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peachypinkygloss · 19 days

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make you mine — jjk

You never suspected the evil would have taken the form of Jungkook, a hot guy from your college, but when he takes interest in you, you rapidly discover the secret he's hiding.

★ pairing: incubus!jungkook x fem!reader

★ genre: horror, smut, college au, jennifer's body au

★ word count: 5.8k

★ warnings: graphic description of gore (mention of blood & injuries), dub-con, jock!jk, implied inexperienced!reader, dom jk/sub reader, unprotected sex, praising, fingering, multiple orgasms, jk's kinda mean but hey he's evil so 🤷🏻‍♀️.

a.n.: here she is guys 🙈 it was both hard & fun to write lol but honestly the result is *chef's kiss*. read the warnings pls thank you!! im so scared of posting it 🥲

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

Jungkook thinks he never felt that much pain in his whole entire life. It’s like his soul is screaming from the inside out, as if someone stabbed him in the stomach, tearing his guts apart.

Oh, but that’s actually what happened…

How can he still be alive? He swears he was dead seconds ago, losing liters of blood through the cut in his stomach. But he’s very much conscious right now, getting out of the woods he was brutally murdered in. Well, is it still murder if he survived?

It doesn’t really matter anymore anyway. All he can think about at this moment is how hungry he is. He would devour anything he can eat, and god, why does the person on the other side of the pavement look so… edible?

He feels the dried blood dripping from his mouth and his hands stained in the same red substance, holding his stomach where, surprisingly, he is no longer bleeding from.The pain is atrocious, but he needs to fucking eat, and he approaches the person faster.

The moment they notice him, their eyes grow bigger and they let out a strident scream, but Jungkook gives them no time to leave.

He doesn’t know what in the hell possesses him to jump on that poor human, his teeth becoming sharper than they ever were, shredding their neck in pieces, their screams slowly dying down as he eats like a starved animal.

The fresh blood is coating the dried layer on his chin. He feels like an uncontrollable beast, and he’s literally acting like one right now. No one with a right mind would have ever done this… but it’s like he isn’t a human.

He was revived from the dead, he can’t possibly be human anymore…

He has an idea as to why this happened.

Those girls — that girl band who he seemed so enthralled by — sacrificed him, and for what…? For fame? For money? Whatever it is, they killed the wrong person because obviously the sacrifice didn’t fucking work.

Well, at least on Jungkook’s side.

He doesn’t know where they went — probably out of town, living their best life as if they didn’t murder a guy for their crappy albums to get more sales.

He’s cursed now, or whatever the hell is happening to him.

He looks down at his victim; it’s a man.

As he eats, he suddenly feels nauseous, vomiting what he had so far swallowed. A dark liquid comes out of his mouth, and god, it’s even more painful than the cut in his stomach.

He feels disgusted by himself — why isn’t he full? Eating felt so good, considering how starved he was, but it’s like he ate something … expired.

Argh, what’s wrong with him… He ate someone’s guts, of course it doesn’t taste like a 5 stars meal. Then why did his instinct tell him to do that?

That’s fucked up.

The next few days are horrible for Jungkook.

After that night, he doesn’t eat anything except for raw chicken and other types of meat that were just not enough to satiate him. It doesn't taste good either.

He lays in bed most of the time, having no energy, skipping the gym and his practices, which he usually never does. He gets texts from his friends, but he doesn’t bother to check his phone.

It’s on Sunday night that he decides to leave his bed, going to look at himself in the mirror. He has big dark circles under his eyes — not particularly flattering. He’s still very hungry, but none of the food in his fridge makes him want to eat.

There’s one thing he’d want, though…

It’s when he receives a text from a specific person that he knows what to do.

iseul: hey, gguk. wanna study together for tomorrow’s exam?

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

“Hey, man,” Jungkook’s teammate, Doyun, greets him. “Heard about Hana? That’s fucked up,” he states, walking beside his friend. “And right after Iseul… My parents refuse my sister to go out alone now.”

“Yeah, I heard,” Jungkook replies, not really caring, but still listening.

It’s not like anybody liked Hana before, he doesn’t understand why everybody suddenly cares now that she’s dead. She needed to die to finally have some importance. How sad.

She wasn’t that good of a laid either, so really, what’s the matter? Sure, it’s tragic, but who’s going to miss her besides her family.

“Can’t be an animal at this point,” his teammate says under his breath, “Do you wanna know what I’m thinking?”

Not really…

“What?”

“I’m thinking it’s gotta be some ‘Jack the Ripper’ kinda guy. You know those freaks who wanna be the modern this or that.”

Kind of offensive…

Jungkook rolls his eyes without Doyun noticing, snickering at his words.

“The police’s saying it’s a bear or some shit,” Jungkook explains, reaching his class. “That’s more believable than your ‘modern Jack the Ripper’.” He mimics quotes with his fingers, stopping in front of the classroom.

Doyun still doesn’t seem convinced, but it’s not Jungkook’s job to make him less stupid. He can believe what he wants, he’s not an investigator even though he thinks he is.

“See you at practice, alright?”

“Yeah, later, man.”

Jungkook has never been very attentive in class. He doesn’t care about a lot of things and college is one of them. He wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for his parents and their high expectations of him.

He’s looking outside the windows, noticing the grey clouds, heavy rain pouring from the sky. A flash of lighting breaks through the sky, hearing the thunder a second after.

Nobody seems attentive either, all interested in the thunderstorm that’s starting. It might be the strongest they’ve seen in a couple of years.

“Crap,” the teacher says as the electricity is cut off, surely because of the thunder.

Girls are gasping, some of them whispering to each other about how creepy the situation has become while the professor waits for the power to get back on, wanting to continue teaching his class.

Jungkook’s phone lights up as he gets a new notification. He takes a glimpse, reading the text he just received.

doyun: practice’s canceled..

Great, Jungkook thinks. He really needed to get some steam off, but it won’t happen today.

“Sir!” A girl raises her hand, catching the attention of the professor. “All classes got canceled. Can we leave? Apparently, the power isn’t coming back in a few hours.”

“Well, I won’t teach in the dark…”

The professor seems quite disappointed, but he lets everyone go back home, seeing no point in staying if he can’t teach.

While exiting the classroom, Jungkook gets bumped into by someone. He doesn’t move much, but the person drops their books on the floor, bending down to pick them up hurriedly.

“Shit… Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you apologize, standing back up when you have all of your books in your arms.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook mumbles and you give him a straight smile, still feeling apologetic.

He recognizes you from highschool, a girl he never talked to, but who he knew the name of. Then, he watches you walking away for a short moment, eyeing your form up and down, memorizing it.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

You’re in the cafeteria, sitting with your friends, waiting for about a good 30 minutes now. The storm from yesterday is still ongoing, and the power is very unstable, cutting off every couple of times.

The finals are scheduled for today and the administration told the students to come regardless of the storm, thinking it would stop during the night. So you’re waiting to be sent to the gym where the exams are usually taking place, but seeing the electricity goes off and comes back every second, it isn’t the best time to start an exam.

People are free to go, it’s college after all, but most of the students are staying in case a decision is made. You know you wouldn’t want to skip your exam, that’s why you’re staying, even though it is starting to get really long.

No murder has happened since the beginning of the storm, confirming the police suspicions that it might be a wild animal doing this. A bear wouldn’t come out during a thunderstorm, hence why no bodies have been found or anyone going missing.

You don’t really know what to think about the whole thing. You never really experienced anything of the sort before, only ever seen it in the news, taking place in a far away city. Now, it’s really different to see it in person, seeing people grieving, freaking out.

You don’t understand how an animal would do such a thing, especially since they aren’t known to attack humans, or… eat them. But everybody is kind of desperate to find a culprit.

As you’re looking through your notes, you notice that you’re missing a piece of information that you absolutely need to know for your test. You would ask your friends, but none of them are in this class with you. Plus, you forgot your book so the only solution would be to go to the library.

The place is lit up by candles and oil lamps. The power doesn’t seem to have come back here.

The librarian isn’t even here, so you can’t ask her for directions, which would be really useful, but you’ll do without. You go to the biology section and start searching for the book you need. It takes you some time, carefully looking through the shelves until you notice an older edition of the book. You hope what you need is in there.

You start flipping the pages to the right chapter, but you jump out of surprise and drop the book to the floor at the sound of someone else’s voice.

“Aren’t you supposed to attend your exam?”

It’s the guy you bumped into yesterday; Jungkook.

What’s weird is that you didn’t at all hear him, you could have swore you were alone in the library. Guess he’s a really quiet walker, hence why you didn’t even see him coming out of the classroom the day before.

“Uh, y-yeah,” you stammer out, furrowing your brows. You bend down to pick up the book, his eyes following your movements closely. “Just had to come here for this,” you say and show the object in question in your hand. “What about you?”

He leans on the shelves beside him.

“Didn’t feel like wasting my time back there,” he explains and you nod, not really sure what he wants exactly… It’s not like you’re friends or anything.

You can’t see much of him with the low lighting in the library, but you still catch on the way he’s looking at you intently. It makes you slightly uncomfortable, considering he’s towering over you with all his height. And Jungkook is very tall compared to you.

“Is- Is there something else you wanted to ask me…?” You manage to let out, voice a bit shaky and uneasy.

“Are you scared?” he asks casually.

He steps closer to you, and you don’t understand why you don’t step back. It’s like you don’t dare.

“What?”

“The storm. Pretty intense, right?”

Is he really interested to know if you’re scared of storms or is he playing with you? Why would he even play with you in the first place, that’s what you wonder.

His behaviour really confuses you. It’s true that you don’t know him, but he isn’t the type of guy to just… creep girls out. Maybe it’s not his intention though?

“Oh, yeah… It’s- it’s nothing I've ever seen before,” you confess in a weak voice.

“Me neither,” Jungkook replies.

You hold the book against you tighter like it’s some sort of protection, or just as emotional support. You don’t know what’s up with him, but it has you feeling some type of way…

You feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter as he gets even closer, trapping you between him and the bookshelves.

Yes, you’re scared, but not of the storm… of him.

And… there’s a part of you that likes it — likes the attention he gives you, the way his dark eyes look at your body. His gaze makes you think of a carnivore, a predator.

You’re the food he was looking for.

“It’s really loud, isn’t it?” he observes. “I wonder… if you had to scream, would anybody hear you?”

That startles you right away.

“Jungkook-” Saying his name seems to catch his attention, his eyes looking directly into yours. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t break eye contact, and you’re destabilized by how long he can hold your gaze, a shiver running up your spine, making the hair on your arms stand up.

It’s only to whisper in your ear that his eyes leave yours.

“Stop what exactly?”

His hot breath hits the side of your neck, hearing your heart pounding in your chest, the knot in your stomach becoming heavier and heavier. Your hands clasp around your book, holding onto it for dear life as you gulp down the excess of saliva in your mouth.

You scrunch your eyes shut when you feel his hands on your hips, fingers sneaking under the hem of your top. Your core heats up, blood rushing to your cheeks… and clitoris.

“What do you want?” You breathe out, opening your eyes when Jungkook faces you again.

He takes the book from you, putting it back onto the shelves, not caring if it’s the wrong placement.

“Just a little bit of fun,” he answers, “wouldn’t you like that, hm?” He slips his index finger under the band of your skirt, pulling you closer to him, his lips only centimetres away from yours. “I know girls like you are too shy to ask for it… So I’m making the first move.”

“No, I-” You begin, but don’t have the time to finish your sentence.

“It’s fine, I’m gonna take the lead. You don’t have to worry about anything, pretty,” he tells you, tilting his head and pressing a light kiss to your lips. Surprisingly, you reciprocate it. He pulls his hand away from your skirt, enveloping it around your throat, not putting any pressure yet. “I knew you’d be into it, you’re a little freak, aren’t you?”

You don’t know what to answer. Is there even anything you can say back to him? What’s the point of lying when he has you trapped between his large body and the bookshelves, his tattooed fingers gripping your neck, his lips brushing over your face.

But would that be really a lie saying he’s wrong about you? He doesn’t know you…

He kisses you again, this time sloppier, his tongue dominating yours easily. He nudges your legs open with his knee, his other hand swiftly diving under the hem of your skirt, groping your flesh in a lewd way that keeps you out of breath — apart from the fact that his tongue is currently exploring your mouth.

He graces the bump of your pussy covered by your panties with his fingers, making your knees buckle at the unexpected contact. He rubs the pad of his middle finger over your clit, a whine escaping your throat, muffled by his mouth on yours. The moment is brief until he slips his hand into your underwear.

You try to make him stop by grabbing his wrist, pulling away from his lips to pathetically whisper a ‘p-please’ that makes him chuckle.

“Already begging for me, sweetheart?” He softly laughs, smirking at you. “Excited by the idea of a guy’s fingers in your little cunt instead of yours? Is that it?”

You frown because that wasn’t the reason why you begged him, but now that he said this… your thoughts are going into a completely different way. What’s wrong with you?

“Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? How it’s like to have your pussy stuffed by someone else’s fingers…”

He’s not waiting for an answer as he starts stroking your bud of nerves in slow circular motions, applying some pressure to really make you feel it. You let out another whine, this time of pleasure.

Jungkook then shifts down to your entrance, circling it with a lot of delicacy, but this gentleness of his doesn’t go on for long as he pushes a finger into you. You bite down on your bottom lip — the size of his fingers are in no comparison to yours. Your eyes swell up in water, little cries escaping your mouth when he adds a second digit.

“I know, I know,” he whispers, “must be uncomfortable, hm?” You nod your head, confirming his words. “It’ll feel good soon, I promise. You’re used to the feel of your tiny fingers, it’s normal…”

When he says this, you have a hard time believing him. How could it feel good when you weren’t at all prepared for this — when it’s not what you wanted.

He begins to move his fingers inside of you, slow and long strokes at first, circling your clit with his thumb at the same time. He curls his fingers, making a little hook, patting your sweet spot. The intrusion is uncomfortable, but it progressively gets so much more pleasurable as he thrusts into you at a regular pace.

Tears are still falling down from your eyes, eyelashes wet and sticky, but they aren’t the result of your pain…

“You’re pretty when you cry,” Jungkook murmurs beside your ear, butterflies in your stomach when he tells you this.

He unwraps his hand from your throat to instead grab your thigh, placing your leg around his hip. You now feel his fingers way deeper inside of you, gently and deliciously stimulating your g-spot. You dare to look down where his left hand is operating between your thighs, sliding in until he’s knuckles deep into your pussy. This makes you breathless, head rolling back on your shoulders and hitting the shelves behind you.

“Oh, my god-!” You exclaim when Jungkook’s ministrations bring you so close to your orgasm. Your legs are twitching, your body warning you of your approaching high.

You’d probably be more aware of his hard cock trapped in his baggy jeans, but you literally cannot focus on anything else other than Jungkook fingering you, hitting your sensitive spot each time he thrusts in.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, moving faster. “You feel it? Huh?” He asks and you croak out a weak ‘yes’. “Tell me how it feels.”

You hate his questions — you hate them so much. He knows how you feel, but he wants you to say it, he wants you to say that you enjoy it, and… your body really does.

“G-Good.”

“Yeah?” he breathes out, fucking your cunt with his fingers, enthralled by the little moans you let out.

“Yes,” you confirm, closing your eyes and nodding your head. “Fuck!” You curse out when you finally reach your high, grasping onto his forearm as you ride out your orgasm, your entire body shaking.

Jungkook helps you by slowly rubbing your puffy clit in circles, telling you more dirty words in your ear, all said in the sweetest voice, as if what he’s doing can be described as anything sweet.

“Good girl,” he praises, “see, I told you it’d feel great.”

He still has his head in the crook of your neck, and you frown at the feeling of sharp teeth against your skin. It’s barely there, just brushing over it, as if hesitating to act… but Jungkook retrieves back, looking into your reddened eyes.

He could stop there, but he won’t — though he got what he wanted, he needs more…

He pulls his hand out of your panties, fingers glistening in your arousal. “Open wide for me, baby,” he instructs.

You glance at his hand, a little repulsed. You’ve never thought about tasting yourself and it’s surely nothing you’d have ever done… if not for Jungkook.

You then reluctantly open your mouth and he enters his wet fingers in.

“Suck,” he adds on, expecting you to follow his orders, and you do without a second thought.

He stares down at you while you lick his fingers clean and he slides them a bit deeper, pushing down on your tongue. The taste of yourself isn’t what you thought it’d be… It doesn’t taste much, in fact.

He removes his fingers from your mouth only to put them in his own after. “As sweet as you are,” he grins. “Turn around.”

You hesitate for a second, looking at him credulously, before doing what he asked you to do on trembling legs.

“Are you…?” You say under your breath, looking over your shoulder and seeing Jungkook pulling the zipper of his pants down.

“Going to put my cock into you?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah, I am.”

You stop breathing at his answer, sensing his deft fingers touching your thighs and hips, going under your skirt to drag your panties down.

He soon gets his cock out of his briefs, pumping himself a couple of times before aligning his head with your dripping wet entrance. His tattooed hand keeps your skirt crumpled up over your ass, laying the other one on your hip.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he says softly beside your ear, “because this might sting a little bit more than two fingers.” He swipes the head of his cock through your sticky folds and all you can do is moan pathetically at the feeling, lewd, wet noises echoing in the big library.

You can’t see his length even with the way you contort your head to look over your shoulder, but you’re still able to see his chest and hips moving as he pushes his cock into your pussy. Though you have no idea what he looks like, the painful feeling of your cunt getting stretched out to his size tells you he’s really big.

And he was right. This hurts way more than his fingers, the two feelings are not comparable at all.

“Jungkook-,” you cry out, holding the shelves in front of you till there’s no more blood in your knuckles.

He hears you, loving the sounds you’re making because of him and the way you say his name with eyes full of tears. When he bottoms out inside of you, his pelvis flushed against your ass, he lets out a low grunt and throws his head back, closing his eyes to savour the pleasure entirely.

You involuntarily clench around him, making him tighten his grip on your hip. He then starts thrusting into you, his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at a slow but harsh pace. Each time he bottoms out, Jungkook makes sure the skin of his thighs slap against your ass, the sounds almost as loud as your little moans and whimpers.

But the storm is so intense and noisy that he’s pretty sure nobody else in the library could hear you — if there was anyone here apart from the two of you anyway.

Your wetness allows him to fuck his cock into your pussy back and forth, welcoming him so perfectly without any restriction. It’s almost impossible for him to not hit your sweet spot, and he reaches so much deeper when he lifts up your thigh with the hand that was previously placed on your hip.

You don’t know how long you can stay in this position, especially when Jungkook’s drilling his hard cock into you like nothing else matters. It’s like he needs it from you, and as the pleasure only builds up in you, you start thinking you need it desperately, too.

You’re breathing heavily, and so is he, feeling his hot breath on your neck when he tilts his head down closer to yours. You can clearly hear his breathing now as well as his deep grunts that leave his mouth every time your walls close tightly around his girth, literally sucking him in.

“Shit,” he curses out as he pushes lightly on your back, deepening the arch of it so your ass is flushed against his pelvis. “How could I have ever passed over you… You’re so- fuck,” Jungkook chokes out, not finishing his sentence, but you have a guess on what he wanted to say.

He then kisses your neck pretty messily, but it only raises the temperature of your body, your skin boiling hot under his soft lips. He leaves a wet trail behind, going up to your ear, down to your shoulder.

Telling him to stop isn’t even possible anymore, it wouldn’t make any sense… would be absolutely stupid when you’re so close to your second orgasm.

As he thrusts into you, his balls smack your pussy, and the sounds are just too vulgar, but it’s honestly arousing you so much. Jungkook lets go of your thigh to take a hold of your jaw, turning it around so he can look at your face.

Your mouth is ajar to let out big puffs of air, and it’s the same for him, his breathing being irregular and heavy. He didn’t think he would ever need something that badly, which is making you his, surprisingly enough.

Making you his in whatever way possible; whether it’s by fucking you or eating you — or both. Jungkook doesn’t care, he just wants it.

It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to pass through you, arms and legs shaking as the knot at the pit of your stomach snaps. Jungkook feels it very clearly, your walls hugging his cock terribly tightly, bringing him closer to his own orgasm as well.

“Holy fuck,” he hisses, his hip thrusts accelerating, literally burying his cock in your cunt until he slips out. He rapidly strokes himself and cums on your ass, strings of white cum falling on you. “Oh, god…”

He stays in this position for a couple of seconds, catching his breath. He then slightly backs away, making sure to keep your skirt crumpled up over your butt, looking at the mess he made of you.

Suddenly, you both catch on the voices entering the library, making you rush to dress up and clean yourselves — especially you.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

You’re in your bedroom, studying and writing down on your notebook while lying down on your bed. It’s relatively quiet in your house, hearing the TV downstairs playing and the ceiling fan above your head running.

The ringtone of your cellphone breaks the silence, buzzing on top of your bedsheets. It’s a number that you don’t recognize, but the first digitals show you that it’s a number from your area. So you pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, pretty.”

“Uh, who is this?” You ask the person on the other side of the line because you have no idea who would call you like this. They must know you.

“Take a guess,” they say, and their tone is oddly a little flirty.

You frown, starting to remember where you heard this voice for the last time… And in which situation exactly.

“... Jungkook?”

He laughs at that and you can imagine the cheeky smile he’s sporting right now.

“You got it,” he replies, “see, I knew you’d remember me.”

You immediately feel uneasy despite the fact you’re just talking through the phone, but things have happened since your encounter with Jungkook.

Things such as more dead girls, all brutally murdered by this ‘animal’.

You suspected nothing until you noticed how tired looking Jungkook was a day or two after what happened in the library. Normally, you wouldn’t have looked at him, but you literally couldn’t get him out of your head after how intimate the both of you had been together.

Each time he was in the same hallway as you, you’d give him a glance and nothing more as you were too shy to talk to him or even look at him for too long.

But sometimes you dared to watch him a little longer when he didn’t know you were in the same room as him.

And you saw the dark circles, the bad attitude he had with his friends, and the disdain look he seemed to give to everybody. You also saw him get in his car with a girl. You were jealous for a second, but you felt totally different the next day when that same girl went missing and that Jungkook seemed to be doing fine again.

At first, it was just silly thoughts, but it was too strong of a coincidence, you couldn’t think about anything else.

“Yeah…” You say back, shoulders tense as you sit up on your bed. “How did you get my number?”

“Asked Doyun for it,” he simply explains. “You did a project back in highschool together. Remember?”

