#and most importantly; to repeat words that still dig deep into my heart-- | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lisired · 3 months

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where angels fear to tread

pairing: jaehyun x (f) reader

genre/warnings: fwb to lovers, fluff, implied smut, angst

summary: Three years ago, you had a summer fling with Jung Jaehyun, and what was simply sex turned into more after you caught feelings for him. Then, you find out he has a girlfriend, and decide to call it quits. Three years later, he's back in town, trying to come back in your life, and most importantly trying to come back into your heart, but you're a little hesitant to let him.

word count: 14.5k

a/n: i think this was my first jaehyun fic? LOL… as always, feedback is appreciated!

“Not fair.”

“It’s very much fair, Jaemin.”

“How come the blueberry head gives you shit on the house? I asked him for a free coffee and he told me the only way I was getting coffee for free was if he splashed it on my face. Very unprofessional. I demand the manager.”

You want to tell him that the manager would just suck up to Taeyong in private because the customer is always wrong, but something in you tells you to be quiet.

“Saved his life,” you shrug, digging a fork into your pie.

“Saved his life?” Jaemin repeats, wide-eyed, “you just said that like it was the most normal thing ever.”

“I don’t think he would have actually died,” you mutter, but decide to tell the tale anyway, “You remember when I told you I was taking a two-week vacation out of town because Yeri invited me and some of her friends to her stepdad’s beach house?” Jaemin nods, “Well Taeyong was one of those friends. Saved him from drowning in the pool, and ever since he thinks he owes me his life, so he gives me a lifetime worth of stuff on the house.”

You consider Jaemin your best friend, although him not physically being with you for the past two years was the reason why he’s unaware of some minor details of your life during those years. Of course, he knew about the vacation—you had so much fun that you told him nearly every damn detail of it—but there was still some things you kept to yourself. Such as how you saved Taeyong from drowning. You thought that you’d look like a praise-seeker for bringing that up anyway.

You scan the room for Taeyong (the blueberry head) and once your eyes find him, you wave and wink. He waves back and smiles bashfully, before tending to one of his customers. You also think that Taeyong might have a little crush on you, but that’s not relevant at the moment.

“Oh wow. I guess not all heroes wear capes. Some heroes wear pie crumbs on their mouths.”

You wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin then squeeze it into a ball to throw at Jaemin, making him gasp dramatically and start rambling about how you shouldn’t treat the best friend you haven’t seen in two years like this, but the chime of the cafe door distracts you. Your face falls in horror, and you’re still as a statue as it all races back. The pain, the memories, the emotions, everything you gave him that you can’t take back.

“I have to go,” you say, but Jaemin grabs your wrist.

His voice is filled to the brim with concern, “What’s wrong?”

Where you do even start? You sigh, ducking your head on the table in an attempt to cover your face the best that you can. The past is intertwining with the present and you do not enjoy it one bit. Fortunately, he sits away from you and doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence in the room, but it’s just your luck that for the first time you’re seeing him in almost two years, he chooses to show up right here, right now.

“See that guy that just walked in?”

Jaemin nods with reluctance, subtly scanning said guy with his eyes, “Yeah, what about him?”

With a deep breath, you brace yourself for uncovering a part of your past that you’d rather keep ancient history, “Remember that fling I told you about from the vacation? That was him. And I never told you this, but we didn’t exactly end on the best of terms. I called it quits when I found out that he had a girlfriend.”

Another one of the vay-cay details that you kept to yourself. Technically, you did tell him about the fling, but it was nothing too specific aside from the fact that you were getting dicked down. You never told him about the way things abruptly ended, and you sure as hell never told him that you caught feelings for a cheater.

Jaemin’s face falls, and you’re not sure why. You think that he’s offended because you never told him about something so huge (and he is, but the two of you have bigger fish to fry at the moment so he decides it best to complain later).

Eyebrows furrowed, you ask, “What’s wrong?”

“Jaehyun is…” he pauses, and your lips part to ask how he knows his name until, “Jaehyun is my roommate.”

If you had the energy, you would sigh. Of course, Jaehyun also happens to move back in town and ultimately transfer back into your college for the second semester. You had to be a criminal in your past life, what else could you have possibly done to deserve something like this?

