#the brain fog is fighting me every step of the way but I will WIN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rcksmith · 3 years

Text

Lust — Kaz Brekker

Gif by @kitsyoung

Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”

“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”

“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”

Smut prompts:

1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”

6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”

17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”

33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”

36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“

73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”

76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.

Word count: 5k

A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.

Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️

— — — — —

There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.

And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.

From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.

Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.

Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.

All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.

He was your kryptonite. In all senses.

And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.

Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.

Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:

I know the perverted things that you are thinking.

And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.

It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.

If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.

Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.

It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.

On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.

He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.

Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.

Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.

His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.

But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.

Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.

"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.

To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.

“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.

Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.

Good!

“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.

“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.

“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.

You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.

He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.

“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.

“I'll driver you.”

His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.

You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.

Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.

Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!

Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.

Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.

At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.

“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.

He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.

“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.

However, you didn't make things any easier for him.

"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."

Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.

Mine.

“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.

“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”

Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.

“James?”

“Yeah, the blond guy who…”

"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."

The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.

“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.

The grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.

Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.

He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.

The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.

He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.

The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.

Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.

You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.

His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.

Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:

“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”

It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.

In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.

“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.

Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.

"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.

"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.

You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.

The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.

Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:

"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."

The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.

In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.

“Please.” You beg.

Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.

You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.

“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."

You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:

"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.

You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.

"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.

Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.

“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.

"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."

But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.

“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”

His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.

"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."

"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.

"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.

"Yes, S-sir."

"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."

Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.

His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.

Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.

Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.

Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.

"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.

You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.

"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."

Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.

"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.

"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."

The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.

A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.

"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.

In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.

"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.

You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.

"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.

You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.

“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.

He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.

Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”

You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.

“Yours”

You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.

“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.

so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O

#kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x kruge #kaz brekker au #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker could break my legs with his cane and i would say thank you #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #shadow and bone smut #inejgayfa #jesper fahey #kaz x jesper

2K notes · View notes

harry-writings · 3 years

Text

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her.

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

#harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #IM EARLY I KNOW IM SORRY BUT I FINISHED SOONER THAN EXPECTED #WHOOP WHOOP #LOVE YALL