You do remember. You were so stressed out about it. Paired with a popular jock? You believed the teacher was against you, but it turned out that Doyun was way nicer than you thought.

“Luckily, you didn’t change numbers.”

Lucky for who?

“Right,” you huff out, looking through your window, a shiver passing through you at the thought of Jungkook hiding somewhere.

“What’re you doing?” he asks.

“Uhm, just studying… Why?”

“Wanna go out with me?” Jungkook proposes after a few seconds of silence.

You look through your window again. It’s dark outside. This would be such a bad idea…

“It’s 9 p.m. on a Thursday night,” you begin, sounding way too bitchy for his liking, “where would we go? And why would I even go out with you…”

“The park’s always open,” he adds.

“What-”

“Relax. Nothing bad gonna happen, alright?" his voice resonates through the phone, hearing a slight laugh after. "I miss you, that's all."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to get all of your stupid thoughts away. As much as you hate to admit it, you love hearing that from Jungkook. That’s all you wanted him to say since he left you in the library… tell you he needs you as much as you need him.

But this isn’t the time for that — there won’t ever be another time anyway.

You respond nothing and so he takes it as a yes. “I’ll come pick you up in 10 minutes. Put something pretty on,” he chuckles, hanging up.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

The park isn’t an open space with benches and a fountain. It’s basically the woods where you go for hiking. There are paths you can follow that will all lead you to the same place at the end.

You could have thought of something smarter, or less dangerous, but you didn’t have any time. Jungkook showed up at your entrance precisely 10 minutes after he hung up and you weren’t exactly ready to see him just yet.

You had to get in his car anyway, the whole ride being quiet until you arrived at your destination. Your stomach churned up the moment you entered the woods, Jungkook behind you.

Your heart is still beating super fast right now, whether it’s because you’re absolutely scared or because Jungkook is kissing you feverishly, it doesn’t matter. You can’t do this, and you don’t know how it might end for you if you let yourself be distracted by him.

“Jungkook,” you manage to say between kisses. You push harder on his chest, making him stop from putting his tongue in your mouth. “We need to talk,” you say firmly.

“About what?” he chuckles, diving back down to the crook of your neck where he plants wet kisses, his hand sneaking up under your dress while the other holds your hip.

You squirm, fighting hard to not let yourself give in to his touch.

“I saw… I saw Jia and you getting into your car the other day,” you confess and he backs away from your neck when he hears that, looking intently at your face.

“And? You were jealous, is that it?” He questions, lifting one eyebrow.

“No! I mean-,” you answer right after, thinking about what to say and how to say it. “She went missing the day after you saw her, and-”

Jungkook gets visibly annoyed, trapping his bottom lip between his teeth. He lets go of you, still looking at you, but not with lustful eyes anymore.

“What? What are you trying to say, huh?” He huffs out. “That I killed her? Fucking crazy.”

You feel bad. Is he really guilty?

He has to be. You know he is.

“Back in the library,” you begin to say, “were you… did you intend to kill me?” You eventually say it all, breath caught in your throat as you watch Jungkook registering your words.

He sighs, “why would it matter?” You frown at that, about to respond, but he steps closer to you, trapping you between him and the tree again. “Just let me take care of you, gonna make you feel good, baby…”

He slips his hands under your dress so rapidly that you don’t have any time to react, immediately overwhelmed by his groping and his lips all over you.

But you get back your senses, using all your force to push him away. You succeed to have a safe distance between the two of you.

“So you’re admitting it!? You wanted to- to do the same thing to me!”

“No,” he disagrees, his voice harsh, sounding quite annoyed. “I just wanted- Fuck!” he exclaims angrily, but it’s like he doesn’t know what to say.

“You could have everybody you wanted, Jungkook,” you state, looking him into the eyes, “why me?”

He looks back at you and you wonder how you couldn’t have seen it before… The evil.

“Why not? You’re hot, kinda a stuck-up, but I had to try it, you know,” he chuckles. “For a nerdy girl, you sure know how to take dick.”

It angers you to a point…

“Fuck you!”

And without thinking twice, you reach down to pick up the pocket knife you hid in your boot before.

You open it and you rush toward Jungkook, stabbing him in his lower stomach. You retrieve the knife a bit too hastily, resulting in you dropping it and falling down on your butt to the ground.

Jungkook also falls down, holding onto his stomach, red blood dripping out of his cut onto his hands. He yells out many curses, sucking air through his teeth to appease the pain as much as he can.

You watch him, startled and out of breath, eventually turning around and searching for your knife. When you find it, you get back up and to Jungkook, but he isn’t there anymore.

He has completely disappeared.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook smut

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inky-duchess · 5 months

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Fantasy Guide to Interiors

As a followup to the very popular post on architecture, I decided to add onto it by exploring the interior of each movement and the different design techniques and tastes of each era. This post at be helpful for historical fiction, fantasy or just a long read when you're bored.

Interior Design Terms

Reeding and fluting: Fluting is a technique that consists a continuous pattern of concave grooves in a flat surface across a surface. Reeding is it's opposite.

Embossing: stamping, carving or moulding a symbol to make it stand out on a surface.

Paneling: Panels of carved wood or fabric a fixed to a wall in a continuous pattern.

Gilding: the use of gold to highlight features.

Glazed Tile: Ceramic or porcelain tiles coated with liquid coloured glass or enamel.

Column: A column is a pillar of stone or wood built to support a ceiling. We will see more of columns later on.

Bay Window: The Bay Window is a window projecting outward from a building.

Frescos: A design element of painting images upon wet plaster.

Mosaic: Mosaics are a design element that involves using pieces of coloured glass and fitted them together upon the floor or wall to form images.

Mouldings: ornate strips of carved wood along the top of a wall.

Wainscoting: paneling along the lower portion of a wall.

Chinoiserie: A European take on East Asian art. Usually seen in wallpaper.

Clerestory: A series of eye-level windows.

Sconces: A light fixture supported on a wall.

Niche: A sunken area within a wall.

Monochromatic: Focusing on a single colour within a scheme.

Ceiling rose: A moulding fashioned on the ceiling in the shape of a rose usually supporting a light fixture.

Baluster: the vertical bars of a railing.

Façade: front portion of a building

Lintel: Top of a door or window.

Portico: a covered structure over a door supported by columns

Eaves: the part of the roof overhanging from the building

Skirting: border around lower length of a wall

Ancient Greece

Houses were made of either sun-dried clay bricks or stone which were painted when they dried. Ground floors were decorated with coloured stones and tiles called Mosaics. Upper level floors were made from wood. Homes were furnished with tapestries and furniture, and in grand homes statues and grand altars would be found. Furniture was very skillfully crafted in Ancient Greece, much attention was paid to the carving and decoration of such things. Of course, Ancient Greece is ancient so I won't be going through all the movements but I will talk a little about columns.

Doric: Doric is the oldest of the orders and some argue it is the simplest. The columns of this style are set close together, without bases and carved with concave curves called flutes. The capitals (the top of the column) are plain often built with a curve at the base called an echinus and are topped by a square at the apex called an abacus. The entablature is marked by frieze of vertical channels/triglyphs. In between the channels would be detail of carved marble. The Parthenon in Athens is your best example of Doric architecture.

Ionic: The Ionic style was used for smaller buildings and the interiors. The columns had twin volutes, scroll-like designs on its capital. Between these scrolls, there was a carved curve known as an egg and in this style the entablature is much narrower and the frieze is thick with carvings. The example of Ionic Architecture is the Temple to Athena Nike at the Athens Acropolis.

Corinthian: The Corinthian style has some similarities with the Ionic order, the bases, entablature and columns almost the same but the capital is more ornate its base, column, and entablature, but its capital is far more ornate, commonly carved with depictions of acanthus leaves. The style was more slender than the others on this list, used less for bearing weight but more for decoration. Corinthian style can be found along the top levels of the Colosseum in Rome.

Tuscan: The Tuscan order shares much with the Doric order, but the columns are un-fluted and smooth. The entablature is far simpler, formed without triglyphs or guttae. The columns are capped with round capitals.

Composite: This style is mixed. It features the volutes of the Ionic order and the capitals of the Corinthian order. The volutes are larger in these columns and often more ornate. The column's capital is rather plain. for the capital, with no consistent differences to that above or below the capital.

Ancient Rome

Rome is well known for its outward architectural styles. However the Romans did know how to add that rizz to the interior. Ceilings were either vaulted or made from exploded beams that could be painted. The Romans were big into design. Moasics were a common interior sight, the use of little pieces of coloured glass or stone to create a larger image. Frescoes were used to add colour to the home, depicting mythical figures and beasts and also different textures such as stonework or brick. The Romans loved their furniture. Dining tables were low and the Romans ate on couches. Weaving was a popular pastime so there would be tapestries and wall hangings in the house. Rich households could even afford to import fine rugs from across the Empire. Glass was also a feature in Roman interior but windows were usually not paned as large panes were hard to make. Doors were usually treated with panels that were carved or in lain with bronze.

Ancient Egypt

Egypt was one of the first great civilisations, known for its immense and grand structures. Wealthy Egyptians had grand homes. The walls were painted or plastered usually with bright colours and hues. The Egyptians are cool because they mapped out their buildings in such a way to adhere to astrological movements meaning on special days if the calendar the temple or monuments were in the right place always. The columns of Egyptian where thicker, more bulbous and often had capitals shaped like bundles of papyrus reeds. Woven mats and tapestries were popular decor. Motifs from the river such as palms, papyrus and reeds were popular symbols used.

Ancient Africa

African Architecture is a very mixed bag and more structurally different and impressive than Hollywood would have you believe. Far beyond the common depictions of primitive buildings, the African nations were among the giants of their time in architecture, no style quite the same as the last but just as breathtaking.

Rwandan Architecture: The Rwandans commonly built of hardened clay with thatched roofs of dried grass or reeds. Mats of woven reeds carpeted the floors of royal abodes. These residences folded about a large public area known as a karubanda and were often so large that they became almost like a maze, connecting different chambers/huts of all kinds of uses be they residential or for other purposes.

Ashanti Architecture: The Ashanti style can be found in present day Ghana. The style incorporates walls of plaster formed of mud and designed with bright paint and buildings with a courtyard at the heart, not unlike another examples on this post. The Ashanti also formed their buildings of the favourite method of wattle and daub.

Nubian Architecture: Nubia, in modern day Ethiopia, was home to the Nubians who were one of the world's most impressive architects at the beginning of the architecture world and probably would be more talked about if it weren't for the Egyptians building monuments only up the road. The Nubians were famous for building the speos, tall tower-like spires carved of stone. The Nubians used a variety of materials and skills to build, for example wattle and daub and mudbrick. The Kingdom of Kush, the people who took over the Nubian Empire was a fan of Egyptian works even if they didn't like them very much. The Kushites began building pyramid-like structures such at the sight of Gebel Barkal

Japanese Interiors

Japenese interior design rests upon 7 principles. Kanso (簡素)- Simplicity, Fukinsei (不均整)- Asymmetry, Shizen (自然)- Natural, Shibumi (渋味) – Simple beauty, Yugen (幽玄)- subtle grace, Datsuzoku (脱俗) – freedom from habitual behaviour, Seijaku (静寂)- tranquillity.

Common features of Japanese Interior Design:

Shoji walls: these are the screens you think of when you think of the traditional Japanese homes. They are made of wooden frames, rice paper and used to partition

Tatami: Tatami mats are used within Japanese households to blanket the floors. They were made of rice straw and rush straw, laid down to cushion the floor.

Genkan: The Genkan was a sunken space between the front door and the rest of the house. This area is meant to separate the home from the outside and is where shoes are discarded before entering.

Japanese furniture: often lowest, close to the ground. These include tables and chairs but often tanked are replaced by zabuton, large cushions. Furniture is usually carved of wood in a minimalist design.

Nature: As both the Shinto and Buddhist beliefs are great influences upon architecture, there is a strong presence of nature with the architecture. Wood is used for this reason and natural light is prevalent with in the home. The orientation is meant to reflect the best view of the world.

Islamic World Interior

The Islamic world has one of the most beautiful and impressive interior design styles across the world. Colour and detail are absolute staples in the movement. Windows are usually not paned with glass but covered in ornate lattices known as jali. The jali give ventilation, light and privacy to the home. Islamic Interiors are ornate and colourful, using coloured ceramic tiles. The upper parts of walls and ceilings are usually flat decorated with arabesques (foliate ornamentation), while the lower wall areas were usually tiled. Features such as honeycombed ceilings, horseshoe arches, stalactite-fringed arches and stalactite vaults (Muqarnas) are prevalent among many famous Islamic buildings such as the Alhambra and the Blue Mosque.

Byzantine (330/395–1453 A. D)

The Byzantine Empire or Eastern Roman Empire was where eat met west, leading to a melting pot of different interior designs based on early Christian styles and Persian influences. Mosaics are probably what you think of when you think of the Byzantine Empire. Ivory was also a popular feature in the Interiors, with carved ivory or the use of it in inlay. The use of gold as a decorative feature usually by way of repoussé (decorating metals by hammering in the design from the backside of the metal). Fabrics from Persia, heavily embroidered and intricately woven along with silks from afar a field as China, would also be used to upholster furniture or be used as wall hangings. The Byzantines favoured natural light, usually from the use of copolas.

Indian Interiors

India is of course, the font of all intricate designs. India's history is sectioned into many eras but we will focus on a few to give you an idea of prevalent techniques and tastes.

The Gupta Empire (320 – 650 CE): The Gupta era was a time of stone carving. As impressive as the outside of these buildings are, the Interiors are just as amazing. Gupta era buildings featured many details such as ogee (circular or horseshoe arch), gavaksha/chandrashala (the motif centred these arches), ashlar masonry (built of squared stone blocks) with ceilings of plain, flat slabs of stone.

Delhi Sultanate (1206–1526): Another period of beautifully carved stone. The Delhi sultanate had influence from the Islamic world, with heavy uses of mosaics, brackets, intricate mouldings, columns and and hypostyle halls.

Mughal Empire (1526–1857): Stonework was also important on the Mughal Empire. Intricately carved stonework was seen in the pillars, low relief panels depicting nature images and jalis (marble screens). Stonework was also decorated in a stye known as pietra dura/parchin kari with inscriptions and geometric designs using colored stones to create images. Tilework was also popular during this period. Moasic tiles were cut and fitted together to create larger patters while cuerda seca tiles were coloured tiles outlined with black.

Chinese Interiors

Common features of Chinese Interiors

Use of Colours: Colour in Chinese Interior is usually vibrant and bold. Red and Black are are traditional colours, meant to bring luck, happiness, power, knowledge and stability to the household.

Latticework: Lattices are a staple in Chinese interiors most often seen on shutters, screens, doors of cabinets snf even traditional beds.

Lacquer: Multiple coats of lacquer are applied to furniture or cabinets (now walls) and then carved. The skill is called Diaoqi (雕漆).

Decorative Screens: Screens are used to partition off part of a room. They are usually of carved wood, pained with very intricate murals.

Shrines: Spaces were reserved on the home to honour ancestors, usually consisting of an altar where offerings could be made.

Of course, Chinese Interiors are not all the same through the different eras. While some details and techniques were interchangeable through different dynasties, usually a dynasty had a notable style or deviation. These aren't all the dynasties of course but a few interesting examples.

Song Dynasty (960–1279): The Song Dynasty is known for its stonework. Sculpture was an important part of Song Dynasty interior. It was in this period than brick and stone work became the most used material. The Song Dynasty was also known for its very intricate attention to detail, paintings, and used tiles.

Ming Dynasty(1368–1644): Ceilings were adorned with cloisons usually featuring yellow reed work. The floors would be of flagstones usually of deep tones, mostly black. The Ming Dynasty favoured richly coloured silk hangings, tapestries and furnishings. Furniture was usually carved of darker woods, arrayed in a certain way to bring peace to the dwelling.

Han Dynasty (206 BC-220 AD): Interior walls were plastered and painted to show important figures and scenes. Lacquer, though it was discovered earlier, came into greater prominence with better skill in this era.

Tang Dynasty (618–907) : The colour palette is restrained, reserved. But the Tang dynasty is not without it's beauty. Earthenware reached it's peak in this era, many homes would display fine examples as well. The Tang dynasty is famous for its upturned eaves, the ceilings supported by timber columns mounted with metal or stone bases. Glazed tiles were popular in this era, either a fixed to the roof or decorating a screen wall.

Romanesque (6th -11th century/12th)

Romanesque Architecture is a span between the end of Roman Empire to the Gothic style. Taking inspiration from the Roman and Byzantine Empires, the Romanesque period incorporates many of the styles. The most common details are carved floral and foliage symbols with the stonework of the Romanesque buildings. Cable mouldings or twisted rope-like carvings would have framed doorways. As per the name, Romansque Interiors relied heavily on its love and admiration for Rome. The Romanesque style uses geometric shapes as statements using curves, circles snf arches. The colours would be clean and warm, focusing on minimal ornamentation.

Gothic Architecture (12th Century - 16th Century)

The Gothic style is what you think of when you think of old European cathedrals and probably one of the beautiful of the styles on this list and one of most recognisable. The Gothic style is a dramatic, opposing sight and one of the easiest to describe. Decoration in this era became more ornate, stonework began to sport carving and modelling in a way it did not before. The ceilings moved away from barreled vaults to quadripartite and sexpartite vaulting. Columns slimmed as other supportive structures were invented. Intricate stained glass windows began their popularity here. In Gothic structures, everything is very symmetrical and even.

Mediaeval (500 AD to 1500)

Interiors of mediaeval homes are not quite as drab as Hollywood likes to make out. Building materials may be hidden by plaster in rich homes, sometimes even painted. Floors were either dirt strewn with rushes or flagstones in larger homes. Stonework was popular, especially around fireplaces. Grand homes would be decorated with intricate woodwork, carved heraldic beasts and wall hangings of fine fabrics.

Renaissance (late 1300s-1600s)

The Renaissance was a period of great artistry and splendor. The revival of old styles injected symmetry and colour into the homes. Frescoes were back. Painted mouldings adorned the ceilings and walls. Furniture became more ornate, fixed with luxurious upholstery and fine carvings. Caryatids (pillars in the shape of women), grotesques, Roman and Greek images were used to spruce up the place. Floors began to become more intricate, with coloured stone and marble. Modelled stucco, sgraffiti arabesques (made by cutting lines through a layer of plaster or stucco to reveal an underlayer), and fine wall painting were used in brilliant combinations in the early part of the 16th century.

Tudor Interior (1485-1603)

The Tudor period is a starkly unique style within England and very recognisable. Windows were fixed with lattice work, usually casement. Stained glass was also in in this period, usually depicting figures and heraldic beasts. Rooms would be panelled with wood or plastered. Walls would be adorned with tapestries or embroidered hangings. Windows and furniture would be furnished with fine fabrics such as brocade. Floors would typically be of wood, sometimes strewn with rush matting mixed with fresh herbs and flowers to freshen the room.

Baroque (1600 to 1750)

The Baroque period was a time for splendor and for splashing the cash. The interior of a baroque room was usually intricate, usually of a light palette, featuring a very high ceiling heavy with detail. Furniture would choke the room, ornately carved and stitched with very high quality fabrics. The rooms would be full of art not limited to just paintings but also sculptures of marble or bronze, large intricate mirrors, moldings along the walls which may be heavily gilded, chandeliers and detailed paneling.

Victorian (1837-1901)

We think of the interiors of Victorian homes as dowdy and dark but that isn't true. The Victorians favoured tapestries, intricate rugs, decorated wallpaper, exquisitely furniture, and surprisingly, bright colour. Dyes were more widely available to people of all stations and the Victorians did not want for colour. Patterns and details were usually nature inspired, usually floral or vines. Walls could also be painted to mimic a building material such as wood or marble and most likely painted in rich tones. The Victorians were suckers for furniture, preferring them grandly carved with fine fabric usually embroidered or buttoned. And they did not believe in minimalism. If you could fit another piece of furniture in a room, it was going in there. Floors were almost eclusively wood laid with the previously mentioned rugs. But the Victorians did enjoy tiled floors but restricted them to entrances. The Victorians were quite in touch with their green thumbs so expect a lot of flowers and greenery inside. with various elaborately decorated patterned rugs. And remember, the Victorians loved to display as much wealth as they could. Every shelf, cabinet, case and ledge would be chocked full of ornaments and antiques.

Edwardian/The Gilded Age/Belle Epoque (1880s-1914)

This period (I've lumped them together for simplicity) began to move away from the deep tones and ornate patterns of the Victorian period. Colour became more neutral. Nature still had a place in design. Stained glass began to become popular, especially on lampshades and light fixtures. Embossing started to gain popularity and tile work began to expand from the entrance halls to other parts of the house. Furniture began to move away from dark wood, some families favouring breathable woods like wicker. The rooms would be less cluttered.

Art Deco (1920s-1930s)

The 1920s was a time of buzz and change. Gone were the refined tastes of the pre-war era and now the wow factor was in. Walls were smoother, buildings were sharper and more jagged, doorways and windows were decorated with reeding and fluting. Pastels were in, as was the heavy use of black and white, along with gold. Mirrors and glass were in, injecting light into rooms. Gold, silver, steel and chrome were used in furnishings and decor. Geometric shapes were a favourite design choice. Again, high quality and bold fabrics were used such as animal skins or colourful velvet. It was all a rejection of the Art Noveau movement, away from nature focusing on the man made.

Modernism (1930 - 1965)

Modernism came after the Art Deco movement. Fuss and feathers were out the door and now, practicality was in. Materials used are shown as they are, wood is not painted, metal is not coated. Bright colours were acceptable but neutral palettes were favoured. Interiors were open and favoured large windows. Furniture was practical, for use rather than the ornamentation, featuring plain details of any and geometric shapes. Away from Art Deco, everything is straight, linear and streamlined.

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pretty-little-mind33 · 10 months

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James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: Sometimes your lovely boyfriend can have a hard time with the word 'no'.

Genre: Fluff <3

Warnings: swearing, discussions of consent (nothing bad happens at all!! I promise!), implied sexual relationship

James didn't always know when too much was, well, too much.

He had this impulsive tendency to take things way too far. Of course he always had the best of intentions, it was just that sometimes his initial excitement would cloud his judgment. Like now, when no matter how many times you insisted, he couldn't take your, "No, I don't want to swim in the freezing water," seriously.

"Come on! Everyone's in, sweetheart!" James whines childishly.