Taeyong walks over to your table, wearing a discontent frown, “Jaehyun’s here, do you want me to distract him so that you can leave without him noticing?”

“No way the blueberry head knew about this before me.” Ah, there it goes.

Taeyong glares, but he doesn’t say anything, instead locking his eyes on you to catch your response and his face softens when he does.

“Please,” you sigh in relief, “Thanks Tae, you’re a lifesaver.”

Taeyong smiles at the weight of your words, “It’s the least I could do. Now you two get out of here.”

It isn’t something that you need to be told twice, Taeyong goes to distract Jaehyun and you two bolt the fuck out of there. Though even out of sight, Jaehyun isn’t out of mind. In the beginning you knew it was nothing serious, Jaehyun had other girls that he fucked. But the fact that he was cheating on some poor, innocent girl was more then you could handle, and it would be selfish of you to risk getting caught up in that mess.

For a while, you and Jaemin ride in near silence. It’s your car, but he claims you aren’t in the right headspace to drive and you didn’t argue. You don’t feel the best at the moment.

“Is this a bad time to invite you to my roommate’s Summer Break Kick-off party this Friday,” Jaemin asks over the radio, his voice cutting through the SHINee song playing lowly.

“Kinda,” you snort. “Is he coming?”

“Probably, yeah. I mean, he was invited. But my roommate’s other house is pretty big it’s been forever since we last partied.”

You blink. Why does your roommate…

“Don’t question it. I don’t know either.”

You fight the urge to laugh. Instead, you weigh out the pros and cons. Technically, you and Jaemin could always find another place to party if you wanted to so bad, and even if the house was big, there’s still a fair chance of you running into the one man you dread ever seeing again. You aren’t too sure if that’s something that you’re ready to risk right now.

You sigh again, pressing your face against the car window. “I’ll think about it.”

You haven’t stepped foot in a place this expensive-looking since Yeri invited you on that little summer vacation to her stepdad’s beach house (two years ago.)

Jaemin somehow managed to convince you to show up by pinky promising to do a week’s worth of your assignments next semester, and you’d be a fool for turning that offer down. It isn’t clear from the outside, but academically Jaemin is sharp. So now, you’re searching for Jaemin in a sea full of red plastic cups. He was right, the house is humongous, and now you’re really beginning to question why someone with this kind of fortune at their fingertips lives with three presumably broke college students.

At least they’re playing SHINee. That way you can sing along to your favorite boy band while you simultaneously search for your best friend.

It might be harder for him to spot you. You chose to wear something dull, deciding against standing out too much just in case Jaehyun wanted confrontation, so looking for you is like searching for a needle in a haystack. You two could have just spent the night karaoking with Jaemin in your living room just like the good ‘ole days, for heavens sake.

Na Jaemin, when I find you, you groan. He doesn’t answer your calls or texts, and just for this you should make him do your homework for two weeks. Three if you bump into Jaehyun. You stop at an empty spot to catch your breath.

“God, what are these guys’ parents? The CEO’s of Samsung?” you mutter, to yourself.

“Aw, so close.”

Not expecting an actual answer, you jump and turn in the direction of the voice. You find a tall, handsome man smiling at you. His teeth are so white that it looks like he eats Colgate for breakfast.

“Kai, I’m the host of the party,” he grins, yet then his expression falters, “do I know you from somewhere?”

“I was thinking the same thing!” You laugh, analyzing his face. He does look a bit familiar.

You tell him your name, and the way he repeats it once more then blinks a few times concerns you a little. It’s not that you have a bad reputation, but did he know you from something bad?

His eyes widen. “You’re Johnny’s ex-girlfriend.”

That, you are. Back in high school you and Johnny dated for some time, broke up after a while since you drifted apart from one another, but agreed to stay friends so you’re both cool. You’re relieved that’s all, but you still don’t remember where you know Kai from, and you’re almost one-hundred percent sure it isn’t high school. You don’t even think you went two to the same high school.

“That’s me,” you confirm with a nod, “I still don’t know where I remember you from, though.”

If this were a cartoon, Kai would have a thought bubble above his head, and moments later it would transform into a lightbulb, “Are you friend’s with Yeri?” he guesses, and you nod, “she’s my step-sister. She probably told you about me.”