819 notes · View notes

elephart-hi · 3 years

Text

Worthy of a Queen | Jurdan Canon Compliant AU

AU: Jude decided to take Cardan in small doses during The Wicked King. Lovers AU

Summary: Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain.

~~~

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions.

Jude had underestimated Cardan. She got her prize, she had won the battle, but he was going to win the war. With that miserable thought in mind and her pride boiling with anger she spat out her response, “fuck you.”

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

Rating: M is for mature and mad filthy (but ends sweetly) (I try to trick ya in the beginning bare with it)

AN: This is my first ever fic!!!! And of course, it's Jurdan and of course, it's smut. No one is surprised. Shout out to Amber and Hannah for being my beta readers and convincing me to post this. And shout out to @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 who's beautiful writing made me go fuck it and sit down and write something myself which I've always wanted to do, so thank you keep being wonderful.

Please let me know what y'all think! I have ideas for a whole fic for this so if you want that tell me.

Inspired by these sketches and this

set during the Wicked King

warnings: hair pulling, spanking, and light bondage

AO3

As she lay sprawled out on her hands and knees, dirty, sweaty, and out of breath, it was clear to Jude Duerte that pride was her hamartia. She could have everything that she needed if she would only concede but stubbornly she refused to. Her pride wouldn't allow it, no matter how desperate she was.

Instead of the glory, she assumed she would achieve that night she lay there pathetically at his mercy. Something she deeply detested. She detested it almost as much as the smirk she could practically hear on his full lips as an infuriatingly cocky laugh rumbled out from deep in his throat. A laugh that had her toes curling and her seeing red and seething. Just as most things that came from his lips did.

Jude gritted her teeth together as she futilely attempted once more to get him to relent but the ironclad grip on her hair did not loosen and she was met with another rumble of laughter followed by a resonating smack of skin against skin. Her cheek stung from the impact and the slap made her burn red hot. The blow would surely bruise.

She hated him for this. Absolutely loathed him for it. She could easily beat him in a fight, have him on his back with a knife to his throat in less than ten seconds if she wanted. He knew that as much as she did. He probably relished in the knowledge of it, of having her here like this when she could easily best him. But she couldn’t now. Not if she wanted what she came for. Tonight her only option of getting what she needed would be to play nice. Something she was not fond of nor good at. Something that she absolutely did not want to do. Jude wanted nothing more than to make him see red as she did at that moment.

In her anger and frustration, Jude let his name snarled from her lips, “Enough of your stupid games Cardan” she nearly spat the last syllable out.

She was met with another slap, its impact sent her reeling with a groan slipping from her mouth. She hated to give away that his blow affected her at all; that groan was a loss for her. He hummed at the sound she made. Satisfied that her patience was running thin. Happy that he was getting to her. He knew he was winning. He gripped her hair tighter, tugging her head back and her lips pulled into a sneer. She could hear that fucking smirk again as he murmured into her ear with the buttery voice of a lover, “What games do you speak of my darling Jude?”

She struggled again but to no avail. The ‘my darling’ getting to her just like he knew it would. Oh, it made her burn. “You know what I’m speaking of!”

All that he smugly replied with was “Do I?” a small quip from his devastating lips.

She knew he was toying with her. Responding with questions to avoid having to speak in truths. A common trick of the fae used to deceive those around them. But Jude was having none of it.

“Give me what I want, Cardan!” it was a vicious snarl from her lips. He stilled completely at it and she knew it had been a mistake to let her temper fly. She knew he would only give her what she craved if she played by his rules and losing this prize was not an option for her. She couldn’t afford it. Jude was absolutely desperate.

He leaned in close to her ear once more and in a hushed whisper that sent a shiver, not unlike a premonition, down her spine and said, “all you have to do is ask Jude. But make it pretty, befitting of the king of fairy,” his words were an infuriating echo of what he had said to her not so long ago at the summer tournament after she had bested him in the war games. He had gripped her hair like this then too. But Jude doubted she would best him tonight.

She hated it. She hated him for this.

“Go fuck yourself,” she spat at him. He gripped her hair painfully tight this time and slapped her ass harder than he had before. The combination left a series of moans spilling out of her.

He drank up her cries like it was the fine wine they had drunk from the bottle which sat empty next to their dinner on the discarded tray situated on his bed next to them. The gaudy fabric of the comforter cushioned both of their knees, his tucked under and between hers, forcing her legs to be spread wide for him.

“But then I’d have to stop fucking you, my sweet nightmare. And I know neither one of us would want that” he looked down to where he was buried to the hilt in her, still and unmoving. His free hand massaging her red and sore butt cheeks that were bruising from his earlier abuse.

“Especially not after you were dressed up so divinely for me tonight. That dress was just begging to come off wasn’t it?” He hummed as his free hand went from massaging her sore bum to teasing her right above the nub between her thighs. So close to where she desperately needed him to be but giving her no reprieve and only making her more desperate. Jude bit her lip, refusing to respond, her stubbornness digging its heels in, so Cardan continued on.

“I could tell how wound up you were when you showed up here. With a pretty blush already on your breasts and the sweet scent of your arousal coming from your skirts with every step you took towards me.” The dress in question laid discarded on the floor beside his own clothes. It had been raven-black to match his hair, hugged her curves and muscles like a second skin, and was dangerously low cut. Definitely not her usual attire, definitely wasn't subtle Jude realized with embarrassment. Both of their wardrobes had been removed in haste not far into their dinner. The buttons of Cardan’s ridiculous blouse scattered the tiles beneath the bed, having been ripped from the fabric as Jude rushed to undress him in her lustful frenzy.

“So unusually kind of you to bring dinner and wine for me, to ask to eat in my company. I know it was all just an act to get me to fuck you, Jude. The least you could do for me is beg for it,” he whispered dangerously, his voice thick with his arousal.

Jude flushed again, this time in shame from his words. That he truly thought it out of her character to be kind. It was true of course. Jude wasn’t a very kind person, not after what she had lived through. But for some reason that was beyond her, she wanted him to think highly of her. She wanted him to think she was kind. And most bizarre of all, she wanted to be kind to him. Perhaps fairyland was driving her mortal mind mad after all.

“It wasn’t just to get you to bed me Cardan,” Jude answered ashamed of how breathy it came out, ashamed of what she was about to say, “I did want to enjoy your company tonight. I brought you dinner and wine because I thought it would make you happy.”

Jude would be damned before she begged him or anyone for anything. But if he wanted sweet words from her she would give it to him at this point. His free hands had moved upwards from tracing around her clit and had gone to circle her breasts. From time to time he would give them a brutal squeeze. More taunting but no release. Jude was a bundle of nerves wound up painfully tight. She needed her prize and she would be getting it if it was the last thing she did. She just wouldn’t beg for it.

To her surprise, he landed another searing smack to her backside sending her sliding forward and had him pulling her back onto his cock by her hair. Jude’s toes curled on the mattress, more moans spilling from her lips. She was beyond keeping them in at this point, the wine they had drunk making her dizzy, or perhaps it was just him doing that. The lust fogged her brain more than the alcohol did. She tried to slide forward again so she could push back onto his delicious length, rock hard and throbbing within her, but he held her hair tight, keeping her in place. Still no release in sight.

“Dirty mortal liar” Cardan spat at her, not believing her wishes to make him happy. Landing another brutal blow on her bum. Cardan had confessed to Jude in the court of shadows that he was no killer, but that didn’t take away from his cruel nature. He wasn't being gentle with her. Jude didn’t want him to be.

The spanking was a mercy compared to the torture he had been forcing her to endure. The sharp slaps gave her friction and reprieve from his cold refusal to please her in the ways she craved. And now because of her earlier outbursts, he remained buried in her gut unmoving and wouldn't move an inch till she begged him to. Before at least he had been in motion albeit it being painfully slow. Sliding in and out of her aching core, still slick and throbbing from his earlier ministrations with his mouth. He had spent longer feasting on her than he had on his meal, now cold and forgotten. He had tortured her with his tongue, bringing her to the edge of precipice but never allowing her to tumble over the peak into blissful oblivion.

She thought he would finally give her release when he slid his gloriously thick length inside of her but still he only taunted her. Slowly he would slide in and out of her, mocking her with what she was desperate for. He would pull out to his tip, her hair locked in his ringed hand keeping her in place while he eased back into her wetness at a punishingly slow pace. All the while knowing she was desperate for more. Each strike to her ass had been a godsend, pumping red hot arousal to her system while his little endearments, ‘my Jude’, ‘my sweet nightmare’ spurred her on. Cardan knew she secretly loved to hear them. Knew she loved hearing him call her ‘his’. Knew it made her think of all the things he could do to claim her as his; with his hands, mouth, and cock.

But they were far too alike the two of them, Cardan as prideful and stubborn as she. Jude could feel him pulsing inside her. A pounding throb in time with his heartbeat. She knew it had to be painful at this point, he was torturing himself as much as he was her. But that was part of the thrill for him. He loved the powerplay, loved toying. He wanted to come out on top; Jude couldn’t let him.

“I may be a liar Cardan but I didn’t just then. I want to make you happy.” Jude was panting as she spoke. She would never live this down. She couldn’t bring herself to care though. It was the truth. She wanted it as much as she wanted him at that moment. She hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt of tricking him into the crown and chaining him to the throne as well as her command. She wanted to see a smile on his face rather than the sneer that lived there most days, as breathtaking as he was with either. Jude wanted Cardan to be happy and she wanted to be the one to make him feel that way. Especially after she was the source of his misery. Although it wasn’t as though he hadn’t been the source for much of hers in the past. That alone was the only thing that kept her from begging him to give her what she so desired. That she was horny enough to even consider begging him, if he was deserving of it, was something she didn't want to think too much about.

“If you wanted to make me happy Jude,” he said her name like a curse, his frustration with her stubbornness evident, ”you would beg for me.”

She felt a ghost of a touch tickle against her arm then flee away an instant later. She peeked down as much as she could with Cardan pulling her head back like he was. Below, his tail was coiling and uncoiling. Whipping back and forth sporadically. Like a cat’s would while it attacked its prey. Before, he had the laziness of a cat who had caught a mouse; a cat that was toying its food before devouring it. Now he was agitated and ready to strike. Jude could use that.

At her refusal to respond to him Cardan tisked and lamented “well if you have nothing to ask of me, my goddess of death, then I suppose we are done here.”

He started to pull out of her as though he meant to leave her there as a panting, aching, mess with no release in sight. Her prize to be lost. She felt his tail whisper next to her arm again, just as he slid his tip out, and with the desperation of a mouse fleeing its captor, Jude latched onto his tail and ripped him back, slamming his raging length deep into her. Hard. The cross between a groan and a whimper that escaped from his lips, and the toe-curling feeling of him slamming into her made her mad with desperation and giddy with power. Jude wasn't the mouse anymore. She was a lioness; she was going to feed.

“You’ll do well to remember who put that crown on your head, My King. Begging is out of the question and will be until you are worthy of it,” she purred at him. “As your sechel, I’d advise you to please me and do it well. But, and more importantly,” she said as sweet as the fruit of the everapple tree, “As the Queen of Shadows and master of your fate I demand you do it,” she finished with a smirk, using the word ‘demand’ instead of ‘command’, so there was no true magical power over him to do so.

“And Cardan,” She said glancing over her shoulder, his grip on her hair had gone slack enough for her to do so from his shock at her actions and words, “Do make it worthy of a Queen.”

Her bravo started to wear off as the giddiness faded. It was in that moment, staring into the Achingly beautiful face of the High King, whose midnight black orbs burned like fire threatening to consume her that Jude realized her mistake. From the look of the wickedly sinister grin on his sinful lips, Jude knew would be getting her prize after all… and then some. Cardan had been playing nice until now, in hopes she would be nice in turn to him. Now that he knew there would be no such thing he was more than willing to unleash himself on her relentlessly.

What a fool she had been to forget one of the first rules of fairyland: Be careful what you wish for.

Jude would be lucky to be able to sit down or move for the next week without being sore if their last row together was any indication of how the rest of the evening would play out.

Cardan’s grip on her hair tightened again and used his free hand to trace a single finger up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps flying in its wake. He pulled her up against his chest by her hair. Her head resting on his shoulder now, breasts pushed out to the world and peeking from the chill in the room brought on by his change in mood. Being the High King gave Cardan control over the weather and such things; no more nice Cardan who gave her sweet endearment, this was the Cardan she was most familiar with, his face the picture of icy rage.

Her breath plumed in clouds from the frigid temperature and ruffled the raven black hair sticking to the sweat on his brow. She shivered from the cold. He was so devastatingly beautiful like this it made her head spin. The sneer on his face made her toes curl knowing she was the one who had put it there.

His voice was murderous as he murmured, “Give me back my tail.”

Her grip on the thing tightened as it tried to lash out of her grip. His tone only stoked the fire burning in her gut, the heat fighting the chill of the room.

She felt the giddiness bubble up in her again, the same feeling of fear mixed with excitement that she got when she taunted him at school. The feeling of taking a dare.

“Fuck me like you were told princeling and perhaps I will,” she referred to him by the same mocking title his late siblings would call him by, all of them being more than a hundred years his senior and already have established roles in the kingdom, while he was hardly 19 and had still been in school with no real power. She was deliberately placing him beneath her by calling herself a queen and him only a boy prince, despite him being two years her senior. She felt the smugness tugging her lips when she heard his breath come out ragged and slow. He was going to great lengths to keep his temper in check, still not wanting to let her win. But Jude could taste her victory, her toes curled and her gut tingled with sharp electricity boiling there. An almost hysterical laugh bubbled up her throat, knowing that her next words would send him over the edge.

“Or perhaps you don’t know how to please a woman, hmmm?? Were all those ballads about you being a good lover just pixie dust in the breeze? Maybe the musicians of the court were just flattering you so that the fine people of fairy would think that you were actually good for something.”

It was an obvious lie and they both knew it, Cardan has had her screaming his name, soaking the sheets, and has made her a blubbering mess, nothing more than putty in his arms, much to her own shame. But the lie was an insult to his manhood nonetheless. He would have to fuck her senseless now, his honor and pride would demand it.

His grip on her hair tightened as the room rapidly started to heat back up, getting hotter by the second. Cardan was pissed now. He used his free hand to trace the curves of her body following his hand with his deadly stare. He took in every inch of her, from the blush on her cheeks that burned so bright it went straight down her neck and chest and spotted across her full breasts which were heavy and aching from her arousal. He took in Jude’s toned stomach and muscular thighs appraising them as though they were one of the powders he frequently took as though he hadn't had a dose in far too long and was itching for it. There was a furious hunger in that gaze. The stare of a recovering alcoholic glaring at the bottle before he dived to the bottom of it. Furious for even wanting it, furious for going back to it, furious for having said no to it for so long when it felt so right. He was going to give into Jude even if she didn’t beg him for it. He was pissed about it.

His tracing hand slowly inched towards the numb of nerves between Jude’s thighs, her hair tugged back on his shoulder allowed him to hear the airy sigh that befell her lips, tickling his hair. Her airy moan sounded like one someone would heave when they stepped into a steaming bath after a long day of hard work, easing their aching muscles. That wouldn't do at all. There would be no easing for her. If she wanted to step in that tub then Cardan was going to shove her in and force her head under the water and keep it there till she was thrashing for air. If she wouldn't beg him to start, then she would have to beg him to stop.

Cardan leaned in and whispered to her ear, using all of his willpower to keep his temper in check, “Fitting for a Queen you said hmm,” the words sent shivers running down her spine, had her walls clenching around his cock that was still buried in her, to her great dismay still not in motion.

Cardan paused to take a breath and for a moment the whole room stilled as though his magic had quieted the very air around them, as if the whole kingdom was tingling in anticipation, silently waiting to see what happened next. Even the roaring fire that was crackling in its hearth just seconds prior didn’t dare to make a sound, lest it invokes the wrath of the wicked king. The only noise was Jude’s ragged breathing in eerie contrast.

Cardan’s words eased out in his exhale, resembling the sickening woop in the stomach one gets when falling from large heights, “How's this for fitting?”

Jude’s eyes were blown wide and then forced tightly shut as he unleashed himself onto her. The sounds of the room roaring back to life around them were completely lost to her as the brutally aching bliss filled her to the brim. The sensations were overpowering her, overwhelming her senses after being denied it for so long. The feeling of his length filling her to the brim combined with his sinful hands, one tugging her hair the other rubbing her nub; It was too much. Cardan’s hand was brutal in its attack on her clit, rubbing her relentlessly right where she wanted it, just the way she liked it.

The act alone was more than enough and already toying her towards the edge of release. Cardan knew Jude’s body far too well. He had spent plenty of time tracking all her tells, tracking every breath she took while she lay beneath him from the first moment she welcomed him into her bed. His dark hungry eyes always locked on her taking everything in. Cardan was a fantastic lover not just because he knew how to please any woman who passed his way, but because he went to lengths to perfect his craft for those who stayed.

Jude realized with no little shame that he had been saying something to her but she had missed it because of the roaring in her ear. Her cheeks went impossibly pinker when she realized it hadn't been roaring, but her own moaning. She hadn't even realized she was doing it so overcome by her arousal after being denied all night. She glanced up at him and all she could stupidly say was, “huh?”

He barked a laugh, his head thrown back; he loved making her like this. Knocking Ms. Know-it-all off her pedestal, making her dumb-founded and drooling. Such a sharp contrast to her usual stoic demeanor. He leaned down close to her face, slowly licked up the dribble of spit hanging from the corner of her mouth. Then with a wicked smirk on his sinful face, one that promised nothing but trouble, he went to her ear and snickered, “you’re as soaked for me as you were when I shoved you into that river mortal.”

As he said it he rubbed her just so, sending her shuddering relentlessly into an orgasm around his unmoving cock. The orgasm shattered her mind and made her see white, then instantly red from the fury his word sent her into. She hated that he made her come while he said that. Knew he had done it on purpose to piss her off. Knew it was the damning truth since no lie could fall from his fairy lips. Bliss, anger, and shame all swelled within her swirling together and muddling her mind in ways fairy fruit never could. Jude felt as though she might fade into the very magic of fairyland at that moment for surely if one could be magic itself, this would be how they always felt.

Jude couldn’t even get a word in back at him for what he said because he slammed his mouth against hers before she could recover enough to form a coherent sentence; licking and drinking up her moans like it was his only purpose in life. His other hand moved from restraining her hair and wrapped around her middle, pinning the arm holding his tail to her side in an ironclad hold and pinning her body against chest; his hand reaching up to attack her breasts. Switching back and forth between one and the other, he would alternate massaging and pinching her nipples with painful precision. His other hand was still working her clit sending her rolling from one orgasm into the next. The combination of it all was so overwhelming she cried out into his mouth as she squirted all over his hands, soaking their legs and the sheets beneath them. Jude was awash with shame and bliss, leaning her full weight on him to remain upright. He hadn’t even begun to fuck her properly yet, Cardan was still buried within her throbbing painfully from denying himself and she was already a stupid mess in his arms. The shit-eating smirk on his face told her that he was thinking the same thing.

Jude was a fool for try to best Cardan here. She may be a cunning spy and a swords master but the bedroom and lovemaking was his domain. Her legs quivered beneath her, hands limp at her side. Cardan released his hold on her, sending her falling ungracefully forward onto her chest and face. He laughed at her mockingly, “and now the sheets are nearly as soaked as your clothes were that day.”

Jude’s blood boiled and she wanted to turn around and slap him. But as she went to move she found herself unable to. While she hadn’t been looking, brain hazy from her orgasms, the roots from the tree atop the hill had curled their way down the bedposts and snaked their way across the sheets wrapping around her wrists binding her in place. Another display of his kingly magic. Jude tried to figure where she went wrong, one moment she was the one with power and now here she was again, completely at his mercy and more so than before. The answer to her question flicked back and forth in the periphery of her vision, his tail moving again like a lazy cat playing a game it knew it was going to win. He had made her come so hard she completely lost her senses and touched the stars and managed to release her one and only advantage.

“Thank you for returning my tail to me sweet Jude,” he said, noting her coming to this realization. His hand returned to her hair pulling her head back as much as he could while her hands were bound. He shifted, leaning forward shifting his body causing his cock to finally move within her once more; it was enough to make her lose a breathy moan. Oh! The frustration she felt with herself! She was a fool for him and it was humiliating. His other hand went back to massaging her bruised bum as he chuckled darkly behind her.

“Shall we continue?” he asked in a voice of innocence that certainly seemed akin to lying with how far innocence was from his intentions. Jude was still miserably horny, and not even the two earth-shattering orgasms he had given her were able to satiate her need after all the torture he had put her through earlier. She craved him desperately but her wounded pride couldn't bear to ask him to go on. She tried to shift her bum against his length again, the same attempts she had earlier, knowing it was just as futile now as it had been before. He laughed at her, slamming his palm hard against her ass just as he had done each time before.

“Excuse me, your majesty,” he purred, mocking her for calling herself a queen while pumping into her once, twice. Teasing her, making her nails dig into the bound palms of her hands in ecstasy, “I believe I asked you a question, my queen.”

Another endearment. Him calling her his. His queen. She squirmed again, willing him to please her but he held fast.

“Last chance Jude,” he murmured in her ear, leaning all the way forward so his cocked filled her completely, “Beg for mercy and I’ll give it to you,” the smirk was as present as ever in his infuriatingly sexy voice.

Cardan’s chuckle was dark and dangerous as he said, “with pleasure.”

He slammed into her unrelenting: brutal and hard. Jude was going to have to skip training tomorrow because of this, her body would be too sore. She hated missing training and it made her furious at him. Perhaps she just liked being made at him, she thought as he hit her spot over and over again making her see spots. She went to bury her moans and cries in the covers, still damp beneath them from when she squirted, but he pulled her hair back forcing her to cry out into the room for him to hear.

“Moan for me Queen Jude,” he gruffed out viciously, riled up and ravenous after having to wait so long himself to have her, “let me hear how worthy this fucking is of you hmm.. this is what you wanted wasn't it? A good fucking? It's what you came here for.”

He was relentless, Jude was biting her lip trying hard to not give him what he wanted. The wet sloppy sound of their bodies joining together echoed in the room in time with the slapping of his pelvis against her ass. It was debauched to hear how sinfully wet she was for him, the wet slapping making it painfully evident just how ‘worthy’ his fucking was. She groaned through her teeth and he yanked her hair hard forcing her mouth open. Her moans came spilling out, pitching each time he thrust his body into hers.

Cardan was groaning with her now. He was getting close if his sporadic thrusts were any indicator. The knowledge that he was getting off to her made her walls clench around him and her toes curl in pleasure, forcing a groan from deep in his throat to spill out. It was otherworldly, doing this with him, so many emotions, sensations, and feelings all swirling together in a messy lustful haze that left them rutting like savage dogs by the end of the night. They hated each other, didn't they? How could they keep coming back to each other like this? Why did this feel so right?

He pulled her hair back hard making her back bend almost painfully towards him, her wrists straining against the vines that bound her; training was definitely out of the question this week. She could see his face now, brows pinched, eyes dark, sweat dripping off of him while his mouth hung open. He was devastatingly gorgeous like this. He leaned down and kissed her as he landed three sharp blows to her ass with his other hand as he pounded into her relentlessly. She squirted again seeing stars as another orgasm ran through her. He smiled a brilliant smile down at her for it. So beautiful that she all but forgot her pride existed as she said breathily, “I didn’t come here just to fuck you Cardan, I swear it,” blush burning her cheeks at her confession, “I wanted to make you happy.”

She felt emotions shining on her face, ones she always buried but she didn’t mind it. Jude was mad with pleasure, drunk on his kiss, his scent, and sensations. Jude was drunk on him. Caution was lost to her.

Cardan’s eyes went wide at her words and he released her hair suddenly. A swear was a serious thing in Fairy especially one made to the high king. The vines receded from restraining her and he unsheathed himself from her aching core. She was met with a jolt of horror at what she had done, what she had said, in fear that she had upset him.

The panic was quickly replaced by confusion as he rolled her onto her back with tender hands and then leaned above her positioning himself between her legs with one arm bracing beside her head while his other hand came up to tenderly caressing her cheek. His cock was positioned right before her entrance, leaking with precum. He clearly had stopped right before his climax. What on earth compelled him to do such a thing?

“Is that the truth?” he said in a breathy whisper, chest still heaving from their wild fuckings, still trying to catch his breath.

All Jude could manage was a small nod.

His eyes searched hers, looking for something. Jude didn’t know if he found what he was looking for but after a moment he slowly slid into her again staring into her eyes. She wanted to look away, his gaze was too much as he slowly and sweetly slid their bodies together, again and again. He was being tender with not a rush in the world. A different kind of fire started building within her. Instead of a burning inferno like earlier, this one was the slow-burning of water set to boil. His dark gaze was searching, consuming. His beautiful face slack in awe as he looked at her.

“Beautiful,” he murmured like wonder spilling out of him. Jude snapped her eyes shut to it, to what she felt. She felt naked for the first time today despite having been freed of her clothing for the better part of two hours now. The way he was holding her, the way their bodies slid together, it terrified her, the emotions it stirred up. He cooed at her then, fingers caressing her cheek, “Jude,” he said sweetly, “look at me Jude, it's okay.”

She scrunched her eyes shut further at his words. He stilled, pulling away from her. He heaved a sigh, that sounded so much like hurt and disappointment. Quickly, shyly her hand reached out to the ringed one on her cheek just as it went to pull away. Softly Jude said, “Please-- Please don’t stop.”

Jude mustered all the courage she had, reached into the well of fearlessness she had obtained from living in fairyland, and opened her eyes. Dark pools the color of midnight stared back at her, full of swimming emotion. It was overwhelming, confusing. She wished she knew what he was thinking, wished she knew if this meant something. There was so much fear in her and she knew he could see it all on her face. She was so scared of this, “Please Cardan, keep going. Please. I-- I beg you.”

The smile that graced his shocked face was beautiful and hesitant like the one someone might make if they thought something was too good to be true. She shocked herself with the plea, she had never thought she could long for someone the way that she did at that moment. She wished she knew what he was thinking. She peeked to his tail in hope of gaining some insight, but it was wrapped around her calf, the furred tip seemed to be caressing her. She looked back up at him. Cardan was smirking, but it wasn't mocking, it seemed… endearing almost. But that couldn’t be. He clearly knew why Jude looked at his tail, knowing she liked keeping an eye on it because it made him easier to read. The crinkles beneath his eyes gave away happiness and his smirk tugged into a dazzling smile.