He isn't wrong. All your friends play happily in the water while you sit on the bank of the lake. It's an early summer morning and the air is still too chilly for you to even consider jumping in, so you've adamantly (and politely) declined all their invitations to join them.

However, your darling boyfriend can't seem to accept the no.

"James, love, I will hex you if you don't shut up." You warn with a playful smirk. Sirius uses James's distraction to splash him, which makes the latter squeal. Remus wraps his arm around James's neck, pulling him half-way into the murky water. When they emerge, they laugh breathlessly.

You adjust the strap of your bikini over your shoulder and simply lay your head on your arms as you smile at them.

"You are in your bathing suit, Y/n." Lily reasons with a small smirk and you glare at her. Traitor, you think, she's supposed to be on your side.

"Exactly, thank you, Lily!" James jumps up and starts to waddle through the water towards you. He's dripping wet when he stands over you, bends over, and shakes his hair. You cover your head with your arms as small, practically freezing, droplets of water hit your warm skin.

"James!" You exclaim and scramble up to move away from him.

You hear Remus, Sirius, and Lily chuckle in amusement before they turn around and mind their own business. Traitors.

Your boyfriend just sends you smirk and outsretches his arms, "Hug?" He honeys, faking a pout.

You hold out your arm, "Get away, you nutter." You say sternly.

"Please." James sounds more sincere now and moves towards you a little.

You squint at him, hiding a smile behind a look of suspicion, and ask him, "Just one?"

James nods.

You pick up your towel from the grass and then throw it to him. James catches it and dries his hair. He also starts to pat himself dry as you approach him wearily, "I don't bite, lovie." He laughs.

You roll your eyes, still believing him. However, the moment you're close enough to him he's wrapping the towel around your ass and pulling you into him.

You make a small shriek as you hit his, still extremely wet, chest and his lips attach themselves to your neck as he nips at your skin. You squirm and when he looks up, an adorably stupid look on his face makes your heart leap, "I lied." He points out with another pout.

You frown, "You're an absolute idiot."

"Probably." He admits and then, with no warning, picks you up and throws you over his shoulder.

You hit his back, "James Potter, put me down now or I swear I’ll bloody murder you, you wanker." You cry as he turns around and you just know he's already making his way towards the lake. You kick your legs and flail your arms in protest but feel his cold, damp, hands tighten around your waist.

"Careful, mate." Remus tries to warn him but James doesn't listen. He's already almost waist deep in the water and he lets you fall into his arms. You clutch onto his neck and squirm.

"No." You hiss and stare into his eyes.

Again, James isn't the best at knowing when to stop.

"Sorry, love" He whispers and proceeds to throw you a few feet away from him. Your head hits the water and instantly, the temperature shocks you as your ears start to ring from the impact. You let yourself stay underwater, a little surprised by the depth, and collect yourself. You realize James doesn't know you're a good swimmer, all he knows is he just launched his poor, unwilling girlfriend into freezing water.

So, you stay under as long as you possibly can. Just to scare him a little.

Barely a few seconds pass by before strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you to the surface, "Y/n!" You hear James's voice as the water drains from your ears, "Are you okay?"

You splash him, your hand hitting his cheek playfully, "I hate you." You say with a small smile.

James's face relaxes, “You fucking scared me." He admits, half-scolding, half-relieved, and holds you close.

You laugh and stand up in the water, "It's not that deep, idiot." You scrunch your nose when he uses both of his hands to move strands of hair from your face as he peppers kisses all over your cheeks.

"Merlin, don't do that ever again, Y/n." He whispers.

"Maybe don't throw me into the water when I asked you not to." You retort and push your hair back.

James looks a little guilty, "Yeah, sorry."

He leans in to kiss you but you turn his head around, "No." You say and James frowns.

"No?"

"No." You fight a smile.

"Okay." James says, confused, and dunks under the water. He comes back up and pushes his hair away from his forehead.

"See, it's not that hard." You tease him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He nuzzles his cheek into the crook of your neck,

"That's a completely different situation, love." He tries to reason but you shake your head.

"Consent is consent." You inform and James pouts like a child.

"Now you're making me sound like a dick." He whispers, embarrassed, "You don't actually think I'm bad with consent, do you, Y/n?" He sounds genuinely concerned.

"You're not a dick, Jamie." You laugh, "You are a little bad with the concept of the word no, though."

"Hey! Not when it really matters!" He defends, carefully wrapping your legs around his waist. He starts to roam around the water like it's just the two of you, alone in your little bubble.

You nod, "Of course, but it does matter all the time."

James tilts his head, "Yeah, you're right, I'm sorry, honey.” He kisses behind your ear, "How can I make it up to you?" You giggle and lean in to kiss his lips, which he accepts graciously.

"You know what you can do?" You ask in a whisper into his ear, "You can take me upstairs and I'll let you — " You make sure the rest can't be heard by your friends.

James's eyes sparkle excitedly, but then he pauses and his eyebrows furrow as he thinks, "And you consent, yeah?" You grin, endeared, "Just say no and I'll listen, baby."

"Good boy. You learn fast."

James groans and kisses you again, "Call me a good boy again, please." He mutters as his lips trail down your neck.

You laugh. He wraps his arms around your waist and you hold onto him, "Behave, Potter."

"Tease." He says and suddenly drops you into the water. You emerge and splash him, your smile hurting your cheeks.

"Perv." You retort and James raises his brow. He grins and throws you over his shoulder again. This time, you don't protest and just wave as you walk by your friends.

"Do we even want to know why you're leaving?" Remus shouts, shaking his wet hair from next to Sirius.

"They're going to have sex, Moony. Keep up." The latter rolls his eyes.

"Gross." Lily scrunches her nose. Your friends turn their heads when they hear your amused squeal and see James dig his fingers into your side, making you laugh, as you pick up your belongings. You hit him with your towel but hold his hand anyway.

"Sometimes, I do hate how cute they are." Peter mutters to himself.

"Aww, I can give you a kiss if you want, Wormtail." Sirius jokes which earns him a splash from Remus and an eye roll from Lily.

"Bugger off." Peter looks horrified.

"Pucker up." Sirius cries and lunges at Peter in the water, only to be pulled away by Remus and you can hear their laughter even from far away.

You look at James. James, your lovely, sometimes stupid, boyfriend and his messy dark curls. He's all you had ever asked for, and all you could ever want.

"I love you." You say, adoringly.

James turns his head, an obnoxiously proud look on his face, "I love you more, my love. More than you can ever imagine." He pulls you into him, his hand leaving yours to wrap around your shoulder as he reaches for your opposite hand.

You hand it to him and grin when he squeezes it. You feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

#james potter imagines #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter fic #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter smut #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders #marauders imagines #marauders imagine #marauders fic

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divine-donna · 1 month

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all you need is more radaway

save a horse. ride a cowboy. ;)

anyways i really loved the tv show and i love the game. and ghouls are just chef's kiss. or maybe that's because i love monsters. sad that i finished it so quickly. :(

perhaps i can put what i learned in my western class to good use lol

character: cooper howard aka. the ghoul

it's never easy surviving the wasteland. you don't know how you managed to survive for this long. perhaps because you seemed to have been blessed with incredible luck.

and building up endurance, of course.

you felt little to no side effects from the radiation of the food you were eating. which just meant you had a lot of radaway and rad-x stocked up.

to make ends meet, though, you had to start hunting. scavenging and scrapping by wasn't enough. you needed the extra caps.

thus your rivalry with another bounty hunter was born.

"well, well. aren't you far from home, sweetheart?"

you were used to comments about your outfit. a vault suit. yes, you came from one. you had been exiled after your father was revealed to be managing the experiment behind it. the child pays for the sins of the father always.

"you're not the first and you won't be the last." you pull the head off the body as clean as possible.

"now i don't know if you should do that."

"and why not?"

a bullet flies past you and burrows itself into the ground. you finally look up. a cowboy hat. the face of a ghoul. his gun pointing right at you.

but you weren't afraid.

"because he's my target." he pulls out a piece of paper. "and he's mine."

"seems unfair if i did all the work. and you just collect his head and the prize." you pull out the same piece of paper. yours is a little more worn out though. and covered in dried blood.

"that's the way of the wasteland sweetheart."

"if you believe so."

your hands were fast. two bullets lodged into his right left and when he looks up, you're gone.

of course, you learned from the best: western holotapes. you really liked them when you were growing up. claimed to want to be a lone hero.

in some ways, you were. the wasteland was just a new version of the wild west, wasn't it?

"spaghetti? like...the pasta?"

more like spaghetti western. he knew that, of course. but no one in the wasteland knew what a spaghetti western was. they were remnants of a past long gone and one only accessible by holotapes in the vaults.

"that's their name." the person says. "why? you have business with them?"

"perhaps." the ghoul was looking to return a favor.

"don't even try. they're far more formidable than you think."

"we'll see about that."

your rivalry was an exchange of bullets, more often than not. thankfully, you always stocked up on bloodbags and could make a stimpack from your heavy (but useful) travel chemistry kit. you were smart like that.

surprisingly, it became something to look forward. mostly because the ghoul preferred if he tried killing you, so he managed to get you out of a tough situation by killing the other people trying to kill you.

and you returned the favor. there was something satisfying about lodging a bullet into him again.

unfortunately, this left you two stuck on a job once. captured by raiders. you had been knocked out with a drug. and he had collapsed from...something.

"fuck." you mutter, pulling at the ropes binding you. your luck had run out for the day it seems, because your arms were tied to the ghoul's around this godforsaken pole. the metal was also uncomfortably rubbing up against your skin.

"you got a knife or anything sharp?" he looks over at you. it's rare to see him without his cowboy hat. his head was rather smooth.

you chuckle a little.

"something funny?" the ghoul asks.

"nothing. you're just...shaped like an egg."

"very funny."

"let me guess. your answer is no?"

"i don't have a knife up my sleeve, sadly. think they took it."

"shame." the ghoul shimmies something out of his own sleeve. he flicks the blade out and begins sawing at the rope. "watch your fingers."

you keep your fingers tucked in. eventually, the rope on your wrists comes undone and one arm soon after. the rest comes off and you rub your skin. "fuck these guys. always hated raiders."

"well, we both got sold out. we need to find that thing now. or else we'll be dead by sunrise." he tugs on the door of the jail cell and clicks his tongue.

"i don't have sharp objects. but i do have these." you pull out the bobby pin taped on the inside of your sleeve, alongside a mini screwdriver.

the lock wasn't very complicated, so you picked it with ease.

as you both are grabbing your equipment, you hear footsteps up above. light ones and heavier ones. and the sound of a muffled, altered, robotic voice.

the brotherhood of steel was worse than raiders, honestly.

"you go left, i go right. how does that sound?"

"i don't usually like taking orders from my rivals." he reloads his gun. "but for you? sure."

the event left the both of you soaked in the blood of your enemies. on the other hand, you guys left with plenty of loot and an idea of where your target was: dead. at the bottom of a lake.

it was a journey to get there, wherein you learned the details of each other's lives. you didn't think he was paying much attention to your sentences. after all, you came from a vault.

and yet, you saw a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

he seemed less keen on sharing details about his life, aside from his former name. cooper howard.

undeniably, as a fan of westerns, you recognized his names. from the holotapes.

"they had those?" cooper shakes his head, taking sips of water. "no way."

"yes way! it's where i learned to shoot."

"from watching my movies?"

"yes!"

"that is...a pleasant surprise." cooper leans back.

"that also makes you over 200 years old."

"that it does. something wrong with that?"

"no. the wasteland changes people." you maintain your attention to your suit, sewing a tear up. "just...you're looking for something, aren't you? everyone's always looking for something up here."

"are you looking for something?" his voice hardens and he sits up straight.

"i was. and then i found it. and i stopped." you tie the thread to seal the stitch and then tear the thread with your teeth. "i hope you find what you're looking for though."

"well, that's awfully kind of you, sweetheart."

"i have a name, you know."

"what is it?"

"(y/n)."

getting personal in the wasteland was something cooper wasn't adamant about. but the circumstances seems to call for it.

"guess we're even now."

the body of water was daunting. it was murky and dark. you pursed your lips and dumped your bag. "well. guess we have no choice."

cooper looks over at you then quickly turns around when he sees what you're doing: taking off your suit and going down to your underwear. "what are you doing?"

"i'm going to go get that head. that's how we get paid, right? easy three thousand caps. 15 hundred split evenly." you stretch.

"i think you might die."

"i'll be fine. i've done it before." Aquaperson perk.

"i can also swim, you know."

"i'll be fine cooper." you pop a rad-x pill just in case. "be back in a bit."

you dive like a swan, making minimal splash into the water. your form disappears beneath the darkness.

you're gone beneath the water for over an hour. cooper's heart was beating against his rib cage. you should be out by now. it should not be that hard. did something get you? things lurked beneath the murky waters always.

"fuck!"

he drops his equipment and begins stripping down, until he is just in his pants. he would need to dive after you. if you were dead, then so be it. it was fun while it lasted.

suddenly, you emerge. you take in the oxygen of the surface and hold the head up high. "got 'em." you swim over to the shore and walk out of the water.

there was something about how...wet you were that got him feeling hot and bothered.

"something happen down there?"

"couple of mirelurks. no big deal. which reminds me." you set the head on the ground and go back into the water. within minutes, you're pulling out the bodies of the mirelurks you had killed. "dinner."

while cutting the mirelurks open, you observe the way he walks around you. his muscles bulging a little as he cuts a mirelurk open and takes the meat. he was kind of...attractive?

"were you going to come after me?" he stops cutting hearing your question. "in the water, i mean."

"so what if i did?" cooper averts his eyes.

"that's sweet of you. i didn't know you had a soft spot for me."

"i don't."

"sure." you can tell he was lying through his teeth.

dinner was a nice, cozy meal. it was delicious. a nice surprise considering the nature of the wasteland.

cooper notices the way you're looking at him. and he looks at you the same way.

though how does this work exactly?

"do you want to..." you try to find a decent way to say this. fuck is a good term. but it felt a little vulgar in the moment.

cooper already knows what you're asking. "absolutely. if you can handle it." he smirks.

it's so cute when he smirks.

you glance over at your bag, looking at your stash of radaway. you had plenty. plus your stash of rad-x too.

"i absolutely can."

#def not my best work #fallout #fallout tv series #fallout prime #the ghoul #cooper howard #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #x reader #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

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tacticaldiary · 11 months

Note

Can you do a fic where reader and simon are kidnapped and simon has to watch reader be tortured and creeped on by their kidnapper for information.Happy endibg with them being rescued.Ignore if it makes you uncomfortable :)

Captured In Tandem

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Content Warning: Torture, Men being creepy, mentions of sexual assault

"I'll give you a choice." He says, cocking the gun. "Shall I put a bullet through you, or her?"

He's been trained to keep his mouth shut, taught himself from enough pain to span a lifetime, but never did he fathom she'd be dragged into it with him. It's unforgivable.

Masterlist, Part 2

A/N: This is literally one of my favourite tropes-

The first thing he registers is the pounding in his head. Squeezing his eyes shut, Ghost claws his way back to consciousness, sluggish mind attempting to click the pieces swimming in his head together into a cohesive narrative.

He was asleep...no, he was unconscious. Why? Ghost doesn't open his eyes for a moment, gathering his bearings. His senses snap to him quickly. The metallic smell of blood, the scent of gunpowder. The hard wood under him...a wooden chair? He exhales sharply, charting the sharp stinging in his side.

Injured.

He can't move his hands, ropes digging into the skin above his gloves. Once he's grasped back his control, steadied his breathing into something calm and acceptable, he takes a second to listen. There's nothing but the steady dripping of what he assumes is water on the floor. A pipe?

He's cold. His hands are freezing and so is his face-

His face?

Ghost's eyes snap open at the realisation.

His mask was gone, ripped off and on the floor by his feet. He's tied to a chair. He doubts he'd have gotten such a warm welcome if he was back at base right now, so where...?

An RPG, he suddenly remembers, a sour taste in the back of his throat. They had been on an OP with Price, the team had been split into two, sent to clear out a building on the outskirts of the city, tasked to meet in the middle.

An unaccounted armed squad had aimed at them with an RPG. Ghost remembers barking out an order to his partner, shoving her roughly out of the way behind a beat up car. The rocket hit the car, igniting the engine causing it to explode, the both of them thrown back against the brick wall behind them and-

Her.

His blood runs cold at the sound of a small groan from in front of him.

Shit.

Slowly, he raises his head and his stomach drops at the sight of her opposite to him in the same state.

Shit. No, this was all wrong. The RPG must have knocked them both out. They'd been captured.

"Fuck, my head." She groans, blinking herself awake. Like him, he can tell she's charting up the extent of her injuries, piecing together the events leading up to their capture.

Price would find them soon. They can't have hauled them too far away under the threat of them waking up mid transportation.

"Sleep well?" He rasps, watching her still, head snapping up to look at him.

"Best I've ever had." She responds dryly, looking him up and down. Her eyes linger on the dried blood staining his shoulder. It's a miracle the both of them ended up as unscathed as they did. Only bruises and scrapes, miraculously. She yanks on her bindings, scowling when they don't budge. Ghost can see the angry red marks around her wrists, the same as his. "We're in for a treat, huh?" She laughs humourlessly, leaning back in her chair. "Don't suppose you keep any knives hidden in your sleeves, L.T?" Half joking. She wouldn't be surprised if he did.

"Can't feel 'em." He grunts. "Must have searched us."

Of course they did.

She shifts in her seat, hating the idea of hands touching and probing at her when she's not awake to bat them away. Ghost would be just as, if not more uncomfortable with the thought, if the angry furrow in his brow is anything to interpret.

Voices. Footsteps. Both of them go rigid in their chairs, eyes snapping to the other. No words are exchanged, but a slight raise of the chin from her. They would not break.

She knows exactly what's to come for them for the next however long it took for their team to retrieve them. She's been through this before, been trained for it, seen it happen, hell she's even participated on being the one not in the chair.

They wouldn't break. The knowledge they have could compromise more than just their current operations. Ghost acknowledges the shaky exhale she lets out, casts her an unreadable look before the door swings open behind him, his eyes turning cold once more.

If she notes the tension in his shoulders, she doesn't mention it.

Three men walk into the room, mumbling under their breath. Russian. A quick glance to confirm the other caught it.

The thing with the both of them is that they worked better together than anybody else in the team. Working in tandem, information exchanged with just a glance, seemingly in tune with every thought and movement of the other. It's why they were almost always paired together.

"Some of the best your the military has to offer, you are.." He smiles, flicking through the file. "It seems I have struck a goldmine." The file snaps shut, is handed off the someone else.

She hopes the motherfucker gets a nasty papercut.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

They come twice a day. Once for him, once for her.

Ghost keeps his mouth shut, isn't surprised when she does as well. The both of them have been trained for situations like this, have both gone through a lot of shit that renders them capable of handling it.

It's her that he hasn't been trained to account for.

Ghost had only jeered at the men that interrogated him. Drenched after being waterboarded, bloody from being cut and beat, he had not given them a single thing to work with, taking what they threw at him with a calm, strong, cool exterior.

It was when they turned to her that he felt that crack.

Every knife turned against her, every crack of her bones, each small sound of pain that left her had an anger he'd never felt before bubble up inside him. Glaring death into the people who lay their hands on her as they questioned her, he stayed silent, unmoving as they put her through the same routine as him.

"Not long before they find us now." She'd said hoarsely after the second day. They'd just left them after being unsuccessful in loosening their tongues. Again. He takes in how her arm bends at a strange angle (He'd never forget the scream that teared out of her throat when they snapped it in half), the cuts dripping blood onto the floor and on her tattered clothes (Each one he'd pay back tenfold, he swears), and the exhaustion lining her face the same way he's sure he looks.

Being unmasked...it makes him more on edge than usual.

It's nothing she'd never seen before. She'd touched his bare face countless times, mumbled promises and declarations they had no business making against his lips at night. It had always been in private, shielded from the eyes of others. Now, out in the open, he was more aware of his reactions than ever before, refusing to let out any reaction except for the occasional grunt of pain.

"They're sure taking their damn time." He spits out.

"Gonna give them an earful when I get back." She cough, watery. Ghost's eyes widen when blood splatters to the floor. "Shit." She breathes, inhaling shakily.

Internal bleeding. A telltale sign.

He yanks against his bindings for the hundredth time. Nothing changes aside from more blood trickling down his torn open skin.

"Don't think about it." He orders. "Look here." When she doesn't listen, just blinking at the blood she coughed up as if in a trance, he repeats himself roughly, drawing her attention.

"Right here. Keep your eyes on me." He commands, and it's all she can do to let instinct take over and listen to his low voice. "That's it, love. Good."

She opens her mouth. Shuts it. Swallows dryly and tries again. "If I-"

"Shut up."

"Ghost." She says weakly, "It's a possibility, and if-"

"I told you to shut up." He hisses, fixing her with a glare.

She was in a much worse state than him. Far bloodier. They were rougher with her, thinking she'd be the first one to break, to concede under pain and answer their questions.

Safehouses, plans, locations, inner workings. The intel they stole a month ago. They wanted to know answers that neither of them would ever give them.

The door swings open. The man from the first day walks in, in crisp clothes, wrinkling his nose and the sight of them.

The sight makes Ghost pause. He was in charge here, clearly. This kind of work wasn't normally put on people like that, which meant that things were getting serious. Something had sparked urgency in them if they were seeing this guy. Something had changed.

The 141.

As if on cue, there's the distant sound of gunfire, and the building trembles slightly, dust cracking down from the ceiling. It's ignored by the man completely.

"Admirable, you are." He addresses them. "But I'm afraid there's not time for a soldier's pride during war." They stiffen when he pulls out a revolver from his pocket, clicking open the empty chamber. "I require answers. Call it compensation for what was stolen from me. I don't think you understand that I will get my way in the end. By whatever means necessary."

A single bullet. Loaded into the chamber. Ghost follows the movement with his eyes.

"I'll give you a final chance to be cooperative before I give you a choice." The Russian says evenly, looking at them both in turn.

"Go to hell." Ghost drawls. In his bloodied, beaten state, weak from blood loss and in a disarray from being tortured, he seems to look even more intimidating than usual.

The man sighs deeply. He clicks the chamber shut.

He aims at her and fires.

She barely has the chance to tense before a click fills the room. Nothing. It's when he turns the gun to Ghost that her breath catches in her throat, panic clawing it's way up and through her veins.