Oh. Well now the dots are connecting. Yeri did in fact tell you about him, mentioning that his family is the one her mom married into when explaining how filthily rich she became—because her brand new step-dad is indeed a CEO.

You make an O with your mouth, “Small world.”

“I know, right?” Kai, or as you know him from Yeri (also why you didn’t recognize him immediately), Jongin, laughs, “Care to dance?”

At that, you frown, “I’d love to, but I should really find Jaemin. He’s my best friend and we’re supposed to be spending time together because he just moved back in town recently.”

Kai looks a little sad by the rejection but handles it well, nodding in understanding, “Good luck. Last time I saw him he was over there,” he points, “losing a drinking game.”

That could mean nothing good. That meant wherever he was, Jaemin was more than likely going to be shitfaced by the end of the night. You sigh internally, almost wishing he’d go back to being the shy and introverted boy you knew in high school.

You met Jaemin in your sophomore year, at a party his friends forced him to go to, and you had a couple of mutual friends, but until then you two were nothing more than strangers. Speaking of which, that’s how you bonded, even though it was a fight getting him to say more than five words at a time. You were sure your friends Sicheng and Yuta had a thing for each other, whereas he hadn’t suspected a thing. So you made a bet, and only a couple minutes later, they were found making out against a wall. He owed you 50 bucks.

When Jaemin is still no where to be find, you’re ready to cave in to defeat. You feel like you’re in a maze, walking around in circles and it shows in the ache in your feet. You’re about to give up and turn around, until you walk into something, or someone, and all audible to you is the sound of splashing before someone yells shit, I’m sorry!

Oh, you’ll make sure they’re sorry. You’re not sure what you should focus on. How your top is now soaked, or how familiar their voice is. Until you look back up and see a walking, breathing and unfortunately talking, nightmare.

He calls out your name.

Like before, you turn and walk away.

He says it again, louder, and follows you.

“I don’t want to talk to you, Jaehyun.”

Still, he tails behind you like a lost puppy, despite you obviously trying to stay far, far away, “Can’t you hear me out? It’s been two years.”

“Two very peaceful years,” you stop dead in your tracks and finally turn to face him. It hurts you to look at his face, because the memories wash over you like waves, yet you do it anyways. You want to show him that you’re strong without him, not weakness and vulnerability, “and I told you two years ago that I want nothing to do with you.”

Jaehyun’s no good for you, you know that. You know that all he’s ever wanted to do is get inside your pants, that he’s never cared for you. So why are you tempted to hear him out?

No, you refuse, you will not let nostalgia win you over. That’s all it is. You miss what you had, but you don’t know if you miss him as a person.

“At least let me help you dry your shirt, it’s my fault that it’s ruined,” he tries again, but you’re hell-bent on making him feel as miserable as he did you.

“No.”

“Y/n—”

“No means no, Jaehyun,” another voice cuts in, and while it isn’t the one you’ve been looking for, you’re thankful nonetheless. Beside you stands Kai, tall, angry, and intimidating, “you gonna make her tell you to fuck off?”

Jaehyun glances at you, and you see the emotion in his eyes, but you don’t fall for them. Not anymore. He’s already caused your heart to feel enough pain that you can’t bother to try and carry the burden that is his own. So he gives up and walks off, finally leaving you alone.

And you let out an exhausted breath.

“Show’s over, mind your business,” Kai tells the audience you hadn’t even known formed, and not willing to risk going against him, everyone returns to their previous activity. He looks at you, and all the anger is washed with concern. “You okay?”

Are you okay? You don’t know anymore. Nostalgia is kicking your ass, and though you try not to think about him, you can’t help but reminisce.

“Yeah,” you say, but you’re not too sure. “Thanks. A lot.”

Kai shrugs, “No biggie. Do you think you and Yeri match sizes? You can use the bathroom in my bedroom to change because no one’s dumb enough to go in there.”

You sigh in relief. Chivalry isn’t dead. “Yes. Thank you.”

Kai leads you upstairs to Yeri’s room, or at least the one she stays in when she’s here, and let’s you choose a shirt. It isn’t an easy decision with Yeri being the epitome of fashion, but you pick quickly to spare Kai’s time, even though he tells you that he doesn’t mind. He then takes you to the bathroom in his room because according to him, Yeri’s one is under repair.