Jude’s heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. He ran his hand down from her cheek to her chest, feeling how fast it was pounding. His smile only grew, as he leaned down and nuzzled his nose against hers. Jude let loose a breath she didn't know she had been holding, it came spilling out of her like an airy laugh, her lashes fluttering at his closeness. He was being so sweet, it threw her off guard. She peeked into his eyes once more, she didn't really know what she was looking for in them. But she knew what she did not find there: his arrogance, his cruelty, and his wickedness.

There in his dark eyes, she saw something she didn't understand yet. Saw something shining there that she knew reflected back in her own. Confusion mingled with an emotion she had never known before. She realized she didn't understand a lot of things, about life, fairyland, and him. From the look in his eyes, she realized she didn't need to understand everything. And with that realization, she wasn't afraid anymore. She peered into his eyes unabashedly now, Belkin’s words from in the Isle of the Forgotten rang in her head:

“to mortals, the feeling of falling in love is similar to the feeling of fear.”

But what do mortals feel when they stop falling. What happens when they were wholly in love.

Jude didn’t know, and she didn’t care to know. She didn’t need to understand everything, she didn’t need to understand what she felt. She needed to just feel it.

If nothing else, Jude felt safe here in Cardan’s arms. A feeling that she had long grown unaccustomed to thanks to the cruelty of her life. She looked at the man before her, so similar to yet so strikingly different from the boy he was under Belkin’s thumb. This was a man who she wanted to make happy. And despite his uncanny ability to frustrate her, he had the uncanny ability to make her happy as well. He made her forget her pride and she made him forget his own. Neither caring who came out on top anymore. Maybe it was just the sex, maybe it was something more. She didn’t know and somehow that was fine.

With those thoughts singing in her head, Jude Duerte leaned up and kissed Cardan Greenbriar soft and slow, allowing all the things she kept buried within her to come pouring out. Allowing all the things she didn’t understand to pour out with it because perhaps Cardan didn’t understand it either. Perhaps they could learn to understand it together.

So that night, Jude waved the white flag and she made love to the King of Fairy.

341 notes · View notes

pregnant-piggy · 3 years

Text

I don’t wanna be your ex

James Potter x slytherin!reader

words: 6.5k

A/N: it was so weird to write this as i usually write people falling in love, but this was almost the complete opposite. Reader is a Slytherin beater and i’ve kept them gender neurtal. I hope you’ll like it!

Request: can u pls do a blurb for James Potter based on the song EX by Kiana Ledé or if thats kinda too much a headcanon of how him and a slytherin quidditch beater started dating? @artemis1orion

based on EX by Kiana Ledé

James drummed his fingers on the wooden table top in a non-existing beat while his eyes scanned the full Great Hall around him. Thoughts were racing through his head, leaving his mind before he had even had a chance to find their meaning. His foot was bouncing uncontrollably under the table; he couldn’t stop it.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Just a week ago everything had been fine. There had been nothing to plague James’ mind, nothing that could distract him from the game today.

As his eyes glanced over the excited students around him, James wondered where it had gone wrong. Had it been off the entire time or had something changed? Was it his fault? In all honesty, he hadn’t seen it coming—to him everything had seemed perfectly fine.

James’ eyes locked on the person he had been trying to avoid and yet find. It had only been a week, but it had felt so strange. All that had grown familiar on him was suddenly ripped from his life.

You were seated at the Slytherin table in your quidditch uniform, the green and silver clashing with James’ red and golden one. In your hand was a cup with steaming hot tea. Probably green tea, James figured, the only one he didn’t like. You laughed and your nose scrunched up a little. Even from so far away James could hear your chortle, or he imagined it.

It had seemed like such an odd couple, the Slytherin and the Gryffindor. The green beater and the red chaser. Silver and gold. Never in his whole life, James had thought that he would fall for a person from the house he had sworn to be his enemy on the moment he stepped foot in Hogwarts.

But nothing had stopped him. He had fallen fast and hard, so afraid that he would hit the ground and shatter. You had brought feelings up in him that he hadn’t felt before, feelings that he was terrified of.

After a month of careful flirting and awkward situations, you kissed him. Without any warning you had pressed your lips on James’, that typical laugh of you still echoing in his ears as he answered your kiss by entangling his fingers in your hair.

Happy and merry had started in that moment and they hadn’t left James for a long time. Wherever he went, you were there supporting him; if not physical then mentally. There was an imprint of you in James’ mind. The sound of your voice was nestled in every corner of his brain and now he tried to fight it.

Because you weren’t his anymore. He wasn’t yours.

You had said that you had seen it coming from afar, like a dark cloud of thunder in the blue sky on a summer’s day. Fog had formed around the two of you, hiding one from the other. So with little words and meaningless promises an end had been put to the ‘us’.

But that end wasn’t as easy as James had thought it to be. For so long you had been there with him, that life without you seemed dull. The sun was never shining and rain always threatened to fall. However, James couldn’t ask you to come back. He didn’t even want that, that he was sure of. Time with you had been great, but you were his ex now and he had no intention to change that.

‘You nervous?’ Sirius asked as he slumped down on the wooden bench next to him, ripping James’ attention away from you.

‘Nah,’ James lied while his stomach made a turn as he tried to take a bite from his breakfast. His gaze wandered off to the Slytherin table again and he left his fork untouched on the side of his plate. Sirius seemed to notice who his friend was looking at and he sighed as he moved a little closer to James, so no one would hear them.

‘Just talk to them, if you want so bad. You don’t have to get back together or anything, but just talk,’ Sirius said, receiving a huff from James.

‘Why would I talk to them? They broke up with me,’ James said as he ripped his gaze from you and turned to Sirius.

‘Yeah, but didn’t you promise you’d still be friends?’ Sirius pointed out, as he nonchalantly played with his pumpkin juice while eyeing James.

James barked a short humourless laugh and shook his head. ‘Of course I said that—that’s what everyone says when they’re breaking up!’

‘So you’re just never gonna…?’

‘No, I really don’t see the point,’ James shrugged and he returned to his breakfast.

‘That’s too bad,’ Sirius muttered, while he waved at Remus and Peter, who just entered the Great Hall to wish James luck before the game. ‘They were neat.’

James grumbled something and his eyes found your figure back. His conversation with Sirius had made him think. He had indeed promised you to stay friends, but you sure knew that that was just something he had said to make the situation a little less uncomfortable. Surely, you didn’t actually expect him to be friends after you had broken up?

Tearing his stare from you, James focused on his friends instead. Peter was rummaging through his bag to find something and Remus was calmly trying to eat his breakfast while Sirius kept tormenting him with pleads for help on the History of Magic essay. It took five minutes and the promise that Sirius would leave him be for the rest of the day for Remus to give in and Sirius was smirking as he dramatically threw his arms around Remus’ neck and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

‘Alright, alright,’ Remus mumbled, pushing Sirius away. ‘Now bugger off and let me eat my breakfast.’

Sirius let go of Remus and turned to James, who had till thus far been watching his friends with a faint smile on his lips. Sirius asked something about the strategy James had come up with to win this game from the Slytherins and as James dove with his pre-game nerves into a rant about how his beater had to clear the way for the chasers, Sirius’ eyes shifted to a spot above James’ shoulder. By the time James had realised it was too late for him to get out of the situation and he heard your enthusiastic voice.

‘Hey guys, what’s up?’ you said as you stood behind James, who kept his face at his plate. There was an awkward second as the three others looked from you at James and back, but Remus was quick to dismiss James’ distant behaviour and he smiled at you.

‘Not much here. Nervous for the game?’

James didn’t need to see your face to know exactly how you were feeling. He had been by your side for so many games. He knew that you were in fact nervous but would never admit it to anyone. Instead you would laugh everything away and pretend you were super excited.

‘No, not really. We’ve had a lot of practice this season. And having spent so much time with James I know exactly what his team will do,’ you chuckled.

The boys laughed softly and another silence followed in which you got called by your teammates. James dared to turn his head a little to look at them and felt some sort of anger towards them, even though his logic told him that they had done nothing wrong.

‘Well, I should go,’ you said and it was silent as James felt all eyes on him. But he didn’t react and he heard a little sigh from you. ‘I’ll see you around.’

Remus and Sirius waved after you and Peter wished you good luck, while you ran after the other Slytherins out of the Great Hall. James watched as you disappeared, glancing once over your shoulder back at the boys. When your eyes met his, you raised your eyebrows at him, but he averted his eyes.

‘Well, that was rude,’ Remus said, looking past Sirius to James. ‘Why did you ignore them?’

‘Because we broke up! Do I have to explain it to everyone? They’re my ex, why should I be friends with them?’

-- - --

The quidditch stadium filled with students, as you waited in the changing room with the rest of your team. For some reason you felt more nervous for this game than you had ever been for any other game. It felt like more was at stake than just the quidditch cup this time.

You were hurt by James’ sudden cold demeanour towards you. Hadn’t you agreed to stay friends?

The time you had been with James had been amazing, but after a while you had realised that it was going nowhere. It felt like the relationship wasn’t moving forward anymore, you were stuck in the same place and that had started to grow uncomfortable on you. If you weren’t dating to go somewhere, you were dating for heartbreak and to spare the both of you pain you had called an end to it.

You had thought that it was a mutual decision, but James had been avoiding you all week and now you were doubting. Maybe he was more hurt than you thought he was or maybe he just didn’t care for you now you weren’t dating anymore.

That last one hurt but you feared that it was the true one. James wasn’t interested in just the platonic side of you. But you wouldn’t give up that easily. You still had Sirius, Remus and Peter as friends and surely James would come around after a while.

As the sounds of the students in the stands got louder, your teammates got a little more restless. Your team captain, Lucinda Talkalot, stood up and she paced up and down in the room, silently repeating her strategy.

‘Just… make sure we win, okay?’ Lucinda said and she stopped walking to look at everyone shortly. ‘We can’t lose from Gryffindor again.’

Next to you, the other Beater of your team, Michael Bennett, hummed in agreement, undoubtedly thinking back of the last time Gryffindor played against Slytherin and your team lost with a pathetic difference of two hundred points, because Michael was just a second too late with his Bludger. No one in the team blamed him for it, but he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty.

The Slytherin quidditch team existed of two girls and four boys besides you. Captain of your team was Talkalot, a sixth year. She was the team’s Keeper. The three Chasers were Javier Flores, Nerida Cooper and Rohan Alves. Nerida was in your year; Javier and Rohan were both fourth years. You and Michael were the Beaters of the team and Kevin Fox, only a second year, was Seeker.

While other houses laughed at Lucinda’s choice for Fox as the Seeker, she believed he was exactly what the team had needed after the last team captain had graduated and left the team lost. And she had been right, so far Slytherin had won from Hufflepuff after an astonishing short game in which Fox caught the Snitch within fifteen minutes.

The stadium full of students silenced slowly and at the sound of madam Hooch’s whistle, the quidditch team left the changing room. In a line you walked onto the green grass of the quidditch stadium and stood and turned towards the Gryffindor team.

You stood in front of the Gryffindor’s Beater, Cillian Martin, a short seventh year with ash blond hair, but you looked at James who stood opposite of Talkalot. Even from far away where you were standing you could feel the determination radiate from James and you realised that this would be a difficult game.

The Gryffindor team was just as your own team very skilled. You hated to admit it, but James had done a great job putting his team together. Idris Smith, the Keeper, had been in his position since his second year and it was almost impossible to get any balls past him. His sister, Abby Smith, was Chaser along with Crawford and James himself. The two Beaters, Martin and Trevino, were actually quite pleasant guys and always in for a friendly game if you asked them—you and Michael had had some fun times practising with them. Gryffindor’s Seeker was Hana Viotto, a sweet girl who wasn’t afraid to completely demolish you on the quidditch pit.

‘Shake hands,’ Hooch said and Lucinda gave James a short handshake and a nod while he stared coldly at her.

You looked away from the two team captains and nodded politely at Martin before you swung your leg over your broom. The stadium around you was completely silent for a moment and you wiggled your eyebrows at Nerida, who giggled softly. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the game started.

Pushing your broom off the ground you lifted in the air, your bat loosely in your hand as you looked around at the field. Immediately you recognised James’ setup, with two Chasers at the Slytherin side of the field and his Seeker high in the sky, scanning the field from above.

‘And the game is on!’ the commentator screamed through the quidditch pit. ‘The Quaffle is in hands of Slytherin, they’re off to a great start! Cooper has it in hands, throws it at Alves. Alves catches—owh, that must hurt!’

You looked over your shoulder at Alves, who was gasping for air and reaching for his stomach, dropping the Quaffle that got caught by Gryffindor’s Chaser, Smith. Behind you, you heard a snigger from Trevino and when you looked angry at him, he shrugged.

‘Captain’s orders,’ he said as he flew past you.

‘Gryffindor still has the Quaffle, but Smith’s being chased by a Bludger! Dive, girl, dive!’

You quickly flew to the other side of the field, zigzagging through the other players and turned around with your bat ready for action. Just as you had predicted a Bludger was flying your way. Throwing all your weight behind your swing, you hit the Bludger and sent it towards Smith, who still was in the possession of the ball. The Bludger didn’t hit her, but did force her to move away, giving Cooper and Flores a chance to catch up with her.

‘Nice job!’ Lucinda yelled at you from her position at the goal posts. You shot her a thumbs-up and flew to the middle of the field, trying to send as many Bludgers as you could towards your opponents.

‘Gryffindor has lost the ball! Potter makes an attempt to get the Quaffle from Flores and, well surely that must be a foul. We look at the referee and… yes, one penalty for Slytherin!’

Nerida took the ball back from James, who was starting to looked more cross with the minute, and flew to the central circle, waiting for madam Hooch’s whistle. At the high-pitched sound, Nerida stormed forwards and threw the Quaffle in the left goal, unleashing loud cheering from the Slytherins in the stands.

‘And we’re back to the game. It is a constant battle for possession. Bludgers are flying around, knocking people off their brooms. Smith saves! Crawford has the Quaffle, he gets hit by Y/L/N’s Bludger, Flores has the ball, Alves, Cooper, back to Alves, Flores again! That’s some nice team play from the Slytherins! Must be Talkalot’s new strategy. Quaffle is in the Gryffindor scoring area, Flores shoots and… he scores! It’s now twenty to zero for Slytherin, but we’ve only just started…’

The longer the game lasted, the more intense everyone got. Gryffindor made another two fouls, but so did your team. Twenty minutes and three penalties later, the score was 60 to 50 for the Slytherins, but where you were getting more tired, it seemed like the Gryffindors were gaining energy.

After half an hour of violently flying back and forth the quidditch pit, Lucinda called for a time-out. Hooch accepted and her whistle stopped the match for a minute.

‘They’re good,’ Rohan panted as you were huddled together at the goal posts.

‘They are indeed,’ Lucinda said and she shot a suspicious look towards the other team.

‘Potter must have given them a motivational speech or something,’ Nerida mumbled as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. You looked at James and the angry expression on his face. Something told you that he ignoring you this morning had something to do with the way he was scanning the quidditch field right now.

‘Kevin, it is crucial that you find the Snitch,’ Lucinda said. ‘I don’t know how much longer we can hold it.’

‘I’m trying,’ Kevin sighed and his eyes glanced quickly over the pit.

Madam Hooch whistled again and the game started again. The short time-out had given you some time to catch your breath and you were filled with energy and determination as you flew back to your position in the middle of the field, ready to hit whatever was coming your way.

The next fifteen minutes were filled with bat sweeping and Quaffle and Bludgers flying closely past your head. Twice you had to dive away to not get hit and once you were nearly knocked over by Crawford, as they tried to escape the Quaffle coming their way.

‘It’s currently 90 to 80 for Gryffindor and we’re forty-five minutes into the match! Smith has the ball, she’s making her way to Talkalot, throws, but oh! Talkalot blocks it with her foot. Pure luck or good skill? The Quaffle is back in the centre in hands of Alves. Bennett sends a Bludger to keep Potter away but he misses and almost knocks his own teammate off their broom! Alves is getting closer to the goal posts, will this be 90 to 90? He shoots and… Smith can’t hold it! It’s tied again! Surely the Seekers must have caught a glimpse of the Snitch by now.’

Yet it took another ten minutes before one of the Seekers finally made a move and by that time it was 130 to 120 for Slytherin. Viotto suddenly dove to the ground and Kevin quickly went after her. The game stocked for a minute as everyone held their breath. Viotto and Fox were battling for a head position in the race after the Snitch.

You held your broom still in the sky and squeezed your eyes to look at Kevin’s little figure. Whispering encouraging words, you focused on the two Seekers, forgetting that there was another game going on around you. The Quaffle lay in Flores’ hands motionless, but the Bludgers were still flying around.

‘Y/N! Watch out!’ Michael screamed at you.

A Bludger was coming at you with incredible speed and your only chance to escape it was to throw your broom to the side, nearly colliding with James, who happened to be right in that spot. You sighed relieved at escaping the Bludger and possibly a night at the infirmary, but your relieve soon disappeared.

‘Gryffindor catches the Snitch! Gryffindor has won! With 270 points to a mere 130 from the Slytherins, the Gryffindor team has won!’

The Gryffindors on the stands erupted in loud cheering, while the Slytherins groaned collectively. You understood their disappointment; not only had Slytherin lost from Gryffindor again, they had lost with a difference of 140 points and that wouldn’t do well on the leader board.

You turned to James, who now had a big smile on his face, and wanted to congratulate him, but when he looked at you, he quickly flew away. With an open mouth you watched after him and felt the pain combined with the sadness of losing spreading through your body.

Defeated in all ways, you followed your team to the changing rooms and prepared for a night of silence in the Slytherin common room.

-- - --

Loud laughter echoed off the walls of the lavatories on the ground floor as James and Peter watched Sirius trying to climb out of the stall they had locked him in. It was almost after curfew, but Sirius had insisted they’d go past the bathroom on their way to the common room. Now wasn’t it really a problem to wander the halls after curfew, but to not do something to Sirius felt like a missed opportunity to James.

‘Just let me out, you idiots,’ Sirius whined.

‘I don’t know, should we, Wormtail?’

Peter, however, was too busy laughing to answer James. Sirius tried again to climb over the door of the stall, but his feet slipped and with a sigh he landed back on the floor.

James, out of fear that Peter would wet himself if he laughed any more, unlocked the door with a flick of his wand. ‘Alright, alright, come out then.’

Sirius’ face stood thunder as he walked out of the stall and he stared at James angrily through the mirror as he washed his hands. James stared back at him with a smirk on his face and slung his arm around his friend’s shoulder as they walked out of the restrooms. Peter followed after them, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the sleeves of his jumper.

The castle was quite silent at this time at night with most students up in the common rooms and the teachers not yet checking the halls after curfew. The windows were fogged from the cold outside and James stopped to write his name on the glass.

The three boys were turned to the window, watching James write his name and other things that definitely should not be on a harmless pane of glass. Upon hearing footsteps in the same corridor, they turned around as one.

You were walking down the corridor with your broomstick in your hand, head to toe wet and muddy. You snickered softly at the scared expressions on the three boys’ faces and nodded towards the window. ‘Do I want to know?’

Sirius grinned and shook his head, slowly reaching behind James to wipe out the texts on the window. Peter had a giddy smile on his face and he nudged James, but this one was focused on you.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, ignoring his friends.

You raised an eyebrow and looked down at your clothes. ‘Really, the broom and dirty clothes don’t say enough?’

James scowled and he felt a hint of anger coming up in his body at your sarcasm. Sirius noticed his change and nudged James lightly. ‘James—’

‘I mean what are you doing here, in this corridor? Isn’t your common room on the other side of the school?’

You shifted your weight onto your broom and nodded. ‘It is,’ you said drily. ‘And why I am here is none of your business. Especially with that attitude.’

Peter chuckled and James shot him an annoyed look, making him shut right up. James was growing more irked with the minute. He just couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t take the hint and leave him alone. He thought he made it very clear that he didn’t want to see you anymore.

Yet here you were again, seeking him out. Just like you did yesterday before Potions class and last weekend after the Quidditch match. James was getting tired of having to ignore you, but he knew that that was for the best. You were his ex after all.

‘Fine, I don’t care,’ James said and he turned around to leave you alone. Peter and Sirius ran after him, but not before mumbling something to you James couldn’t hear.

Sirius walked up next to James. ‘You were rude again, mate.’

‘I don’t get why they won’t leave me alone,’ James huffed and he quickened his pace so he walked ahead of his two friends.

Sirius rolled his eyes at Peter, who shrugged back, before they both followed James to the common room.

-- - --

‘Sorry I’m late.’

Remus looked up from his book and waved your excuse away lazily as he made some space for you at the table. He pushed aside his book and stacked the pieces of parchment away.

You took your edition of A History of Magic out and dropped the heavy book on the table. Scanning Remus’ book for the right page you started to browse through your own book for the same page. At the chapter on the Salem Witch Trails you stopped. It was a subject you had had in class before but, with the grade of your essay on the subject in mind, you knew that it wouldn’t hurt to revise.

‘Okay, hit me,’ you said and smiled at Remus. He cocked his eyebrow incredulous but started anyway.

‘Right, what year?’

‘1962.’

‘Where?’

‘Massachusetts.’

‘What about the judges?’

‘Mostly Puritans, but there were at least two Scourers, who were there just for personal gain.’

‘How many victims?’

‘Twenty.’

‘Do you still have feelings for James?’

‘Do I—Remus!’

You looked up from your book in shock and stared at the boy next to you, who was looking smug with the execution of his plan. He had a smirk on his face and you wished you could slap the satisfied look off his face.

‘Is that why I’m here? Just so you could interrogate me?’ you asked, leaning back in your chair and staring at Remus. ‘Remus Lupin, you little shit!’

Remus let out a laugh and shook his head, though he made sure he was out of your reach. ‘No, I really did want to study with you! But when the guys found out they wanted me to ask.’

‘You’re weak, Remus,’ you tutted and pushed him against his shoulder.

‘I know, I know,’ he said, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘But if I’m honest, I was curious myself too.’

You sighed and rubbed your hands over your face. The answer to Remus’ question was simple. No. You didn’t still have feelings for James. However, what more intrigued you was the implication behind the question. Did they think you were still in love with James? Because if so, you definitely had to set something straight.

‘Well, you can tell your friends that no, I don’t have feelings for James anymore,’ you sighed, hoping that Remus would believe you. ‘Now are you done with your cross-examination? Because I’d like to finish before dinner.’

‘Sure, sure,’ Remus chuckled, bowing over his book again. ‘Wizards’ Council, ask me.’

Quickly you searched in your history book for the chapter about the Wizards’ Council. The title sprung out on page 89 and you scanned the text shortly to come up with some questions for Remus.

‘Ready? What was the Council’s main focus?’

‘Governing the Britain wizarding society.’

‘That’s right. Name some Chiefs.’

‘Bragge and Muldoon.’

‘What can you tell me about Elfrida Clagg?’

‘She was presumably the Chieftainess in the seventeenth century. Known for trying to import the Beings versus Beasts classifications, what led to an uprising from Trolls, Jarveys and Centaurs.’

‘Right. Okay, last one—why is James avoiding me?’

Remus opened his mouth and then closed it again. He sighed and closed his eyes, before turning to you. He was searching for words and you gave him time, wanting to know the answer to the question that had been bothering you for a while now.

It was more than obvious to you that James was avoiding you. Whenever you were around he made sure to be the first one to leave, he never really answered any of your questions and most of the time he just ignored your presence. Clearly, “staying friends” had a different meaning to him than it had to you.

Not only were you losing James’ friendship, along with that you also lost the connections with Peter, Sirius and Remus. You had gone from seeing them every day to only once a week if you were lucky. You didn’t blame them, because you knew they were better friends with James than with you. Yet you knew it would not hurt him if you saw your friends a little more.

‘He’s not—’ Remus started, but you cut him off.

‘Don’t do that, Remus. I know he is avoiding me. I am not asking you to change it; I just want to know why.’

Remus rubbed his face and pinched the bridge of his nose before he answered. ‘He is convinced that it is impossible to be friends with one’s ex.’

‘But that’s what we had agreed!’ you sputtered. ‘We didn’t work as a couple, so we decided on being friends!’

‘Well, to James that is something everyone says but never lives up to.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ you said and threw your head back, letting a cold laugh pass your lips. ‘So what? Is he just going to ignore me for the rest of his life?’

‘I don’t know,’ Remus mumbled. ‘We’ve really tried to change his mind, really. But nothing we say convinces him. He won’t listen to us.’

You shook your head and stared at your book. So this was the end of you and James? Just like that? Did you really mean that little to him? Now that you were just his friend, you were suddenly not important anymore?

You felt like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over your head. Your inside now twisted at the thought of James and the memories you had made with him. Some part of you felt used at your sudden unimportance to James and you wished you were curled up in bed under layers of blankets.

However, you would stay strong. If James didn’t want to be your friend you would leave him alone. But you would not allow him ripping your friends away too. You wouldn’t stop seeing Remus, Sirius and Peter just because James didn’t want to be friends.

-- - --

Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, far away rumbling with thunder. A strong breeze forced most students to stay inside for the night, but you had braved the cold and were standing at the edge of the quidditch field with your broom in your hand. The wind blew sharply against your cheeks, but you had dressed warm enough.

High up in the sky the wind howled around your ears, drowning out your thoughts. You had released one of the training-Bludgers that was soaring through the air, coming right for you. With one deep breath and full power you hit the Bludger, the flat sound of your bat against the ball echoing on the empty stands.

It was nice to not think and just train for a moment. Right now there was no one whining at your head for your answers on the Charms homework, no one asking you to play a game with you and no one inquiring after what had happened between you and James.

You hadn’t seen James in two weeks, just like he had wanted. It was weird to suddenly not be around him anymore. For so long you had shared all your free time with him and now instead you were alone in those moments. Not his laughter, not his jokes.

You would be lying if you said that you didn’t miss him. It was always fun to be around James, he had a special way to make everything positive. After all this time you still didn’t know how he did it, but he had always cheered you up when you were feeling down. Sometimes just his presence had been enough.

A tear escaped from your eye, but whether it was from the wind or your thoughts you didn’t know. You wiped it away swiftly and braced yourself to hit the Bludger again. It was flying in big circles around you, coming closer with every round it made.

Movement down on the ground caught your attention and you tore your eyes from the Bludger. Someone was standing down on the field, a broom in their hand and a mop of black hair sticking out to all sides. It was James.

For someone who had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want to see you, he sure had some nerve coming to you. You felt your blood boil upon seeing him and more violent than you had first thought you slammed the Bludger away. It flew back into the stands, where it broke one of the benches.

James was still standing on the ground, not making any move to get up in the sky. As you got back the ball you looked at him from the corner of your eye. So far from above, he looked smaller than he had ever seen. He looked… lost.

Grudgingly you flew down to the ground and jumped off your broom in front of James. Now you were closer to him, he was his big self again, but he still looked a little lost.

‘There was no practice today, right?’ you asked, suddenly wondering if he was here because he wanted to train with the Gryffindor team.

‘No,’ James said and he almost attempted to say more, but shut his mouth.

‘So you’re just here to practise alone?’