Ghost does not flinch. Does not wince or react, merely holds her gaze calmly, in that reassuring steady way he always has.

Click. Nothing.

He continues moving back and forth between them until there's only one chamber left. An undeniable bullet inside. The man turns to Ghost, a smile on his face.

"The choice you have, my friend, is which one of you I put this bullet through."

Ghost visibly stiffens in his chair, fixes him with a scathing stare.

"If you refuse to answer, I have no issue shooting you both." He says evenly, weighing the revolver in his hands. "So who will it be? You, or your lady?" He points the gun back and forth, her heart in her throat.

Me. She thinks. Pick me. The thought of him taking that bullet when there's a choice for her to instead makes her sick.

But it's Ghost. And he's selfless in the most annoying of ways.

"Me." He says tightly, the words forced out and full of venom.

The Russian grins, pleased, raising the gun. She's about to yell at him, tell him to shoot her instead-

She doesn't have to.

The gun turns to her, fires, and pain explodes in her right thigh, wrenching out a scream from between her clenched teeth as she doubles over. Her vision goes black for a second and she can't breathe.

Yelling. There's yelling over the ringing in her ears. Ghost shouts profanities at the man, threats and growls as his chair scrapes against the floor at his attempts to get loose.

He breaks.

The Russian simply laughs, tucking his gun away.

Where the fuck were they? Where were the others? The team? They were close, that much was obvious, so why the fuck weren't they here yet, then?

She gasps when her head is wretched back painfully by her hair, pain thrumming through her like sharp needles as she's forced to straighten up. It hurts, fuck, it hurts worse accompanied with every other goddamn thing wrong with her right now.

"You just couldn't seem to stop looking at her. I thought It'd be more of an incentive to loosen your tongue." He chuckles at Ghost's fury.

"They won't find your body." He hisses, low and threatening, eyes wild. "I'll make sure you're in so many pieces you-"

"I understand why, though." He continues on like Ghost isn't threatening great bodily harm on him. "She's quite the beaty isn't she? Even under all that gore...so easy on the eyes."

She had taken beating after beating. Cracked ribs, cuts and bruises, waterboarding and being prodded with a hot poker, but this? The lecherous way he looks her up and down, yanks he head back farther to expose her neck? It makes her blood run cold, her heart stop.

His breath fans across her face, acrid and disgusting. A choked sob tears out of her lips when his hand trails up her body, grabbing and yanking and pulling in places he has no right to touch. Her head spins from the bullet wound and the pain, and it takes a lot to gather her thoughts.

"Motherfucker-" Ghost snarls.

"I know you're bad at sharing but you wouldn't mind if I had a taste, would you?" He croons at Ghost, who jolts in his chair, pulling at his bleeding broken skin to get loose. "Not that you can do much but watch." He laughs.

This, she would not let happen. She would not let him take something that was hers and hers alone to give to whomever she decided. When he leans down farther, she gathers all her remaining strength and rears her head back, smashing it into his nose.

The satisfying crunch of bone and yell of pain makes it all worth it, draws a smile from her, even if his blood splatters the side of her face.

"Bitch." He spits out. A hand cracks across her face so hard black spots float over her vision. She cries out as it jostles her leg, her broken arm, all her cuts and and he ribs. Before she can gather her bearings, a searing pain pierces through her side, the Russian's knife driving straight into her flesh. She can't help the choked scream that leaves her, hears the way Ghost shouts, his struggling intensifying.

He wretches her out of the chair, shoves her to the floor. Tears track down her bloodied cheeks, not out of fear, but out of pure pain and anger. Disgust, pain and rage is what she feels when the Russian straddles her hips, keeping a hand on her broken arm to keep her down. His other one wraps around her neck, squeezing roughly to cut off her air.

"Answer my questions." He seethes at Ghost. "Your safehouses, the intel you fucking stole from us. Where are they!? Tell me or you'll see this pretty thing die." As if to prove his point, he squeezes harder, making her choke.

Ghost spits out threats that would make any normal man quiver. He would rip this man apart. Rip into him slowly with all his knives, prolong it as much as he could. Days, maybe even weeks. He deserved to die by his hands for what he's done to her, for touching someone so wholly and utterly his. Every single cut he'd return tenfold, twice as deep.

Part of her wants to succumb to the darkness edging her vision, but she's afraid if she does she might never wake up. She couldn't die. Not here, not like this. Ghost...Simon would blame himself, she knows it. He'd replay it over and over again, wonder if he could have done anything to prevent it.

"Get the fuck off of her!" He seethes. Seeing her under him, red in the face and bleeding, dying makes panic tear through him, a horrible desperate feeling he can't help but succumb to. She wasn't going to die, he wouldn't allow it.

Not her. Not her. Anyone but her. Take me instead.

The world was fucking cruel.

The past year had been the best of his life. The lightest, the most at peace he'd ever felt. Loving her came easily, naturally. Something he couldn't help even when he tried to push her away.

Her eyes catch Ghost's. His are desperate and frantic in a way she's never seen before. That...that was panic. But that couldn't be right because Ghost? He didn't panic. He planned and adapted, got angry and was calm. Panicking? She'd never seen it before.

Fuck. She wasn't going to die. She...was, wasn't she? Already, her vision was slipping away, her hearing going muffled. No. No, this isn't it. Not here, not like this.

If she died, Simon might, as well, and she loved him to much to leave him in a situation like this.

Clenching her jaw, she blindly reaches her bound hands to her side. When her fingers brush against the hilt of the dagger inside her flesh, she pauses.

It was the only thing keeping her from bleeding out faster than her bullet wound was already doing...

She yanks it out with all the strength she has left, slams it into the throat of the man above her. He's too busy with Ghost to chart her up as a threat. The way his eyes bug out of his head as he releases her throat in favour of clutching his own has a sob ripping through her mangled throat as she gasps in greedy gulps of air.

She shoves the man off her and in movements wild and jerky, climbs on top of him switching their positions. Ripping the knife out of his throat, she yells a broken shout as she brings it down over his chest. Then his shoulder, his neck. His chest. Over and over again, tears blurring her vision, adrenaline making her shaky, she drives the knife into him again and again thinking about nothing but killing him, taking his life so he couldn't take theirs, so she could feel her skin stop itching from the way she was touched.

"-dead, he's dead!" A voice floats to her, far, far away.

A name...her name. Her movements slow down as she recognises Ghost's voice calling out at her. Confused, disorientated, she glances over her shoulder, pausing, chest heaving.

"You're alright, sweetheart." He says, his eyes a fraction wider than usual. "Here, look at me. Right here, love." He waits till she drags her gaze up. "He's dead. It's enough."

Enough.

The word cracks something in her, the knife clattering onto the stone floor and she looks down at the bloody, unrecognisable mess under her. Scrambling off of him, she leans over and vomits up bile; acrid and burning her throat as it comes out. A strangled sob leaves her as she finishes, realising the sheer amount of blood on her. Her hand shakily goes to her side, comes back bloody in a way that makes her head spin.

"Grab the knife." Ghost urges, looking ready to try to snap the chair under him himself to reach her. "Can you do that for me? Pass me that knife." When she doesn't respond the way he wants, Ghost takes in a shaky breath and repeats himself, voice hard.

"Sergeant. The knife." He commands, low and deep and urgent.

Still a soldier despite her trembling, her body reacts to the order automatically, head clearing. Swallowing, she moves slowly, agonisingly to reach the knife.

"You're doing good." Ghost praises when she drops the knife for the second time from her shaky fingers. "Bring it here."

The moment the knife reaches his fingertips, he cuts through his bonds, kneeling in front of her, cutting hers off too. "I've got you." He murmurs, pulling her close, laying her over his lap as gently as he can as he looks over her. He doesn't really need to, it's more instinct to do so. Ghost was watching her the entire time. He knows the location of every single one of her injuries.

Swearing under his breath, he leans over, roughly rips part of the dead man's shirt off, bunching it up and pressing it against each of her two wounds. She whimpers, a strangled sound that makes him clench his jaw in rage and worry.

"I know it hurts." He consoles her while he secures another part of the shirt around the wounds. "You did well, it's over now." Mindless talk. He just needed to keep her awake.

Her hand closes over his, stilling him as he ties the final knot.

"'m sorry." She breaths, shallow and short. "Can't...Just go." She shoves weakly at his shoulder, and the incredulous, angry look Simon gives her would have been funny if everything wasn't on fire inside her.

"I'm not fucking leaving you, you dolt." He snaps, slowly pulling her up so she's sitting. The way she bites her lip hard to keep in the whine of pain doesn't escape him. "Easy." He says, supporting her despite his own screaming ribs. His left leg was mangled up, ankle dislocated so Ghost doubts he'd be walking with her out of here.

It was too risky. They could run into someone armed, and at such a disadvantage...no, it was better to stay here and wait for the others to show up.

Her eyes flutter, panic slams into him.

"None of that." He demands, prodding her forehead to make her focus. "Keep those pretty eyes on me, love."

A small huff from her that might have been a laugh sends her into a harsh coughing fit. "'m trying Simon." She whispers, words slur.

"Try harder." He squeezes her closer to him, keeping an ear out for footsteps.

"So hard to please." Barely a whisper. "You...you're okay?"

"Christ, woman," he huffs, leaning down to press his lips against her bloody forehead. "I'm better off than you."

A slight smile, her eyes fluttering shut. The loose grip she'd had on Ghost's vest slackens. His bloods turns to ice.

"Hey." He tries, calls out her name. "Hey!" He yells it this time, shakes her gently. Then rougher when she doesn't wake up, breath stuck in his throat. No. No, she was still breathing, he chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

This wouldn't work. Ghost steels himself and stands up, gritting his teeth at the pain that radiates up his leg into his whole body. Ignoring it, he hauls her up in his arms, stumbles slightly.

Staying here wasn't an option anymore, not when she was unconscious, not when the small puffs of breath against his neck could stop at any moment, not when he could lose her.

Gripping onto the small bloody knife, he limps towards the door, pushes it open without hesitation.

He'd walk for a mile like this if it meant he'd get to hear her laugh again. Fuck his own injures, her wellbeing was more important. Ghost moves the knife between his teeth, bone clacking against metal, metallic blood on his tongue. Hiking her up more securely, he starts down the hall, intending to find his team before they found him.

He'd die before he ever let her bleed out on his watch.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Her hearing comes to her first. Muffled, but still present. Under the dark haze of sleep, she hears muffled noises. The steady beeping of a machine, the rustling of bedsheets nearby. A voice talking int he distance, something she's unable to make out.

It takes too much out of her. Her mind is sluggish, thinking is hard, so sinking back into the arms of whatever is pulling her down is easier. Painless.

The second time her sense of touch returns.

Someone's holding her hand. Rough, calloused fingers, running up and down her palm, soothing gestures than accompany the beeping that she realises is a heart monitor. The familiar pressure, the roughness of those hands, the soothing movements...it lulls her back to sleep almost immediately.

The third time is quick.

Her sight returns last, One moment she's seeing darkness, the next she's blinking up at white florescent lights, the clean scent of hospital waking her up. What...?

Pushing herself up, a gasp tears out of her throat when she finds herself unable to move. Blinking and looking down, she swallows as she sees herself.

Covered in bandages, a cast around her arm. Heavy wrapping around her thigh and chest. All of her is stiff and achy. It all comes back to her in a rush.

The chair. The ropes. The bullets and beatings.

The blood.

Her stomach lurches at the memories. Simon? Where was Simon? He made it out, right? What if-

Her mind immediately settles down when she spots him. Ghost lays on the hospital bed next to hers, eyes shut, chest steadily rising up and down. Relief slams into her so hard tears prick her eyes. They made it out. Both of them. For a moment she thought...

The need to be near him, to touch him, to make sure he's real wins over her desire to stay put and ward of any discomfort. Her second attempt at moving is successful, only because of the strong pain meds dulling the edge of pain she's feeling.

Slowly, she pulls herself to the edge of the hospital bed, gingerly lowering herself onto the ground. She gasps when her leg protests, the one she was shot in. Testing her weight, she glances desperately at Simon, still sleeping. She needed him, needed to touch him, to feel him under her hands, solid and real.

She uses the walls to support her, shuffling over until she's in front of his bed. After taking a moment to gather herself and breathe, she reaches out with a shaky hand, places it on his cheek. Her throat closes at the feeling of his warm skin.

Ghost being Ghost wakes up instantly at the touch. Eyes snapping open, instantly alert even when just waking up.

Relief fills his face, something so powerful it makes a small sound push past her lips, a few tears slipping down her cheeks. "You're okay." She whispers, hoarse from not talking.

"You shouldn't be up." He responds, propping himself up with a wince she doesn't miss. He frowns at the way she trembles, looking her up and down slowly.

"I just..." She brings a hand up to wipe off her tears. "Sorry if I woke you." A watery chuckle. "Just needed to make sure, you know?"

"I do." He admits. Ghost's hand slips up her uninjured arm, guiding her onto the bed with him until she's laying down. A long, shaky exhale pushes itself out of her as she lays her head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat, quicker than usual but still steady soothes her instantly. He was familiar, the dips in his body, the hard muscle and those arms. It was so achingly familiar she wanted to cry.

Having her here, having her in her arms and holding her...it was almost too much to bear. Ghost had never felt relief like this.

11 days.

11 days she hadn't woken up, each one made him more irritable, restless, snappy. He was ordered to stay in bed, but he got out of it every night to sit next to her, holding her hand, just silently watching over her. 11 days was plenty of time for him to think, to run through everything he did to figure out a way he could have prevented this.

It was plenty of time to realise that he'd never take her for granted, even if there was a gun to his head.

He'd carried her all the way out of the building until he'd spotted Gaz. The poor bloke had done a double take at them, shouted something frantically in his comms and ran at them.

Ghost had forced himself to stay awake as the others arrived, forced himself to make sure she got the care she needed, sat awake with the the entire time on the heli, until they got to the hospital. Only then had he let himself get checked over and crashed hard, exhausted in a way that ran deep into his bones.

"I'm glad you're okay." He says quietly into her hair, strong arms pulling her close, their bodies intertwined.

"Are you sure this is okay?" She asks, though the way she sinks into him says she wouldn't be leaving anytime soon. "Don't want to accidently hurt you or reopen anything."

"You're worse off than me, I think I should be the one worrying about that." He responds, rubbing small circles on her waist. Soothing. Calming.

"I'll always worry." She mumbles against his chest, already feeling sleep pulling her in.

"Your downfall." He huffs, pressing his lips to her forehead for a long moment. "Thought I lost you." The admission is something vulnerable, real. Painful.

"Rather me than you." She responds, eyes slipping shut.

"Say that again and see where it lands you." He grumbles, arms tightening around her. Being as helpless as he was in that situation wasn't something he'd ever forget. Having to sit there, watch those bastards touch her, hurt her, forcing himself to look impassive and cold. Unreacting.

It had been a worse torture than any of their knives.

The second he was cleared to leave the medbay, he was going on a nice little trip back. He'd retrace his steps, get Price to get him the name of every. Single. Motherfucker that had been in the building that day.

Every single one would meet a fate worse than death itself could present them with.

They'd pray for the reaper before Ghost was done with them. He'd make them beg, draw out every single scrape they left on her until they begged to be spared. Only then would Ghost let them bleed out, nice and slow. Maybe he'd even do it one at a time, make the others watch.

They're dark thoughts, but the fury that had been boiling inside him for the past two weeks needed to an outlet, and what better place than the very bastards that had dared to lay their hands on her? The thought pacifies him for now.

He's assured his revenge, but she's more important than anything like that could ever be to him.

"I'm sorry I scared you. You can't get rid of me that easy, though. Thought you knew that by now." Completely unfazed by his threat.

"I wouldn't want to." He assures her, rolling his eyes. "It'd be a bloody shame to lose someone like you, love."

It makes her smile against him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Safe. She was safe here.

It doesn't take long before she's drifted off again, securely in his arms.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

Part 2

(09/07/2023)

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writingouthere · 5 months

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neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader, you go to check out a potential apartment and Sukuna joins because he is very helpful. Longest one yet so strap in!

cw:Sukuna waving his red flag like a matador while you do your best SZA impression

Sukuna thought you seemed more stressed than usual when he got home. You still talked through dinner and entertained your daughter but he could tell something was weighing on you. While Bug chased some very melted ice cream around her bowl with her spoon, he brought over some dishes to where you had already started washing the pans you'd used to make dinner.

"Thought I was responsible for the dishes since you made dinner," he reminded you, gently nudging you out the way.

"It's really not a bother and besides, you're already doing us such a big favor, letting us stay here," you said and you sounded a little choked up at the end which made him turn the water off so he could give you his full attention.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't mind?" He couldn't help some frustration edging into his tone which only made you look sadder. He sighed and dried his hands on the towel, a new addition you had gotten, it was covered in sunflowers and it reminded him of you every time he used it.

"What's going on, you seem off today?"

You hesitated and he put his hand on your shoulder. He preened when you put your smaller hand on top of his and squeezed before giving you his full attention.

"I-I went to go see an apartment today and it was just awful." Sukuna barely fixed his face in time for you to look up at him. He had no idea you were even looking at other places. You'd barely been at his place a month and he had thought you had a good routine going on. You both split the household responsibilities and you spent your time not working together. He picked up your daughter twice a week now from daycare and took over Sunday mornings so you had some time to yourself. Someone at the grocery store had cooed over your adorable family and you hadn't even corrected them.

Obviously, you still weren't getting it and Sukuna reminded himself that it wasn't your fault. It was still like pulling teeth to get you to talk about your ex and honestly what he'd heard about your family hadn't really impressed him either. You had been taking care of yourself for far too long and it only made sense that you would be worried about being a burden on him when other people had made you feel like that rather than seeing caring for you as the privilege it was.

"Why was the apartment so awful?"

You bit your lip and he felt some concern that wasn't related to you potentially leaving. "What?"

"It was the usual, you know. It was over my budget and it was too small, I mean Bug is getting bigger every day, she needs her own room too. Then the building looks like it's only days away from collapsing and the guy who showed it, I mean he was just such a creep."

"Creep, how?"

You sighed and squeezed his hand again, but he wasn't sure if it was for your sake or you were trying to calm him down since he was sure his anger was obvious.

"It doesn't matter-

"Of course it matters, you're trying to find a home for you and your kid and some guy is making you feel uncomfortable in the space you might end up living-"

"-well I'm not going to live there, so. Doesn't matter," you say stubbornly and Sukuna hums but doesn't argue.

It's clear this is weighing on you, and while Sukuna has no intention of you moving out, unless it's him along with you, he figures this is a two birds one stone situation. Because fuck him if he was going to let you wander around the city being harassed by some dumb fucks who thought they could take advantage of a single mom.

"Are you seeing any other places," he asked and you bit your lip.

"Well, there was this one other place but after today I'm not sure-"

"Let me go with you," he said and you looked up at him and well, with the tears just beginning to fill your eyes and the little glimmer of hope he could see peaking out, how could he do anything but assure you. "Let me go with you and you can look around the place without worrying about anyone bothering you. Besides, it would make me feel better if I could scope out the place you and Bug might be moving to. I want to make sure you'll be safe."

Of course, you two would be safe because you would be with him but whatever got him to the showing.

"What about Bug?"

"Yuuji can watch her. He's been dying to babysit since he met her."

This was true. Sukuna's brother was suspicious, rightfully, of Sukuna and his intentions towards you, but Bug's cuteness was a great distraction whenever the three of them were together.

"Okay, okay. Tomorrow, could he watch her tomorrow?"

"Let me call, him. Don't worry, I'll take care of you, okay?"

You nodded and Bug started calling for you both. You went over to give your toddler the attention she clearly wanted while Sukuna finished the dishes and thought over how he would handle this situation tomorrow.

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

The next day, Yuuji showed up bright and early with the two idiots that were always with him these days. Sukuna rather liked the Fushiguro kid but the woman that was always with him still got on his last damn nerve. Her and Yuuji together were a threat to decency laws and his fucking eardrums.

"Morning! Where is my precious baby girl," Yuuji cooed stepping in as if he still lived there as Fushiguro gave him a quick nod and Kugisaki walked in without even a hello.

"She's not your baby," Sukuna said, shutting the door a little harder than necessary.

"Well, she isn't your baby either, so."

Before Sukuna could literally murder his brother, you came out with Bug on your hip.

"Uji!!" Your daughter loved Yuuji and you put her down so she could run over and greet her favorite uncle.

"Thank you so much for watching her," you said grabbing your purse off the counter. "Are these your friends from school?"

The two freeloaders introduced themselves while Yuuji started flying your daughter around like he was a plane. At least your daughter would be tired by the time you two got back.

"Let's get going, we got to get there by nine," Sukuna said, putting his hand on the small of your back and directing you towards the door. There were several loud calls of good-bye and good lucks as you two shut the door and made your way to the car.

When you get to the apartment, the super is waiting at the front door of the building. Sukuna sees him shoot you a smarmy grin that abruptly drops off when he takes Sukuna in.

"Good morning miss, I wasn't aware you were bringing your...."

"Partner," Sukuna states firmly and holds out his hand. "Pleasure," he says, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. You only look on in amusement as the fucker shakes his hand and then turns his eyes back on you, much more subdued than he'd been at first.

"Right, so the apartment is on the fourth floor. A walk-up but good way to stay in shape..."

He drones on as you and Sukuna follow behind.

"You cannot carry a stroller up four flights of stairs," he says in a tone that the super can definitely hear. "Bug also can't walk up four flights of stairs, especially after a whole day of daycare. Besides these stairs look like they might crumble and drop you to the fucking basement at any second." You smack his arm and the super looks pissed off until Sukuna stomps on a particularly wobbly stair for emphasis and he looks a little nervous. No way he was letting Bug walk up this deathtrap.

He keeps a running commentary of everything he sees, none of it good on the way to the apartment. The cracks in the ceiling, the chipped the paint, the flickering light on the third floor stairwell that makes him feel like they stepped into an 80's slasher flick. On and on he goes and he doesn't stop once they're in the shithole apartment itself.

A one bedroom, not nearly enough space for two, definitely not three which makes him even more irritated at the fact he clearly hadn't factored in at all to the choice in apartment.

He's in the middle of guessing outloud if the shower head would fall on top of you in the first week or the second when you snap.

"I know it's a piece of shit, Sukuna. I'm not an idiot, I'm desperate." You are more irritated than he's ever seen and the fucking creep of a super shoots him a smirk before Sukuna turns the full force of his glare on him. The man mumbles out something about giving them time to take in the space and leaves them alone, the door closing firmly in his haste.