Even though Kai is guarding the door with his life and you know he wouldn’t just barge in there without your say-so, you lock the door. You meet your gaze in the mirror, eyeing yourself closely. Everyone is insecure sometimes, but after things ended between you and Jaehyun, you were extremely self-conscious for months.

To anyone who had never been in your shoes, it might’ve made more sense than anything for you to feel better about yourself knowing that even though Jaehyun had a girl, he kept coming back to you. Yet who’s to say you were the only one? To this day, you’re still convinced that the only reason he keeps trying to win you back is because him losing you plus you being the one to end it put a major dent in his ego.

You hate that he had that kind of power over you, to the point where he made you hate yourself. You hate that a man like him made you cry so many goddamn tears and now he expects you to dry his own.

Reminding yourself that Kai is waiting, you tear your gaze from your own before tears have the chance to spill, and wipe yourself dry so that you can put on your - or Yeri’s - shirt. Now that you think about it, it’s too cute to return. You might take it. She’s too rich to notice, and even if she does, she’s still rich. She can easily replace it.

Kai greets you with a smile as you step back inside his room, and you find yourself smiling back at him. He’s been treating you so kindly this whole time, and now that you think about it, you’ve never heard a single bad thing about the man. Yeri clearly doesn’t mention him very often, but it’s never been anything bad when she does, and even when Jaemin was telling you about his roommates, he described Kai as “the funny one that called his mom a lot.”

“Ready to join the party?”

And then you frown. “I don’t know.”

Kai quirks a brow, “Well don’t tell me you look this good just to not show yourself off.”

Amused, you scoff. Kai’s been smooth from the beginning, yet now he’s unabashedly flirting with you. “Are you flirting with me, Kim Jongin?”

Confusion spells itself out on his face. You have never once said his name tonight, and the one time you do, it’s his government. “How do you know my name?”

“Yeri,” you shrug, “but if you want me to just call you Kai then I understand.”

“Well, usually I reserve my real name for my close friends and family,” he grins, and God he looks devilishly handsome when he does, “but it sounds so nice on your tongue that I’ll make an exception.”

It’s painfully obvious that you don’t know how to react, eyes a little round and your lips parting, yet nothing coming from in between. It makes Jongin laugh.

“And yes, I was flirting with you,” he winks, “but anyways, if you really don’t wanna go back out there, which is totally fine, we can just chill in here. You seem like a nice person, and I’d like to get to know you.”

“Get to know me?” You quip, finding enough balance to play into his game after being knocked down by his charm briefly, “or my body?”

He arches a brow in amusement. “That feels like a trick question.”

You shrug. “Be honest. I might feel the same way.”

Maybe it’s a good thing that tonight didn’t go as planned. Kai’s had you since the moment he introduced himself, and it seems every five minutes he gets better.

“Well, I don’t see why I can’t multitask,” He purrs, taking your words as an invitation. An invitation that he was accepting.

You giggle. He eyes you gently, noticing the way you slowly inch closer to him, “I like you.”

It’s an initiation, turning the keys and putting the car in drive, and you want to see if Jongin will take the wheel. And it seems that to your fortune, he does.

“Guess it’s a good thing I like you, too.” Jongin chuckles, and he’s so close. You can feel his breath on your skin, tickling your neck, and it makes something in you crawl with arousal.

And the gap between you closes.

You already liked Kai last night, but you definitely like him this morning.

You woke up to the smell of pancakes and bacon, and not just any kind of pancakes, but chocolate chip pancakes, your favorite. If anything can make you like someone, it’s chocolate chip pancakes.

“How’d you know chocolate chip was my fave?” you giggle, not expecting a serious response, but after the whole scenario with him yesterday, you should have already known he would have one.

“Yerim’s told me about you, too, you know,” Jongin replies, “It wasn’t even too long ago, it was winter break. We were all staying at my dad’s house for a couple of days, and she invited you over one morning. Everyone was gone but me and her when I went downstairs, and I saw her making chocolate chip pancakes. It blew me, because she’s an avid hater of chocolate. Then she told me they were for her best friend, because you love them, and after last night I learned that the best friend in question happened to be you.”