‘Uhh, yeah, I guess.’

‘And it wouldn’t bother you if I’m here too?’ you asked, your tone somewhat sharper than intended.

James shook his head and headed off to the chest with balls and other gear. You mounted your broom and let the struggling Bludger free. It flew away quickly before already starting to make its way back to you.

For minutes it was silent as both you and James practised alone. You were outing all your frustration on the Bludger and it seemed that it was holding a grudge against you for the hard hits you gave it because it kept coming back harder and harder. James was stationed at the goalposts, working on some of his new tactics. You could feel his occasional glance in your way, but you ignored them.

After some time, you descended to the ground to drink some and watched as James was struggling with the Quaffle and his wand. He obviously wanted to charm them to fly towards him as he guarded the goals. You laughed to yourself as the ball once again fell to the ground lifeless, but after a few minutes you got on your broom again and flew towards James.

‘Not that it isn’t fun to watch, but would you like some help?’ you asked carefully.

James looked from the Quaffle in his hand to the goalposts and then to you. You could hear the cogs working in his brain as he thought of what to do, but eventually he gave you a single nod and threw the Quaffle at you.

Although your position in the quidditch team was Beater, you wouldn’t say that you were bad at the other positions. Maybe it was just the feel of the ball that you had and not an actual position that you were best in, though you had trained many years to become the Beater you were today.

You started to torment James with difficult throws, making him work up a sweat. At first your aims were just to make it hard for him, but gradually you actually enjoyed playing with James. And, much to your surprise, the feeling was mutual. After half an hour there was a smile on James’ face and you recognised so much of the boy you had fallen for.

After yet another difficult ball that James only barely held, instead of throwing the Quaffle back at you he flew towards you. His smile faltered a little now he was closer to you, but that didn’t stop him from asking you if you wanted to change positions.

‘Alright, but I must tell you, I’ve gotten much better,’ you warned him with a grin and flew to the goals.

‘I doubt that,’ James shouted and he threw the ball from one hand to another. ‘You suck as Keeper!’

‘Ah! I’ll make you regret saying that, Mr. Potter!’

For a while everything was how it had used to be. There was no hurt between you and James anymore. It was just two friends playing a game together, both growing more and more competitive with every throw.

Half an hour you went on playing until it had gotten too dark to throw without chance of harm. You and James stuck away the Quaffle in silence—the easiness that had been there during the game had completely vanished. Awkwardness was creeping up your skin and you longed for something to break the silence.

As James locked the Bludger in the chest, it gave one last shudder and James let out a high-pitched yell. He fell to his feet and you burst out in laughter, clasping your hand over your mouth. From his place on the floor, James scowled dramatically at you and he attempted to hit your shin.

‘Don’t laugh!’ he cried out. ‘You scared too!’

‘Yeah, but I didn’t fall to the floor,’ you chuckled, offering James your hand. He took it and pulled himself up. Cleaning his pants, he sighed and then closed the chest with quidditch balls. Another silence filled the space between you and James. However, this time you knew exactly what to say; you just weren’t sure if you wanted to say it.

A light flash lit up the dark skies for a fraction of a second and three seconds later loud thunder roared over the silent school grounds. James and you were pulled from the tension as the first raindrops started to fall. Little drops fell on the top of your head and on your shoulders, soaking through your jumper. It was now or never.

‘Why can’t we have this?’ you asked hoarsely.

‘Rain? I think it rains more than enough,’ James joked, avoiding your eyes.

‘James, you know what I mean,’ you said, stepping a little closer. ‘Why can’t we just be friends? Why can’t we have fun, no strings attached?’

When he looked up to you, you could read the pain in his eyes. Even when you were dating, James had almost never been vulnerable. He always hid behind a smile and a joke and it was rare to see him like this.

‘Because you hurt me,’ James muttered. ‘One day you decide to end it. Just like that. You stepped away from me without any warning. I loved you and suddenly you were just gone.’

‘Do you still?’ you breathed.

James cleared his throat and shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. Not like I used to anymore.’

‘Isn’t it better then?’ you asked. ‘Can’t we try being friends? I miss you James. I miss being friends with you.’

‘I miss you too,’ James said and sniffed.

You cocked an eyebrow and smiled carefully. ‘Did I make the mighty James Potter cry? Did I break the unbreakable one?’

‘All I heard was that you think I’m mighty,’ James said.

You laughed and pushed him away. James bellowed a laugh and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. The rain was still pouring down and you were soaked from head to toe, but you didn’t care because you got your friend back.

- - - - - - - -

taglist: general HP: @harry-pottery-barn @potters-heart @kingalrdy @missswriter @figlia--della--luna @aspiringsloth20 @awritingtree @bi-andready-tocry @lilulo-12fanfiction @ananad1 @treestarrrrrrrr @your-hispanichufflepuff @thefandomplace @theeicedamericano @girllety @moonstarrnghtsky @swearingsolemnly @weasleydream @secretsthathauntus @amixedwitch @izzyyy-1 @gryffindorgirl @kitkatkl

marauders: @tomshollandz @with-love-anu @fific7 @cheoco @classicrocketqueen @iamninaanna @lonegryffindor2005

MASTERLIST

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter #james x reader #marauders x reader #marauders imagine #marauders #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter

192 notes · View notes

drabbles-mc · 3 years

Text

Let Me In

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Can I request an Ez drabble where his relatively new girlfriend slips into an episode for the first time while they've been together? Like one day she just stops responding to his texts and calls, Letty notices she hasn't posted on social media, no one has seen her around town or at the club. He goes to her house to check on her, and she explains that this is something that just happens and people trying to cheer her up just makes her feel guilty. So he offers to be a silent character in her home during her episode, basically moving into her guest room. Like he'll just help out by going grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, doing laundry, etc., so that he can make sure she's nourished, well stocked, and clean. I understand if this is too uncomfortable because it involves mental illness, but if you felt comfortable enough to write it, I would really like that 💜

Warnings: mentions of depression/mental illness, language, EZ being a sweetie

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: EZ being a mindful partner and caretaker is my jam. Hope you enjoy! xo

Join my group-chat here: (X)

EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @appropriate-writers-name @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @louisianalady @gemini0410 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @mayans-sauce @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @holl2712 @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @kkim120 @toni9 (If you want to be added let me know!)

Your phone buzzed again. When you looked down and saw EZ’s name lighting up the screen, you gnawed at the inside of your cheek before turning it back over and setting it face down on the couch next to you. For three days you had been dodging his text and his calls. As much as you hated ignoring him, what you would hate more was dragging him into the mess you felt like you were currently trapped it.

The two of you hadn’t been dating for very long. Things had been going well, and even outside of your new-found relationship with EZ, you had been doing well in general. Until one day when you woke up and started to feel yourself slipping. It’d been a while since you felt yourself spiraling downwards, and part of you figured that you were a little overdue for it, as fucked up as it sounded. You knew what you were in for, what to expect, but you didn’t want to put that on Ezekiel. Things were still so new, and so good—you didn’t want to stain that with the darkness that was swirling around inside your head. Besides, it was better for you to get through your depressive episodes alone. You couldn’t handle other people’s guilt on top of your own depression.

EZ was sat at the bar in the clubhouse, staring intently at his phone. He felt like if he looked at it long enough, your contact photo would light up the screen with a phone call. But he had no such luck. The anxious part of him worried that you had just woken up and decided to drop him and move on, but that just didn’t seem right—things had been going so well. He knew that things were still fresh with the two of you, though, and he didn’t feel comfortable just showing up and kicking your door in, especially when you had been making a point to not talk to him.

“You alright?” Letty approached him, instantly noticing the worried look on his face.

He looked up at her from the screen of his phone, “You heard from Y/N?”

She shook her head, “Not the past few days, why? She okay?”

He sighed, shaking his head, “I don’t know. She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts. Just starting to get worried.”

Letty was already scrolling on her phone to see if she had seen any posts from you the past few days on social media. But there was nothing. She looked over at EZ, “Nothing. Maybe you should go check on her. Can’t hurt.”

He nervously twisted his hands in his lap, “I don’t want to just show up like that. I don’t think we’re really there yet.”

Angel scoffed from the stool next to him, “Don’t be like that, ‘mano. If you’re worried go check on her. She hasn’t been around lately.”

EZ knew that he would never win an argument against the both of them. So with a heavy sigh he got up from his seat and made his way towards the door of the clubhouse. He texted you to tell you that he was on his way, but in his gut, he knew that the text was most likely going to go unanswered.

When he pulled into your driveway, he saw that your car was there. That at least gave him reassurance that you were home, not stranded or lost somewhere. He hung his helmet off the handlebar and made his way up to the front door. Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and knocked on your door.

You’d heard EZ’s bike long before you heard the knock at the door. You contemplated, for a fleeting moment, not answering the door. But you knew that wasn’t fair to him—none of this really was.

You unlocked and opened the door and you could instantly see the relief on his face when he saw that you were alive and in one piece. That relief, however, was brief as his features twisted into a look of concern. He saw the dark circles beneath your eyes, the hollowness in them.

“Hey,” you offered up as you stood in the doorway.

“Hey, um,” he cleared his throat, “sorry to just turn up like this. I just…I got worried.”

“Sorry,” it was hard to meet his eyes.

There were a few beats of silence before he asked, “Can I come in?”

You glanced back over your shoulder for a second. Your house wasn’t a mess or anything, but usually you took extra care to straighten up when you knew that people, especially EZ, were coming over. There was no point in hiding it now, though. It was too late to pretend that everything was normal.

You opened the door and stepped aside so that he could come in. With a deep sigh you shut and locked it behind the both of you. You stayed put by the front door, not quiet sure what EZ was going to say or do. You were surprised that he didn’t seem angrier or upset about you completely blowing him off the last few days.

“Can I ask what’s been going on?” you could tell by the look on his face that he was trying to choose his words carefully.

You gnawed at the inside of your lip for a second before walking towards the couch, motioning for him to follow you. You sat down next to him and pulled your legs up underneath you. He watched your every move, and you could see it in his eyes that he didn’t know what was wrong but he already wanted to fix it.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been blowing you off,” you sighed and ran your hands over your face, “I just, I sort of shut down sometimes. I’m used to how I operate, but I probably should’ve mentioned something about it to you.”

“About what?” he was a smart man, but he still wanted you to be able to tell him in your own words what was going on.

You fussed with the hem of your hoodie, “About my depression. There’s just, you know, never a good time to bring it up,” you let out a hollow chuckle, “Not necessarily the best ice breaker on a first date,” you shook your head, “But anyway. Some days it’s worse than others. It’s always pretty manageable, but when it gets bad I usually just shut down and stay in. I know how to handle myself and it’s easier to just get through it alone.”

“I can help,” his tone was so sincere.

You nodded, “I know you would. But people trying to cheer me up or get me to do shit just…makes it worse. I just gotta ride it out. Things always end up leveling off and going back to normal. I just don’t really have the capacity to handle human interaction.”

“I can help and also not talk to you,” he wasn’t trying to make light of your situation, but you could still see a hint of a smile playing at his lips as he made his offer.

It got you to give a small smile in return, “I’m not going to ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking,” he scooted a little closer to you, “I’ll stay out of your way. I can crash on the couch, or in the spare room. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll be like your Alfred. Only better-looking.”

“Ezekiel,” you shook your head, “you really don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” he cut you off but his voice was still gentle, “If you really can’t stand me after a couple days then I’ll pack my shit and leave you alone until you’re feeling better. Promise.”

You sighed, not having the energy to really fight him on it. You gave a slight nod, “Okay.”

“Yea?”

You nodded, “Yea.”

You felt like there was something more that you should say but you couldn’t. Your brain felt like it was coated in a fog. Without another word about it, EZ stood up and gave you a light kiss on the top of your head before heading back out the way he came so he could go pack some clothes and things to keep at your place.

When he got back to your place, you were curled up on the couch underneath your blanket. The television was on despite the fact that you weren’t really listening to it—it just was better than complete silence. EZ toed off his boots by the door, his footsteps surprisingly soft as he made his way through your house to set his things in your spare bedroom.

You looked over at him when he came back down the hall. He looked over at you for a moment and smiled but didn’t say anything as he made his way over into the kitchen. A few seconds later you heard the sink turn on. Propping yourself up on your elbows you peeked to see what he was doing. His back was completely to you as he started to work through the dishes that had been accumulating in your sink. You watched him for a minute, and if you listened hard enough you could hear him quietly humming to himself as he did. You laid back down on the couch, letting your eyes drift shut to the sound of the television and the water running in the next room over.

Ezekiel was true to his word—he didn’t push you to do anything or speak with him. Over the course of the next few days, he kept himself busy. He went to the store, trying his best to figure out what you needed without having to ask you. He cooked for you, silently setting the plate down either on the coffee table or on your nightstand depending on where you were. Occasionally he would press his lips to the top of your head in a light kiss, but he tried never to linger.

Truthfully your house had never been so clean. You were a fairly tidy person when you were in a good space, but EZ’s dedication to cleaning your place far exceeded yours even on your best days. He refused to let himself sit idly by if there was something that he could be doing. You’d grown accustomed to the sounds of him walking through your house, going up and down your stairs to and from the basement as he did your laundry as well as his own. You knew when he was really into his tasks because he would absentmindedly hum little tunes while he busied himself.

The smell of dinner had been filling the house for what seemed like ages. You had strolled through the kitchen a couple times, disguising your curiosity by making it seem like you just wanted to get yourself a bottle of water. EZ was so engrossed in his cooking process that he didn’t even notice. Before this point, you never really thought about if he could cook, but apparently, he could and he was very good at it.

You were sat on the couch, scrolling trying to find something to put on the TV that piqued your interest. EZ came over and set a plate down in front of you. You looked up at him, offering up a quiet thank you. He nodded in response and turned around to go to his room.

“EZ,” you called after him. You waited for him to stop and turn to you, “There something you wanna watch?” you held the controller out to him

He raised his eyebrows, unable to pretend that he wasn’t a little surprised at the gesture, “Yea?”

You nodded, “All the titles are starting to look the same to me.”

He chuckled as he sat down, taking the controller from you, “I get it.”

You watched him as he scrolled through the titles in front of him. His brows furrowed as he read through one show synopsis after another. Despite how heavy everything had felt lately, there was something reassuring about the position you currently found yourself in. Even though you hadn’t wanted him to stay, to see you like this, you had to admit that it was nice to finally have someone around who knew how to have your back when you were going through it. He knew how to be there and not suffocate you.

“Thank you,” you said as you started to pick away at your dinner.

He chuckled, “Picking a show isn’t that hard. Don’t need to thank me.”

You smiled and shook your head, “Thank you for staying with me. I know it’s not exactly exciting but it’s…I kind of like you being here.”

“Kind of?” he playfully nudged your knee with his own.

“Keeping you humble. I’m not that out of it.”

He laughed for a moment before his expression grew a little more serious, “Thank you for letting me stay. I know that wasn’t easy.”

You nodded slowly, “Yea. But, y’know, it was nice for the guest room to finally get some use.”

One end of his mouth curled up in a smirk, “I might show up and stay there uninvited all the time.”

You shook your head, biting back a smile. It’d been a long few days, and it wasn’t over yet. But for a few minutes you got to feel a little lighter and that was a feeling you wanted to hold onto while you had it. You watched EZ out of the corner of your eye as he focused on the television. You weren’t much for company but there was something comforting about his presence. Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you were glad that he’d shown up on your doorstep.

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes fanfic #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

302 notes · View notes

rocorambles · 3 years

Text

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that.

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back.

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands.

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals.

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Crap.

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend.

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway.

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed.

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself.

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one.

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?”

Oh. OH.

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds.

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret.

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside.

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip.

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit.

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after.

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate.

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room.

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you.

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me."

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant.

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway.

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow."

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away.

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other.

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words.

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you.

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?”

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum.

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman.

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full.

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure.

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you.

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.”

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you.

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him.

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other.

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face.

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture.

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting.

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

#haikyuu smut #daishou x reader #daishou smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #daishou #Daishou Suguru #haikyuu x reader

264 notes · View notes

jabbagabba · 3 years

Text

La La Land

Read Prologue

Warning ⚠️

Triggering subjects: disassociation, manipulation, mind control, grief. (READ AT OWN RISK)

Wandavision: spoilers (up to episode 6 - just to be safe), violence

———

Pools Of Despair

You weren’t sure how long it’d been, the drive feeling as though it had taken a lifetime. It might have been just down the road and you wouldn’t have been able to tell; time seemed to move torturously slow under Wanda’s control.

She tried to keep herself calm besides your frozen body, already thinking of a way out as she turned the steering wheel. But it was too late to go back.

‘No other way. No other way.’ The words replayed over and over in her head as she finally made it to the front of the building, and it was the first time she fully looked at you. Your face was stoic, the only sign of life being the soft breaths escaping your mouth. You couldn’t look at her - even if you wanted to - and as she reached a hand to your face, the feeling of complete numbness returned.

During the drive there had been small moments of clarity; moments where for the first time you felt in control. It was almost euphoric being able to push through the fog.

But then, as quickly as it had subsided, she would crawl her way back in.

Even now as she turned you toward her fully, you tried to swim through the heaviness, but the black swirls of grief and anguish just got tighter the harder you fought.

Wanda sighed in annoyance. “You can’t go in looking like that.” She pulled at a strand of her hair with a small huff. “Need glasses.”

You were sure if you had control of your body, the pain of your neck would be unbearable, the awkward angle surely making every muscle strain as you were forced to watch her pull apart the car.

This had to have been owned by the only man on the planet that didn’t carry sunglasses in their car. Wanda almost laughed, a punishment for stealing it? She couldn’t be sure.

“Well...” Wanda pulled the blue and white baseball cap by the brim from under her seat. “Better then nothing.” She gave a small smile as she adjusted it on your head, pulling back and grabbing your hand and letting it rest in her lap. “If there was any other way, I swear, I would let you go. But... I just... I can’t live without him.”

You said nothing as she cried.

———

“Head down, get Vision. Leave.” Her voice plagued your every step, each word carved into your brain as you finally reached the front desk.

‘Sword’ was a nice place - or at least had nice flooring - and from the bright light that filled each and every inch of the glossy tile, you knew there had to be a lot of glass. It was a government building after all.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is chirpy, a polite smile painted on her lips, you don’t need to see her eyes to know it wasn’t anything but genuine. She lets the wheels of her chair carry her forward, her computer forgotten besides her as you near the desk.

“Do you have... a meeting?” She smiles again, more forced and you’re able to see the golden pin on her chest that proudly says ‘Mary’ and try once more to float above the darkness.

“I -“ The word leaves your lips aprubtly and the fight drains from you just as fast. “I’m here to inquire about some of my father’s equipment. I’d like it back.” You let the darkness swallow you whole.

“And who are you again?” Mary is quick to pull her deskphone to her ear, hand hovering over the numbers.

———

The name that fell from her lips made Mary freeze. She looked up with wide eyes, both fearful and exited.

Starks were top priority at ‘SWORD’ - she was sure they were top priority everywhere - and as she desperately tried to recall if her boss mentioned anything about Stark equipment, the girl’s patients quickly wore thin.

“Can you please just tell me where to go? I have a long drive ahead of me.” Her voice was a sharp contrast from her apparance. The girl’s voice was stern and loud while her body was scrunched in on itself, eyes glued to the desk. Mary took a glance over the desk and saw the dark fabric of a dress, the hat didn’t even match the girl’s shoes.

“Right.” Mary said. “I’m sorry, just a little... starstruck.” She tried to keep her cool, turning again in her chair and started typing as fast as possible on her little keyboard. The atmosphere was thick with uncomfortable silence and Mary had to make sure not to shiver in the girl’s presence. She scrolled down the list of names and let out a small “ah” when she found your name. Just as quickly as she clicked on it, a pop up window filled the screen

STARK - Access Denined. Call Security

She felt sick; her nerves making her skin pucker as she tried to keep calm. When Mary finally found the courage to move, bile reached through her throat as she saw red eyes looking back.

“Ahh!” Mary was quick to jump out of her chair.

“Fine.” The girl sighed, hand flat on the counter as she took long strides around it. “If you won’t help me.” A red trail flowed through one of the doors; slithering like a snake as it wrapped around the shell shocked receptionist. “I’ll do it myself.”

———

Wanda’s mind had warped, grief and anger become one as she ripped through each and every room of the building. No one was safe from the witch’s wrath as she swung them through various glass panels and equipment. By the third turn she took, guards had given up, opting to instead try desperately to get out of her way.

She had left you at the desk, too transfixed to care and as she heard the various shouts of alarm from down the hallway, she was glad you weren’t in her way.

———

The group of four man were shocked; watching as the two guards dropped their guns and put their hands up for mercy.

“We’ll give you what you want. Please!” One of them - Felix - cried as the woman barreled through the double doors.

Wanda simply flicked her hand and he was sent flying to a wall, his partner following.

“Where is he?” Her accent was thick and the youngest tech almost asked her to repeat herself. “Where is Vision?” The stunned silence only fueled her anger. “You.” Red swirled under one of the men’s feet and lifted him from the ground. “Where?”

If the man could have, he’d be shivering in fear right about now. His life was in the hands of a deranged woman who with a simple flick of her wrist could send him plummeting down ten floors.

Wanda tightened her hold on him in warning and he knew he had to speak.

“Behind us.” He said. “There is a set of double doors, turn left and there’s an examination room.”

“He should be there!” A colleague on his left was shaking as she turn to face him. “He’s not lying.” Wanda let her power swim under him once more beofre gently letting him go.

“Thank you.” She gave a small smile. “Now, go.”

They didn’t have to be told twice.

———

Wanda felt as though she couldn’t breathe, the sight of her dead lover on the table was crippling. Vision was a dark grey; his eyes blank as they stared into her. If it wasn’t for the table itself she would have probably collapsed on to the floor as sobs took over her.

“I cant. I can’t. I -“ The words fell from her lips like a mystical chant. She couldn’t look at him anymore, his body was nothing but an empty shell of parts.

When her body turned to ash; Wanda was ready to die, her last shred of humanity died with Vision. The battlefield would be her final resting place. She chose to spend her last moments hoping that If there was a God that they’d be merciful, that she’d be allowed to spent her afterlife in blissful ignorance.

But instead she woke up.

Five years had passed and she was still there, only now she was alone. It was only after the death of Tony Stark that she let the floodgate of loss fill up her veins. While Thanos was alive, she had a mission; kill him and reverse the snap.

Wanda never imagined the pain that followed. She should have died that day, why couldn’t she have died that day?

Grief had a knack for turning the strongest people into helpless pools of despair.

Vision deserved better. That was what go her up, got her to calm her tears and push herself up. She wasn’t going to let them win. Vision was hers to mourn, to love, and hers to take care of.

She had a new mission, one that was stronger then her need to submit to pain.

But... she needed help carrying him.

———

Your body moved through the halls, following the tethered rope of energy that wrapped around your waist. If it wasn’t for your boots, your feet would have been covered in cuts from the sharp edges of the broken glass that filled the hallways.

The fog had cleared more then before and if you tried hard enough, you might’ve even been able to pull free completely. Wanda was exhausted and the fight had been ripped from you So you let her pull you, let the fog seep through every inch of you.

And as you entered the small room, you forgot you were suppose to care anymore.

“I need you to hold onto his legs.” She said softly, hand stroking his cheek. “Easier to carry both of you.” Your body moved again and you placed a gentle hand onto vision’s ankle.

Wanda wiped the last of her tears away, grabbed onto his arm, and all three of you were lifted off the ground.

———

Hot air blew through Wanda’s hair making her hands continuously push back strands from her face as she walked. The afternoon sun was unrelenting and she had to take several short breaks.

The car was too dangerous to return to - a swarm of agents was not something she wanted to deal with - and controlling someone for almost 24 hour straight took a lot out of her. Her hold on you was weak enough for you to sometimes fully take over, her control turning into a dull ache at the back of your brain.

As she walked in front of you thoughts of running flooded through your brain but the walking had tired your body out, and you were sure that if her little pushes weren’t there, you’d have already collapsed. Even if you had the strength to do it, the empty roads had long ago turned into tall trees and bush. You were in the middle of nowhere and getting loss in the woods with a heartbroken witch was not something you wanted to deal with. So, like a trained puppy, you followed silently behind Vision’s dragging body. It wasn’t hard to keep up, she was as slow as she could be while Vision’s body left a dirt trail.

“Break.” Wanda breathed. Who knew an empty little spot of grass would be so inviting? “Sit.” You felt a small push and follow it down to the ground. You let your fingers grip the direr under them, the cool breeze making you sigh.

“Where-“ The sound of your voice startled both of you but she stayed still. “Where are we going?”

She said nothing, choosing to instead turn on her knees and pull Vision forward by the arms.