"I don't think you're an idiot," Sukuna says, more calm than he feels because he definitely feels a type of way about all of this. "I just don't think this place is right for you or Bug. Do you expect me to apologize for caring?"

"Is that what this is? You come here to help me and all you've done is shit on the apartment and scare that poor man half to death."

"That poor man was fucking makes eyes at you until he saw me behind you."

"I know, but he got the point when you squeezed his hand so tight I think one of his knuckles popped!"

Sukuna snorted at that and even you seemed a little amused. You sighed and leaned against the wall behind you.

"I can't live with you forever Sukuna, we need a home."

Sukuna wanted to scream, to shake you and say that he was your home. Home for both of you but he knew you weren't ready to hear it and that if he misstepped you might end up living somewhere that seemed a strong breeze away from collapse.

"It's not forever," he finally said and this was true. You would need a new place soon, just not this place. "When I say I don't mind, I mean that I like having the two of you with me." You seemed a little surprised by this admission and Sukuna weighs his next words carefully.

"You're my friend and I care about you even if I have an unconventional way of showing you." You scoff and Sukuna presses on, he can see you softening. "Just wait a little longer. This place isn't good enough for the two of you but another place might be. I'd rather you stay with me longer and find the right place instead of rushing and choosing somewhere shitty because you think you're putting me out or something."

"What guy wants some mom and her kid crashing with him for months on end," you ask and you seem almost genuinely curious.

"You're not some mom, you're you and I happen to really like that kid." You smile and Sukuna knows he's got you. "I mean as we speak she's probably putting Yuuji and his loser friends through the ringer and that's reason enough to keep her around."

"You think anything will be broken by the time we get home," you ask and he feels the clump of blood and flesh that makes up his heart squeeze just a little tighter. Home.

"Oh, definitely but that's why we're not paying them for their services." You laugh and Sukuna walks a little closer to you. You watch him, a little confused but he thinks he sees some anticipation too as he closes in on your space and puts a hand on your cheek. He leans in and he knows he's not making it up that your eyelids flutter as he gets closer.

It's tempting but when Sukuna kisses you for the first time, it's not going to be in a place like this while some scumbag is probably listening through the door.

"Let's go home," he says and he presses a gentle kiss against your cheek. You'd done the same to him many times by now and he can see the appeal when he hears your sharp intake of breath and finds himself surrounded by the smell of your shampoo.

While your quest to find an apartment was unsuccessful, Sukuna thinks that important progress was made today. It fills him with a sense of contentment that manages to sustain him even as the two of you come home to an apartment overflowing with chaos and a spiderweb of cracks across his tv.

When he goes to kick Yuuji's ass, Bug makes sure to lend her support to her poor uncle by clinging to Sukuna's leg and laughing while the two men roll around on the floor to your amusement.

Like he would ever let you leave this.

also people have been suggesting that I make a masterlist or create some sort of tags and while I know what these are(kind of), I'm also not sure the specifics so any advice on how to make this all easier to find would be appreciated! I've been creeping on tumblr for literally over a decade but never written like this before.

#jjk sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #sukuna x singlemomreader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you

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moremaybank · 10 days

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tending to jj's cuts and bruises after he defends your honour... (based on this post and this request) [0.8k]

"Ow."

Your hands work diligently at the cut etched across his cheekbone from your stance between his legs. For a moment, one wanders off, stroking his non-battered cheek in a silent apology for the added pain.

"You did this to yourself," you state matter-of-factly. "No one told you to turn into the Hulk."

"Well, you don't have to be mean about it."

"I'm not trying to be mean. I just don't understand why you can't let shit go sometimes."

You move on to his split lip. A jagged, dark red line cuts through the mouth that you think about far too often. You ache to kiss it, believing that maybe you occupy the healing powers he so obviously needs, but then you think better of it.

There's no way he feels it too.

You dab a wet towel at his lip, cleaning off the dried blood, and once his mouth is free, he chooses to defend himself, thankfully with his words this go around.

"You didn't hear what he said about you, Y/N/N. I wasn't about to jus' let him get away with that shit."

Your eyes meet his, and you pause your movements. Though you appreciated his loyalty and how he'd always stick up for you no matter the cost, you never enjoy when he actually goes to those great lengths just to protect you.

Simply having him in your corner was more than you could ever ask for.

"Kelce is an idiot. I don't care what he has to say about me, and you shouldn't either."

"Well, I do. He's lucky he didn't leave in a bodybag."

Your eyes narrow at him. "You're impossible."

"'M jus' sayin," he says. His tender and sore hands travel up the sides of your thighs, warmth blossoming through you in their wake. He gives your flesh a squeeze. Funnily enough, he can no longer feel the pain flashing through them like lightning bolts now that he's touching you. "I'll never let anyone say or do anythin' to hurt you, princess. I'll always protect you."

You feel the warmth bloom in your cheeks, and you're eternally glad that he isn't holding your face the way he always does. You'd be busted if he were.

You offer him a small smile, one you can't suppress. How can you be expected to after those sentiments?

"Look, I know I probably sound like a broken record, but you can't keep putting yourself in the position to get in trouble. You're not a kid anymore, and you've had enough run-ins with the law as it is."

"'M not scared of gettin' in shit, Y/N/N."

"I'm serious," you frown down at him.

"So am I. Fuck the opps."

You scoff, wanting to wipe that devilish smirk off his face. "You sound like Pope."

"Who d'you think taught him that?"

You know he thinks this is all just a joke. Not the defending you part, but the getting in trouble with the law part. He'll always do what he feels he needs to, regardless of the possible consequences. It's just how he is. Still, you don't think it's a joke. You hate how Shoupe and the rest of them take all his indiscretions and use it as ammo to remind him that he'll never escape the southside. You'd hate to be the reason that he 'proves them right.'

"J, I mean it." You set the items that occupy your hands down on the marble counter, and grab his face in your hands, careful of his cuts and bruises. "All I'm asking is that you try and keep it together. Please. I don't like watching you get hurt."

He's silent for a moment, analyzing your words and the sincere look on your face. Yeah, you're his best friend, but it's always a nice reminder that someone actually wants to look out for him and care for him.

He likes it even better when it's you who's doing so.

The corners of his lips turn up and his hands migrate to the backs of your thighs. He uses his hold on you to urge you closer. "You're worried about me."

You give him an incredulous look. "Yes, JJ. I worry about you. After all this time, I don't even know why you question that."

"'Cause you're the only one who does."

You melt inside, and you're sure you do so on the outside as well. Your eyes soften, and to distract him from it, you go back to cleaning him up, reaching for some q-tips and the disinfectant.

His eyes flutter closed when you touch him again.

"If you wanted attention, you coulda just said so," you joke, unable to resist poking fun at him.

"Shut up," he says, laughing softly. His eyes are open again, and he looks up at you so tenderly that he wants to tell you what he's been feeling all this time.

I love you.

It's on the tip of his tongue, but when he wills it to leave his mouth, they refuse him.

He goes for the next best thing.

"Look, I'll try to...control myself. No promises, though."

A small smile graces your lips. "Thank you."

concepts ; concepts (ii)

#꒰ — daydreams ꒱#꒰ — jj maybank ꒱#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank brainrot #jj maybank brain rot #jj maybank concepts #jj maybank concept #jj maybank thoughts #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank obx #jj maybank outer banks

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delaber · 1 year

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Warrior/Worrier (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: After a mission gone awry, Bucky finds himself on your doorstep in the middle of the night.

Words: 5.3K

Fluff, fluff and fluff and a lil bit of angst. Classic hurt/comfort and friends to lovers

Through the darkness, there's a knock on your bedroom door, so soft, so cautious, that if you hadn't already been half-awake, you're not sure you would've caught it.

Legs quickly swung over the side of your mattress, you stop and focus at a fixpoint in your moonlit room.

According to the big mission schedule hung in Steve's office, you should be the only one at the compound, so you cannot for the life in you figure out who would rap on your door at 3.30 in the morning, but it wasn't just something you'd imagined because there it is again. A knock, not much louder than before, but definitely there.

For a brief second, your foggy brain ponders that it's likely someone who's been sent to kill you in the dead of night, but before you've even reached for your bedside Beretta, rationality reminds you that they probably wouldn't have had the curtesy to knock first - and then it dawns on you.

"Nat," you sigh with a roll of your eyes and let your bare feet hit the floor while you rub the sleep from off your face. It's not the first time she's forgotten the lock combination to her room after post-mission drinks.

Slowly, you walk across the cold floorboards and over to the wooden door where you can hear ragged breathing from the other side of the wall. Hand lazily pulling the door open, you start talking before you've seen who's on the other side.

"It's only four digits and you're panic breathing?" you chuckle but is immediately taken aback when you're not met by Natasha but instead by your best friend. "...Buck?"

He's back from his mission a day earlier than you'd expected and you're just about to crack a witty comment on how you'd told him that Sam couldn't stand to be alone with him for more than thirty-six hours, but then you notice the state he's in.

His entire body is slumped over as he clutches his right arm tight to his chest, eyes droopy and blank, cheekbones dotted by freckles of soot and framed by thick strands of auburn hair caked in dried blood. "Doll," he breathes painfully and takes a step closer, looking only mildly relieved to see you.

"Buck!" you hiss in fear and grab both his cheeks, but his dirty face just drops further, and he can't even look at you though you're standing mere inches apart.

"I know it's late," he mumbles with his gaze downcast, "but can I come in?"

It's as if you don't hear him clearly enough to respond. His voice is under water and at the same time layers above you while you're far too concerned with every look of horror splashed across his handsome face, your hands frantically clutching his bloodied cheeks as you desperately search his eyes though he still won't look at you. "What happened? Where's all this blood coming from?"

"It's - it's not mine..." he croaks with a small shake of his head.

Fear ripples through your entire body one more time and you can barely speak as you imagine the worst possible scenario that might have caused Bucky to behave like this. "Is it... Sam?" you whimper with tears already burning in your eyes, fighting the urge to throw up.

"He's fine," Bucky quickly interrupts with a small nod, "I dropped him off at his girl's place twenty minutes ago," he croaks and finally looks up at you, his eyes more broken than you've ever seen them before. It makes your heart crack in two. "Sweetheart, can I please come in?"

"Oh god," you pant anxiously and reluctantly let your fingers slide off his cheeks as you step to the side and finally let him inside your bedroom. "Yes, yes of course you can come in."

Immediately, he's on your bed, his face buried in his vibranium hand as the pads of his fingers start rubbing circles over his dusty forehead.

"What happened?" you barely manage to croak as you sit down beside him and carefully place a hand on his rigid thigh. "Last time I heard from you, everything was going according to plan."

"I don't want to talk about it," he gulps and starts rubbing his face even more agitatedly, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. "- not right now... I just had to see you. I'm sorry I woke you up."

You grab his vibranium hand and bring it down to his lap to get him to stop his frantic movements and he immediately squeezes you tight, letting out another heart-breaking sob.

"It's okay, Buck. I'm glad you're here."

Over the last year, you've seen Bucky on his darkest days a handful of times, and he usually has the same look on his face, but this time, it's different. It's deeper. Despondent and morose, the anger that's usually posessing him om the bleaker days replaced by a different kind of sadness.

Something really bad must've happened...

"Do you wanna sleep in here tonight?" you ask, unsure how to tackle this the best way possible if you don't want him to shield himself off in his room the way he usually does when he's not feeling his best. He shouldn't be alone under any circumstances.

You're half expecting him to protest, but to your surprise he starts nodding, relieved. "Thank you," he whispers and squeezes your hand tight again.

You make an attempt at a comforting touch as you brush over the soot on his cheeks, making a strand of dirty hair dipped in dried blood fall from his forehead. "You want a shower? I can draw you a bath."

He nods again.

"Come on, love," you say quietly and watch as he gulps hard at the sound of the tender pet-name that you've been wanting to call him for months now but haven't had the guts to say out loud until it accidentally slips past your lips. Surprisingly, you're not even embarrassed by yourself. You suppose there are more important things to worry about than an accidental profession of love in a moment of gentle affection.

Bucky seems taken aback too, frozen, and full of wonder, but he shakes it off and lets you pull him to your small bathroom, accepting your fluffiest towel without a word as he continues staring at you.

"I'll be just outside, okay?" you say reassuringly as you turn on the water in your bathtub, making sure it's the right temperature before putting in the drain stopper.

He's still looking at you with huge eyes, flesh arm clutched to his chest while the fluffy white towel gently supports his elbow. You silently wonder if he's hurt but before you can ask him, he speaks.

"Can you... stay?" He asks quietly, biting his inner cheek, unsure if his request is too much.

Still, it's your turn to be taken aback. You and Bucky are close but not like that.

"Stay?" you instinctively furrow your eyebrows, "while you shower?

He immediately clenches his jaw shut and shakes his head while small patches of pink appear on his cheeks underneath all the dirt. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no it's okay," you quickly stand up from your position by the tub spout so you're once again levelled. "- I was just surprised, that's all," you want to smack yourself for making him doubt himself. "Of course I'll stay."

Ice blue irises slowly find yours while the rose tint of his lower lip is being pulled between his teeth. "Are you sure?" he hesitates while sucking in some air, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

"You're not," you touch your hand to his sternum to underline your words and watches as the crease between his eyebrows slowly reduces as he gradually relaxes under your touch. You can't help but think that even through all the dust and the grime, he looks incredibly beautiful.

"Let me give you some privacy," you unwillingly let go of him and turn away so he can undress in peace.

From behind you, you can hear the ruffle of his tac pants being pushed down his legs before the belt buckle clangs loudly against the tiles of the floor. It's followed by a series of loud painful grunts and hisses a few seconds later.

"Are you okay?" you ask and turn your head to the side, careful not to look directly at him as to not break the trust he put in you when he asked you to stay. "Buck?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," he sighs in embarrassment behind you, "it's just... do you think you could... help me?"

You turn around slowly to find him standing in the middle of the bathroom still wearing his torn t-shirt and Kevlar vest, bare-legged in boxer shorts and black socks pulled high up on his calf while his pants are lying crumbled on the floor beside him. He's awkwardly shifting the weight between his two feet, still clutching his right arm tightly. "It's my elbow."

Immediately, you furrow your eyebrows and walk over to him, taking his right hand in yours. "Yeah, I meant to ask you earlier. What happened?"

He doesn't answer but just silently lets you examine the swelling and black-purple skin that's half-hidden underneath dust and blood.

"Shit," you breathe and hear him give out a sharp hiss when you turn his arm over so you can examine the other side, "Buck, I think your elbow's torn."

"Me too," he gulps, "- I heard it snap."

At the mere thought of the sound, a wave of nausea hits you square in the chest and your stomach starts to churn. You can feel the tang of acid push up on your tongue when you imagine the pain he must've been enduring - still is enduring - but you fight it relentlessly and eventually manage to swallow down the bile. You should be taking care of him, not the other way around.

"We should go down to the infirmary," you say and keep your gaze firmly placed on the purple bruising, so he doesn't notice your discomfort. "I know it probably won't take too long to heal with the serum and all but just to make su-"

"Sweetheart," he gulps from above you and it makes you stop mid-sentence. "Not tonight, okay? I just wanna stay here tonight."

You look up at him, about to protest, but the words quickly die in your throat when you notice the look he's wearing. He's begging. Anxious. Heavy-hearted.

"Okay," you reluctantly agree and carefully let go of his arm while he sends you a grateful look. "Come on, let me help you out of this," you say quietly in defeat and unstrap his vest beneath his ribs, pulling the Kevlar plates over his head while he groans loudly.

"Ah!" he hisses and clutches his elbow tight, squeezing his eyes shut when you try and pull his t-shirt over his head. "Fuck!"

"You good?"

"Mm-hmm" he hums displeased with lips pressed so tightly together they're forming a thin, white line. "Just get it over with."

You pull on the hem again so the dark fabric rides up his stomach, revealing scarred skin pulled tight over the bulging muscles you've spent so many warm summer days discreetly staring at. "Can you reach your arms just a little higher?" you ask and watch how his diaphragm heaves in small electric shocks when he cannot control the loud gasps that escape his throat.

"Fuck me!" He hisses and squeezes his eyes so tightly shut that his entire face pales. "Just rip the damn fabric off," he hisses angrily, "I can't extend my fucking arm."

"Are you sure you don't wanna get it checked out in the med wing?" You let go of his t-shirt and look him deep in the eye, hoping your concerned gaze can convince him that it'll be worth the trip just to get your jumping nerves under control.

"Just... get me out of this thing," he sighs in defeat. "Cut it open, I don't care."

Disinclined, you dive down in the drawer underneath your sink, pulling out a small flat-legged scissor that came with a roll of gauze you bought last year when you had a nasty wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. "Are you sure?" You look up at him as you put the blade underneath the hem of his t-shirt.

Through the fingers you have placed over his chest, you can feel how his pulse quickly falls again when your eyes meet.

"S'just a t-shirt," he mumbles quietly while nodding, "I'm sure..."

Though you want to stay in this position forever, you slowly look away from him and down at your hands as your hesitantly start cutting, careful not to pierce Bucky's flesh with the sharp scissors.

The blade runs through the fabric like a hot knife through butter and you can feel every tense muscle that the edge of the scissors encounters as they travel over his warm stomach and chest. It makes the blood roar in your ears as more and more skin is revealed underneath your fingertips.

Concentrated on not hurting him even more, you keep your gaze firmly placed on his heavily panting chest as you cut open the front of his black shirt and carefully peel the fabric off his bruised arm until he's standing in front of you in nothing but black boxers and socks, his left hand carefully reaching out for yours as if to comfort both of you.

You've seen him bare chested several times before, but it's never been in this close proximity, never been this intimate, just the two of you holding hands and looking each other deep in the eye as you silently try to assure the other that everything is going to be okay.

"So..." you clear your throat, embarrassed by the fact that you have to hold yourself back from leaning forwards, planting a small kiss on his dusty cheek. "- I take it you can shimmy your way out of those on your own, right?" You nod down towards his boxers and he blinks as if he's just woken up from a trance.

"Yeah," he nods and lets go of your hand while the pink patches make a reappearance on his face.

Slowly, you turn around facing the running spout in the tub to the soft sound of cotton hitting the floor behind you. Involuntarily, you give out a gulp and flusteredly grab the box of bath salts just to give your shaking hands something to do. You cannot believe that your extremely fuckable best friend is standing naked in your bathroom no more than two feet away, begging you to stay close to him.

Eyes still firmly placed on the water in the tub, you point over your shoulder to the rainfall shower in the opposite corner of the bathroom. "You wanna rinse off first?"

"I better," Bucky hesitates behind you. "Don't you think?"

"It'll be a much nicer bath if you do," you awkwardly clear your throat.

"Yeah, you're right," he sighs and turns on the shower, immediately stepping inside and closing the glass door behind him so you can finally breathe freely again.

Through the mirror above the sink, you can make out his naked silhouette behind the matte glass and how the tension in his shoulders first tenfolds and then completely disappears the minute the water turns warm and he relaxes. He lets his forehead fall forwards so it's pressed up against the cold tiles while the water runs over his defined shoulders and down his sculpted back, and you literally have to force your eyes away from him and the shape of his handsome torso.

With your gaze fixed firmly on the fuzzy bathmat at the foot of the shower, you hear the sound of your bath gel being opened, followed by a series of painful grunts as Bucky desperately tries to lather himself with the soap.

"Fuck," he mumbles quietly and before you've even voiced a single word of concern, he continues. "Sweetheart, I know it's a lot to ask..." he says a little louder, the embararssement still evident in his voice, "- but I'm gonna need a little help in here... it's - it's this damn elbow," he sighs, "I'm useless. Can you...?" his voice trails off and the question hangs thickly in the air between you.

He wants you to join him.

To wash him.

Take care of him.

The thought alone makes you nervous, you have to admit, but he needs your help and you're willing to do anything for him.

"Give me a minute," you gulp and strip down to your panties, pulling on the bra you wore earlier so you're not completely bare in there. Several times, you've dreamt of you and Bucky naked together, but not like this - never like this - and you'll be damned if the first time he sees you without a shred of clothes is because he needs help and not because he needs you.

With your pyjamas neatly folded on top of the toilet seat cover, you take a final look at yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out of your eyes before nervously reaching for the shower door with shaking hands.

He's still standing with his chiselled back towards you, letting the water rinse over his dirty hair and down between his shoulder blades with a slightly pinkish hue. "I'm so sorry about this," he mumbles uncomfortably and hands you your loofah behind his back. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"Come on, Buck," you say as you dribble a little soap on the sponge, fighting the urge to let your gaze run all the way down to his thick thighs. "Don't beat yourself up, you know I'm always here for you."

"Still," he mumbles and goes silent as the loofah gently runs over his tense shoulders and traces down his spine.

The white soap bubbles work magic on his dirty skin and you make sure not to leave out a single square inch of his scarred backside as you wash him while fighting the urge to wrap your arms around his torso, telling him how glad you are that he not alone came home, but also that he came to you seeking help instead of barricading himself in his room. It seems significant that he's here, as if something's changed between you though you cannot put your finger on it.

Completely lost in thought, you accidentally run the loofah a little too vigorously over his right tricep, sending shockwaves down his broken bone and resulting in a painful hiss falling from his open mouth.

"Sorry," you mumble, and scrub down his lower back, this time more careful with your movements though there aren't any dirty or bloody spots left on either side of his spine. "There we go" you conclude quietly when you realise that the rinsing water has finally lost its pink and grimy hue. "Turn around," you ask and hope he cannot hear the nervousness straining your voice. No matter what, you're not looking down.

Bucky seems just as jittery about his compromising position as you do, and he slowly spins around, revealing pink cheeks and heaving pecs, his gaze glued to the ceiling as he looks as if he's ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff. "God, sweetheart," he mumbles and breathes hard, "I'm so sorry for all this."

"Bucky, come on - what'd I tell you?" you touch the loofah to his chest, careful not to look anywhere than at the sponge itself as it traces over his collar bones and down his handsome stomach.

He merely sighs and stands completely still while you rinse the crevices between the metal plates over his left clavicle, careful not to move his torso so much he hisses in pain again.

"...You're a good friend," he mumbles after a few focused minutes where you've carefully been scrubbing the gold-plated lines in the vibranium, "- I ever tell you that?"

"All the time," you smile genuinely for the first time since he knocked on your door earlier that evening. If there's one thing you can count on, it's that Bucky Barnes appreciates you more than anything.