You and Jongin learned a lot about one another last evening. After you had sex, you didn’t expect to hit it off like you did, yet you spent a great deal of the night talking on his silk sheets. For starters, he’s a wonderful man. Funny, polite, respectful, thoughtful, caring, and he has an amazing personality. The sole flaw you could find in him was that he likes Hawaiian pizza. What kind of sick person enjoys Hawaiian pizza?

And you fell asleep in his arms. It was perfect, almost too good to be true. You considered the possibility of a relationship with him, you enjoyed his company and he was shameless to admit that he enjoyed yours. And yet still, you couldn’t help but think of Jaehyun.

The way he had also made you feel the same way, all those years ago. How he never fucked you and then shoved you away, but he talked to you until the sun came up, or spooned you to sleep. It was ridiculous, and you can’t believe that one encounter with Jaehyun had you acting like a teenager in love for the first time again. Not to mention the encounter in question was horrible. Jaehyun isn’t good for you, but for some reason your heart seems to still want him.

“If you want know so bad, just ask.”

“What?” Kai blinks, unaware that you’ve noticed the way he looks at you, not just now but ever since that encounter with Jaehyun. The longing in his eyes to say something, yet he resisted.

“I know you’re curious about me and Jaehyun,” truth be told, it isn’t just for him, but for you. Maybe if you remind yourself of what Jaehyun’s done to you, hear it aloud, you’ll snap out of it and shake this weird feeling. “So go ahead. Ask.”

Jongin’s surprised at how well you read him, and you can only hope that he doesn’t read you just as well.

“I figured you didn’t want to talk about it, and I didn’t want to overstep my boundaries.” How utterly Kai of him. And honestly, he’s right. You don’t want to, but at this point it’s a need.

“It’s okay,” you assure.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then that’s okay, you know. I understa—”

“Kim Jongin,” you say, and he pauses, a part of being because he still hasn’t gotten used to you calling him by his government name, yet he loves it when you do, “I am not about to beg you to ask me. I promise you, it’s alright.”

Jongin hesitates, but gives in reluctantly, “Okay, so… what happened for Jaehyun to be so intent on talking to you last night? Break-up?”

“Not really,” you say, trying to keep your voice level and flat. You weren’t the girl Jaehyun was in a relationship with, “It wasn’t a romantic relationship. Just sex, no strings attached.”

Jongin nods, “Ah, so a fling?”

“Mm-hm. I met him when Yeri invited her best friends to your dad’s beach house for a fun summer vacation during break. We hit it off well and it wasn’t much longer that he had me in his sheets. It really was fun, so we agreed to keep fucking around. And then some months later, I found out he had a girlfriend the whole time.”

He makes an understanding face, familiar with Yeri’s Pal-Cations (as she likes to call them.)

“Yerim didn’t tell you he was dating someone?”

“No one knew about us. He wanted to keep things secret,” you chuckle softly, “and that’s when I found out why.”

Silence falls over Jongin, and you sit there and let him ponder. Being able to say it all like this makes it seem so simple, and perhaps it should be. Jaehyun fucked up, and you owe him nothing. If he broke up with his girlfriend, maybe things would have been different, but he didn’t and that’s why he should leave you alone.

“Do you think he’s changed?” You shouldn’t ask. It doesn’t matter what Kai thinks, he doesn’t know Jaehyun like you do and he hasn’t known him for nearly as long. His opinion doesn’t matter.

Kai blinks. “I mean, you know what they say. Once a cheater, always a cheater.”

“But I’m asking for your opinion.”

You’ve never seen Kai so speechless. He’s always had something on the tip of his tongue, always. That’s when you consider that you’re probably dumping a shit ton of unwarranted info on him, especially since you had to practically coerce him into even asking you about Jaehyun. Before you have the chance to apologize, he answers.

“I don’t know him nearly as well as you probably do, but from what I’ve seen in the past 2 weeks, he’s nothing like some stupid, immature fuck boy. He carries himself well, cracks his jokes but he’s respectful and doesn’t push his limits, and I’ve never seen him with a girl,” Jongin says. “Come to think of it, he’s single. The boys discussed our dating situations and relationship statuses just so that we wouldn’t be surprised if we got up in the middle of the night and saw some stranger. Said he was single and wasn’t looking for sex.”