“When I was little-“ Wanda smiled to herself as she stared down at Vision. “- I use to dream about this field. Me and Peitro went past it everyday during the summer. It had all these small flowers growing.” You listen intently as she giggles, eyes losing focus as she is hit with the memory. “I always tried to sneak past the fence... but, I was alway stopped by someone.” Her mouth twitches and you feel the pulsing return in your neck. “It’s probably nothing but dirt now, like everything.”

“Where are we going, Wanda?” You try to keep your voice soft, afraid of ruining the small moment as you reached out for her but she was quick to stop you, hand glowing red and inches away from your face.

“Don’t.” She warns. You nod in silent apology.

“We’re not far from a road.” Wanda let’s her hand fall back to her side. “I want you go and call whoever you need to.” You’re almost startled when her control leaves fully from your body, it almost feels empty. “Tell them what I did, or don’t, I don’t care. I have what I want.”

“Wanda -“

“Please.” The crack in her voice makes tears pool in your eyes. “Just go.”

You stand on shaking legs. The world was spinning and you felt as though you had just gotten off a rollercoaster but you tried to steady yourself. Unsure of where to go, you turn to her once more for guidance and she simply points behind you.

Your conscious wouldn’t let you leave. Wanda was tired and you were afraid of leaving her alone. Regardless of what she did; you knew you couldn’t blame her, she had lost everyone.

In a way, so did you.

“I’m sorry about Vision.” Wanda looked up again and gave you a small nod. “About Pietro, about everyone. I wish it was different.”

“Me too, Stark.” She let her fingers wrap around your hand and squeezed. The warmth from the dock returned and you couldn’t help but give her a small grin of gratitude. “I meant what I said at the funeral.”

Both of you were so wrapped up in your own little bubble, you didn’t even question why the birds stopped.

————

Tag list (open, just ask)

@white-wolf-buckaroo @y-napotat

All my stuff is open, and I’m always happy to hear from people so feel free to let me know what ya thought. I always get stuck halfway through writing but I hope it wasn’t too hard to read.

Next chapter will be fun.

#wandavison x reader #wandavision imagine #wanda maximoff imagine #stark!reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #teen!reader #daughter!reader #dark!wanda #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #Wanda vision

278 notes · View notes

amphxtrite · 3 years

Text

cedric diggory x fem!reader

warnings: self depreciation, crying, a little angst I guess.

summary: cedric finds you crying about all the things he finds beautiful, so he helps you see your beauty again and shows you just how close he holds you to your heart.

a/n: the ending <3 also this is kind of valentine’s day related!

word count: 3.7k

tag list: @mullthingsoverinthehotwater @cedricsyellowscarf @hoe4cedricdiggory @draco-and-tom @punkrific @oldschoolkiddo @hey-there-angels @dreamy-clousds @sambucky8

message me to be added or removed from my tag list

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

A crushing feeling of dread became more and more normal with each passing day.

You woke up, entered the bathrooms to wash up and your heart would practically drop to your stomach. Your lips would purse as you start to over-analyze every little thing about you. Your smile, eyes, waist, and hips, even your hands couldn’t be spared from the merciless attack you threw at yourself.

You did everything to try and change. Skipped meals, worked out, suppressed your smile and worked every critique into your life, but it wasn’t enough.

You lay wide awake as you felt worthless in your own skin, wishing you could change. Wishing the pain would just go away.

On a particularly bad day, you step out of the shower and begin towelling yourself dry as you hum a soft melody. You began shrugging on your undergarments when the fog from the mirror fades and unknowingly you glance over and catch sight of your reflection. Your humming stop and your stomach lurches in horror, you can feel the tears begin to well in your eyes.

Cedric walks the steps to your dorm clutching a bundle in his arms filled with your favourite things. Sweets, his hoodies, and muggle films wrapped into a blanket as he excitedly balances them all and opens the door to your room.

“Darling! Look what I-”

His sentence drops when he hears a quiet sniffle coming from the bathroom attached to your dorm and he freezes. Slowly, he puts the small package of goodies on your bed and steps up to the bathroom, gently knocking on the wooden door.

“Y/n? A-Are you in there dove?” He murmurs, placing his hand on the doorknob to enter.

“C-Ced?” You respond meekly.

“Have you been crying love? I’m coming in okay?”

Your eyes widen and you frantically glance around. Cedric could not see you right now, not while you were in tears and insecure, he would freak out.

“N-No, Ced I’m fine, there’s no need to come in!” You rush out, trying your best to sound as normal as possible.

Cedric is quick to see through this, noticing the short break in your voice along with quiet fear and sadness.

“Darling, I can hear it in your voice, you’re upset. Please let me help.” Cedric chides softly, fighting the urge to just open the door and see what had you so upset.

“Ced. Please. J-Just leave please.” You plead as you drop to a sitting position on the floor, covering your mouth with your hand to compress your soft sobs.

With his ear practically pressed against the door, Cedric hears your weak attempt to hide and sighs, placing his hand on the knob again.

“You’ll have to forgive me for this later.” He breathes out, as the door swings open to reveal you curled up against the wall opposite to him.

“Y/n!” The brunette cries, quickly closing the distance between you and dropping to his knees.

Your head snaps up from its spot on your knees and meets eye to eye with Cedric's frantic grey ones.

“Darling why are you crying? You know I hate it when you cry.” Cedric murmurs, gathering you into his arms as he gently wipes the tears from your eyes.

“N-No, Cedric. Please leave.” You stammer in return, backing away from his embrace and grabbing the towel hanging from the side of the sink and pulling it on top of you.

“Darling what’s wrong? You know I’m here for you.” Cedric reassures as you pull the towel even closer to your body.

“I-it’s not that Ced. I-I’m just.” You stop as you desperately search for the right words, but your mind draws blank and you curse yourself.

Cedric sits back on his knees and begins looking around the bathroom.

Your cheeks were stained with tears, the mirror was lightly fogged from the shower you must’ve taken not too long ago and your clothing sat untouched at the side of the sink.

Cedric tries to find an explanation, trying to think of a reason you could be this upset, but he is left helpless as you glance around avoiding his eye contact.

“I-Is it me darling? A-Am I, making you uncomfortable?” He questions, wringing his fingers together as your eyes widen.

You can hear the pain in your voice and your eyes cloud again as you feel your walls crumbling down.

“Cedric, of course not I just-”

Your voice breaks as another silent sob racks your chest, and another tear slips down your cheek.

“I just can’t do this Cedric. Never being enough for myself. Never being pretty enough, skinny enough, curvy enough. Not enough.” You cry, bringing your hand to your face again to harshly wipe away the tears.

“Everyday I look in the mirror and I’m never happy with myself, but no matter what I do it still isn’t enough and I feel so weak, so gross.” You continue.

Cedric’s eyes widen and his eyebrows furrow.

That was why you were crying? You thought you weren’t beautiful?

Cedric almost scoffs at this, but he knew now was not the time for joking.

He stands slowly and walks towards you with a sad smile resting on his lips. He sits down in front of you and takes your hands.

“Do you remember the first day we met darling?”

You sniffle and look up.

“Of course Cedric, I was at the quidditch game and you accidentally tripped on something and fell in front of me.” You recount, unsure where he was going with this.

“Well love, it wasn’t exactly nothing.” Cedric starts, allowing a small smile to peak out past his lips as you tilted your head in confusion.

“Well…” He smiles.

Cedric wipes the sweat from his forehead as he exits the change room after a tough match against slytherin. He slings his bag across his shoulder and begins making his way towards his mates for a celebratory party in honour of their win. He’s only a couple steps away when a quiet laugh pulls him out of his thoughts. Cedric’s head swivels and his eyes lock on the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Your eyes are alight at the joke your friend must’ve told you and your lips are pulled in an angelic smile.

The seeker’s vision seems to slow as he spots you and his mouth opens to form a soft ‘o.’

He wasn’t sure what had struck him, but it didn’t matter, he was sure he was floating.

He was so entranced he managed to trip over his own feet and land flat on his face.

“Oh my goodness? A-Are you alright?”

Cedric nearly jumped when he saw you hovering over him offering your hand to him. His cheeks burned bright red as he notices he’s still laying on the grass and he quickly takes your hand.

“I’m great! Um- thank you.” He laughs a little nervously.

Your next words seems to escape his ears, a possible ‘no worries’ or just a laugh as he zones out and nods bashfully.

“Y-You fell because of me?” You ask in slight disbelief.

“Well I think I fell for you dove, but I was too embarrassed you’d think I was weird, so I didn’t tell you.” Cedric sighs with a light chuckle.

“You thought I’d think you were weird?” You stammer.

“Well yes. You were absolutely stunning darling, I didn’t want to scare you off!” Cedric chuckles, pulling you back into his arms and pressing a kiss onto your hair.

He pauses, and when you don’t pull away Cedric’s lips pull into a small smirk.

“Do you remember the first time you gave me a hug?” He questions softly.

Your lips pull up against your wishes and you nod.

“You froze up because you got uncomfortable.”

“Wrong again.” Cedric states in a song like voice.

“Really?” You laugh gently, looking up into Cedric’s gray eyes and cocking your eyebrow.

“Oh darling, you don’t know the half of it.” The brunette sighs, recounting the story.

“Can we please just take a break y/n?” Cedric groans, laying his head on his arms tiredly as you scan through your textbook.

“You’re the one who suggested we study together, remember.” You smirk, scribbling something on a sheet of parchment as Cedric’s face goes red.

“Yes well, I was hoping for more than just actual studying.” Cedric sighs as your eyebrow cocks.

The brunette looks at you strangely before realization dawns on him.

“No! Not like that!” He rushes as your melodic laugh sounds in his ears.

“Don’t worry Ced I didn’t think of it like that.” You chuckle, finally calming down from your fit of laughter. “If you wanted to do something else, you could have just asked.” You sigh, leaning over and wrapping the brunette in a side hug.

Cedric’s blood runs cold as his face grows red, he wasn’t expecting that reaction from you and he sure as hell did not know how to react.

His brain told him to laugh it off and hug you back, but his heart panicked and he simply froze.

“Oh- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” You apologize, retracting your arms.

Fuck. Cedric panics as he sees your smile pull down.

“No y/n, it’s alright.” He laughs nervously pulling you to your feet.

“Black lake is rather beautiful this time of day, care to join me?” Cedric suggests, switching the topic and jabbing his thumb in the direction of the lake.

“Oh, sure!” You shrug with a smile, following closely behind as the hufflepuff releases a breath of relief and turns back to you.

“Perfect, we’ll be just in time for the sunset!”

“So you’re telling me this entire time, you were just too nervous to hug me back?” You deadpan, looking into Cedric’s embarrassed eyes.

“I-I didn’t want you to know I was pinning for you, so I played along.” He chuckles, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Why are you telling me all this Ced?” You mumble, giving into his soothing gesture and relaxing into him.

“And here I was thinking I was being obvious.” Cedric chuckles, looking down at you.

“I’m reminding you how beautiful you are darling. I’m a deer in headlights every single time I see you, I can never think straight when I look into your eyes and Merlin darling, do I stumble whenever I see that body of yours.” Cedric teases, pulling you closer and attacking your neck with kisses.

You laugh, but your tone grows serious again. “I- don’t know Ced.” you pause looking down to avoid eye-contact. “It’s just every time I look in the mirror I can only see my flaws. All my scars and imperfections. How could I possibly be beautiful?”

Cedric smiles sadly at your comment.

“I know it may be hard to believe angel, but I’m in love with all of your so-called ‘flaws.’ Every inch of you is stunning in every way, every bit builds up to the person I love the most in this world, how could I not love everything about you?” Cedric murmurs, tilting your chin up so he could show you how serious he was. You open your mouth to speak, but Cedric continues.

“I fell in love with your personality y/n, you’re sweet, compassionate, strong and witty, but I-I also cannot deny that I find you absolutely breath-taking. I haven’t told you enough how beautiful you are and I whole-heartedly regret that, but darling everything about you gets me-” Cedric pauses, swallowing thickly and taking a deep breath at the feeling of your body pressed against his.

“Gets you what darling?” You question unknowingly, shifting yourself so you’re resting a little more comfortably in between his legs.

“Darling.” Cedric begins in a much lower voice, “everything about you. Those beautiful e/c eyes, strong swaying hips even those perfectly pursed lips get me so enticed.” Cedric whispers, licking his upper lip and leaning down closer to you.

“C-Cedric?” You squeak as his hard gaze bores to your very core.

“You heard me love, you drive me absolutely insane in every way, I’m having a hard time keeping my hands off of you right now.” He smirks, pulling you closer and nipping gently on your ear.

All was quiet until Cedric let out a small snicker and the two of you erupt in laughter.

“W-Why are you laughing love? I was serious.” Cedric chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he does his best to contain his laughter.

“I-I know darling, b-but I’ve never seen you so serious and I couldn’t help it.” You tease, hugging Cedric around the torso until you’ve both quieted down again.

“I did mean what I said though angel, you’re absolutely beautiful and I’ll stop at nothing to make sure you know it.” Cedric states proudly, swiftly pulling his head from your neck and holding your face in his hands.

“I. Love. You. So. Much.” He murmurs happily, placing a kiss on your nose, cheeks and forehead in between each word.

“I love you too, Cedric.” You smile gently, placing your own hand over his and leaning closer into him.

“You’re gonna make me pass out from adorableness if you keep that up love, now come on, I have a surprise for you.” Cedric smiles, pressing a long chaste kiss to your lips and standing to his feet.

“Come on princess, d’you trust me?” Cedric smirks, extending his hand to you.

You roll your eyes and take his hand. “Yes, I do.”

Cedric smiles widely and pulls you to your feet, swinging your arms between you as he walks back out into your room and ruffles around in his small pack.

“What is all this for anyways.” You question, pointing at the small bundle he was digging through.

“You didn’t expect me to leave you by yourself on Valentine's day, did you?” He chuckles, retrieving a large hoodie and walking back over to you.

“Valentine’s day?” You question furrowing your eyebrows and looking at the calendar on your desk. “Bloody hell it’s Valentine’s day.” You panic, realizing you had nothing to give to your boyfriend.

“Ah, ah, ah. Don’t you dare get worked up about a silly gift darling. I’ve got today covered.” Cedric smirks, pulling the hoodie over your head and sitting you on your mattress.

Your stress seems to disappear the moment the soft material envelopes you. The scent of warm wood and vanilla waft into your nose and you immediately smile. Looking down, you realize this was Cedric’s quidditch hoodie, his favorite one with his last name stitched in yellow at the back.

“Now!” He claps, bringing your attention back to him. “One of my friends has muggle parents, and when I told him about your love of movies, he leant me this little contraption.” Cedric smiles, lifting a small projection box from the wrap. “Now, I’m not quite sure how to use it, but there’s never something little magic can’t fix.” Cedric exclaims, pulling his wand from his pocket and tapping on the small box-shaped item.

Almost immediately the projector lights up and f/m begins to play.

“Perfect.” Cedric grins, placing the projection so it’s hitting the empty space on the wall opposite to your bed.

“Now what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t have…” Cedric continues, summoning a beautiful bouquet of red roses from his wand, “flowers for my princess.” He chuckles, kneeling down in front of you and holding them out for you to take. “Oh Cedric, they’re beautiful.” You gasp, holding them to your nose.

“Now scoot over love, I have one final thing to give you.” The hufflepuff smiles.

“Cedric, now you’re just making me feel bad.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“Darling, you spoil me with affection all the time. At least let me spoil you with gifts today.” He pouts, his grey eyes lightening with a grin as you eventually nod and give in.

“Now close your eyes.” Cedric coos as you place your hands over your face and wait.

You feel his arms reach around your head and a small weight around your neck.

“Alright, open them.” He murmurs, leaning back as you remove your hands from your eyes and glance down. A simple gold chain with rectangular golden rod that reaches the middle of your chest adorns your neck. “Thank you Ced it’s-”

“Wait, that’s not even the surprise.” Cedric smirks.

He reaches for your wand resting on your pillow and holds it to the rod.

“My heart is yours, and the memories I hold, I share with you.” He murmurs.

Suddenly a small beam of light flashes from the tip of the rod into the air in front of you.

The light becomes a picture, flickering until you can see… Yourself. You see yourself with your arm outstretched like you’re reaching for someone.

“Oh my goodness! A-Are you alright?” Your concerned voice rings from the picture and your eyes widen.

Your jaw drops as another hand enters the vision, Cedric’s.

“I’m great! Um- thank you.” The familiar, shy voice responds as his point of view rises. Cedric had managed to put his first encounter with you into this necklace.

You watch as Cedric’s ‘vision’ flickers from your eyes down to your lips, when it changes.

“If you wanted to do something else, you could’ve just asked.” Your voice rings again, as you see yourself with pink cheeks, reaching over to wrap Cedric in a hug.

The point of view shifts once more to a beautiful sunset by black lake. You gaze down at yourself being held in Cedric’s arms. You’re whispering something, but you can’t pick it up as Cedric’s vision leans closer and presses a kiss to your lips, he pulls back you can see your face heat up and your lips pull into a smile.

Tears began welling in your eyes again as you remember that very day.

You begin to blink rapidly as you process everything that happened. For a moment, you believed you were dreaming and you even pinched yourself to make sure.

Nope, this was really happening. Cedric smiles softly and sighs.

“I-I’ve got a crush on you y/n.” He confesses softly.

“I would hope so after you kiss me Ced.” You tease lightly, still registering everything as you leaned into him.

“Do you like me?” Cedric chuckled.

“What if i do?” You question smugly, hiding the growing smile forming on your lips.

“Then I ask you to be mine.” He states plainly

“Well, I do like you Cedric Diggory.”

“Then y/n l/n. Will you be mine?”

“Yes, dummy.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and connecting your lips once more.

The memory of Cedric asking you to be his was encompassed in the necklace as well, but something stood out to you. Because you could see this from Cedric’s perspective, you noticed him glancing all around your face, one moment he was gazing at your lips, the next your eyes or your nose, you remember Cedric staring at you strangely at the lake, and now you understood why. Cedric really did find beauty in every insecurity you had, and from the look on his face, he always had.

The lights cut off abruptly and as your eyes readjust to the light being cast from your windows, your gaze flickers back up to the brunette looking down at you.

The tears flow freely as you open and close your mouth, like a fish out of water, trying to find the right words as Cedric chuckles and presses his forehead against yours.

“H-How did you-?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets darling, now you’ll have a piece of me wherever you go.” Cedric murmurs, lifting the necklace to his lips and placing a kiss onto it.

“B-But why?” You ask, unable to control the soft sobs from choking up your words.

Cedric’s smile grows and takes your hand into his, lacing your fingers together as he lifts your hand over his heart.

“I love you so much darling. I wanted you to have the memories I hold the dearest and closest to my heart, so I found a way to do it and now they’re yours too.” Cedric chuckles, allowing his own tears to slip down his face.

“Everything in this world means nothing without you my love, I’m hoping this proves that.” Cedric smiles, lifting your hands from his chest to his lips to press a long kiss to them.

“I hope you know that when you watch these memories, you know that I’m thinking how lucky I am to have you beside me.” Cedric continues leaning closer.

“I’m thinking how grateful I am. How beautiful you are. How perfect everything feels when you’re beside me.” Cedric smiles, kissing you after each phrase.

“I love you so much darling.”

“Oh Ced.” You cry, wrapping your arms around his neck and climbing onto his lap so you’re clinging onto him.

“I’ll hold these memories everyday, I‘ll cherish every moment we spend together and hold you in the closest place to my heart until my final breath. Know that I’m eternally grateful to have you with me, and I hope you know I love you just as much.” You smile, watching Cedric’s eyes light up as another tear escapes down his cheek and he lets out a gentle chuckle.

“Calm down love, it’s not even our wedding yet.” Cedric chaffs, but you hear the sincerity in his voice as he begins nuzzling his nose to yours.

You giggle, resting your forehead against Cedric’s as the world goes quiet and everything falls into place. An invisible force seems to push you forwards until you are interlocking lips with your lover. It starts off soft until Cedric tilts his chin to deepen the kiss, and you oblige, parting your lips and allowing his tongue to roam in your mouth as you move your lips in sync with his. In that moment, every insecurity seemed to fade, all you could feel was Cedric’s soft lips pulling you into a bliss like state. You reluctantly pull back for a moment to catch your breath and smile at the loving gaze Cedric looked upon you with. You couldn’t help but reconnect your lips again with a smile, run your fingers through his thick brown curls and sighing contently.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

#cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #fluff #valentines day #love

212 notes · View notes

pheita · 2 years

Text

Find the Word Tag

Ok so @adie-dee managed to tag me twice within the last two weeks so here we are, all under the cut. And love, I have no idea how you managed to pick a lot of funny or cute Sojan/ Lyran moments, but you did.

EXPIRE,

Nope

CHILD,

"As long as the fog is not too thick, I may be able to help," the third man spoke. Questioningly, Sojan looked at him and gestured to continue speaking. "My great aunt is the shaman Shununda. While still a child, she taught me how to alleviate such inconveniences as fog to make the hunt go better. It won't be much, but hopefully I can achieve a little better vision." Sojan looked to Neeshah, who was also wide-eyed. Shununda was known to every hunter, and Sojan even more so, as she regularly renewed knot magic for him. "What's your name?" "Duran."

SLIDE,

The centuries of training took over and Sojan instinctively reacted with a counterattack. He turned his entire upper body away to the side so that Lyran's sword would slide away and it should have tripped Lyran, but Lyran had already backed away again and was standing a step farther away, rendering Sojan's counter useless. Still turning, Sojan noticed it and used the momentum of the spin to attack. Lyran jumped away to the side, as hoped. It was starting to get fun for Sojan, and if he went by the sounds of Dessielle and Nevashi, they were more concerned with watching him and Lyran and less concerned with training. A small part of Sojan's mind was still occupied with where Lyran had learned to fight like the demons. He raised his hand as a sign that he wanted a short break. "Tired already?" joked Lyran.

GREEN "There is a small clearing in that direction. We'll take a longer break there and can think about it more in peace." "That sounds good. At least we have a clue, although I can't tell what time of day it is with this fog. Is it the same as at the lake?" Sojan frowned. "I think so. It's too deep and too dense to be natural." Lyran nodded thoughtfully. His eye color seemed to have grown in intensity in the forest, or Sojan only now noticed what an unusual green it was. He gestured with his head in the direction they needed to go, and Lyran stowed his water bottle.

SPICE,

nope

PLAIN,

Briefly, Sojan was distracted by the thought of how he could protect Lyran from being blamed for the fire in the Golden Cage if someone had seen him, but then Lyran's soft laughter brought him back. "I... I love you." Lyran turned in his arms. His eyes were wide and shining at him. "I know." "Lyran..." "No, really, Sojan. You jump in the way of any opponent who even thinks of trying to attack me. You told me what happened in the past. You're there for me when I need you. You have never judged me, no matter what I have done. You turned yourself in to your father because of me." "Well honestly... sometimes you've been faster than me, plain and simple," Sojan laughed sheepishly. He planted a gentle kiss on Lyran's nose. "What have I been faster at?" "The fire in the middle of Wealmoore?" reminded Sojan. Again Lyran's eyes grew wide, then with a soft laugh he fell into Sojan's torso. It was an immense relief that Lyran managed to put last night behind him, even if Sojan didn't know how Lyran did it. "You're one of a kind." "That's the right thing to say." "I mean it. You would have burned it down for me?" Serious yet amused, Lyran looked at him. "And for all of what this house stood for," Sojan nodded seriously.

HOT, Sojan raised Lyran's head a little with his free hand so that he could look him in the eye. "He will not win. I'm going to stop it. No matter what." Lyran closed his eyes and sighed. "Great, the only guy I find hot is a demon with a martyr complex." "I don't have a martyr complex." "You want to do everything one on one. That's a martyr complex. And I'll say it as many times as I have to, so you'll use the rest of your brain." The way Lyran glared at him was a mixture of amusement, challenge, and fear. Sojan knew it was not an empty threat.

COLD

"You're wondering how we're going to get on at this time of the year, aren't you?" spoke Arritit quietly beside him. When she had stepped next to him, he couldn't tell. "Indeed. It's only a few weeks until the first snow. If we're lucky, we'll be in Cithrelnym by then." Her nod was barely visible under her hood. "I've calculated that, too. If it doesn't get too cold too soon, we can take a ship from there. Did you also notice the size of the red lizards the other day? And the carcasses of the Putrivines along the way?" "I thought you might have noticed it, too." Sojan dodged a boulder. Days ago, they left the forest and kept to the road, where walking was at least more pleasant, but they were directly exposed to the rain. "We are on the right track if I go from what we see. The stream from the mountains must be feeding some of the small pools out here." "Or they've placed themselves on the mother vein and the entire magical vein is contaminated," Lyran added from behind them.

So, I tag @catharticallysarcastic @raevenlywrites @eternalwritingstudent @weaver-of-fantasies-and-fables @theguildedtypewriter @writingonesdreams to find Dark, flow, laugh, and sparkle.

#writblr #writing #find the word tag #blood night #sojan

6 notes · View notes

alphabravocharliedelta · 3 years

Text

Alive | Russell Adler

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Word Count: 1600+

Content Warning: mentions of drugs, needles, blood, mature content/language, etc

Notes: Yeah... I had to write something, especially reading everyone else’s short fics about the Season Three Cinematic. I haven’t been able to write anything the past couple weeks, so hopefully this is decent.

[Alive]

. He lost track.

The first couple days he would count each minute that passed. It was nothing special, just being tossed into a vacant, dead silent room. The floor was cold and there wasn't even a bed. Something like this wasn't new to Adler— he could handle it.

He tried to escape a couple times, but without anything to properly protect himself with, he was only met with unnecessary exhaustion and injuries. Making mental notes of each personnel that circulated through, noticing their habits and rotation schedules. Adler planned meticulously, and yet he couldn't do shit except wait around.

Stitch graced him with his presence quite a few times.

Adler couldn't help but give a small mocking grin as they came face to face the first time around, running his mouth with usual quips:

"This isn't quite the reunion I had in mind."

It wasn't long before they forced a bag over his head and threw him into an aircraft. An eternity passed before they landed, and the first thing he noted was the sheer humidity of the destination. Adler couldn't see, and it was up to his imagination as to where he was. There was the faint smell of grass and dirt. His skin already was coated in sweat as his white tank top hugged his body.

The hands that took care of him were everything but gentle, shoving and practically throwing him whenever he stumbled or was a pace too slow. If they were feeling especially annoyed, maybe a prog with the end of a gun or a whip to the face.

Waiting around was starting to get bothersome. Either Woods, and the rest of the team, could extract him from whatever hellhole Stitch provided for him, or he had to do the work himself.

With a single man against an entire faction, with no weapon or knowledge of the terrain, Adler dwindled down to nothing but a prisoner of war. But no matter. All he had to do was tighten his jaw, hold back his tongue, and focus on survival.

Then, the torture started.

Thrown into a musty old chair, they ripped the suffocating bag off of his face. They didn't even give him time to more or less settle in before stabbing a needle into his neck and placing a camera in front of him. Attaching a few tiny pads to his chest, temple, and arms, Naga had the pleasure of leading the interrogation. If you could even call it that. The purpose felt more so for sadistic pleasure rather than an attempt to extract information.

It wasn't so bad the first couple of times. Adler had a good tolerance for pain, but the threshold increased within a blink, and he soon found himself gripping the arms of the chair as adrenaline rushed forth in an attempt for fight-or-flight, but he wasn't going anywhere.

Fuck!

Adler tried to convince himself they weren't going to break him. Whether it be through starvation, punches, cuts, dehydration, he will pull through. If he could get through Vietnam in one piece, this would have been a rerun of previous experiences. But this… was different.

Was this how you felt, Bell? he thought to himself.

It was the same shit he did to them.

The image of the Perseus agent he had personally interrogated conjured up back from the depths of his memories, and he gritted. Adler long convinced himself that shooting Bell on that cliff was inevitable— He had to do it. How ironic to finally get a taste of his own medicine. Yet, it was a necessary action.

To be on the receiving end of electrical shocks presented him a new world of pain.

Relentlessly, ruthlessly, painfully. Anything to get that sliver of information.

"Again."

Another injection. His thoughts disappeared as his mind began to fog up.

Shit.

Adler stared at the fabrics of his bloodstained pants. Beads of sweat trailed down from the tip of his nose and fell carelessly. How long has it been?