"I mean it," he says, "never doubt that."

You look up into his eyes.

He looks so soft and innocent as he stands before you, face finally clean, wet hair sticking to his forehead while he professes his love for you. Even if it's just platonic, it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I know, Buck."

"Good," he nods and blinks a few times with heavy, wet lashes framing his cerulean eyes. The air between you is thicker than ever and for a brief moment, it looks as if he's about to lean in and kiss you, but you break the tension by looking away. You don't want to take advantage of his vulnerable state no matter how badly you want that kiss.

"You ready for the tub?" You ask him in a weirdly shaky voice.

He nods while an almost inaudible sigh escapes his lips. "Yeah," he says and turns off the water, quickly exiting the shower before you can take notice of the disappointment burning on his skin.

You dry your feet on the small fuzzy mat, carefully watching Bucky's naked backside as he tests the temperature in the tub by dipping his toe in the water before stepping over the porcelain edge, sitting himself down.

Immediately, he gives out a content sigh, and drapes right arm over his chest, supporting his broken elbow with vibranium fingers, and you finally deem the situation safe enough to approach him again.

"Want me to wash your hair?"

"Mmh" he hums with closed eyes, immediately more relaxed now that he's covered by water. "I don't deserve you."

You grab your shampoo bottle and push out a decent amount of liquid, pressing it to his warm scalp to the sound of an alleviated sigh falling from his lips as you carefully start massaging it into his roots.

"Does that feel good?" you ask through a smile.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he groans quietly, making the butterflies in your stomach flutter awake, "- feels amazing."

You're slowly lathering shampoo into his long hair, enjoying the feel of him underneath your fingertips, how his soft hair slips through your hands while also trying not to think too much about the kiss you robbed yourself of in the shower. You can hear how his breathing slowly steadies and you think that maybe he's in the early stages of sleep but then he unexpectedly heaves a deep breath -

"You know... I haven't been scared of death for a long time," he says so sudden, so seriously that you're immediately brought out of your trance as your every muscle freezes at his austere tone of voice. "I used to not care if I lived or died but... tonight didn't go as planned," he swallows thickly and you can see how his jaw tenses up as his voice becomes husky, "- they... had me."

"What?" you pant with mortification, your every skeletal muscle paralysed as your breathing picks up. You don't have to ask him who he's talking about.

"Sam and I, we were so sure of ourselves," he shakes his head with his gaze fixed on the wall straight ahead. "We thought had the perfect plan... I - I'm such an idiot, nothing ever runs smoothly with Hydra."

You can feel your heart thumping in your throat. "What happened?" You whisper.

"Sam was on the look-out while I got the hard drive," he mumbles, "it was so easy. It didn't even take me five minutes before I was heading back towards the safehouse," he gulps, "- of course it was an ambush. I should have realised the minute I set foot inside that building."

"You couldn't have known," you whimper softly and stroke his scalp, but he doesn't listen.

"- I thought I was..." the words drown in a heavy sigh, and he stares blankly into space while blinking the tears away.

"Buck," you whisper and can feel the pain radiating from every fibre of his entire being when you wrap your arms around his wet torso and hold him close to your chest.

"They took me to a room. Strapped me down," he takes a ragged breath, and you hold on to him even tighter, "I was sure that was it. I never thought I'd find myself home again."

"You're home now," you whisper and softly kiss his shoulder, hoping that he doesn't feel the tear that lands on top of his clavicle. "You're home now with me."

"I know, sweetheart," he leans into your hug with a sigh, "trust me, I know."

"Everything's gonna be alright, love," you whisper against him and stroke your hand over his hair, "it's you and me against the world, always."

"You and me," he quietly confirms and leans back into your chest with a deep breath.

You continue stroking him over the hair, hold on to him for dear life, not willing to let go as you feel him relax more and more in your arms until he starts snoring slightly, finally warm and safe in your embrace.

"Buck, come on," you instinctively kiss him right below his ear, "you're sleeping. Let's get you into bed."

"Sorry," he mumbles groggily and lets his head fall back against your shoulder. "m'just so fucking tired. Been up thirty-six hours..."

"We'll talk tomorrow," you kiss him again and unwillingly unwrap yourself from around his chest, standing up straight beside him. "I'm not going anywhere. Promise."

He's looking up at you with puppy eyes, gaze slowly travelling down your body and up again as if he hadn't realised you were in your lingerie until that exact moment. "You look beautiful," he says quietly and you half-expect him to laugh it off, but his face stays serious.

"...Thanks," you croak while handing him the fluffy towel, not sure how to react to his sweet words. He's called you many things, but he's never downright called you beautiful before.

"I can take it from here, sweetheart," he nods slowly and steals one last glance down at your body, "you just go to bed. I'll be in in a minute."

"Okay," you whisper and peel yourself away from the tension between you by swiftly turning around, exiting the bathroom.

Back in your room, you barely have time to get out of your wet underwear and put on a fresh set of pyjamas, before a boxer-clad Bucky joins you on the bed.

"Are you still okay with me staying the night?" He asks, nervously.

"Of course I am," you answer immediately and find his vibranium hand underneath the covers, lacing your fingers between his as you scan his weary features. "See if you can get some sleep, okay? You need it," you brush a strand of wet hair away from his face and make sure he's fine by gently cupping his cheek before closing your eyes, hoping he's following your lead, doing the same.

The dark room goes completely quiet for a few minutes where the only audible sound is of your synchronised breathing.

You can feel yourself grow impossibly tired too as you lie there hand in hand with Bucky, and you're just about to succumb to sleep, when suddenly, his quiet whisper breaks the silence.

"I thought about you," he says softly, and it makes you open your eyes again.

You're staring straight into his handsome face, his beautiful blue eyes scanning over your features as he slowly clarifies.

"When they had me strapped down, I thought about you," he moves his fingers against the palm of your hand and completely engulfs you. "The thought of not seeing you again was..." the words die in his throat, and he looks as if he's seconds away from whimpering. "- Sweetheart, you make me so afraid of dying."

You breathe hard with quivering lips, huge eyes matching his as you let his confession sink in.

"I was so desperate to come home, I snapped the restraints in half. Snapped my own elbow along with them," he winces slightly at the painful memory that once again makes your stomach churn. "Sweetheart, I fought like hell. I don't think I've ever been so angry... I - I killed everyone I could get my hands on, I just had to see you again," he brings your hand to his soft lips and kisses the delicate pulse point of your wrist.

"Buck..." a slow whine escapes your throat as you try to blink away a stubborn tear that slowly starts rolling down the side of your nose.

"I love you," he whispers so softly against your thin skin that you almost don't hear. His eyes are closed and he looks relieved to be lying here with you, so you carefully pull his hand to your chest, placing his vibranium palm above your heavily beating heart.

"I love you too."

"Sweetheart," he whispers above you and moves his hand a little on top of your soft pyjamas while lightly shaking his head with a sigh. "No, you don't understand..." he gulps and searches your face, "I love you."

Your breath hitches in your throat.

"- I want more than this," he slowly admits. "I want to be more than your friend. I'm in love with you."

You squeeze his hand and move a little closer to him, scared that he'll stop confessing his love if you say something to throw him off track.

He holds on to you and can feel how your pulse starts racing underneath your pyjamas. "I hope I'm not scaring you off."

"No, no you're not," you say in a hoarse voice, "not at all. I - I think about you all the time."

"You do?" He breathes hard, clearly not believing what he's hearing.

"Yeah," you merely nod and move your head a little closer to him while he does the same. "I'm in love with you too, Buck. Have been for quite some time."

With a serious look, he moves his hand from off your chest and up to your face where he brushes a finger over the delicate features of your cheekbone and down to your jawline. "I'm gonna kiss you now," he warns in a whisper and waits for you to give him a nod before he reaches his head forwards, finally claiming your mouth with his lips.

His hand snakes down the length of your spine and you press your entire front up against his hard chest and stomach while he caresses the small of your back, slipping his soft tongue inside your mouth. "God," he moans and gently grabs hold of your hips, pulling you impossibly close to him. "You make me feel whole again," he whispers against your skin and kisses a small line from your earlobe and down to the base of your clavicle. "What do you say sweetheart?" he mumbles and nibbles at your skin, "can I take you out?"

"Yeah, Buck, you can take me out," you squeeze his hand, and he smiles for the first time that evening, setting everything inside of you aflame.

He's finally smiling and it's because of you.

"I wanna do it the old-fashioned way," he says, beaming, "bring you flowers. Take you dancing. Show you how you're supposed to be treated."

You can't help but chuckle at his soft innocence. "You're an old man," you brush him over his hair, "nobody goes dancing anymore."

"I'll teach you," he chuckles back but lets it turn into a sharp hiss when he accidentally moves his broken elbow.

"That sounds lovely," you admit with a smile, excited at the prospect of having his hands on your hips while he tells you what to do, "- though I'm afraid we'll have to get that elbow sorted first if you want to manoeuvre me around on the dancefloor. I know you don't see the point in going but... med wing tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," he rolls his eyes with a laugh that makes your stomach go all warm and fuzzy. "If it gets me to go dancing with you just an hour earlier, it's worth the trip... Will you go with me?"

"Yeah, I'll go with you," you kiss his hand, and he chuckles so warmly your stomach lights up again. "I'll go with you always."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes hurt/comfort #bucky barnes friends to lovers

6K notes · View notes

gloxk · 7 months

Note

Whats the best kind of sex to have with aot men?

(Eren armin and connie?)

Best kind of sex with AOT men!

(Connie, Armin, Eren)

A/n: AHHH! Hey guys! It’s been almost a week :) sorry for my small hiatus, I am back! Have yall seen good girls? Well, if you have Connie is slightly inspired by Rio🤤. Ugh omg he’s so fine.

Warning: smut (ovi), Plug eren and Plug connie. perv!armin…

♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡

Connie!; Bratty sex,

Of course connie pissed you off once again.

It was like he woke up every day and decided to be trifling.

“Fuck you. I’m done.” He was so irritating you genuinely couldn’t even have a full conversation without getting mad. “You don’t mean that ma.” of course you didn’t.

But hell you were committed to the act.

Blocking him on everything, even blocking his friends.

That obviously didn’t stop him from calling you on a text-now number. He even went as far as emailing you. (You don’t even check that shit.)

All day your phone rung and rung —never ending ear splitting ringing noise. Finally you answered hoping he would end his antics.

“Ma, I got a 3.5 just fa you. Lemme make it up to you.” His words persuaded you; unfortunately you gave in.

You nearly ran too the door after hearing a car pull into your driveway. ‘Act mad, Act mad, Act mad’ you thought to yourself as you opened the door.

There Connie stood with a bouquet of money with a small baggie in his hand. His face turned in a sly smile. “Can I come in?”

You started yelling as he closed the door behind him, although you were acting mad your feelings were real.

Connie started rolling the backwood for you while you laid in to him. He never interrupted you, letting you express your feelings.

He kept eye contact while his tongue glided over the dried leaves. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted a reaction—and he got one.

You sat beside him on the couch taking the blunt from his finger-tips. “You done with that attitude?” It was an act and he knew it was, but you didn’t care. “Nah.”

Connie felt so bad for his baby. He made you have this attitude? Of course he had to get rid of it for you!

Your legs were thrown over his shoulder, as he thrusted in to you “Cmon, I thought you knew better. You know attitudes don’t work wimme.” he teased you, you both knew the act wasn’t going to last long. So it was pathetic trying to keep it up.

Armin!; Sleep sex,

Armin was a night owl, always up and doing something productive. Reading, cleaning, taking pictures of you while you sleep-

Armin was confused why his key no longer worked, he was only gone for a few days yet the locks were changed.

He prevailed, as he always would. He was a little upset with you but nonetheless he was willing to talk it out.

His eyes lingered over your sleeping body for longer than they should. He kept his eye on your lace underwear, wondering if he could slip them off without waking you.

Armin tried to control himself and respect your sleeping body, but you were too beautiful to resist .

He kissed your neck trailing lower and lower…until he reached your underwear. He happily slipped them off and took all of your beauty in.

He started in awe, watching the way you face twitched as he slowly fucked himself into you.

Your soft moans got to him; he ran his finger over your nipple twisting and tugging at them.

You slowly opened your eye lids trying to grasp the sight infront of you. But you couldn’t see, something was covering your eyes. You slightly panicked slinging your head side to side.

“I’m right here baby.” Armin kissed your cheek trying to reassure you that you were okay. But it only made you tense up more feeling him inside of you.

“I changed the locks! How did you get in?” He placed his thumb over your lips, dragging them down slowly. “Why did you change the locks?” As if he didn’t know why…

“Because you’re fucking crazy! Because this is the shit you do!” you cried, but unfortunately your tears only turned him on more.

Eren!; jealous sex,

Eren wasn’t exactly happy to see you with a different guy. “You look pathetic standing next to him instead of me.” Eren thought to himself.

When Eren told you to go find someone better than him; he was just joking. He didn’t think you’d actually move on. What happened to be locked in? What happened to being forever?

Maybe you got tired of fighting and arguing with him every single night. But how could you? The make-up sex was amazing.

It pissed him off that you didn’t even notice he was there. Did you not see the fully blackened Hellcat parked outside? I mean who else would it belong too? Did your new “boyfriend” have a better car than him? No better yet, did he make you cum faster then Eren?

Eren and Connie found themselves on the couch together discussing your new man. “That’s wild, she fuckin with a different plug bro.” Connie kept instigating the whole thing. “If that was my girl, i would’ve let my gun speak for me.” & “Me personally I wouldn’t take that disrespect, you feel me?”.

Eren couldn’t possibly take that disrespect at all; of course he had to handle it. He handled it the best way he knew how.

Your phone rung on the bed side table; you watched as it vibrated against the stained wood. Unfortunately your hands were pinned against your back—so you couldn’t see who it was.

”He’s still calling you? It would be wrong for us to ignore your man.” Eren answered the face time call; he laughed at your boyfriends concerned voice. “Yeah, she ight. Wanna see?

He flipped the camera over to you, as requested. Your back was arched giving Eren the perfect view of your pussy. He made sure to give your boyfriend something to think about before he hung up.

“Sorry ma, he wanted to see his girlfriend!” Eren laughed, his tone was oozing with sarcasm. You hated that he always knew he could come back into your life regardless if you moved on. Because nobody could ever replace him.

♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡.♡

I luv request like these <3

2K notes · View notes

azsazz · 4 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 16)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,641

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

When the scent of coffee hits your nose, you’re instantly invigorated.

You’d thought about canceling meeting up with Lucien this afternoon after your morning from hell. It had taken the fire department half an hour to arrive at your apartment building and another ten minutes to pry the doors of the elevator open.

By then, you and Azriel were no longer speaking, after agreeing to go to his exhibition with him, so you’d occupied yourself with reorganizing your papers, now half crumpled from their fall to the floor. You’d propped your sketchbook up on your knees and made sure you were careful enough not to flash Azriel any of the drawings.

When the doors had screeched open, there were three firefighters staring up at the two of you. Turns out, the elevator had halted halfway between two floors, and you’d had to nervously slide your body from the floor of the elevator to the landing below.

Even Azriel looked less that pleased, crouching close to you as if he was going to jump forward and snatch you should you slip. The firefighters helped you gain your footing before helping Azriel out, questioning you and asking if you needed to be looked at by an EMT.

The man asking was a handsome one. In fact, all three of them were, but there was something about this one’s deep, smooth skin, his dark braids pulled back from his face. His white teeth gleamed with the grin he sent your way, offering his help. You couldn’t help but smile back, and once the firemen had made sure that the area was safe and clear for the elevator maintenance and parted with cheerful goodbyes, did you realize that Azriel was gone.

You should’ve gone back upstairs to your apartment, but the incident left you too wired. Instead, you took a few calming breaths, shot a look and cursed at the devil elevator, and took the stairs the last two flights down.

You’d already missed your morning class, but you could still make it to your mid-morning one, Art History. The worst class you think you’ve ever signed up for in your college career thus far. But, it’s mandatory, and better to get it out of the way now instead of when you’re a semester away from graduating. The teacher is an older, knowledgeable man, but the entirety of your grade is made up of only three tests, and all of the art he’s showing you looks awfully similar to one another.

You might be fucked if you can’t figure out a way to discern one cathedral from the other.

“Hey,” Lucien greets, eyes roving the packed coffee house before settling on you. He’s dressed in a pair of loose, gray trousers, and instead of his usual sweater vest that makes him look like the most good looking TA around, he’s wearing a tight black t-shirt. It’s different, seeing him in a color darker than the gray that makes his copper hair pop. The deep black of his shirt looks painted on his skin, and you’re used to seeing him in looser fabrics.

It doesn’t stop you from brushing your gaze across the musculature of his body.

His hair is pulled back from his face this afternoon. A few long strands framing his face. He brushes them back with a strong hand as he grins down at you and his bicep flexes with the motion. Your mouth dries, and you’re suddenly thankful that you’re at the coffee house, needing something to wet your throat.

“Hey,” you stumble over the greeting, stomach flipping as his ying-yang eyes gleam down at you.

“Missed you this morning,” Lucien says, ushering you into the line. It’s longer than you’d expected it to be, but with all of the pre-weekend partying that seems to go on around your University, you suppose all of the hungover students like you need their pick-me-up to make it through the day so they’re once again ready to drink themselves stupid tonight.

“You probably won’t believe me, but I got stuck in my elevator this morning,” you huff, shuddering at the thought of being trapped in that metal container once more.

Lucien’s jaw drops and you nod, grimacing at the memory.

“Oh my Gods, are you okay?” He can’t help but to laugh and the smile you’re trying to keep tucked away breaks free. “You made it out, obviously, but holy hell, (Y/N), how are you even here right now? I’d have gone right back to sleep.”

Azriel’s uncommon niceties and disappearing act had kept you from doing just that.

You cross your arms over your chest, huffing playfully. “I couldn’t miss Art History. I have no idea what’s going on in the class and Professor Harvey sucks ass! I couldn’t tell you the difference from a Gothic or Romanesque cathedral if I’d built it myself.”

Lucien snickers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to take that. Instead, I get to enjoy History of Architecture and Urban Design. So, when you think about it, is pretty much the same thing you’re taking.”

“Sounds easier,” you grumble, glaring at the backpack of the person in front of you. “Plus, you’re naturally good at this stuff, Lu. I’m sure you’re killing it.”

The freckles on Lucien’s cheeks glow as his cheeks pinken with a blush. “I wouldn’t say all that,” he trails off, and it’s obvious that he’s being modest.

You take a step forward with the line and count the number of customers that still have to order before it’s your turn. Behind the register is a guy who looks like he would rather be anywhere else, and when you catch sight of the letters stitched into his shirt across the chest, marking him a frat member, you understand why the line is so long.

Behind the frat bro are two girls scrambling to make drink after drink. Unlike the boy at the register, they seem like a well-oiled machine, dancing around each other as if making cappuccinos and lattes is a graceful dance. You feel a twang of empathy for them even though they seem like they’re thriving back there. You have no idea how they can memorize the different drink orders, making them as efficiently as they can and giving them out to the customers within a short amount of time.

This is the kind of pressure you would crack under.

You turn back to Lucien with a playful glare. “Oh, come on. You’re one of the smartest people I know,” you don’t miss the way the tips of his ears turn red with your slew of compliments. He looks up as if nervous, while you continue. “It’s one of your better traits.”

This gets his attention. He blinks down at you. “I have bad traits?”

You elbow him teasingly. “While your intelligence is admirable, your sketching could use some work,” you poke fun at him, referring to the last time you hung out to work on your drawing projects. Instead, you had spent the night watching a terrible reality show with the bottle of wine he’d brought. Lucien had followed you to your room where you were supposed to gather your drawing supplies. He had made a joke that had you laughing so hard you nearly cried. Your stomach had ached too much to get up after that, the wine making you boneless in your comfortable bed, so the both of you spent the rest of the night there, laughing and not working on your drawing projects.

Lucien quirks a brow. “Is that so? Are you offering to be my model?”

It’s your turn to blush now, cheeks hotter than the steaming milk screaming on the other end of the counter. Your mouth parts though your tongue is a twisted mess from his flirting, knotted and thick. You don’t know how to respond, but you’re saved by a very punctual throat clearing that comes from the frat boy behind the register.

“Are either of you planning on ordering?” He asks lazily, tapping a blunt nail against the cash wrap. He wears a backwards cap, white hair poking out from the sides. You don’t miss the way that his pine green eyes drag down your body and back up, ignoring Lucien completely. You shudder in response. “Or was it your intention to hold up the line?”

You shut your mouth, teeth clacking together. So eloquently put for a boy who probably has pre-workout and pron coursing through his veins.

Lucien ushers you to the counter, apologizing for the both of you. “Sorry about that, man.”

The boy behind the counter looks as bored as ever, though his green eyes brighten when they settle once more on you. He leans forward a little, mouth tugging up in the corner in a smirk that twists his face in an unsightly maneuver. “If I offered you the moon on a string, would you give me a kiss too, baby?”

You’re surprised with the composure it takes you not to bite back at the jock, but Lucien uncharacteristically leans forward to snarl in the boy's face. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

Frat Douche leans forward, flashing his teeth in a taunting grin. He’s slightly taller than Lucien, and wider. He’s probably on the football team or something. Not that you concern yourself with his extracurriculars.

One of the barista’s spins around on her heel, gauging the way the two boys are sizing each other up. Her blazing blue eyes glare daggers between them, as if the look alone can tear them apart. Her auburn hair is slicked back perfectly, and you wonder how it stays pinned so well when she’s running around slinging coffees all day.

A crash draws your attention away from the boys squaring up before you. The other barista behind the counter is frowning, staring down at the shaker she’s dropped to the floor with a clang. The entirety of the coffee house goes still for a fleeting moment, everyone wanting to see what’s going on, but within seconds voice’s carry throughout the space as the barista swoops down to scoop the shaker from the floor, dumping it into the sink.

“Ro, quit it,” she barks, a can of whipped cream still poised and ready to add to the Frappuccino in her hand. Those icy blues flit across yours and her mouth tightens sourly. “Excuse him, sir.”

Lucien glances at her and seems to back down a little, shoulders strained as he rolls them. “(Y/N), what would you like to drink?”

“I’ll have a caramel latte,” you nearly spit in the frat boy's face. “Iced.”