And you sigh in defeat, because the only thing that’s changed about Jaehyun according to that description is that he’s apparently single now and isn’t looking for sex.

Or maybe he was some stupid, immature fuckboy. You don’t know. And ever since you found out about her, you haven’t been sure if you’ve ever known him like you thought you did. You haven’t been sure about anything.

“Do you want him back?”

The questions catchs you off-guard. It isn’t exactly new, but you’ve never had anyone ask you this other than yourself. It’s all that you can think about. Do you really want him back? Or do you just miss what you had? What if it’s both?

“I don’t know,” you answer. And trust, you’ve been thinking about it since that whole ordeal at the café Monday. Even if you do, you shouldn’t. You don’t know Jaehyun’s motive, and there are plenty of other guys that can provide you everything he was giving you. One is literally looking you dead in the eye. He’s replaceable, you tell yourself. You don’t need him.

But that sure as hell has nothing to do with you wanting him.

“You don’t know?” Kai lifts his brow, “Or are you simply in denial?”

You feel like he’s your therapist, and the thought almost makes you laugh. Everything reminds you of Jaehyun. How sometimes, you’d play therapist for each other after you had sex, either directly afterwards or in the morning like now. It was so much more than sex, you think. To you, anyways. And that’s likely how you caught feelings.

Oh, dear god.

Even after two years, maybe those feelings you had for him still linger.

“I realized something,” you really don’t have to say anything, it’s written all over your face.

Jongin makes the conclusion, “You want him.”

Slowly, you nod. You think that you shouldn’t, but you do, and Jongin was right about you being in denial. You guess he really does read you just as well as you do him.

“I’m not gonna sit here and tell you what you should or shouldn’t do because it’s your choice to make at the end of the day, but let’s take everything into account,” Jongin starts, voice sterner than it’s been all morning, “I’m not saying age is an excuse, but he was eighteen. All eighteen-year-old boys are stupid. Take it from someone who’s been there. But he’s twenty-one now, and it’s been years. That’s plenty enough time for him to grow and change.”

You nod along. That’s true, and while you could never be too careful because who’s to say he’s changed, who’s to say he hasn’t?

Kai adds, “If you want to take the risk, take it. If you don’t, then don’t. He made an inexcusable mistake. But he’s human, and all humans make mistakes. You dont owe him anything, especially not forgiveness, but be a little open-minded.”

The decision is yours. You can hear Jaehyun out and try to salvage your relationship, or you can continue to shut him out. You don’t owe him a second chance, but god, you must admit that you’ve always secretly longed to give him one, just so that you could go back to what you had.

Whenever you contemplate giving him a second chance, you think about her. You try to put yourself in her shoes, wondering how she must’ve felt, if she ever knew that the man she loved was fucking around with another woman. Maybe that’s how they broke up. Days ago, the thought would have made you run further and further away from him. But now, it’s almost like you’re rooted in place, bumping into dead-ends.

If you were her, you’d be unforgiving. But you’re not her, you never will be her, and that makes you want to be a little more selfish.

That makes you want him.

“Thanks, Kai,” you say, truly grateful to have his unbiased opinion. Usually you wouldn’t trust people you met less than twenty-four hours ago with your personal business, but all the shit you and Kai exchanged last night makes you willing to permit an exception. And then, you feel bad because even after the kind things he’s done for you since last night, he’s still sitting here advising you on your complicated you-problems. “And I’m so sorry for dumping all my problems on you, you’ve been so sweet and the least I could do—”

“Hey, no worries. If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” Kai interjects, “and if you want me to do a bit of snooping around…”

You shake your head. “No way. You’ve already done enough for me, and I don’t want you to get caught up in my drama. I can handle it.”

“Sure, you can. But I don’t want a girl like you to wind up heartbroken, especially over a possible jackass, and at very least you should see if you can trust him before you, well, trust him,” As though he can sense you about to object, he adds, “No buts. I’m going to keep a few tabs on him and alert you if there’s anything suspicious.”

You sigh, and don’t argue because it’s obvious he isn’t changing his mind. You’re grateful.

You smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course. And if he breaks your heart, I’m here.”

You scoff, “Flirting with me again, Kim Jongin?”