With his stomach growling and lips parched, Adler could only feel the soreness of his muscles as they tightened at every shock and his old cuts reopening.

"Eat."

They would only provide him with the bare minimum, scraps and a cap's worth of water, just to keep him from dying.

Adler spat out some blood. "Fuck you."

He refused to die. He needed to stay alive, yet there were those moments where perishing from existence seemed like the better option. And each time he thought that, there was that tiny, speck of hope that would retaliate in return.

Just a little longer.

Time was a blur. Now he was on a table, back in the clutches of Stitch.

He’s been tossed around for days (weeks? months?) like a ball in a tag team battle. Transferred from one place to another, sat down and strapped to be beaten repetitively. He caught himself forgetting as to why he was there in the first place, only to remember each time as he looked up at Stitch or Naga’s face.

Along with those two, he remembers Bell each time. Years later, except with roles switched. They were dead, yet Adler could sense their unwanted presence.

“Adler.”

He freezes. Adler tugs at his arms, only to be withheld with leather cuffs digging into his already bruised skin.

No.

He wasn't hearing it. Not their voice.

It was just an auditory hallucination. An effect of the brainwashing they were attempting. Stitch was in the corner, giving no indication of hearing anything.

Adler knew he shouldn't respond, but his brain process was too slow to prevent himself: "You're dead."

His own voice was unfamiliar to him. Hoarse and weakened, even he was starting to lose his own sense of identity.

"I am."

It was all in his head.

I killed you.

"You did. You shot me."

Bell's voice would come and go. Adler would slip unconscious on occasion, before being forced awake for continuous sleep deprivation. If he was in such a state to a point where he started to hear imaginary voices, it meant that whatever Stitch was planning was working.

But why Bell, out of all people? There were way more personal alternatives, like his ex-wife, but his mind decided on Bell to project his subconscious onto in the form of a disembodied voice.

"You know why."

Whatever the motive, his grip on reality was weakening. Not only had he been tormented with psychological and physical torture, but now he had to listen to his own past consequences belittle him.

The CIA forgot about him. No one was going to come. He was vulnerable and useless. Dead weight.

"Pathetic."

Adler sobbed for the first time, releasing a pinch of the pent up emotions he’s been withholding. He didn’t want to give them that satisfaction, yet his throat tightened up and a gasp for air turned into a whimper.

As quickly as the sound came out, he hardened himself once again. His tear ducts were long dry for the past few years. He wasn't going to fucking break, he was not going to cry—

Adler would pull through, just as he did all those other times.

But, he knew for a fact that hoping for a slim window of chance was useless, and there was a small part of him already acknowledging the fact that no one will come for him.

It was just an endless fight between dwindling hope and wanting to cave in. He wasn't going to let them win. He was better than this.

He grinds his molars together, the metallic taste of blood caking his tongue. Adler shut his eyes and his face scrunched up and gave out a suffocating groan, feeling another wave of electricity pulse through. It was still managed to produce the same pain from the first few times, feeling fresh with each round.

"Suffer."

It was never enough.

Despite his diligence and stubbornness, there was always that split second where he would always think:

Make it stop.

But of course, they wouldn't. No one could hear his yelps or growls of anguish in this isolated facility— it was the perfect place for people like Adler to be held. Whatever Stitch had on mind, it was happening all too smoothly, and the lack of activity from the CIA side was all too concerning.

"They think you're dead. You're all alone."

Adler resisted the urge to tell Bell to shut up, but he didn't have the mental strength to do so. Seeing how long it's been, they weren't wrong.

They really did forget about him.

He hated himself for being this weak— for being defenseless and slow, for everything. Perseus was always several steps ahead of him. What was the point of the sacrifices he made if this was the end result?

The only peace he had was when Stitch sedated him (if he was fortunate enough), but the moment he woke up his senses would be overwhelmed to the max. It was the same procedures being played and re-winded each day. His body should have been accustomed to it, yet they knew how to work their way around it.

Day after day.

He was getting tired of fighting it.

Adler sucks in his breath, eyeing Stitch as came back inside. A gentle breeze flowed in for a second before the metal doors slammed shut. The crisp air made his nose crinkle, contrasting against the smell of sweat and blood that stuck to him like glue.

It was the closest Adler was going to get to seeing, and feeling, the outside world.

Stitch hands the phone off to one of the soldiers that lingered nearby. That menacing look was plastered behind that mask, never ceasing at the sight of his crippled form.

"Now, where were we?"

It would be easier to just slip and conform to their wants. Why did he still resist?

All he had to do was let go.

He had no one to return to anyway.

#pain by three days grace keeps repeating in my head whenever i look over this and i want it to stop #*balls hand into fist* such a good song #russell adler #fanfic #bo:cw #black ops cold war #call of duty #call of duty black ops cold war #bocw #text #abcd briefing #i wouldn't really consider this a pairing fic lol #call of duty cold war

100 notes · View notes

justformyself2 · 3 years

Text

Rainstorm

Yep. I'm a grown adult, but i feel like i need to tell you not to tell my mom. That is all I'm going to say.

WARNING: +18 READING. Probably some grammar mistakes ♥

John Krasinski x Reader.

Masterlist for more

You remain in the same position, missing countings of having to re-read the same phrase at the top of the page. He is watching you, and it burns, mostly because you were about to give in and were, still, putting up a stupid fight against yourself.

He wasn't playing your games anymore. There was another field being stepped on, other than the childish silent treatment phase, followed by the disgraceful conversation.

You disguised yourself in doing other 'chores' instead of enjoying every little bit of time left with him before LA could come in between and settle you two into the silent treatment for good.

John gets up from behind the desk on the other side of the room, where he stayed most of the time, where you had caught him ignoring his laptop more than once to look at you. He simply marks while making you catch on fire.

So that was the subtle game he was playing, testing you, bending you like a fragile stick, not even using much strength.

Him putting on that black tank top, generous with the view of his new figure, a result of intense hours of training for another movie. It wasn't as if you didn't like him either way, but the combo of letting the beard grow gave him a darker tone you weren't expecting to enjoy.

Another thing you wouldn't expect is his anterior baby boy face to try to get you back with sex, but this new him you didn't know, you only assumed, because that's what you wanted him to do, putting out the dripping agony between your legs.

He could have, probably or definitely, observed the way you clenched early this morning when he got back after jogging, dripping in sweat, taking his shirt off, entering the kitchen, a place supposed to be a neutral zone. 'Unintentionally.' he pressed his body against your back when reaching for a green juice on the fridge while you were trying to grab the chicken breast.

His fingers cupped your waist, and the warmth stayed there. The tingling, his back, and every little patch of skin walking away from the kitchen trapped into your mind. How did he get so many muscles?

With each and every little innocent touch, every other time you were sleeping on the only bed left on that chalé you rented, far away from the mess of New York City, and he would press his hardness against your bottom, became harder to redeem your choice of staying mad, and remembering to stay that way.

He should have known better than siding with your mom against you, especially in intimate conversations, but every now and then he got carried away by your mother's ways, inviting and manipulative.

Talking about inviting and manipulative, you watch John changing his route towards the bed where you were and walking towards the window on the right.

"Shit, it is going to pour out here."

You could curse.

Deciding the actually leave the book and getting up, you seek shelter from leaving the environment when a loud thunder strikes and the lights go out, stopping you in the hallway towards the small living room, shared with the kitchen.

The fragile moonlight coming through the windows was enough to, at least, guide you two close them when the wind started to get intense.

"Maybe I go should check the fuses?"

You didn't think he was serious, and he didn't seem to be when another violent thunder struck.

Was he checking if you still cared about him enough not to send him outside to get hit by lightning?

He closes the last window in the living room part.

"Are you insane?"

There is still a little bit more annoyance in your voice than you wanted.

The kitchen curtains start to be lifted like they are electrified, making you, in a stupid, impulsive way, run towards them and ignore the existence of the step up to the kitchen part.

Your knees hit the edge floor, as also did the palm of your hands, absorbing the fall.

"FUCK!"

"Baby, what happened?"

"WHO THE FUCK PUT THIS FUCKING STEP HERE?"

"Fuck, I can't see a damn thing. Where the fuck did I put my phone?"

"Why do you need a phone?"

"For the flashlight."

"I'm five steps away from you, seriously."

You sit to start rubbing on your knees in a tentative to ease the pain.

"What if I trip on you." You hear his voice coming closer.

"I'll kill you, but I'm fine. I just need a minute." Another thunder strikes lighting up the room, and he spots you for a couple of seconds.

"Do you think you can close the windows?" You ask, hearing the sound of the trees being shaken by the wind.

"Fuck the windows."

There is the sound of his steps coming closer, and you know he crouched down by the vibration of your own body recognizing his, something that wasn't new, but got enhanced by the darkness you two were under, as also did his smell.

It isn't fair.

"John-"

"Shush, come here."

You feel like a child, putting up your arms around his shoulder, after some guidance from his own hands that afterward cupped down the sides of your breasts down towards your waist, and finally, he easily lifts you, keeping you locked against his chest. His hand makes a slow wandering on your back, and you found yourself subconsciously doing the same thing on his naked arms.

"Don't shus-"

He is quicker than your words, and you wouldn't complain, conquering your mouth as his in a battle you didn't want to win.

The wind whistles through the windows, but you could let it bring down the house if it meant John would continue to bite down your lips while moaning.

No underclothing could prevent him from reaching any part of you without ceremony, but he is slow in a way you have to take his hands and put it in on your breasts, making him chuckle.

"For someone who is mad at me."

He takes advantage of your needs, but two could play the game.

"I can stop if you want, and we can go back the way we were."

You bluff, placing all the convincing in your voice since he couldn't see your face, but you could tell he had that jerk smirk.

His answer came in the form of his fingers invading your pajama shorts, you foolishly try to move away, lazily, and his other hand puts you in place while you feel his thumb caressing your clit.

"Are you sure that is what you really want? You know, you just have to tell me."

His low deep tone fogs your brain completely, and he is quick to realize this fact, so he goes back to attacking your lying mouth, left with no other task than moaning for him, but your hands were eager and truthful. You conquer his moans by stroking him through the sweatpants.

"Oh...Fuck! I was starving for this. You really have no idea, looking at you every day, walking on this fucking see-through shirt practically all-day and denying me to touch you, to kiss you."

He bites your shoulder, releasing another moan when your hand reaches under his underwear.

"It is not like you weren't trying to torture me too, eye-fucking me all day, walking around the house semi-naked, dripping in sweat. I will never forgive how fucking hot you look with a beard. I thought I would hate it, and now I just want to feel it in the middle of my tights."

"So we think alike."

"I think we not gonna make it to the bed, and the couch is too small."

"Then floor it is."

Retrieving yours and his hands, he proceeds to grab you by the ass with both hands, lifting you.

Your legs know the way around his waist, and his mouth knows the way towards your breasts. Over the thin fabric t-shirt, he displays fragile bites while crouching down with you on his lap.

When your bottom touches the floor, carefully, you feel his hand on both sides of your body, ready to get rid of your shirt, and with your help, it comes out easily.

John hums in approval, and so does you when his hands are replaced with the warm wetness of his mouth over your nipples.

The summer rain starts to fall heavy outside while your back starts to rest down against the wood floor slowly.

With your spine flat on the floor, he decides to start to travel down with less routine than you expected, undressing you of your shorts.

John could be methodical, but it seems that he didn't lie about being ravenous for you, but he couldn't skip the foreplay, that would be the true sin.

He goes down towards your navel, and you couldn't decide if it was hotter with the absence of the lights or not; It did enhance each feeling, every swirl of his tongue, every wet sound and taste, but you craved to see his hazel eyes, burning with pure lust to see you squirming under his mouth.

You don't know who or what to thank when the moonlight persevered over whatever cloud blocking it, lighting up the room decently enough to let you capture, even if wouldn't last long, the glistening of his tongue entering you at the exact moment.

You wanted to open your eyes, tell him to look up at you, but you underestimated the power abstinence could have. Now you could really comprehend his lack of ceremony.

"Fuck! Shit... John!."

Through your closed eyelids, you welcome back the darkness, missing the opportunity given by the moon, getting clouded like your thoughts. She would have to be merciful when you could even miss your name. She would have to be more merciful than John, which adds a finger to his torture, curling it up inside you, moaning against your clit.

You coming undone was a matter of seconds.

He tries his best to put you in place when the orgasm hits, but he ruins it, retrieving his stokes and tongue at the peak.

"What the fuck!" You don't' even have the strength to get your torso up.

"Oh, you really thought you were getting away with being punished?"

He grabs your thighs, while you layed, spread open for him. You really could escape in the dark and lock him outside the bedroom to figure out the rest with his hand.

When the thought started to sound like a plan you find the strength needed to get up at least your torso, but with your rough movements, he quickly catches up, gripping hard on your thighs and bringing forward towards his lap.

You figured he waited for you to leave since he was already in the position to land you on top of his hardness, as you were.

"You son of b-."

He grabs your ass, forcing it down on him, causing an inevitable moan to occur since you were already sensitive.

"Be a good girl for me, and I will compensate you, baby. I feel like I shouldn't have to tell you this so many times. It is like you want me to punish you."

The moon now betrays you, showing up in a time you were vulnerable, letting him picture your face while your body melted in his arms, and all of him that was so fucking inviting and undeniable.

"Do what you want with me."

With his eyes boring into yours, John lays you down, proceeding to get out of his remaining clothes completely. You couldn't believe how insanely good he looked; the moonlight could be fooling you.

Watching his cock pops out of the underwear, you could feel the wet agony forming between your legs all over again, like the heavy rain outside.

There isn't another word when the connection of your eyes was held strong, until he inclined forward, placing himself where he belonged, inside you, and your vision got compromised as he merciless pounded his pelvis against yours.

"Christ!"

He growls like an animal, just from being inside of you.

"Make it last, Krasinski."

"Don't worry about it." He chuckles.

Getting a better position with his arms on the sides of your head, he places one under your neck for comfort.

Your legs wrapped around his waist deepened his movements, and soon he was hitting places unknown to you.

"Oh... fuck, that's it right there, don't stop."

You couldn't control, taking advantage of the rain, muffling your pleadings, and also did he, what ironically made you mad at the rain.

He wasn't much vocal, and it didn't bother you till now when his moans were eating your brain out from logic.

"God, you are getting wetter by the second." He says, then kisses your lips before closing his eyes, increasing the strokes. "Is it cause you are now how you are supposed to be? Full of me, and only me."

Now you were the one hungry for his mouth, grabbing on his beard slightly hard to bring towards your face. His tongue is avid, his free hand goes towards your clit, and it's too much.

His mouth parts from yours.

"Cum on my dick, baby, cum for me so I can fill you up like you want me to."

You cry it out, feeling every cell of your body ready to obey him, to please him, and it doesn't take too long when your legs started to shake, and this time he goes all the way with it, letting to lose a bit of movement only when his own orgasm reached. You kiss him, deeply, while he still thrust into you randomly.

His moans vibrating in your mouth, till he quiets down, parting the kiss.

He smirked at you.

"Do you remember when you told me that fucking during a rainstorm was your fantasy?"

#john krasinski #john krasinski imagine #john krasinskixreader #imagine #+18

72 notes · View notes

maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 22)

Pairing: JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Happy Sunday (: Only two more chapters left and I’m sad about it.

Word Count: 6.8k

Chapter 21 Masterlist

My friends drag each other to Heyward's shed where he stores all his useless junk he'll probably never touch again. I always said Pope's dad was a borderline hoarder. But the clutter does nothing to distract me from what's happening to my brother.

I pace back and forth with my hands interlocked on the top of my head. As I move back and forth, my friends keep their eyes trained on me as if I might sprint back to the airstrip.

No one says anything. The four of us are try to defuse the ticking time bomb thats about to blow in all of our heads without actually losing our minds.

I freeze when I hear the familiar hum of a plane fly overhead. I feel my throat tighten and my face heat with frustration. And just like that, Ward Cameron wins again.

"There goes the gold," Pope says and throws his hat across the room.

"Shit!" JJ kicks the closest thing to him which happens to be a three legged wooden table.

"Fuck!" Pope picks up a metal trash bin and throws it across the room, just like his hat.

"Pope!" Kie yells.

"God damn it!" He continues to throw anything he can find. His bomb exploded and he's destroying anything in his path. "Shit! Fuck!" He finds a wooden baseball bat in the heap of the clutter and hits whatever he can find. Glass tables, wooden chairs, more trash bins. I'm almost mesmerized by his movements because I have never seen this side of Pope before. "Shit! Damn it!"

"Pope!" Kie's trying to clam him down while JJ and I just watch with open mouths and raised brows. However, Pope just ignores her and continues to yell and break shit. "Pope!" I can imagine the release Pope must be feeling from this. All my life, I've never seen him act like this. He's usually so composed, always the one to keep us from doing shit like this. I don't know how to react now that roles are reversed. "Pope!"

Pope eventually falls with exhaustion against the arm of a musty green couch and pants to catch his breath.

"Yeah, dude," JJ says slowly. He puts his hand on Pope's shoulder and squeezes. "I was wondering when this was gonna happen. Here you go, chief." JJ holds out his dab pen for Pope to take. Pope looks at it and for the first time, he actually considers it. "A little weed never hurt no one."

"JJ," Kie says, disapproving.

"Relax, Kie."

"You know he doesn't smoke."

Pope ignores both of them and takes the pen from JJ and inhales a large hit. As if this kid couldn't shock me more today.

"Well, maybe not until today."

"Pope."

"Yeah, what is that gonna help?" Pope says. "I lost my scholarship. Walked out in the middle of the interview. Every -" Pope inhales sharply and shakes his head. "It's gone. It's not gonna happen."

"You did that for us?" Kie asks.

"No, not for us. For nothing."

I never thought of silence as being physically heavy, but right now, I feel like I'm being weighed down by a thick fog that I can't swim out of. Pope's right. Despite everything we did right this summer to get something we all deserve, we ended up with nothing except for more problems.

"I'm here for you, Pope," JJ says. "Welcome to my world, okay?"

Kie looks at me for some kind of assistance, but I have nothing to offer. She sighs and looks back at the boys. "JJ -"

"What, Kie? He's right. It doesn't matter anymore."

"You don't have to do that," Kie tells Pope and motions to the weed.

"What do you care?" Pope snaps.

Before this can get any worse, I turn at the sound of footsteps approaching us. My jaw physically hits the ground, at least that's what it feels like, when I see John B.

His eyes are facing forward and his clothes are covered in blood. He looks like he's in some kind of state of shock and I am terrified to find out why.

But my sisterly instincts kick in first. I'm running to him before the others even see him and my hands are pulling his shirt up to make sure the blood isn't his. John B reacts as if I'm not even there and stares ahead.

"John B what happened?" My voice shakes as my eyes scan his body. There's not a even a scratch on him, but I almost wish there was. Because this means the blood belongs to someone else, and I don't want to think that my brother is the reason for it.

"Dude! Dude, you good?" JJ runs up behind me and looks over John B's body with big eyes.

"Oh, my God! John B!"

"Is this yours?"

"Whose blood is that?"

I cup John B's face in my hands and make him look at me. When his eyes finally find mine, I ask, "What happened?"

Before he can answer, cop cars with their sirens on pass us on the road behind us. John B grabs me by the arm and shoves us all back into the shed and we duck behind a wooden slack.

"Shit," Pope curses as his chest moves up and down heavily.

When the coast is clear, John B tells us what happened. Sheriff Peterkin showed up. At first Ward thought she was going to arrest John B for breaking into the airstrip and almost causing a catastrophic accident, but she was there to arrest Ward. Of course Ward wasn't going to go down without a fight and before Peterkin could react, she was shot in the chest. By none other than Rafe Cameron.

"Rafe shot Sheriff Peterkin?" I ask in disbelief.

I always thought Rafe was a lot of things, but I never had cop killer written down on my list. However, I do know that Rafe is the kind of kid who would do absolutely anything to impress his dad. He's been fighting for his attention since he was a tween. Maybe in his own sick way, he thought killing Peterkin was saving his dad.

John B nods. He tells us Peterkin told him to run. And as much as he didn't want to, he was better off with us than dead. Sarah even told him to go as she protected him with her own body while he ran away. Rafe tried to shoot him too but couldn't get his aim down as he sprinted through the woods to get to us.

"What?" I feel my blood turn ice cold when I think about Rafe trying to kill my brother. The one family member I have left. "Why would Rafe want to kill you too?"

John B shrugs. "Because I saw the whole thing."

"So did his sister," I say. "Do you think Sarah is okay?"

"Rafe wouldn't hurt her."

I scoff. "Yeah right."

Now I know that Rafe is pretty much capable of anything worthy to an eternity in hell. I don't think anyone is safe in his company. Not even Sarah. Maybe Ward.

"Kie, can you give me a ride somewhere?" John B asks.

We sneak through the back roads to get to Kie's house. When we get in her car, John B directs her to the police station. By the time we get there, the sun is completely set, blanketing the town in an eery indigo color.

Everything seems so silent to me now. The hum of Kie's radio, the shuffling of leaves brushing against each other, the bickering between my friends and brother. There's a ringing in my ear that won't go away until my hands are wrapped around Rafe's neck.

I feel like my brain as been replaced by a dark cloud. No ideas, no thoughts, no plans can make me feel any better or lighter. It's like an invisible hand has reached down my throat and twisted my heart right out of my chest.

Peterkin was the one and only person that actually helped John B and I. She kept DCS off our backs for as long as she could, she never rubbed it mine or John B's face that the whole island thought we were delusional when we said our dad was coming back, and she was even going to arrest Ward Cameron for my father's murder.

She didn't deserve to die. Although I wasn't the one who pulled the trigger, I can't help but think that her death is somehow my fault. It was my family she was protecting. She was doing her job, but she could have easily written my dad's death off as an accident like every other cop on this island.

"John B, what are we doing at the police station?" JJ asks when Kie parks the car right outside of the front entrance.

"Somebody's gotta tell them what happened." John B's voice is filled with sadness and guilt. I wish I could pull all this weight off his shoulders and add it to mine. He use to be so optimistic - always the one to cheer me up. Now that it's the other way around, I'm dumbfounded on what to do.

Pope takes another hit of JJ's juul and ends up coughing most of the hit up.

"Oh," JJ says from his seat behind Pope and pats his shoulder twice. "Easy there, chief. Damn."

I ignore the fact that Pope sounds like he's hacking up a lung and turn to look at my brother.

"Are you sure?" I ask him.

"All right. I'm just gonna be real with you right now," JJ says to my brother. "You might end up in the lion's den, but you don't go there on purpose. It's fundamental. Just like my old man always told me, you should never ever trust cops, no matter what the circumstance is."

I scoff at the idea of taking advice from JJ's dad.

"Your old man's an abusive liar," Kie says, looking through the rearview mirror with a scowl on her face.

"I agree with JJ," Pope says. "Fuck the police."

Kie turns to look at him. "You going dark side now?"

"When's the last time the police helped us?" Pope says.

"Peterkin looked out for me, all right?" John B says loud enough to grab everyone's attention. "Tried to, at least." He looks at me. "They need to know."

John B steps out of the car with his head hanging low on his shoulders. I bite down on my bottom lip, contemplating what our next move should be. All I know is that I can't let him do this by himself.

"Wait, John B!" I jump out of the car and follow him to the front door. "You're not going to do this alone."

I wait for John B to argue with me but he doesn't. Instead, he nods his head and leads me into the police station, a place I've been in a couple times by force. Never by choice.

There's a woman at the front desk who looks exhausted and busy. I can hear the mumbling of her radio on her desk and the static after each statement. I'm pretty sure I hear Peterkin's name but I don't know if it's my own head repeating her name over and over again.

"Um...excuse me, ma'am," John B says.

The woman barely looks up from her desk and writes something down on her pad of paper in front of her. "This is not a good time, kid." Had she just taken the time to look up, she would see the guy standing in front of her is covered in blood. Maybe then, she would be more worried. Instead, she focuses on her radio. "Adam, advise if you need air tran."

I open my mouth to give this woman a piece of my mind, but John B cuts me off. His voice soft and broken. "I know who shot the Sheriff."

I force myself to look up at him. He looks like he's trying his best to keep himself composed when all I know he wants to do is collapse on the nearest chair and just...breathe.

The woman freezes and finally takes in John B's appearance. She studies the stain on his shirt and the sweat on his skin, the hollowness behind his eyes and his shaky hands.

"You stay put," She says as she backs away. "I'll get a deputy."

I look around the station and feel an uneasy swirling motion in my stomach. It's unsettling. Like JJ's words are getting in my head. Maybe coming to the cops wasn't such a good idea.

My head snaps towards the radio when it statics to life again. "Central, three Vick. We have a suspect in our 31. John Routledge."

My blood runs cold and my eyes flash up to meet John B's. He's staring down at the radio like it's an actual person and he's frozen in shock.

Another woman's voice comes up on the radio. "Copy that. All units, be on the lookout for John B Routledge."

"Sixteen year old white male. Six foot. Last seen wearing board shorts, a 'Bad Brains' T shirt, and a faded red hoodie."

"Copy that."

My hands grab John B's to drag him out of here. My head scrambles to come up with our best plan, but I know staying here isn't it. Ward somehow managed to spin this around on my brother. I shouldn't be shocked, but I keep managing to be knocked out with more surprises right when I think things couldn't get any worse.

Just as I'm about to pull John B out of there, two cops come out from the back and stare at the two of us with big eyes. A man and woman dressed in their faded brown deputy uniforms. My eyes trail down to their hands that are both steady on the gun in their holster, ready to aim if they need to.

"Just...breathe. All right?" The woman cops holds out her hand as if to tell John B to stay calm.

The other officer nods. "John B. Do what she says."

"Look, I didn't...I didn't do it, okay?" John B tries to explain but his voice his shaky and lacks any sort of confidence.

"Dont...move."

"Go..." My voice is barely a hushed whisper but my tug on his arm is strong. "Go, go, go. Run!"

John B and I sprint out of the station before any officers can guard the door. I can barely hear them yelling after us through the drumming in my ears.

"Kie! Start the car!" John B yells as we basically body slam ourselves into her car. "Start the car, Kie!"

I basically rip the back door open and stumble into JJ's lap after tripping on my own feet. Everyone's yelling. The people in the car. The people running out of the police station.

"What? John B!" Kie yells as her hands shake. She tries putting the keys back into the ignition but her hands are trembling too much.

"The cops!"

"Shit!" JJ curses and looks over my shoulder at the cops who are sprinting towards us.

"Go!" John B yells at her. She turns the key but of course the car decides not to start. "Kie, drive! Go!"

"Go Kie!" Now I'm yelling at her.

"Stop the car!" One of the cops yell with her gun raised at the back window.

"I'm going! I'm sorry!" Kie says as anxiety cripples through her.

"Right now!" The woman cop from inside approaches the car. She tries to open it but the door is locked.

"What did you do?" Kie yells at us.

Kie moves the vehicle slowly out of the parking lot, but the woman is relentless. She runs with us side by side and hooks her fingers around the door handle.

"Open it!" JJ yells at John B.

John B opens the door to knock the cop off the car. The tactic works and she rolls on the ground. Only now we'll probably be written up for assault too.

I fall back into my seat and pant for breath. My head falls back against the cushioned seat and my eyes close. Okay, okay, think, Marleigh. Think.

Ward killed my dad. Ward stole my gold. Rafe killed Peterkin. And somehow, my brother is the one being framed for murder. Make it all make sense.

