulsive part is already pushing on with: “You make friends faster than I can lose them; I’m sure you could find somewhere to crash even in the state you were, didn’t have to suffer my hospitality.” Why me, he’s smart enough to hold back, at least.

The curl of Desmond’s lips is odd—too sharp for a smile, too soft for anything else. “Why do you always come?”

Why indeed.

Releasing a breath that takes more than air out of him, he makes his fingers uncurl around the towel and folds it into a neat square, placing it on the counter. The pot is still sitting in the sink, the sponge in the middle of it like a sunken ship. It’s too late to deal with the dishes—for this conversation—it’s too late for bloody anything.

“There are sheets and a spare pillow in the closet,” he says, pointing in the general direction of the closet in the next room. “I believe you can make your bed yourself. I’m going to sleep.”

Desmond nods, a barely-there movement. Shaun only lingers in the kitchen long enough to bin the used teabag and line the rest of the dishes around the pot to deal with tomorrow. Later today. Whenever.

It must be the hour messing with his head, why he pauses in the doorway just before he leaves and says, “And don’t leave without a goodbye this time.”

“Okay,” Desmond lies.

And so it goes.

#badthingshappenbingo #shaundes #Shaun Hastings #Desmond Miles #acmodernzine #Assassin's Creed #Cai does words #finished fics #catch me when I fall (from grace)#this fic was a rollercoaster to write #that's all I'm going to say #content warnings #alcohol abuse #alcoholism #past character death #blood and injury #I actually don't know how tagging works here #desynch gets rambly in tags

28 notes · View notes