“Oh, baby,” he growls, “Keep saying my name like that and I’ll make you forget he ever existed.”

Ten minutes ago, that would have been tempting. But now you know what you want, and you’re determined to have it.

Yeri thinks it’s a bad idea.

Taeyong thinks it’s terrible idea.

Jaemin thinks you’ve had better ideas, but he’s willing to cooperate nonetheless.

“I don’t get it,” Taeyong shakes his head, “That guy broke your heart.”

“He wasn’t trying to,” you mutter.

“And he still did, that’s the crazy part.”

“It was two years ago. To be fair, all of us were stupid at eighteen.”

“Not all of us were cheating on our partners with a girl we met on summer break, though,” Taeyong quips, incredulous that he’s even having this discussion with you. You’ve always been on the same page, what changed?

You groan, “God, Taeyong. Sure, he cheated. Duh, he was in the wrong. But it wasn’t me that he cheated on and it’s not like we were ever in a relationship. He couldn’t have known how I felt about him when I did everything in my power to hide my feelings. And what if he’s changed?”

“And what if he hasn’t?” Taeyong retorts quickly.

The silence in the room is deadly. Taeyong can’t believe that he’s having to talk some sense into you, all while your other two friends sit quietly observing your argument. Is he the only one thinking around here? Why aren’t they helping?

Then, Yeri speaks up from the other side of the room, “Instead of arguing, let’s just put Jaehyun to the test.”

“And how do you plan on going about that?” Taeyong grumbles.

“Letting her talk to him, dimwit, how else?” Yeri rolls her eyes, “I know that you probably think that allowing him within a ten-foot radius of her is going to break her heart, but you’re greatly underestimating my best friend’s strength. She isn’t stupid, she can identify red flags.”

“Ease up on the fighting words,” Jaemin chuckles, “but I dunno, Yeri’s right. The only way she’ll know if he’s changed is to see for herself. If she notices anything odd, she can give him the boot. It’s not rocket science.”

You glance at Taeyong. Truthfully, you don’t need his permission, and both of you know that. But it would be nice to feel validated by your best friends, especially the overprotective one.

Taeyong glances back at you, and his expression softens. He’s always had a soft spot for you, and it’s hard to tell you no. Plus, he doesn’t want to be the token villain when everyone else is telling you to go for it. To chase what you want.

And in all honesty, Taeyong wishes he could chase what he wants. But the last thing he is is selfish, so maybe now is the time he lets you go.

Finally, he groans, “Alright, fine. Whatever. Talk to Jaehyun, see if he’s really ready to commit. But if this guy breaks your heart, I’m going to quote-unquote accidentally spill the hottest coffee on his face, just to give him a taste of the fire that is hell, where he will burn for eternity.”

Jaemin shivers, having flashbacks to the first time he spoke to Taeyong, “You love a good coffee threat, don’t you? So many fighting words.”

Taeyong doesn’t reply, just glares at Jaemin sharply.

“Hostile, but I’m with him,” Yeri nods, “Mark my words, that man will die a slow, painful death if he makes one more mistake.”

“Yep!” Jaemin agrees, “Don’t worry, babes. We got your back.”

At that, you smile. Your friends are on your side. Now, here comes the real trouble.

Mustering the ability to talk to Jaehyun.

Fortunately, Yerim’s annual Pal-Cation was right around the corner, and would extend until the end of the week.

Last year, Jaehyun didn’t attend.

Correction: he wasn’t invited.

Yeri and Jaehyun haven’t been on amazing terms since she became aware of everything, which put a dent in their relationship. This year, she’s invited him in favor of playing Cupid.

You’re a little nervous, anxious about being in the same space as Jaehyun for more than three minutes after all these years. You’re scared and you’re not sure of what, because if Jaehyun’s really as changed as he implies he is, the result should be predictable.

Then again, you don’t really know Jaehyun’s reason for wanting to talk to you, and that makes you all the more panicked. Of course, he wants you to hear him out, but what does he want to come out of that? A second chance? At what?To you, your relationship was so much more than sex. But what if it wasn’t to him? What if he just wants to get inside your pants?