I hate them. The Camerons. Kooks. All entitled, greedy sons of bitches who don't know how to handle rejection or the word 'no.' They think all their meals should be served on a silver platter and kids like us are born for the sole purpose to serve them. They deserve to rot. They deserve to feel all the pain we do.

And yet, they don't. And they never will because that's the life we live. A life where people like Ward and Rafe Cameron can get a way with murder because no one would blink twice at their lame excuse of a story.

A lie.

It all boils down to money. Money we almost had right in our pockets. But now it's gone as is pretty much everything else in my life. My house. My dad. Maybe now my brother.

JJ laces his fingers with mine and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. I keep my eyes closed but let my head fall on his shoulder. I focus on his touch. How his thumb delicately rubs against my skin in a light up and down motion. How his lips are able to make my heart flutter when they kiss the top of my head. How his soft whispers, telling me everything is going to be okay, are sweet enough to make me melt into a buttery mess.

Maybe not everything's gone. I still have JJ. The constant in my life. The one who can always make me feel better even in the shittiest of situations. My sun on my darkest nights. My sight into the future when I can't even think of tomorrow.

I don't let JJ go. Even when Kie parks the car back at Heyward's shed under an open roof. We have literally nowhere else to go. The cops will undoubtedly check all of our homes, including Kie's. The Chateau is definitely surrounded by cops, waiting for John B and I to make the dumb move of going back there. And Tannyhill isn't an option anymore.

The sun is already poking out behind the trees as morning approaches. My body aches from sleeping in this cramped car, but I try to ignore the pain and focus on the fact that we're all still together. For now.

The five of us sit in silence. Some of us try to wrap our heads around what just happened and try to come up with another plan. The rest of us, like me, are so tired, they can't even remember what their middle name is.

The only noise in the car comes from Kie's radio. "...should be functional within twenty four hours." Meanwhile, another cop car with loud sirens pass us on the road without sparing this car a second glance. "And still, no arrest in the shooting death of Sheriff Susan Peterkin. The state police have issued a statement regarding a local person of interest, a juvenile from -"

Kie switches the radio off and glances back at John B and I. My brother has his seat reclined all the way back and is staring up the at the ceiling of the car. JJ has moved so his back is against the car door with one leg bent at the back of the seat and the other one on the floor. I sit between his legs and play with the necklace he gave me a couple days ago. Crazy enough, it feels like years since he gifted me this.

"Let's game this out," JJ is the first to speak. He looks at Kie and Pope in the front seat. "Maybe you guys can help, being the smart ones and all, but..." He sighs. "...who are the cops going to believe? Ward Cameron or us? So the accuser is a big shot developer, kind of lord of the island, got the governor on speed dial kind of person, and the accused...is John B, who is...pretty much a homeless sixteen year old boy at the moment."

"Thanks." John B deadpans.

"Okay, man. Yucatan, all right? I'm saying that's the only option." John B gives him a look to stop talking but of course JJ doesn't take the hint. "What other options do you have?"

"Enough with the Mexico bullshit," Kie says.

"Sarah will bail me out," John B says a lot more confidently than I feel about the situation.

"She did witness the whole thing," Kie says.

"Thank you."

"You really think she's going to pick you over her own family?" I can't help the attitude that drips off my tongue with each word. Sarah's a nice girl and I really liked her. But Rafe and Ward are her family. "No offense, but you've really only known each other for a few weeks."

"Not happening, bro. Okay?" JJ says, agreeing with me. "We gotta get you off the island."

"The ferry," Pope speaks up for the first time all morning. "It's the only way."

"Exit stage left while you still can. Before the entire island is on lockdown."

"Guys, just get down," Kie slumps further into her seat as another round of sirens pass us.

"Sarah's not a Pogue, John B," Pope says. He has a point. Sarah hasn't been friends with all of us for that long. I almost wouldn't even blame her if she took her family's side.

"Yeah. You can't stay here, man," JJ says, tightening his hold on me.

Another moment of silence passes through us and I wonder if JJ's right. Adrenaline on the island is at an all time high. No cop, no lawyer, no person is going to believe John B over Ward. Not without evidence. We need time to clear John B's name. So maybe getting him off the island would be best. Even if it's just temporary.

~ ~ ~

When Kie parks in front of the ferry, Pope hops out to buy the tickets and Kie moves to the passenger seat. I offered to go with him but JJ told me that was a bad idea because I would get recognized as John B's sister.

So here I am, useless and laying down as flat as I can next to John B to avoid being seen through the windows.

I look at John B. His eyes are closed and his chest moves heavily up and down. His fingers flex and clench into fists every couple of seconds. I wonder if his fractured hand is starting to hurt him.

"The first thing we're doing when we get off this stupid island is buying you a new outfit," I say. I cringe in disgust when I look at Peterkin's blood stain on his clothes. Another reminder that she's dead.

I look up to the front seat window when Pope comes back to the car. He's mumbling to himself and I think he has something in his hand.

"Okay. All right, no."

"Pope, can you act normal?" Kie says through clenched teeth and unlocks the door for Pope to get in.

"Okay, um...okay, so, bad news. The ferry's closed, and there is this."

Kie takes a piece of paper from his hand and looks at it. Her eyes close for half a second and she shakes her head. "Shit."

"What is that? What is this?" John B asks.

JJ snags the paper out of Kie's hand and looks at it. "Well, John B, uh...this is a good framer of you." He turns the paper over and shows my brother and I a picture of John B on a 'WANTED' sign with a cash reward of $25,000.

"Okay, so the whole island's looking for John B right now," Pope says.

"That's a lot of money," I can't help but laugh. "Gotta say, John B. Didn't think you would be worth that much. Hell, maybe I'll turn you in."

"Congratulations John B, you're famous," JJ says.

John B slaps the outside of my thigh with the back of his hand. I scoff and slap him back, which causes a strings of slaps and hits, though mostly playful, and some a little harder.

"Stop. Guys, stop!" Kie says loudly. JJ pulls my hands away from my brother and folds them in my lap. He gives me a warning look, like a teacher would their student, and it makes me want to laugh about how bizarre this whole thing is. "We got to get to the HMS. We need small, no running lights -"

"It's at the Chateau, Kie," John B says.

"And I wonder if the cops got the entire place taken out," JJ says sarcastically. "Let me think. Oh, yeah. No. they definitely have that place locked down."

"Let me think. Just give me a second," John B says frustratingly.

"JJ," Pope says.

"What?" He looks up.

"Does your dad still have the boat? The cigarette boat, the Phantom. The one he used to race."

I look up at JJ, but I can't read his emotions. He keeps his face unfazed. "Maybe."

"You could get right up the coast, no problem. Okay, look - "

"It won't be easy, Pope."

"The surf's running from three to four."

"I don't know where the keys are."

"Well, find them."

"I'm thinking," JJ snaps.

"Why is nobody moving forward?" Pope yells at the car in front of us and bangs the palm of his hand on the steering wheel.

I rub my fingers in a circular motion on my temples and close my eyes again. Words are being spat at about a million miles per hour. It's hard to keep up and my blood vessels twist with anxiety.

"Can you relax?" Kie hisses. "JJ, how much weed did you give him?"

"Guys," John B says. "Your car's on the poster."

Pope ignores everyone and hits his fist against the horn of the car. "Can we move it?"

"Pope!"

I'm going to puke.

"Come on!"

"Don't honk the horn!" Kie says, hitting Pope's arms away from the wheel.

"It's that guy. Right there!" I hear a voice outside our window say. The voice sounds young. Kid-like.

"Shit," John B tries pushing himself further into his seat. I didn't even realize he sat up in the first place.

"We got a snitch. Pope, turn the car on," JJ says, sitting up in his seat and leaning forward to hit Pope on the shoulder.

"We get $25,000 if we find him!" The kid says.

"Hey! He's right there!" Another voice. Manly. Great, we're drawing a crowd.

"Hey! We gotta go!" Kie yells.

"Pope, go!" I yell.

"Turn the car on!" JJ yells.

We're all yelling and I think my eardrums might burst.

"I found him first!" The kid says to the man.

"Hell you did, you little bastard!"

"Pope, turn the frickin' car on!" JJ yells.

The crowd starts growing around the car. John B turns into my side and pulls his hood up over his head.

"I am trying!" Pope yells back at us.

"Turn the car on!"

"Go, go, go!"

Pope jerks the car forward and hits the car in front of us. I jolt forward in the middle seat and stop myself from going through the windshield by pressing my two arms on the front two seats.

I hear the crowd gasp and move backwards to avoid the nutso in the front seat. Now that I think about it, who let Pope drive in the first place?

"Pope! Jeez!" JJ curses.

"Dude, back up!" Kie yells.

Pope puts the car in reverse and steps on the gas, but hits another car in the process.

"Hey!"

"The other way!"

JJ pats Pope's shoulder again. "It's okay! Pope, just go!"

Pope hits the corner of Kie's front bumper against the car in front of us again but continues to step on the gas until we're completely out of our spot.

"What are you doing?" Kie yells at him.

"We'll bump out!"

"Watch out!" I yell when I spot a couple of people crossing the street before Pope can kill them.

"Whoa! Whoa! Watch out!" Pope yells and swings his hands in front of him to motion for the people to jump out of the way. "Watch out!" My back hits the back of my seat, hard. Pope has the audacity to laugh. Head back and all. "Oh my god."

"Pope!" Kie yells. "What the fuck?"

"I'm living my best life right now," Pope says through laughter.

Kie slumps in her seat. "My mom's gonna kill me."

"I should be the last to say this, but you are not okay to drive," JJ says. I turn to glare at him and he puts his hands up in the air to surrender. He looks back out to the road and yells, "Stop!"

Pope stomps on the brakes and sends us skidding to a stop. JJ's arm whips out to the right to stop me from flying forward.

We're gonna die.

Pope looks over his shoulder at my brother. "John B, get out."

"What?" I glare.

"He's right," JJ says and my head snaps to him. He ignores me. "We'll draw the cops, you run."

"Shit," John B curses and unbuckles himself.

"I'll get the rig, and I'll meet you in the dump tomorrow, okay? Three o'clock, okay?"

"Wait, I'm coming with you," I say, but John B shakes his head.

"No. You stay here. Stay with them."

"I'm not leaving you!" I fight back and look at him like he has two heads. He must think I'm crazy if he thinks I'm going to let him run away by himself.

"JJ -" John B looks at him.

"On it. Go!" JJ's hands wrap around my waist, forcing me to stay in the car. I try prying his fingers off of me, but he's a lot stronger than I am. John B starts running off. "Three tomorrow at the dump!" When John B disappears behind the tree, JJ finally lets me go. I turn around and shove him back by his chest and slide over to the seat that John B was just in. JJ sighs and looks forward again. "Come on, go, go, go!"

Pope steps on the gas again and veers forward.

I look out the window and ignore the queasiness that has fully taken over my stomach. I know John B and JJ were right to keep me in the car. I would only slow John B down and get myself in trouble and therefore, be completely useless in helping my brother. But I can't shake the feeling that I'm abandoning him.

~ ~ ~

Pope, for some reason, is still driving. I don't know where he's going but it seems like we're on our way to Figure Eight. Pope turns on the radio, blasting one of North Carolina's hip hop stations.

JJ leans forward in the middle seat and pushes his head between Kie and Pope. He's managing to laugh like we're on some joy ride on Memorial Day weekend. "Pope, you clocked that car, man. Like that was so bad!" JJ shakes his head. "I'm just glad I'm not driving now."

" Pull over." Kie tells Pope. "JJ, it's not funny. He shouldn't be driving."

JJ grimaces. "Mama's mad."

Pope pulls the car over and switches seats with Kie. A delirious grin stays on the high boy's lips as he settles in the passenger seat.

"What are you -"

"Where are we going?" I ask Kie as she makes a familiar right turn.

"The last place they're gonna look." Kie says.

~ ~ ~

By the time Kie pulls up to Tannyhill, the sun has disappeared into the horizon and the pit of my stomach is the size of a category five hurricane. I can't remember the last time I ate or drank anything and the pounding in my head feels like a hundred bullets are penetrating my skull.

Kie's brilliant idea is to somehow get to Sarah and convince her to go to the police to confess what actually happened.

"Perfectly focused," Pope says to himself, which makes me glare at him. Pope is anything but focused.

"You sure this is a good idea?" JJ says.

"She's the only one who can clear John B," Kie says.

"Last place they'll look because of how stupid it is."

Kie ignores JJ and gets out of the car with Pope following right behind her. When I open the door, JJ pulls me back and closes the door again.

I look at him. My first reaction is to be concerned. Something in JJ's expression makes me fold. For a second I forget the mess we're in and I get lost in his blue eyes. It's just me and JJ and the world outside of this car no longer exists.

His warm hand wraps around my smaller one and he pulls me closer into him. His other hand cups my face, right underneath my jaw. My face feels like it's physically sparkling with the touch of his breath and forget butterflies - there is a zoo in the pit of my stomach. I glide into JJ like magnet.

His lips press into mine and I cave in. I pull him close enough to where I'm straddling him. Time stops as does my breathing. My fingers run through his blonde hair, tugging on the ends. He stifles back a moan and my face flushes pink.

I pull back for breath and rest my forehead against his. I don't know how many more times we're going to get to do that. And it hurts me thinking it might come to an end.

"I'm sorry," I say.

JJ ignores me. "When we get to Yucatan, we're getting a bungalow. We're going to live in bathing suits and get drunk off of pina coladas every day. Skinny dipping is going to be our main source of exercise - well, other than the hot dangerous sex we're gonna have every night. I'm never going to leave your side and I'm going to keep you safe until the day we die. In a few years, we'll get married. You're gonna wear that dress you wore to Midsummers and we're gonna have beautiful beach babies who will go on to win surfing championships by the time they're ten because they're going to be prodigies. Our prodigies. And John B is going to be there with us. Because he's not going to jail for a crime he didn't commit. Okay?"

I don't even realize tears are streaming down my face until he's wiping his thumb against my wet cheek.

"Promise?" My voice cracks and I really wish it didn't. But that's the life I want. That's the life I need. I don't care if it's in Yucatan or in the middle of a deserted island. I just need my boys, Kie, and Pope.

JJ kisses my left cheek. Then my right and my nose. "I promise."

"I love you, J."

"And I love you. Everything is going to be okay. I'm going to make sure you're okay."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

JJ laughs. "Okay."

As much as I don't want to leave him, as much as I'd rather stay here with JJ and forget about all our problems, I know I can't. Because Kie is probably freaking out, waiting for me. Because John B is on the run somewhere and I need to do something, anything to help him.

"I should probably..."

JJ rolls his eyes playfully. "Yeah I know. Be quick. Okay?"

I nod and jump out of the car before my head or my heart can make me do otherwise. I push my legs, that feel like rubber, over the stone wall that lines the Cameron's property.

I stop in my tracks when I hear Pope and Kie in some kind of intense conversation...well as intense as Pope can handle right now. I think he's still super high.

"Pope! Pope! Pope! Sh!" Kie says in a hushed tone.

"Hey, I'm trying to tell you, I love you."

Oh shit. I look at the stone wall I just jumped over and consider jumping back over it to avoid eavesdropping on this conversation.

"First of all, I need you to be quiet," Kie says.

"Okay, yeah. Quiet, I mean -"

"No. Stop talking, like, now." Kie says. This time, Pope doesn't speak. "Second of all...thank you for saying that."

I can't help but physically cringe at that statement. Because I know what's coming next.

"Okay," Pope chuckles.

"Now, that's very sweet, but it's - look it's not gonna happen."

"Okay, well, why not?"

This is like a car wreck you can't look away from. I had a feeling Pope was in love with Kie for years now. But he never acted on it. Didn't even flirt with her the way JJ did before we were together. A part of me always hoped he did. Because I wanted to see how Kie would react. I think the two of them would be really cute together. Kie could teach Pope to take more risks and Pope could give her a beautiful life that didn't require her working for her parents forever. They compliment each other. Always have.

"Because Pogues can't mack on other Pogues."

Pope scoffs. "That rule doesn't make sense, and nobody follows it. I mean look at JJ and Marleigh -"

"Look, I - I want something different."

"Okay, I-"

"I - I wanna go to Antartica, and I wanna ride camels..."

"I want to do those things with you."

"No. Pope, it's not gonna work."

"I want to be that person!"

"No. It's not gonna happen," Kie shakes her head. God, this is brutal. I can't wait to tell JJ. "Do you understand what I'm saying? Like..." Kie sighs. "Look, I know that that's really hard to hear right now, but we don't have time for this, and this is a really bad place to do it." She pauses and Pope doesn't respond. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." He says, but his voice has completely changed. It's dark and cold and doesn't match my Pope's personality.

"Are you ready for the plan, or..."

"Yeah."

"Okay..." Kie says and this is when I decide to make my entrance. I can't help with the situation at hand but at least I can cause a distraction.

So I cough. "Sorry for the hold up. JJ and I were just fighting over who has to be look out. So..." I force myself to look between Pope and Kie as if I didn't just witness their whole conversation. I try not to focus on the tear streak down Pope's cheek and look at Kie. "Ready?"

Kie nods and leads us towards the Cameron's. A house I almost called my home.

Kie is in charge of getting to Sarah Cameron by her bedroom window while I stay with Pope and create a distraction. We decided it was best if one of us stayed with Pope so I offered myself, considering what I just watched.

Pope still seems to be upset. He's not exactly being quiet trying to stay hidden like we should be.

"Gotta stick to the plan," Pope mumbles to himself and plays with the grill. I find the closest pillow on their patio set and place it on top of it. "I like camels. I like Antartica."

"Pope..." I say softly. The last thing I want is to piss him off more but he's making me nervous.

He ignores me. "What's wrong with that plan?" He bends down and picks up a rubber duck in a paramedic costume and looks at it thoughtfully. "Same." I don't know exactly what that means but he throws the duck into the grill and finds the lighter fluid. When he saturates the pillow...and duck, he turns the grill on. The fluid quickly ignites and flames shoot out from the grill. Pope's head is close enough to the fire that his hat catches on fire. "Shit!"

"Holy shit," I throw my arm at his head and knock the hat off of him. I stomp on it until the flame dies under my sneakers and pull him behind the closest tree that can hide us both.

Less than a minute later, I hear two pairs of footsteps come out. I recognize Ward's voice as he curses at the destructed grill until he stops and mutters the name "Sarah" under his breath and makes a beeline back in side.

Taglist: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz @moniamaybank @realistic-breadstick @urbinoutfiters @jeeperky @brebear121 @x-lulu @freddymaybank @jjpouggues @lemur46 @is-it-really-a-secret @kkmikayla @folkloverr @alexa-playafricabytoto @jjxrudy @migilini @stellarskys @rochyu @itsagurl @dazzlingnights

#jj maybank fic #outer banks rewrite #jj x oc

75 notes · View notes

five-rivers · 4 years

Note

I just had a vague idea for a Danny Phantom AU that treats the ghosts more as spirits than monsters to beat up, a bit like Yokai in japanese folklore. With barriers, sacret sited, curses, blessings, purifications, etc. The AU follows Danny becoming a guardian entity.

(I love that idea, and this isn’t quite what you’re talking about, I think, but... Yeah, I don’t know. Enjoy this snippet.)

Danny can feel it, the moment his feet hit the pavement of Saint Rita Avenue, and casts a blessing at whoever picked the name for this road. He makes it to the median, and turns, facing back the way he came. The washed-out yellow street lights prick at his eyes, reminding him that, as always, he has more in common with what he’s been running from than anything else.

Darkness splashes against the barrier between street and sidewalk. On both sides.

He hates it when spirits work together.

In Danny’s pockets, paper rustles. Prayers and charms from half a dozen different cultures, East and West, copied as best three untrained teenagers could. Some of them had done good. None of them had done enough.

He’s glad it’s late enough that there are no cars. The street is quiet, except for whispers only he can hear. It is cold, except for the almost-comforting burning under his feet, promising him safety, for now.

But this is a road with the name of someone holy, not hallowed ground. The barrier at its edges is not strong, and the thought of approaching an intersection, a crossroads, carries with it a frisson of risk that Danny is loath to ignore. Sometimes the labyrinthine Old Law that governed crossroads was helpful, but not tonight. Not this close to midnight with the shadows practically boiling with malice.

He needs a church. Or a temple. Or a mosque. Or a neopagan’s working space. He’ll even take a backyard where a bunch of kids are going through an Egypt phase and play at worshiping Osiris and Horus-Re. It’s worked before. Barely. Any place that’s had faith and its motions poured out on it often enough and recently enough for it to matter.

Otherwise Danny will have to draw on his own power, and that’s never turned out well.

But this section of Saint Rita Avenue isn’t the kind of place a church is built, and even with the spirit-thing swamping his senses with its hate, Danny can’t feel enough of a spark to justify breaking in.

He used the last of his blessed salt to get this far. He’s been out of holy water for days.

The first tendrils of other have broken through the avenue’s barrier. The whispers become razor sharp and crystal clear against Danny’s mind. What are you what are you what are you and not here not there you don’t belong and we know you and pain and fear and give up give up give up. They’re singsong and saccharine and far from the worst he’s endured so far tonight.

He’s out of time. He’s out of ideas.

Danny takes a step backwards and stops being Danny.

Phantom is different than Danny. He is made of pain and fear and all the things Danny thought were more important than his own life. He is a wild and contradictory spirit, his anchor to this word both inviolable and tenuous. He walks the narrow path between the sacred and the unspeakably profane.

The spirits reaching for him know this. They use it as their weapon, and it hurts more than anything.

(He is a thing that should not be and every second he does he degrades the souls of everyone around him he is a parasite does he not see--)

Phantom knows he cannot win this fight. But if he runs, these spirits will continue to hunt, to prey--

No.

He can see the spirits more clearly now than when he was clad in flesh. He can see them one, two, three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen times and more, spread across the layers of reality that they are allowed. When he is Danny again, he will remember a shapeshifter and a woman made of black flames.

(He does not know what he looks like in these places. He is afraid to find out.)

He fights.

He loses. Badly.

Not so badly that he cannot run home to the maze of light his parents built blind and he added to with averted eyes. This could be seen as a kind of victory, to live to fight again, protect again, come up with a new strategy, but Phantom has been injured too badly. A wound to the spirit is still a wound, never mind that when he wakes up as Danny all he feels is a heart-deep ache.

His covers are tangled around him when he wakes, the protective signs Tucker had embroidered into the cloth pressed against his bare skin. He does not know what happened to the clothes he was wearing. If he is lucky, he dropped them in the wash in a post-transformation haze. If not, they’re lying in the middle of Saint Rita Avenue. Or just. Gone. Which is also an option.

As he frees himself, he notices more marks on his skin. They match the low-grade fog of depression in his brain. Both are souvenirs from fighting with his soul outside his body.

(Or whatever his soul had become.)

Getting dressed is a chore. A painful chore. He makes it downstairs eventually, although he wishes he hadn’t when he sees Jazz’s spirit week poster on the kitchen counter. Spirit. It seems like a cruel universal jest.

A warm hand touches his shoulder, and Danny looked up into his sister’s eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” says Danny, even as he thinks no.

She smiles, just a little bit. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Danny shrugs. He can’t, really, and he doesn’t want to lie to her face.

“Just-- I know you’re going through some stuff, but, I have faith in you, okay? I believe in you. So, try to believe in yourself, too, okay?”

“Okay,” says Danny. Something feels... different, about the way Jazz says that. It isn’t her normal pep talk, and she doesn’t mention psychology at all.

She gives him a slightly large smile and a pat and walks away.

Mine, whispers the part of him that was always Phantom, sounding both surprised and pleased.

Of course she’s ours, Danny thinks back, she’s our sister.

But he feels fuller, now. Healed, in some small way, from what had been done to him the previous night.

It takes longer than it should for him to put the pieces together.

#danny phantom #ask #answer #sort of religious au i guess #meh #i don't know how to tag this #why did i do this i have so many other things i need to work on #help

222 notes · View notes

aitarose · 4 years

Text

GOLD DIGGER | BOLIN

PAIRING: Bolin x Earthbender!Reader [fem]

PLOT: Probending is easy when it’s all about the money. There’s no time for friends, romance, or allies—but that all changes when Y/N’s in-game rival saves her life. loosely based on this request by @comicgeek

WARNINGS: enemies to lovers, a little fluff, a little angst, stuck together

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

A/N: i rewrote/edited this entire piece, so that’s why i added a tag list. it used to be 1.4k words and that wasn’t cutting it for me so i made it longer and decided on it being one part only, also i hated the gif i originally used so here’s a new one lol

MY MASTERLIST

Here come the Fire Ferrets’ opponents! The three-time defending champions, the White Falls Wolf-Bats!

Y/N raised her right arm above her head, watching proudly as her winged sleeve unveiled itself to the fan-filled stadium. She stood in a triangular formation beside Tahno and Shaozu, who were howling as loud as they possibly could.

Her expression was nothing more than stoic as a low whistle blew from her lips, adding an unnoticeable pitch to the viewer’s screams and cheers for their reigning champions.

Flames erupted around their team, fireworks exploding in the air in bursts of red and yellow. Through the plastic of her wolf mask, Y/N could clearly see her opponents, the Fire Ferrets, groaning in disgust at the obnoxious display in front of them.

A large smirk rose from Y/N’s lips as she noticed the unmistakable frown of annoyance on her rival’s face. He stood with a slight slouch, visibly cringing at the antics of the Wolf Bats, determined eyes paired nicely with his loathsome look.

In all her time living in Republic City, Y/N had never met anyone quite like Bolin. He had this natural positivity and enlightenment ingrained into his personality that she’d never been able to fully understand.

Sure, she hadn’t exactly been trying to get to know the earthbender any better—but he also hadn’t ever been at the top of her priorities.

Probending was the main idea on Y/N’s brain ever since she’d learned of the sport. As a child, her parents had taken her to countless matches and championships that she’d found a passion for the game. There was nothing she loved more than a good match between challengers.

But after the death of her parents to the Triple Threats, Y/N’s love for probending subsided. The excitement quickly died and was replaced with ambition. A dry and one-dimensional ambition for nothing more than the profits of fame and autographs.

Y/N cracked her knuckles, shooing away any nerves or hesitations she harbored over the probability of their win. They’d already bribed the referees, there was no way their opponents could win—even if they did have the Avatar on their side.

The champs and the challengers face off at the center line. And here we go!

At the echoing ring of the bell, Y/N dashed forwards. The familiarity of the game infused with her muscle memory made her a dangerous player. She knew the ins and outs of the sport, giving her the advantage over any skilled opponent, no matter how powerful they were.

She turned to Tahno, giving him a curt nod of reassurance, before watching him begin to shoot waves of water at the Avatar. On her opposite side, Shaozu made his way towards Bolin. Bursts of fire shooting in every direction, including Y/N’s

Flames seared the air, narrowly missing her face as she easily dodged Mako’s first attempts at an attack. She studied his movements, picking up on his style of fighting before letting her senses connect with the weight of the stone beneath her feet.

She raised her hands quickly, sending the flying slabs in Mako’s direction in a cross formation. Y/N whipped her head to see all three of her attacks hit their target, forcing the firebender into the next zone.

“Perfect form, Y/N!” Shaozu shouted, encouraging his teammate in eliminating their opponents. He turned to speak again, before being knocked down by none other than Y/N’s least favorite person in the entire world, Bolin.

As the boy cheered himself on, his teammates chimed in with words of gratitude and proudness. “Nice shot, Bo!” Mako called, complimenting his younger brother with a large smile pinned across his face.

Y/N, however, was anything but excited for him. She instinctively sprinted in his direction, making a beeline plan of attack. The stones nearest to her raised up and around her body, focusing on the figure that was Bolin.

Revenge was the only thought on her mind. The idea of the physical winnings and profit that she could make off of this match alone. The idea of the billboards and interviews that she’d get paid for, egging her emotions of anger on.

Bolin screamed in surprise as the disks targeted him. He threw up his own hands, blocking her attacks with clumsy ease. “Is that the best you’ve got?” He taunted between breaths, barely managing to dodge her stream of deadly attacks.

Whilst Bolin was distracted, Y/N gestured to Tahno, who’d been dealing with Korra, for assistance. The snake-like boy gave a sly smile to what he assumed Y/N was hinting at, leveling an ongoing stream of water directly at Bolin.

Look at that! Y/N uses her quick thinking to undermine Bolin, whilst Tahno performs the perfect, borderline illegal, assist that should certainly elicit a foul—or apparently not!

“Are you kidding me?” Bolin’s mouth was agape in shock at the ref’s decision. He grunted as Y/N gave Tahno a high-five with a sneer gracing her lips. At the sight of Bolin’s helplessness, she let out a laugh—finding his exasperation amusing.