With a soft nudge at your lower back, Lucien guides you away from the conceited frat rat at the cash wrap. You slide down the counter to pick up area while Lucien pays for both of your drinks. He joins you a moment later when you’ve managed to take a few deep breaths. You will not let him ruin your mood.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” you shake your head, cutting Lucien off. “Don’t apologize for him. Thank you for defending me.”

“It was the least I could do,” your friend replies, almost bashful at your thanks.

While you wait, you scour the shop for somewhere to sit. Booths are packed full with studying students, miss-matched chairs at tables stacked with people and their friends. It’s a frenzy if you’ve ever seen one, but the coffee house is a sanctuary for the university students, especially during the afternoon hours.

Tonight, the shop will be barren, with all of the patrons getting their caffeine fixes through vodka Red Bulls instead.

“You’re taller,” you comment, “Do you see any open spots that I can’t?” You ask, because there should be more seating behind the loitering line.

Lucien’s colorful eyes scan the coffee house as one of the baristas brings your drinks over to the counter. It’s the one with piercing blue eyes and copper hair. She’s staring you down, a hard look on her face that you can’t discern is concentration or annoyance. You can’t blame her if she’s either, concentrating on the tasks at hand, making coffees left and right. She has every right to be annoyed with the customers who ask for thirteen extra shots of syrup or her coworker who apparently doesn’t know how to speak to women. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s made comments to the two girls he’s working alongside, but you think that the one who slams your cups onto the counter with a little too much force can hold her own. And so can the one with white as bone hair and goldenrod eyes. Those sharp, long nails dipped in metallic are enough for you to know that she doesn’t fuck around nor let anyone fuck with her. You make a face but the barista is already turning away, beginning to work on the next order.

“There’s a table open by the window,” Lucien points to the corner of the room to a table in front of the large windows. You lead the way, a bounce in your step as you move quickly so the table doesn’t get snatched.

“What a day,” you sigh, finally relaxing into the cushy seat. You place your coffee on the low table between you, and while it’s not the best seat to get work done, you’re happy to be relaxing and chatting with your friend right now.

Lucien snorts at you, taking a sip of his drink. You watch his throat bob with the swallow, and you avert your gaze, looking outside of the window.

There are students walking by in a flurry, a third of them trying to stuff themselves through the coffee shop doors, needing a shot of the drink to make it through the afternoon.

“So, what are your plans this weekend?” you start with, mentally reprimanding yourself for staring at his bobbing throat. You play with the straw in your drink, swirling the ice around to give yourself something to do.

Lucien lets out a long suffering sigh that has you looking up once more.

“I’m supposed to be having family dinner this weekend, but I’m dreading riding back with my father and brother.”

“I’m sorry,” you offer sympathetically that Lucien shrugs off. It’s not a topic he favors talking about, but you’re curious. “A brother? Does he go here?”

Lucien sets his cup down on the table between you, wiping his palms down his trousers as he clears his throat. He looks like he’s preparing himself for war, with the way that he’s acting, and you almost feel even worse for asking.

“I have six brothers, actually,” he says, and you nearly spit out your drink. Six brothers? Holy crap, that’s a lot. “And half of them go or have gone here,” he trails off, and you can’t do anything but stare at him in shock.

“Wow, your family really likes this place,” you mutter.

“Yeah, well. My father is the Head of Civil Engineering.”

“Oh, so you’re like Vulcan University royalty,” you tease and he rolls his eyes, shooting you a playful glare.

“If I went into engineering, I would’ve been,” Lucien answers, glaring down at his cup. His shoulders are rigid, and you’re sensing that he doesn’t care to talk about this, but he continues nonetheless. “Eris, my eldest brother, is getting his Masters in Civil Engineering, following in my father’s footsteps, and I’m going into architecture, which, and I quote, ‘is for those people who can’t solve a differential equation.’”

You don’t say that you have no idea what that is, but Lucien must see it on your face because he cracks a smile. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

“So, you’re telling me that all of your brothers are engineers?” you ask, because the odds of that happening must be some crazy statistic. Almost as crazy as having seven sons and no daughters.

Across the shop, the bell chimes again, signaling the arrival of more students. It’s as if you can feel the air shifting, becoming more electrified. The feeling draws your attention to the door, where Azriel and Mor have just walked in.

Like a magnet, Azriel’s gaze meets yours, bright and gold.

It makes you want to shrink back in your seat a little, with the way that they flick over to see who you’re with. Your stomach flips with nerves but you’re not even a little ashamed of who you’re with, so why is that happening? The gold splinters, and you can see the way his shoulders tighten from across the room. Mor senses the shift in Azriel’s mood and scans the shop, caramel brows pinched together in a threatening way, as if she’ll verbally spar with anyone who makes Azriel feel this way.

When her eyes snag on yours, her red lips part in a genuine, red smile.

All you can muster is a soft smile and a lame wave, stomach flipping like you’ve been caught having public sex with Lucien under that harsh gold gaze.

Dragging your eyes from the sight of them, you focus on Lucien with all of your might as you feel him watching you, reading you.

“Not entirely,” Lucien shrugs, scooting his chair closer to yours now that the coffee shop has gone up in decibels with all of the post lunch time rush. “Eris is studying for his masters. Pyrolas is on scholarship at St. Bryaxis’ University for wrestling, but on paper he’s a communications major, which is funny because everytime he talks to someone in the family they’re always arguing,” he rolls his eyes, but the smile that accompanies it tells you that he’s close with Pyrolas. “He’s never cared about what anyone thinks about him anyway, which is a trait I wish I had,” Lucien admits, and you’re agreeing with him.

“Me too,” you sigh, placing a hand on his knee empathetically. “Are you close to him?”

“Used to be,” he shrugs a little. “Oak is the smartest, he’s a senior, getting a physics degree, which my father couldn’t complain about. Conleth is in the Netherlands, taking the semester to study bridge structure. Boring, I know,” he laughs at the face you’re making. “And the twins are juniors here, Foxe is studying Mechanical Engineering and Finch is studying Chemical Engineering. Always sucking up to dad, those two.”

“Damn,” you curse low, shocked. “I’m not sure if I’m more shocked by the fact that your entire family is a bunch of geniuses or that two of your brothers are named after animals.”

Your joke seems to crack the heaviness of the conversation. It’s clear that whatever kind of relationships he has with his father and brothers is strained, but Lucien allows the feeling to fall off of his shoulders as the two of you burst into fits of giggles.

“See, this is why I like you, (Y/N). You’re very easy to talk to.”

“Don’t forget funny,” you chuckle, grinning wide.

“Right, how could I forget. Funniest person I’ve ever met,” he jokes, nudging you with his shoulder.

“Hey,” you whine, shoving right back, “It’s true! I would never lie about something like that!”

Lucien smiles broadly, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re right, I’ll give you that one. What about you? Any plans this weekend?”

Your stomach bottoms out at the thought of your plans for the weekend. You’re going to Azriel’s exhibition tomorrow, someone who you’ve been beefing with since the start of the year. Why had you said yes? You really want to spend your Saturday night with someone you’re not even sure you can make it through the night without arguing with?

Parting your mouth to answer Lucien, you’re cut off by a looming figure. Looking up, you notice Azriel. His jaw is set in a firm line, golden eyes blazing like a thousand fires. There’s a steaming hot coffee in his hand and you find yourself wondering what he’s drinking, but you assume that it’s plain black coffee like the attire he’s dressed in. Mor stands a step behind, a sly smirk she’s clearly trying to hide on her lips.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30 tomorrow night.” Azriel’s voice is cold as shadows, and you frown in response. Lucien looks confused, staring up at your neighbor as if he recognizes him somehow.

You nod shallowly, cheeks hot at the look on Azriel’s face. You don’t know why you feel like you’ve been caught in the act, but him interrupting you like this is none of his business. He could have asked Cassian for your number or told you this morning if he thought you needed the reminder. “Okay.”

Azriel stares at you for a moment longer, then twists on his heel and stalks away, completely ignoring the hard look on Lucien’s face and forgetting Mor.

You follow him, the way he moves with such grace. The crowd parts for him, more sets of hungry eyes trailing after him like yours. It makes something hot twist your gut, and you’re tearing your gaze away to Mor, who beams brightly.

“So nice to meet you last night, (Y/N),” she winks, looking like she knows something that you don’t. “I hope to see you again soon.” With a flourish of her blonde hair being tossed over her shoulder, Mor trails Azriel out of the coffee shop, just as many eyes following her as there were following Azriel.

“I thought you didn’t like that guy,” Lucien says, slumping back in his chair a little. You’d complained when he had come over to your apartment to study, when he’d told you that he ran into Cassian and his moody roommate in the hall.

“Yeah,” you answer weakly, reaching for your coffee again. The words taste funny on your tongue as they come out. “I don’t.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @homeslices @quinzzelx @carlandonorri-s @juniper-july19

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #midnight muse #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #modern acotar

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luveline · 4 months

Note

May I request more Eddie and Roan? I love and miss them. 🥺

“Roan’s in the bathroom.”

You look up from your book quizzically. “How can you tell?”

Eddie can tell because his fiendish spawn has been quiet far too long this morning, that and there’s a strange groan of the floor whenever someone stands near the sink.

“I thought she was still sleeping,” you say, closing your book around your fingers. “Free time is over?”

Eddie laughs at you. It’s weird for him to get to lie here and do nothing, but weirder to do nothing with you (weird in the best way, the only way he’d ever want it). You’re just sitting there in your rumpled pyjamas looking as beautiful as the day you asked him out, and he looks about as underdressed as he did then, he’s sure, his t-shirt rolling at the neck and his pants stained with jelly. He wonders if this is the best part of domestic life, getting to sit and know Roan is safe if naughty, and you’re with him. Not doing anything in particular, just sitting with him, your thighs and calves touching, two (three) against the world.

“You can stay and finish your book,” he says.

“I’d be here for hours.”

Eddie takes your wrist and drags you toward him for a kiss too brief to bother closing his eyes. “Mm, if you want to. I’ll go see what miss is up to.”

You shake your head strangely, so he waits before standing. The sheets are pushed to the bottom of the bed, your bare calves peeking out of ridden pants. He reaches for your ankle. “What?” he asks, giving it a squeeze.

“Can we… can we try to spend as much time together today as possible?”

Eddie doesn’t need to ask you what you mean, but he does, he wants you to feel heard, “You feel like we’re not spending much time together?”

“Not as much as I want.”

You look embarrassed, and there’s no need for it. He can hear a tap running in the bathroom and he needs to investigate sooner rather than later, but he thinks this is pressing too. “Okay. Deal, babe.” He remembers how badly he wanted you at the beginning. He still wants you, but there was this unsure nervousness that ate him every time you came around, wondering when you’d stop. You never did.

Eddie holds up his pinky. “Shake on it?”

You wrap your pinky around his and shake.

“You better get up then,” he says. “We gotta go see what trouble’s doing.”

You beam and hold his hand, letting him lead you to the bathroom, where the door is open, and Roan is washing her arms in the sink.

“Whatcha doing?” Eddie asks her.

She turns with wide eyes. “I got too much soap on my hands!”

“Oh no!” he says, your scratchy laughter behind him. “How did that happen?”

There’s soap on her sleeves, on the floor, bubbles all over the sink and even on her cheek. Eddie lets you go to come up behind her, to her adorable relief.

“I was trying to get my hands extra clean because Uncle Steve said germs live on the toilet,” she says.

“They do,” Eddie says, guiding her hands under the water, messing with the faucet when the water comes out cruelly cold. “Here we go, nice and warm for you, bub. Don’t scrub anymore.” He holds her hands apart. “Let’s just wait for it to wash off.”

You drop a towel by their feet. Roan and Eddie step onto it. He can see her socks are soaked, as are her sleeves. “We’ll get changed,” he says, holding his arm back for another towel, which you give quickly. “Let’s just dry you off, sweetheart. Way too much soap. There are lots of germs on the toilet but one squirt of soap is enough for next time.”

“Ohh-kay.”

Eddie dries her hands, her arms, and kisses her cheek. “Good morning.”

“Yes! Good morning!” she says back, turning in his arms for a hug.

Eddie pulls her up into his chest. “Listen, me and Y/N have agreed to be stuck together today,” he whispers.

“Are you not stuck together most of the time?” she asks.

You laugh again. “We are.”

Eddie hikes her up onto his hip and drags you in on his other side. This is how you stay for much of the day, hip to hip, hands intertwined. You sit in thankfully dry pyjamas around the kitchen table eating dinner with your chairs unreasonably close together, Roan included. Eddie doesn’t find it suffocating for even a moment. This is how he likes it, his girls, their quirks, and a salad absolutely loaded with roasted bacon bits.

“Yum,” Roan says as she grabs a cherry tomato off of his plate.

Eddie squirms at her. “Not cool, babe.”

You drop two of your tomatoes onto his plate. Roan steals another one as he leans down to give you a thank you kiss, but it’s fine. She giggles as she eats it.

Eddie goes princess style with it and cups the back of your head to feel you smiling into his lips. “Sick of me yet?” he asks.

You murmur a sweet no and close your eyes again. Eddie kisses you quick and pulls you in for a hug, ignoring the fork in your hand.

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leighsartworks216 · 9 months

Text

For A Cuddle?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Wrote this this morning bc the brainrot is real

Warnings: mentions of dried blood, referenced blood drinking and hunting

Word Count: 535

Masterlist

AO3

You're so tired. Your eyelids droop, almost fluttering shut, before you blink them open once more. It's late at night. You haven't slept at all. You certainly could, if you allowed yourself to give in to the warm embrace of dreams. But you didn't.

Astarion went out to hunt a while ago, and hasn't come back yet. This was completely normal. Sometimes he'd be out all night and only come back in the wee hours of the morning. Other times he was gone for just a few hours. You don't recall when exactly he left - so you can't really tell if it's been a couple hours or several. All you know is you feel wrong laying in your bedroll without him. There is an emptiness that could only be filled by him.

You were so tired - you didn't need him to be there to sleep. You could sleep now. And tomorrow you could ask him to lay with you until you fell asleep, before he goes hunting. But tomorrow was so far away. You wanted him beside you now.

"Still awake, darling?" Had you been more lucid, his voice would have startled you. He'd have laughed and remarked on your lackluster performance as a lookout. "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

You hummed noncommittally, rolling over toward the sound of his voice. He was kneeling by your bedroll. It was extremely reminiscent of the time he tried to sneak a bite. Now you freely allowed him a drink whenever he wanted it. "S'waiting for you," you murmur. He almost can't make out the words.

"Why is that?" he asks softly. His voice is so nice... His hand brushes through your hair. "Why did you stay up, my dear?"

"Lay with me?" It's almost a whimper. A plea.

He huffs a laugh. "You stayed up for a cuddle?"

You nod, leaning into his fingers as they gently detangle knots and massage your scalp. "Please?"

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He watches you force your eyes open repeatedly, trying to keep them trained on his face even as exhaustion blurred his features into a pale blob. Every time he runs his fingers from the crown of your head to the nape of your neck, they fall shut just a little longer. When he's quiet for too long, lost in studying your face, you make a sort of whining noise and reach clumsily for him. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

"Calm down, love, I'll stay."

You watch as best you can as he shuffles to lay down beside you. Before he can get fully comfortable, you're pressing your face into his neck and wrapping your arms around him. You don't complain when he continues to shift and get settled in. Once he does, however, he can feel your body fall slack in his arms. Your breath evens out against his neck; your heart slows to a steady thrum.

He presses a kiss to your head. Your hair is greasy, with flecks of dried blood scattered throughout, and you didn't smell too pleasant either. But you were soft and warm, and he couldn't find it in himself to care otherwise.

"Sweet dreams, my love."

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #second person pov #pov second person #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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weasleyreidstyles · 6 months

Text

Serendipity

chapter two

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. All characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): slight mind manipulation?

series masterlist; previous part; next part

At some point during the feast, you managed to sneak your way onto the Gryffindor table, sliding into the seat beside Ginny, who was sat with Dean Thomas to her other side, who shifted uncomfortably everytime Ron glared at the hand that was grazing his sister's.

"Nice face, Harold." you say sarcastically. "Who healed the break? It looks rushed."

"Thanks Meadow." he snarks before deflating further in his seat as your eyes tracked him for more injuries. "Tonks walked me from the train."

You hummed in acknowledgment before you went over the unhealed scabs and dried patches of blood with wordless spells which always left your friends marvelling at your skill.

"There. Now your face is pretty as ever." you say smirking, patting Harry's cheek which he swats away. "Can't have the 'Chosen One' at his worst now, can we?"

"Piss off." he grumbled but it was only banter between two friends.

"How are you, really, Harry? Where'd you disappear to on the train." you wanted to hear him say it, even if you did trust Theo's word.

"I was right about Malfoy-" he starts before you interrupt him.

"So I've heard. You've taken up stalking as a hobby now, Potter? That's low." you chuckle, which turns into a full on laugh as he glares at you, annoyed.

"He's a Death Eater." he lowers his voice, but his admission sucks the happiness right out of the air. "He was talking about some task that Voldemort has for him."

He pauses as if his mind is trying to catch up with the words tumbling from his mouth, before he looks directly at you, as if he's staring through you.

"You've seen Nott today right? And Parkinson?" you nodded. "What did they talk about? Did Nott talk about his father being caught at the Ministry? Or did-"

You raised a singular brow at your friend as if to say 'are you finished?'.

"Yes I saw them today, in the Prefects' carriage. We just caught up with small talk and some gossip about some Hufflepuff couple. Nothing more." the lie was quickly thought out and also not too far fetched �� Pansy had mentioned something about a new couple in passing before you'd parted ways on the train.

"Nothing about tasks or creepy shops?" Ron asked as he shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. You watched him, discust painting your features.

"Nothing about tasks, and certainly nothing about creepy shops. Please chew with your mouth closed, Ronald. Seriously Harry? Stalking?"

He only shrugged at you before turning to his plate of food. He was clearly put out about something and you would bet all your galleons that it had to do with the couple next to you, who were being nauseating, to put it lightly.

You and Hermione giggled as Ron muttered about his sister and her boyfriend showing any ounce of affection in front of him, sharing a glance as Harry continued to glance at them before looking away, visibly annoyed.

When Dumbledore began to stand in front of the House tables, you slipped back into your seat beside Luna; in the corner of your eye you watched as Theo gave you the subtlest of nods.

"The very best of evenings to you!" Dumbledore announced, smiling broadly, his arms outstretched wide as if he were embracing the whole room. That's when you, and the rest of the Hogwarts student body, noticed that his right hand appeared to have started decaying at a rapid rate.

You made eye contact with Pansy who looked as horrified as everyone else.

What the fuck? She practically screamed into your mind as the sound of people whispering swept through the hall.

Dumbledore merely smiled before he shook the sleeve of his purple and gold cloak over his hand.

"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now...to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you..."

You drowned out the rest of his speech, like you do every year, instead conversing with Pansy in your head.

It looks like his hand has physically died. You say to her. It's got to be dark magic of some sort.

But what business does Dumbledore have messing with that sort of evil? She sounded as nauseated as you felt just thinking about it.

"We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn-" Dumbledore said, prompting the man that you had yet to meet to stand up. "-is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."

You swivelled in your seat to find Hermione in the crowds and mouthed 'potions?' to her with confusion written all over your face.

The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.

"But if he's the Potions Professor, then who will be teaching Defence?" Cho spoke from across the table.

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Well that answered that question.

"No!" you giggled quietly with Luna as everyone's heads swivelled back and forth between Harry, who had shouted so loudly but didn't seem to care, Snape and Dumbledore.

And suddenly Defence is my least favourite subject. Theo spoke, making you choke on your drink as you laugh.

As if oblivious to the uproar his announcement just caused, Dumbledore waited only a few moments before the hall descended into silence once more, before continuing his long winded speech.

"Now as everyone in this Hall is aware," he pointedly looked anywhere but in the direction of the Slytherin table, "Lord Voldemort and his followers once again walk among us and gain strength and numbers everyday."

Suddenly the heads that were staring in Harry's direction turned pointedly to where Mattheo Riddle and his friends were sitting. Instead of shying away from their gazes, like Pansy and Daphne Greengrass and few others did, he continued to stare ahead at Dumbledore, seemingly unbothered by the attention he was garnering.

The silence seemed to strain painfully as Dumbledore spoke. But you seemed to zone out of what he was saying. Something about the castle's protection wards being fortified and strengthened; extra security; stricter curfew at night, etc. You took in none of it, instead focusing on your friends at the Slytherin table, who grew paler by the second. You'd watch out for them this year, especially Theo. None of them deserved to be put into the position they no doubt would all be in, come Christmas time.

Dumbledore's blue twinkling eyes swept over the students once more. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

Your lessons tomorrow.

You wished it was as simple as school work, but you knew it would be anything but.

~∞~

You woke up early the next morning, the anticipation for what the day may bring making your anxiety skyrocket as you got ready to leave for the Great Hall, in which the ceiling sported a brilliantly blue sky, only a few clouds dotting the illusion. You met the Golden trio there, who were busy discussing Harry's theory about Malfoy.

"Well obviously Riddle's already inducted." Ron muttered as you sat down, a speck of blue, in a sea of red. "He is his father's son, after all."

"Still going on your Malfoy-is-a-death eater spiel? The day has hardly begun." you said as you piled scrambled eggs onto a plate, ignoring the pointed look that Professor Mcgonagall gave you as she handed out her House's timetables.

Ron seemed to be getting more agitated by the second as another group of third years on the table beside your's pointed between the four of you and whispered, not so discreetly, about what happened in June.

"It's rude to point." he snapped, sending a glare their way, causing them to turn around, cheeks painted with embarrassment.

"So sixth year looks very bare in comparison to last year, doesn't it." you say, steering Ron's glare from the backs of their heads while you looked over his timetable.

"I love being a sixth year already." Ron said, his mood brightening visibly thanks to your interference. "And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up in the common room and relax."

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" Hermione berated as you laughed.

"Yeah, but not today," said Ron, "today's going to be a real doss, I reckon."

"I wouldn't speak too soon, Ronald." you say with a smirk as Professor Mcgonagall makes her way over to the four of you. You'd already gotten your timetable the from Professor Flitwick that morning and found out that you were in the same classes as Hermione. You both finished off your plates and left Harry and Ron in favour of getting to Ancient Runes, where Theo and Riddle were waiting for you.

Reaching the classroom, you spotted Theo immediately and went to snag the seat beside him, but Pansy beat you to it with a playful smirk.

"Come and sit by me, Princess." you glared at your two friends as you turned around to find Riddle with his arm stretched over the back of the spare seat of his desk. "I don't bite."