Bolin mimicked her movements in pettiness, making fun of the way she walked and talked. Y/N rolled her eyes at his childishness, choosing to respond with the same amount of maturity while sticking her tongue out in annoyance.

As the game went on, the two teams seemed to be quite evenly matched in terms of strategy and teamwork. Not even the hefty bribe Tahno had given the referee seemed to put the Wolf Bats in favor of winning.

After what felt like hours, the challengers had reached the point where a coin toss was deemed to be necessary to determine the winners of the probending championship. This event, having never happened before, caused an uproar in the stands, chaotic excitement raging through the arena.

Y/N stared in anticipation at the airborne coin, her heart pounding in unison with every flip and turn it made. She could feel the sweat dripping down the back of her neck as she waited to hear who had been determined to choose the final element.

“Yes!” Korra shouted, pumping her fist into the air before grabbing both Mako and Bolin by the shoulders and taking them aside to their section of the field. Y/N, Tahno, and Shaozu impatiently waited for them to finish—though Y/N already had a good idea of what was about to happen.

“I’m taking this one.” Bolin announced, pushing his brother and Korra aside. He nodded to the referee, confirming the Fire Ferret’s conclusion. “Earthbender versus earthbender, Y/N.”

Y/N reluctantly laughed as Bolin puffed out his chest in an attempt to appear more intimidating. She shook her head in disbelief that he actually thought that he had a chance of beating her. “Alright, big guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She stepped up on the pedestal, facing opposite to Bolin, before pulling her fists up to her chest. While settling their stances, Y/N sent a sly wink in his direction, confusing him further—causing him to completely miss the ring of the starting bell.

Bolin ducked, feeling the crisp wind from the flying rock slab touch his hair. He continued to dodge attack after attack, sending an equal amount of stone in Y/N’s direction as she was in his. His skill was impressive and undeniable, but also equal to his opponent’s.

“Fight back, you coward!” Y/N screeched amidst her attacks. She was beginning to feel as if she was losing valuable energy while being the only player on the attack. Bolin hadn’t made a single move that couldn’t be defined as defense, choosing only to avoid her marks.

In her frustration, Y/N’s advances had grown sloppy. She’d become less focused and precise, and more upset and angry. Her emotions were very obviously conveyed through her bending, Bolin taking note of her current emotional status.

He finally made his move, seeing his opportunity and thrusted one first in her direction. Unfortunately for him, Y/N made her move at the exact same time, causing both benders to be thrown from the platform.

The thin discs collided between them, becoming nothing but pebbles and dust in the thick air. Fog shrouded their surroundings, restraining them from seeing four feet in front of them—their only idea of what had happened being the moderator’s booming voice.

Well, what do we have here folks? Our very first and unbelievable championship tie, thanks to the outstanding performances today by the Wolf-Bats and the Fire Ferrets!

Gasped filled the stands as the fog dispersed, revealing a dumbstruck Bolin and a fuming Y/N. She huffed dramatically, her face the shade of a red tomato, and marched towards Bolin, pointing her finger at him accusingly.

“I can’t believe you!” She screamed, throwing her hands in the air. She lunged forwards, slightly pushing Bolin away before continuing her rant. “You only sent one attack! One—and somehow that makes me lose the entire game? No!”

“All you did was stand there! You don’t deserve this win, I do!”

Bolin gulped, feeling his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. As much as he liked to say that he couldn’t stand Y/N, that she gave him immense anger and frustration, that didn’t make him any less afraid of her.

“All I did was play the game.” He defended, genuinely frightened by her overwhelming negativity. Bolin stumbled back, taking one hand and scratching the back of his neck in awkwardness, before saying something that was better left unsaid.

“At least I’m not just some gold digger who only wins when I bribe the ref.”

Y/N’s mouth dropped at his accusation, shocked that those words were able to come out of Bolin’s mouth. Bolin, who was supposedly the most kind and understanding person in the entire city. “What did you just say to me?”

Bolin pursed his lips, refusing to say more in fear of making the entire situation worse. Luckily for him the chittering and cheers of the crowd drowned out their argument, the only people listening being their teammates who were standing by in silence.

“I could beat you with or without a bribe,” Y/N challenged, trying to save the little dignity she had left. While she hated to hear Bolin’s accusation, there were parts of it that were true. Would she really be able to win without a little help from up above? Or was she just a washed out player with no real talent?

Pushing her hesitations aside, Y/N took another step closer to Bolin. She smirked as she saw him shake nervously at the absence of space between them. “Tomorrow night, just you and me, in the town square for our rematch.”

Before Bolin could accept or deny her offer, static filled the arena. Electricity fizzled throughout the stands, causing police offers to drop like flies. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as the barely made out the masked figures standing in the audience above unconscious guests.

Electric gloves coated their arms, forcing innocent bystanders to surrender to them and their unjust and self-righteous cause. The Equalists stood as one in a circle around the seats, confidence and selfishness rang off of their looks.

Y/N trembled in fear—fear of losing the thing that mattered most to her, her bending. “Is that?” She trailed off, afraid that if she spoke his name aloud, it would make the moment even more real.

“Amon!” Bolin’s voice boomed in her ear, along with the sound of explosions. The dome above the entire arena had been destroyed, fragments and shards of glass nailed down onto the guests and players. Y/N’s eyes widened, her body was frozen in place, not nearly bracing itself for the inevitable impact.

She could faintly make out a voice shouting, “Y/N! Get out of the way!”, before being grabbed like a rag doll. Y/N felt weightless in the air, falling from the playing field and into the still water below. Her head was forced underwater by a large hand whilst glass continued to rain from the sky.

Y/N hurriedly swam towards the surface of the deep pool, gasping for air and spitting the contaminated water from her mouth. She flailed her arms like a flying lemur with its head cut off in an attempt of adjusting to her new surroundings and environment.

“Watch where you throw those things!” An unexpectedly high pitched voice groaned from behind her back. The boy behind the noise grabbed her untamed hands and held her body close—Y/N assumed he must’ve been making sure there were no Equalists lurking at the bottom of the arena.

After a moment of silence, Y/N craned her neck to see who had saved her from the blast of the explosion. Her expression of gratitude quickly turned to one of annoyance as she saw that it was just Bolin, who she realized was still holding her to his chest.

“Bolin.” She struggled to escape from his grasp, wriggling and kicking his legs in the dark water. “Will you please get your hands off of me? I am capable of swimming, too.”

With her request, Bolin immediately let go of his hold on her, his strong arms ejecting themselves out of his tight embrace. He swam beside her, the earthbenders wading towards the platform connected to the finishing pool that led to the back exit doors of the arena.

“Do you think they’ll be alright up there?” Bolin asked, nervously twiddling his fingers together. His face was distraught, feelings of uselessness overcame his thoughts. “I know Korra and Mako are strong and can definitely handle themselves, but I feel like I should be helping at least a little—”

“Don’t think like that.” Y/N interrupted him, seeing the stress that had drowned out his natural optimism. She gave him a small smile, the corners of her lips rising slightly in an attempt to comfort his nerves. “Your only job right now is to stay alive.”

Bolin took a deep breath, seriousness taking over his features. “You make it sound so easy,” he shuddered, letting his clenched fists relax. “Staying alive is so much hard work. One of these days I’m going to end up as the main course in the Triple Threat barbecue.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at his ridiculousness. It felt good to lighten the mood with a small joke, and Bolin always had humor to share—and much as she liked to despise him, he could be quite funny sometimes—maybe even a little cute.

She raised her right arm, touching his shoulder affectionately, and gave him a real hug. One where her arms wrapped entirely around his body, comfortably sitting above his waistline. It felt right to be in his arms. Perhaps she’d been wrong about Bolin in all their time knowing each other.

Bolin peered over he shoulder in the middle of their first mutual embrace, ensuring that they were safe in their current position. “I don’t see any signs of Equalists down this hall.” He whispered, motioning for Y/N to follow behind him.

The two earthbenders quietly snuck through and around the twists and turns of the underground passageways while the battle above them could still be heard. Chaos and cries for help echoed down the metal halls. Y/N shivered at the thought of what might’ve happened to her if Bolin hadn’t saved her in time.

Considering Y/N had never been one with the skill of hiding her emotions, Bolin took great notice of the fear that had overcome her. He internally fought a long hard battle with himself, before ultimately deciding to put his ego aside.

Bolin reached for Y/N’s hand, taking her’s in his own. He gave her a heartwarming smile, his grin toothy and pure. “I’m really sorry for what I said earlier,” he shrugged, sighing quietly before taking in another breath. “I was really angry and I know that’s no excuse.”

“I have absolutely no idea what your life is like outside of the games, and it was totally uncool of me to even assume anything about you. Can we just move on?”

Y/N snorted in amusement at Bolin’s innocence and purity. She took her hands, while still in his, to her mouth. She pressed a light kiss to his knuckles before letting go. Bolin stared at her in awe, surprised but welcome to the new development that their relationship had taken.

As he struggled to say a single word in response to her kiss, the two rivals had already reached the service doors that lead into the outside, and hopefully safe, world. Y/N pushed the exit open, holding it so Bolin would be able to escape as well.

“I guess this is where we part ways,” she grimaced, realizing that after tonight, they’d go back to their old routine of cat and mouse. Y/N didn’t know what to think of Bolin, but she definitely had a different perspective than she did when she woke up in the morning.

Bolin was quiet for a moment before his face lit up in excitement. He raised his eyebrows at Y/N, wiggling them for a moment in an attempt to make her laugh, which he succeeded in. “What do you mean part ways?”

“We still have our rematch tomorrow night!”

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie @bombardia

#bolin x reader #bolin imagine #bolin imagines #lok imagine #lok imagines #tlok imagine #tlok imagines #tlok x reader #lok x reader #korra #mako #asami #bolin #asami sato #earthbender #earthbending #probending #wolf bats

236 notes · View notes

stressisakiller · 3 years

Text

Forgive Me Sunflower

Bucky Barnes x Reader Soulmate AU

(Hello Sunflower Part 10) EDITED

Summary: What happens when Bucky wakes up to your bed empty and a strange note on your pillow

Warnings: refences to torture. Murder. cussing

Word Count: 4 k

A/N: Can you figure out what her secret message was? Let me know what you think and if you have any requests for future chapters! Thank yall for reading!’

Thoughts are in italics

Series Masterlist

<< Previous Next >>

Life in the tower fell into a peaceful rhythm. Waking up before the sun, heading down to the training rooms. Beating the shit out of Bucky, occasionally you let him win, then breakfast with everyone. Steve and Bucky always made sure to go for a run together, while they were out you went upstairs and sat in the lab with Tony. You may not have had a normal childhood but you “father” hadn’t let your education suffer, we believed that knowledge was everything. So, you were able to help out occasionally with the problems that arose.

While he worked Tony enjoyed telling you stories, about himself and your parents. You quickly felt as though you got the chance to know them. As much as you loved these stories it broke your heart that you were the reason they were no longer here.

Tony was finishing one such story when he noticed the dejected look on your face, he quickly switched to telling you about how he became Iron Man. He explained the cave and the fear he felt while stuck there, although he would never admit that to anyone else. He told you of the man who helped him and saved his life, of his sacrifice and the change it caused in Tony’s life. He told you about being betrayed by the man he had trusted the most, you could relate to that.

Life was good, really good. You felt safe with the people around you, you felt loved and trusted. You felt like you had a family. But of course nothing lasts forever.

You lived in peace for two months. Two months of happiness and tranquility, or as much tranquility as a group of superheroes are able to have. The tranquility was shattered one morning about a week before the avengers were to go to trial.

Waking up that morning Bucky got ready as always, he headed down to the training rooms and was surprised to see that you had yet to arrive. Weird, you always arrived before him. He went back to the elevator and headed to your room, some nights you liked to sleep in a space that was your own. Opening the door his eyes fell on your empty bed, it was still made, as if you never made it to bed last night. Worried he hurried over to your bathroom and knocked,

“Hey sunflower, you in there?” the silence that answered him was overwhelming, you weren’t here.

Where on earth could you be? Upon closer inspection of your room his eyes fell upon a note laid purposefully on your pillow. He carefully made his way over, watching closely for any trip wires. Lifting the card from your pillow he cut open the top with one of the knives on his belt. His eyes scanned the note, he felt the breath leave his lungs, was this some kind of sick joke? He took a deep breath trying to calm himself down before rereading the paper in his hand.

Bucky,

Hello, I'm sorry that I must tell you this in a letter, sunflower. But the time has come I must leave before the sun is up. I can't follow your dreams for us anymore. I have my own and they don't involve you right now. We are done my sunflower. Don't try to find me

Your star,

Ps forgive me

There was something off about the way the note was written. It was worded strangely, it didn’t sound like you at all. Not to mention the fact that you would never leave your soulmate like this. He thought back to the night before, you had been just as cuddly as normal, you had fallen asleep on him during the movie that you were all watching. He had gently woken you and walked with you to your room, you had given him a quick kiss and a smile before walking through the door. Bucky shook his head, bringing himself back to the problem at hand. He examined the wording carefully, looking for anything that would explain where you were. There it was, oh you clever, beautiful woman. Of course that would be your message, there is only one explanation as to where you are. Fuck. His face paled as the meaning of your message sunk in. You had been forced to write this message and yet you had found a way to tell him who it was. Hydra.

Your day was going well, you had a great time training this morning, you had pinned Bucky no less than three times. Tony had been in a good mood while you sat with him, his newest project was going smoothly and he was excited to see it in action. The best part had been the movie night that the group decided to have. You fell asleep on Bucky, how could you not, he is just so warm. He had taken you back to your room and you had kissed him at the door before parting ways. That is when it all went to shit. A hand closed over your mouth and a gun pressed to your temple. Your brain was still fuzzy with sleep, putting you at a disadvantage, it was quickly clearing but not quite as quickly as you needed. As the fog began to clear you began debating the best way to incapacitate the guy who currently had his hand on your mouth. So focused on the man behind you, you almost didn’t notice when a shadow moved in the corner in front of you. Almost, the moment that the movement registered in your tired brain you froze.

“Please don’t try to escape, we need you to come with us.” The disembodied voice was eerily familiar although you couldn’t figure out why.

You struggled against the iron grip of the man behind you, at the prompting of the man in the corner, he slowly lowered his hand from your mouth allowing you to speak.

“And why the hell do you think I would do that?” you spat at him.

“Simple,” his calm demeanor was starting to give you the creeps, how could he be so calm right now? “If you don’t we will kill every single person in this building and maybe their families too while we are at it.” your eyebrows rose at his statement,

“Just the two of you?” disbelief evident in your voice.

He laughed, a humorous thing, it sent chills down your back.

“Of course not, stupid girl, there are more of us in this building right now. If you cooperate then they won’t need to be used, they will leave as soon as we do.”

How could you trust him to keep his word? But if you didn’t go with him then there was no way for you to protect everyone. You head swam, you knew he wouldn’t wait long for your answer.

“Fine, but you have to swear that you and your men will leave everyone else in this building alone.”

“You have my word, he only wants you right now anyway.”

“He?” your curiosity got the best of you

“Hydra, of course, now I need you to write a letter, one that explains your absence. One that explains that you don’t want anyone looking for you.” His voice was firm, and you knew that you had no choice.

You nodded your agreement, and the man behind you loosened his grip, but the gun stayed trained on you. You walked to your desk and brought out a pen and some paper, taking a second to figure out how to let Bucky know that you were in danger. The solution popped in your mind and you jotted down your note, hoping that he would understand. As soon as you were done they tied your hands together and pulled you to their escape route. With surprising speed and ease they got you out of the building and thrust you into a car. You fought against your bonds until a needle was shoved in your neck, blackness filled your vision and your eyelids felt like lead, the last thing you heard was a man barking directions before sleep took you.

Cold. All you can feel is overwhelming cold. Whatever you were laying on felt like ice. Fighting against the weight of your eyelids struggling against the darkness that held you. Voices, you could hear voices in the background. Trying to focus on their words but unable to understand what they meant. Wake up, you thought. Wake up! WAKE UP! Forcing your eyes open you flinched as a blinding light forced you to snap them shut. Breathe. Slowly opening your eyes, you take in your surroundings, it looks familiar. Fuck. You were back, they had you again, and you walked right into their arms. Tears welled up in your eyes causing your vision to waver. No, you would not cry, you refuse to cry. They don’t get to see you break. A voice brought you out of your thoughts, eyes shooting to the door. No, no no no no. Not him, anyone but him. But his voice was unmistakable, your heart dropped, your father. No you remind yourself, not your father, just an asshole that stole you from your family and forced you to become a monster. You would not let them break you. The door swung open and the face that has been haunting your nightmares since you escaped walked into view, a cold and calculating smile on his lips.

“Well, well. It is so good to have you back, my daughter. I so missed having you here.” fake sincerity that made your toes curl laced his voice. The gag in your mouth kept you from spitting on him, all you could do was glare. You felt so helpless. He always made you feel so fucking helpless.

“Now now, sweet girl, no need for anger, you must have forgotten that all I have ever wanted is the best for you. You lost yourself these past two years, but don’t worry we will soon remedy that.” He stepped towards you, a rope in his hand, you looked up at him, eyes widening in fear and anger, this was going to hurt.

Bucky ran into the common room, eyes scanning the room widely, gone was the cool calm and collected Bucky. This Bucky had just lost his soulmate to the very people that you had finally been able to escape. He will do anything to get her back. His eyes fell on Tony pouring himself some coffee into a mug you had recently bought for him. Bucky stalked over to him, trying to keep his overwhelming fear from showing on his face. Tony looked up at him as he walked closer, giving him a smirk,

“Hey there grizzly bear, someone steal your honey and piss in your cheerios?” His smile fell as he studied the soldier, Tony had never seen him like this, something terrible had happened.

“What is it? What happened?” Going from playful to serious in a split second. His eyes scanned the room and noticed the lack of his sister, “Where is Y/N?”

Bucky couldn’t seem to answer, he just held out the note. Quickly reading it Tony ended up even more confused,

“there has to be a mistake, she would never leave like this.” desperation coloring his tone and he looked back at Bucky. Bucky shook his head,

“She didn’t, she was forced to write it. She left a hidden message, she was taken by Hydra.”

“Fuck!” Tony had to stop himself from throwing his mug across the room, it was a gift from you and he would hate himself if anything happened to it.

“Ok what can we do, we need to find her.” He started to ramble about all of the things he could do and how they could get to her before Bucky held up a hand to quiet him.

“I think I know where she is. There is a Hydra base in upstate New York, they don’t know that I know about it. I was supposed to be under their control when they took me there but I was slipping, more of myself than the soldier at the time.” He spoke quickly, he wanted to get to her as soon as possible. Tony nodded and called for Jarvis to gather everyone in the mission room. They filed in confused as to what was going on, Steve was the last one to sit down.

“Y/N has been taken by Hydra and we are going to get her back.” Bucky was clear and concise as he explained the plan to them. If everything went according to plan they should have her back in the next two days.

Time meant nothing to you. You couldn’t tell how long you had been back in the clutches of the asshole you used to call father. Has it been a day? A week? A month? All you knew was pain. Your thoughts felt fragmented. Like dandelion fluff in the wind. Bucky would come. Keep Bucky safe. All that matters is keeping him safe. Don’t let them see you break. Your head lolled to the side when you heard the door open. He was back, couldn’t he just leave you alone? Freezing water was thrown over your battered body, you bit your tongue to keep from gasping. Cuts stinging from onslaught, the deeper gashes on your tattoos making the water run red.

“Hello, sweetheart, I think you’re ready to be our soldier again.” His eyes were filled with glee at the prospect of being back in control of you, he had so many ideas of what he would have you do, who he would have you kill. He paused, letting the news sink in before continuing.

“There is no way you can hold out this time.” Your eyes slid from his face, too tired to focus, too tired to fight. The scientist minions unstrapped your limp body from the table that had been your home since you arrived. They dragged you, feet scraping against the floor, to the machine that you had hoped to never see again, the blender. They threw you into the chair and strapped you down, removing the gag and shoving a rubber piece into your mouth. You wanted to fight but you couldn’t feel your arms. They placed the helmet on your head and turned the machine on.

Bucky, forced himself to calm down, they would have you back soon. It had taken them a day to confirm your location and get ready to leave. Now he sat impatiently in the quinjet with the rest of the Avengers, wondering what awaited him at the base. Praying that you were ok, that he wasn’t too late. A voice came over the intercom letting them know they were 5 minutes out. He stood keeping his hands busy with getting ready, pushing aside his worry and doubt. You needed him and he wasn’t going to let his fear get in the way of saving you.

The plane touched down and the soldier was on the move. Ruthless and concise the soldier cut through the guards and anyone who got in his way. The only person that matters to him is his soulmate, the one he is here to save. He made his way through the base quickly, his steps never faltering as he moved towards the room that he knew they would have you in. The room that was the scene of every one of his nightmares. He busted through the door and stepped into the room, the one with the blender, the one where they brainwashed him.

For the first time during the mission his steps faltered, the soldier was devastated by what he saw. You, alive yes, but battered and bruised, face pale and blood running from multiple cuts. A dark purple bruise obvious around your throat. Your face was full of bruises and cuts, your arms were the same. You were staring straight forward, eyes void and he knew he had failed you. He moved to step towards you but your fathers voice caused him to stop.

“Soldier, are you ready to comply?” Bucky wanted to punch the grin off of his face but all he could do was watch.

“Ready to comply.” your voice was ice, lacking any of its usual warmth and emotion.

“Kill the winter Soldier, I have no more need for him.” You snapped to attention, turning to your enemy, deciding the best way to attack. You charged. Bucky brought his arm up in time to block your attack, moving quickly to protect himself without hurting you. You quickly flipped him on his back, standing over him, he looked at you with defeat, he couldn’t hurt you, not this time. A twinkle came to your eyes that hadn’t been there a moment before, and you did the last thing he was expecting, you winked. Bucky moved quickly rolling out of your grasp, keeping up the ruse and noticed that your blows were softer than they would be in a normal fight, you were still there. You yanked his pistol out of his holster and pointed it at him, finger on the trigger.

“Well,” came your father's voice, impatience coloring his tone,

“what are you waiting for? Shoot him.” Bucky saw your trigger finger twitch before you moved, a shot ringing out in the otherwise quiet space.

Blinking Bucky turned to see the body of your father fall to the ground, bullet lodged between his eyes. Shaking off the sense of deja vu he looked back towards you. Although your actions showed that you were still at least sort of in control of your body, he could tell that the soldier was at the controller. He took a cautious step towards you. You spun, and pointed the gun at him, a glimmer of recognition in your eyes before you slowly lowered the gun. Bucky reached for the gun keeping his movements slow as he released your hold on it. Gently grasping your chin, he turned you to look at him.

“Hello, my star,” His voice was soft, “It’s your sunflower, it’s time for you to come back to me.” Your eyes seemed to focus for a moment before you spoke,

“I have to finish my mission.” your voice was firm

“What is your mission, my star?” he asked, keeping your eyes trained on him.

“To keep my soulmate safe, that has always been my mission.” you looked confused at his question as if the answer should have been obvious. He smiled, cupping your cheek in his hand.

“I am safe, my star, your sunflower is safe. Your mission is complete, you can let go.” At his words, your eyes rolled back and you collapsed. His arms wrapping around you before you could hit the floor. Bucky picked you up and began to carry you out of the godforsaken base.

You wake for a moment as he carries you towards the exit, seeing his face, you were able to relax for the first time in days.

“Bucky?”

“Hush, little one, I have you now, we are heading home.”

The next time you woke up you were in the tower hospital, feeling weak but better than you had when you passed out. Your eyes were drawn towards the hand that currently engulfed yours, it was connected to the sleeping form of your handsome soulmate. Reaching across yourself with your free hand you ran your fingers through his hair. The soft feeling, waking him up from his sleep. Raising his head Bucky looked at you. Tears forming in his eyes as he noticed you were awake.

“Hi,” your voice was rough from screaming. His eyes softened, his metal hand coming up to rest on your cheek.

“Hi yourself, little one, you scared the shit out of me.” you chuckled at him

“Wasn’t my intention love, they got me to go with them because they threatened you. I promised that I would take care of you. I didn’t mean to cause you pain.”

“No, sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize, I am just happy that you are back with me and that you are safe.” he rested his forehead against yours as he spoke, as if he could force the words into your head. You cleared your throat, a question at the forefront of your mind.

“What day is it? Did I miss the trials? Knowing them they took me when they did to keep me from testifying, they wanted me to forfeit my right to be heard.” you anxiously awaited his answer, worried that you had ruined everything.

“No, little one, we still have a couple of days before the trials start. You were gone a total of two days, and out of consciousness another. You will still be able to make it to the trial. I have a feeling that your injuries might just swing the jury in your favor.” His lip turned up, but there was pain in his eyes, he drew his hand from yours and gently rested it on your hip where the cuts were the deepest, they had cut you to figure out which tattoo was your soulmark.

“Well I’m glad something good came out of this.” sarcasm evident in your tone as you tried to make light of the situation.

“Well that and the death of the asshole that took you from your parents.” Bucky didn’t try to hind the venom in his voice as he spat out the words. Your eyes widened,

“Wait what? He’s dead?” Bucky looked confused at your question before understanding washed over him.

“Little one, he turned you into the soldier and told you to kill me. You pulled your punches and when you stole my gun he ordered you to shoot me, but you shot him instead.”

You could tell that he was a little worried about how you would react. As much as you hated the man you had still believed him to be your father for the majority of your life.

“Good, the bastard deserved it.” you looked away from Bucky’s face as you spoke, shame prickling behind your eyes because of the sadness you felt.

“I do have a question though, how were you able to fight his control? Why didn’t you shoot me?” You looked at him surprised by his question.

“They haven’t truly had control over me since I got my tattoo.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you thought back to it. “When they tried to activate the soldier after the mark showed up I was able to talk to her. We agreed that you were as much her soulmate as you are mine and that we would both do whatever it takes to protect you. You became our mission.” you took a deep breath before continuing, pulling your eyes from Bucky’s face.

“The soldier and I are one, as much as I hate a lot of the things she did, she had as little of a choice as I did. She takes control when they activate her, but I am no longer trapped in the backseat. I’m able to talk to her, and most of the time, she listens.”

Bucky looked down at his hands in confusion, wondering if he would ever be able to say the same about himself and the winter soldier. Could they ever work together? He let the thought go as he watched you yawn.

Picking you up, he took you back to his room, you were well enough to sleep in a real bed tonight. Heaven knows you needed it. He laid you down and pulled you close, smiling at the feeling of you nuzzling into his side. Those questions could wait till later, for now, he would enjoy sleeping next to his soulmate again.

Tagged users: @calwitch @writerwrites

#winter solider fanfiction #winter solider x reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #hello sunflower

31 notes · View notes