"Somehow I highly doubt that." you mumbled as you searched for Hermione, who had chosen to sit near the front of the room, the seat beside her already taken. Traitor. She only looked at you apologetically before turning around.

You slumped into the seat, pointedly ignoring him as you took out your things. You could hear Theo and Pansy laughing at your expense so you sent a small stinging jinx wandlessly their way, smirking when they yelped in surprise.

"Smart girl." Riddle mumbled to himself, probably not intending for you to hear, but your cheeks flushed all the same.

"So was Theo lying about your disastrous ability to desipher runes, or was that just a way to get me to agree for your...help?" you ask, still choosing to igore him.

"Oh I assure you I'm quite terrible, Princess. Awful. In fact I'm not sure how I got back into this class, if I'm being entirely honest." he said it with a shrug before he smirked at you again. "I'm sure you can help me. You are top of the class, after all."

"Actually Mione was top of the class at the end of last year. Why not ask her?" you ask, glancing at him through the corner of your eye. He had turned to look directly at you, but his hand was still on the back of your chair.

You try, and fail, to push it off, sneering at the muscular appendage in offence. Damn him and his strong, quidditch arms.

"Theodore doesn't trust Granger, he trusts you. Therefore, I'm putting my trust into your...abilities to help me out."

Lovely. His words carried a double meaning. You were really considering hexing Theo and Pansy again for putting you in this situation.

His huff of laughter along with the burning pinch at the base of your skull were the only indications that he'd heard your thoughts.

After Defence, wait for me so that we can discuss the nature of your lessons and my apparent tutlage.

You ignored him for the rest of the lesson, but wordlessly agreed, nonetheless.

~∞~

You were complaining to Hermione the whole walk to the Defence classroom, and while she was amused, there was underlying worry in her responses.

"So he wants you to tutor him?" she asks curiously.

"Not a clue why." you say flipantly. "If I was him I'd much rather you taught me."

"Well I am a muggleborn, for starters." she says self-depricatingly and continues speaking, not allowing you to rebute her statement. "And you're still at the top of the class. Christ, you can do most spells non-verbally and wandlessly, far better than I can. I think I'd rather you than me, too. No offence."

You only smiled sarcastically at her. "I don't think anyone would willingly tutor him. Perhaps I should bargain a favour with him instead."

You left out the part where he was already fulfilling a kind of favour, for Theodore and Pansy, no less.

"One class in and my shoulders already ache." you whine as you rolled your shoulder to ease the pain that your heavy bag was causing. Harry and Ron met you outside the classroom a moment later, staring, horrified, at Hermione's armful of heavy books.

"We've gotten so much homework for Runes already." she said anxiously. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations and we've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Now I see why we have so many frees this year." you grumble.

"Shame," Ron said with a yawn, before smirking at the two of you.

"Just you wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

The classroom door opened as she spoke and Snape stepped into the corridor, his sallow face framed as ever by two curtains of greasy black hair. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," he said.

The Defence classroom was gloomier than ever, but thankfully it was no longer sickeningly pink and filled to the brim with plates of cat photos. The dark curtains were drawn across the windows and the only light came from the numerous candles that dotted the room, insighting a headache when you tried to read the blackboard. Snape's personality appeared to shine all over the room, from the odd portraits to the weird contraptions that littered the space.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair. "I wish to speak to you and I require your fullest attention. You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe."

His dark, beady eyes scanned the room.

"Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced." he set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a low voice that you desperately wanted to drown out. But the burning sensation at the back of your skill prohibited you from doing just that.

No. Pay attention. Riddle was becoming a thorn in your side, and its only the first day.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster. Each time a neck is severed, it sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Someone read up on their Greek mythology this summer. You say to Theo, who smirks behind his hand.

"Your defences," Snape continued, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the Arts you seek to undo. These pictures," he indicated a few of them as he swept past, "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse-" he waved a hand towards a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony; "-feel the Dementor's Kiss-" a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed slumped against a wall; "-or provoke the aggression of the Inferius." a bloody mass upon the ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" Parvati Patil asked in a high-pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," said Snape, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now..."

You really did drown him out this time. Thinking about his wording. To your knowledge, only his followed gave him the name 'the Dark Lord', so why was Snape using that name? You filed away the information as he paced across the classroom.

"....you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of non-verbal spells. What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, pointledly looking in your direction where your hands stayed glued to your sides, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well – Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," she stated, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 6," said Snape dismissively. "But correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some," his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry, "lack."

The Professor's beady eyes landed on you once more, a challenge present in them.

"Miss Meadow, come up to the front." everyone's eyes were on you as he beckoned you forward, so you obeyed. "I want you to demonstrate this skill. On me." He motioned for you to stand on one side of the room, while he stayed at the other.

You shook off your limps and, using your wand rather than just doing it wandlessly, you shot out a disarming spell, which Snape blocked.

"Good. Now try again." he said as he shot his own disarming spell at you, which you wordlessly blocked with a flick of your wand.

This back and forth continued for five or so more minutes before Snape managed to catch you off guard and disarm you with a minute flick of his wrist.

"Very good. Now following that example, you will divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on."

People paired off, you choosing to partner with Mione who looked determined to perfect this new skill. Everyone who was part of the DA in the previous year were practically experts at casting spells, but none of them, bar you, could perform the Charms wordlessly. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued; many people were merely whispering the incantation instead of saying it aloud, including Ron, which only made you laugh as you watched as Harry blocked his every attack.

Of course, Hermione had gotten the hang of it within ten minutes of practice, as did Theo and Zabini and Riddle. Harry and Ron were still struggling, along with Pansy and Lorenzo.

To say you were bored was an understatement. Snape had already known that you were skilled with wordless and apparently wandless magic too, which meant that he could clearly see into your mind – yet another reason why Riddle needed to teach you control. The only other interesting thing to happen was Harry blatently sassing your Professor, which left you and Hermione gaping and Ron, Dean and Seamus grinning at him.

Once the lesson had ended, Snape in a more abysmal mood than usual after Harry made a fool out of him, you lingered in the corridor, waiting for Riddle to leave so that you could get the interaction over with.

"Hey Meadow! You coming?" Ron asked loudly from the end of the hallway. He looked at you with an odd expression on his face which morphed into unwilling understanding when you felt Theo's presence beside you.

"I'll be there in a bit. I'll meet you in the courtyard." you shout back as you turn towards Theo and his friends.

"Some lesson that was, right tesoro?" Theo asks you as he wraps a strong arm around your shoulder, steering you in the direction of the rest of his group, who were looking between you, Theo and Mattheo with matching expressions on their faces.

"What the hell is she doing here, Nott?" Malfoy asks, looking at you with distain. You glared back at him, about to respond when his familiar deep voice answers instead.

"She's here for me." Riddle says. "Go on ahead. I won't be a moment."

Its Zabini who steers Malfoy away from his glaring contest with you, and Theo who wordlessly wishes you luck with a pat to the top of your head.

"So you're going to teach me control?" you ask as you lean against the nearest wall. He rolls his eyes and wraps a giant hand around your wrist.

"Yes." he hissed. "But not here. How stupid are you? Talking about it out in the open, by a classroom, nonetheless."

Your eyes only widened in mild surprise as he began dragging you down the corridor in the direction that his friends went, but he turned into an empty broom cupboard instead.

"Salazar, if you wanted to get me alone like this there were far better ways of asking Riddle." you say sarcastically, but your eyes show a teasing challenge as you stare up at him.

"Was that an offer, Princess?" he asks with that wicked smirk of his.

"Read the room, Riddle. I'd rather sleep with a troll." you snark.

"Suit yourself." he chuckles before his face sets into that serious look he seems to have mastered in his years at Hogwarts. "The first step to learning full control is learning how to ground yourself."

You look at him expectantly which made him roll is eyes.

"You have to find a happy medium in your head that allows you to keep control of what you don't want people to see, and who you let into your head." he explains motioning to his own head as he speaks.

"So that horrible burning feeling in the back of my skull whenever you get in my head-" you begin.

"Is only there because it lets you know that someone unwanted is using Occlimency on you. The fact that you can't block me out is what we need to work on. Does the same happen with Theodore and Pansy when you communicate with them?"

"No. They're presence is wanted. Yours," you trail your eyes up and down what you can see of his tall frame in the dark, "is not."

"Well until you do accept me in your subconscious, it'll continue to hurt and it'll hurt more when you're trying to block it out." he says and to demonstrate he begins rifling through your thoughts and feelings with little to no effort, that burning sensation appearing like a pinch once again. You cradle you head in your hands, a cry escaping your lips.

Walking to the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, anxiety knawing at your insides.

Harry's Malfoy-is-a-death-eater spiel.

Your mini-dual with Snape.

How you want Riddle to rip your clothes right off your body and have him take you-

That wasn't right. You managed to mentally push him right out of your mind with more effort than you reckon it would take for you to haul a quaffle into the goal. It made your head ache.

"What the fuck was that?!" you snap, hitting his arm.

"You're a fast learner. Well done. It takes most people multiple sessions to do what you just did." he looks...proud. It stirs something strange in your gut.

"What did I just do?" you asked, intrigued, scared, confused.

"You just succeeded in blocking me out of your head." he smirked lightly, almost showing a ghost of a smile.

We're going to have lots of fun, Princess.

He was still in your head. His deep voice filling every corner of your mind, but that burning sensation was no longer present. It no longer stung and he was no longer able to rifle through your thoughts. Only converse with you, like you could with Theo and Pansy.

"We'll do this twice a week, until you can block me out without thinking about it." he said as he walked towards the door, leaving you standing motionlessly in the dark.

~∞~

icl the whole plot of this is heavily inspired by my beloved xaden and violet's bond with all their mind talking and arguing🤭🤭 (minus the dragons, etc)

#mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x you #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #professor snape #ravenclaw x slytherin #serendipity series

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lowkeyerror · 26 days

Text

The Family Business Ch.12

WandaNat x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Ch. Notes: It's a converstion so dialouge heavy, non-sexual nudity

Summary: Natasha and Wanda reveal their feelings.

An: Ok... ok late again, but tell me it's not worth the wait. (Please don't) Hopefully you love it because it's 2:25am but I'm still doing this for yall and yes if everything goes right new ch. on Monday

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Wanda couldn’t look at you when she was speaking. You could see she was trying to find the words, but you didn’t know how to help her.

Natasha knowing what her wife is trying to say tries to take over.

“ Before I met you I was a little jealous. Seeing the love of my life light up talking about someone who was quite literally thousands of miles away, was a hard pill to swallow. I haven’t known you as long as Wanda, but I can see now why she had always spoken so highly of you.”

You want to interrupt the red head and say anything back to her, but you don’t. They had said they wanted to tell you everything before you spoke so you intended to let them.

“When Papa sent me away, I resented him for it. It was a great opportunity and a show of good faith, but I was angry with him because I didn’t want to leave you here. I thought we had grown quite close, little krolik. You were the best part of all my days. So much so that even thousands of miles away I couldn’t shut up about you. Even after I fell in love, you’d always find a way into my mind,” Wanda plays with her wedding ring as she speaks.

You look between the two woman silently urging them to continue.

“I’ve been many places, lived many lives, and have met many people, but I've never met anyone like you. There’s this light inside you that you keep so close to your chest. I can feel it behind all the walls you put up. I see it in how intensely you care about your family and I admire it. I admire you,” Natasha isn’t scared to take your hand in hers.

Wanda continues, “It’s hard not to admire you. If Natasha has seen it in these few months, it’s safe to say I’ve always seen it. I saw it before you put all these walls up, when you let it be known to everyone. I think that’s what startled me so much when I came home. I felt like a soldier come home from war to see his home was no longer his.”

The woman begins to get emotional. You reach out your other hand for her to take, not knowing what else to do.

“When I saw Wanda interact with you for the first time, I felt something. It wasn’t jealousy or hatred or anything like that. It was this overwhelming warmth. Seeing her hold you as if you’d disappear, seeing her smile as big as our wedding day, it made me happy,” Natasha recounts.

Wanda sighs, “When we were in my old room at the dinner I was terrified. I thought you were going to tell me the same thing everyone else had when it came to you, but you didn’t. You held me, dried my tears, and I think things really started to fall into place for me then.”

“I met Wanda when she was technically on a job. She was leading and in charge of operations. I had seen her get angry or upset on multiple occasions, but I don’t know if I ever saw her as mad as that night. I could almost see the steam coming out of her ears when she had Pietro against the wall. As far as I knew, I was the only one who could calm her down, but then you did it like it was second nature.”

You speak quietly, “She’s always had a temper.”

You think the woman will roll her eyes, but she doesn’t, “I have and you have always been there to calm me down. I don’t know how to say this, Y/n. When I met you, you were just my little brother’s best friend, but then you became my friend and then a part of my family. You were so delicate back then, you weren’t even 18 for Christ sake.”

Natasha tries to help her wife find her bearings, “But by the time she left you were 22 and you had grown into a young woman.”

Wanda shakes her head a bit, “You had done a lot of growing, that I didn't want to see, that I was trying to ignore because I didn’t want you to think that I had intentions of taking advantage of you. I felt like at the time I was too old, you were too young, and we were too close.”

You look at her with confusion on your face. There’s only one thing that she could be talking about in your mind, but this can’t be happening.

“What are you saying Wanda?”

For the first time in the conversation her eyes meet yours. You see the fear in them, the uncertainty, the desperation. Her hand let’s go of yours and finds itself on her bouncing knee.

“I don't want to ruin this and I'm so scared of losing you, but if you would’ve died in that alley not knowing that I’m in love with you it would’ve destroyed me.”

You feel your heart beating against your chest. Your mouth opens and closes a few times as you try to find your voice. You find yourself stuttering for the first time in years, “Y-you w-what?”

Wanda stands abruptly trying to run from the conversation. This makes you panic and try to stand as well. However, you forget about your ankle and yelp at the weight you put on it.

Wanda’s arms are quick to steady you before you do anymore damage to yourself. She’s close to you and you swear you can hear her heartbeat.

“D-did you s-ay-” you give up frustrated with your reappearing stutter.

Wanda’s grip on you tightens slightly, “I’m in love with you.”

“Wanda I- you’re married,” you look back at Natasha only to find her staring at you.

She stands from her place on the couch, and closes the gap between the two of you.

“I have my own feelings for you Y/n,” Natasha is confident as she speaks.

Her assertion makes you turn red, “Y-you also?”

Natasha smiles sweetly, “Maybe not love just yet, but I could see myself falling for you.”

This situation was short-circuiting your brain, it felt like you were dreaming. This couldn’t be real. As you stood between the two woman it felt like less of a dream.

“I loved you before they sent you away,” you blurt out to your friend’s sister.

Once you start it’s like the words just pour out of your mouth, “You were way out of my league. You’re still out of my league, I mean does it get more taboo than falling for your best friend’s older sister. You’re just so easy to love, but I never thought I had a chance and then you came back with a wife; a very beautiful, very intelligent, ex-Russian spy of a wife, and I just knew I didn’t have a chance.”

“The chance is now. Admittedly, we don’t know how something like this works, but I think we can figure it out together,” Wanda levels with you.

“If you're interested,” Natasha adds on, leaving the ball in your court.

“It would’ve been nice if you guys had told me before I got a cut on my lip. I could’ve done the whole dramatic kiss to cut you off,” you tease them.

Wanda rolls her eyes, “If I could shove you and you wouldn’t fall over, I would.”

“You talk to every woman you’re in love with like that?”

Natasha chimes in, “You get used to it after awhile.”

You share a laugh and when it dies down Wanda speaks, “So we’re doing this?”

“I want to try, but I don’t want to ruin your marriage,” you speak honestly.

“You won’t,” Natasha declares with certainty.

“How do you know?”

She thinks for a moment, “The love Wanda and I have for each other is endless, I’ve never for a moment thought anything could break it up. We’re not changing the way we love each other, we’re just adding you into the already existing dynamic. Eventually it should end with the three of us loving each other endlessly. Does that make sense?”

You nod slowly, “It sounds perfect.”

Natasha places a kiss on your cheek like it’s second nature to her, “Good.”

Your ears heat at the contact and before you can respond Wanda places a light kiss at the corner of your lips.

The movement leaves you wanting more. Against better judgement you try to lean down and kiss her. You succeed in placing your lips against hers for a brief second but as you pull away you almost fall again.

Natasha is the one to steady you this time. She teases you, “Someone is eager?”

“My ankle doesn’t want me to be great.” you pout.

Natasha hesitates, but delicately she touches her lips to yours. It’s as quick as your attempt at kissing Wanda.

“Your ankle won’t stop us, bunny,” Wanda looks at you with shining eyes.

Your face heats at the nickname that’s only familiar to you in the woman’s native language. The women chuckle at the pigment of your skin.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when my lips don’t hurt and I can kiss you properly,” you try once again standing on your own.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Wanda lets her eyes fall to your lips.

You roll your eyes, “Stop teasing, and help me get ready for bed. This has simultaneously been one of the best and one of the most painful days of my life. Truly unforgettable.”

Natasha speaks first, “I’ll get some stuff ready for a shower.”

“I’ll help you to the bathroom,” Wanda finishes.

It’s an all too similar feeling as you find yourself perched on the bathroom counter with Wanda standing between your legs.

Her fingers play with the end of your shirt. She looks at you for permission and you give her a light nod.

Slowly as to not aggravate your injuries she takes your shirt off. She’s careful as she unwraps the bandages from your torso.

“You’ll need help in there,” she speaks softly as her eyes scan your body.

“I know,” the pain starts to catch up with you.

Leaning forward slightly you rest your head on her shoulder. She smells good and it calms your nerves.

Wanda can’t help herself as she speaks up, “Isn’t this a familiar scene?”

You raise your head off of her shoulder and smile, “It’s ringing a few bells.”

Natasha enters the restroom with some towels and pajamas, “I’m going to get some food going, if you guys are alright in here?”

Wanda nods, “I’ve got her, Nat.”

Natasha nods and proceeds to exit the bathroom, “Just holler if you need me.”

Wanda steps away from you to turn the shower on. She’s back in front of you in no time.

“How do you want to do this?”

You feel nerves as you speak, but you try to sound objective, “I think you should join me. Not because I want to see you, not that I don’t want to see you. Its just I can’t really stand and-”

She quiets you down by pulling her own shirt over her head. Her feet pad against the bathroom floor as she makes her way back over to you. Wanda’s hands place themselves on the top of your pants. Her movements are slow but sure as she begins to pull them down. She takes extra care when they're around your ankle.

Once they’re off she takes a step back swiftly removing her own pants. The only thing left on both of you is your underwear.

The sound of the shower rings heavily in your ears as you watch Wanda take her bra off. You can’t move even if you want to. Your eyes glance over her chest before following her hands path lower. She’s not teasing as she removes her panties.

Once again you find yourself with her standing between your legs, but this time there was significantly less fabric in the way. She reaches behind you back to place her hands on your bra clasp.

“Y/n, do you mind if-"

“Take it off,” you finish for her.

She does as you say, a shaky breath releases from her. Your bra falls off your shoulder, but you keep looking in her eyes. Her hand slides down from your back and her finger hooks around your underwear.

“Take it off,” you repeat in a hushed tone.

She follows your instructions. Her eyes snap back to yours. The two of you stare in silence. There’s an underlying tenderness to the moment.

Wanda’s hand reach for your waist, “Ready?”

You nod and she assists you off of the counter. The water hits your skin and you sigh. You enjoy the heat against your bruised skin. Wanda’s hands stay in place for a moment just keeping you steady.

It's a silent delicacy as Wanda soaps up a towel and begins to gently clean your skin. You marvel at the lightness of her touch.

She turns you around so you face her. You look down at her and can’t help but brush your nose against hers. You hear her breath hitch. Carefully you use your hand to guide her’s across your body.

Neither of you dwell as she cleans every inch of you intimately. You lean against the shower wall a bit so Wanda has room to wash herself. You take in the details of her body as she cleans herself.

She gets out first and then helps you put the pajamas laid out for you on before dressing herself.

“I love you,” you say it easily when everything is done.

Wanda places a kiss on your forehead, “I love you too.”

Wanda helps you to the kitchen table. Your eyes find Natasha moving about in the kitchen.

“Almost done, I know you’re tired lisichka. We can eat then get in the bed,” Natasha speaks to you.

“Thanks Natty,” you look at her with your hand on your chin.

“Did you re-wrap her torso detka?” Natasha asks her wife.

Wanda snaps her fingers, “I knew I forgot something.”

“Take over here, and I’ll do it?”

Wanda agrees to these terms. Natasha goes to fetch the medical wrap and quickly returns. You’re sitting down, so Natasha kneels to be level with your torso.

Carefully with tentative hands, she lifts up your shirt. Her hand finds the small of your back, to encourage you to sit straight. You follow her instructions.

“Tell me if it’s too tight, okay?”

You’re looking down into her eyes and you momentarily get lost in them. The hues of green draw you in like emeralds.

“Baby,” she says again a little more firm.

You snap out of it and nod, “I’ll tell you if it’s too tight.”

She brings the wrap around your torso multiple times, each time looking for any extensive discomfort in your expression.

When she’s done with your torso, she quickly does your ankle. Your ankle was more sensitive, so she made sure to be extra gentle.

“All set, lisichka,” the woman places a kiss on your forehead as she stands up.

“Food is ready,” Wanda announces bringing plates for the three of you to table.

At this point exhaustion was knocking at your door. You eat in comfortable silence and once you’re finished, they help you to bed.

When your head hits the pillow, you almost fall asleep instantly.

“If I didn’t want to kill him for what he did to my father, I’d kill him for this,” Wanda says to her wife.

“The men involved have been dealt with already,” Natasha relies to her Wanda.

“You work fast malyshka,” Wanda places her hands on Natasha’s hips.

Natasha looks at your sleeping figure, “I’d move at the speed of light for either of you.”

Natasha ends her statement by kissing Wanda.

“I love you,” Wanda pulls the woman closer to her.

Natasha smiles pecking the woman’s lips once more, “I love you too.”

The two of them climb into the bed, making sure to give you adequate space due to your injuries.

“Why does this already feel so natural?” Wanda questions.

Natasha answers instantly, “It’s just meant to be like this. This feels like the final piece to our little puzzle."

Wanda was more than content with that answer, closing her eyes, unable to fight rest.

Somewhat like before, but entirely different at the same time, the three women lay together.

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#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #wandanat x reader #the family business

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