“Girl, please,” Jaemin scoffs, crashing against your hotel bed like he owns the place. He’s in comfortable awe, and probably wouldn’t think twice if someone told him the beds were made out of marshmallows, “you were defending his life choices like yesterday—god damn, these beds are soft—and now you’re having second thoughts? Since when do you back down from things?”

You throw a pillow at him, “I was not defending him!”

“I talked to him earlier, when he asked me if I was sure about wanting him here,” Yeri states, sitting on the seat in front of the mirror. “Told him that there’s no way in hell he’d be here right now if I didn’t want him to be. He laughed and promised me he wouldn’t do anything stupid, and I told him know, because if he does do something stupid it’s off with his motherfuckin’ head.”

Jaemin smiles, satisfied, “Yeah, that should do it. I’d be scared half to death, you could probably pay someone to kill him and no one would suspect a thing.”

“Enough about killing him,” you grimace, “I’m just, I dunno, nervous, I guess. What if he just wants to get in my pants?”

“Guess you better go found out, and tonight is the perfect opportunity. I reserved the pool, so we have the entire area to ourselves until midnight.”

“Yeah, and that wouldn’t be too bad anyways. When was the last time you got laid?” Jaemin adds.

You sneer and flip him off, “For your information, I got laid at that party Friday night when you left me for dead to go get drunk. And that’s why your ass was hungover. And Yeri, you never told me that your step-brother was so fucking hot.”

Yeri exclaims, “You slept with Jongin?”

“You slept with her brother?”

And that’s where you conclude that you’ve overshared, and it’s time for everyone to have some time to themselves, “Alright, everybody out,” you push and pull them both out, until they’re standing outside your door, “I’ll see you guys tonight.”

Then you shut the door, and lie on your bed, sighing with comfort. Jaemin’s right, the beds really are comfortable. You’re feeling drowsy already and decide to rest your eyes. There’s hours until it’s Pool Time.

Pool Time comes faster than you wished.

You’re antsy, but Yeri has SHINee’s Punch Drunk Love playing, so you feel more at ease. It also serves as a reminder that you’re going to need a drink or two to get through the night.

It doesn’t help that you had a dream about Jaehyun while you were trying to rest your eyes, about the night when you first you met him. You were at Yeri’s step-father’s beach house, and the dream was specifically when you made out in the middle of the pool. I’ll never let you drown, baby. You shake the memory away.

You glance around, and see everyone’s here. Yeri’s talking to her friend Mark who obviously has a crush on her, Jaemin’s engaging in conversation with Taeyong who for once doesn’t look like he wants to rip Jaemin’s head off, Yeri’s other friends are playing in the pool, and—Jaehyun.

Jaehyun’s seated at the bar, looking dead at you, which is exactly where you need to be but your lunch and your stomach seem to not be getting along suddenly. You tear your gaze, and glance back at Yeri. You need her help, one last push or words of encouragement, but you’re not selfish enough to interrupt Mark’s attempts at flirting with your friend and getting some.

Well fuck, you groan. You’re all alone this time, and deciding you look stupid standing there by yourself, you march to the bar and hoist yourself on the stool beside Jaehyun, ignoring the increasing speed of your heartbeat. It doesn’t help that this place only has two barstools.

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” The bartender asks you. She’s pretty, got long dark hair and a nice face. You wonder if Jaehyun flirting with her is the reason she’s been smiling so hard since before you sat down, trying to stifle a giggle.

And you frown at your own thoughts. Leave it to you to automatically assume the worst.

“No idea. Suprise me,” you sigh, and with a nod she gets to work.

It’s difficult, more like impossible to ignore Jaehyun’s presence beside you. He isn’t saying anything, isn’t doing anything as far as you can tell without looking at him, but the knowledge that he’s there has you on your toes.

The bartender brings back your drink, tells you to enjoy and you say thank you before having a taste. You need this before you dare say a word to him.

And then he dare speaks, “Hi.”

You can feel your heart racing and you don’t know why, but you do know that you don’t like it. There’s no reason to feel like this, you heard Jaehyun talk at the party. You somehow manage to chirp back quietly, “Hi.”

“Aren’t you gonna look at me?”

It feels like he’s challenging you, almost to say you’re too much of a pussy to look him dead in the face, and you know you’re more than likely making that up but Jaehyun’s the first person to know that you’re last person to back down from a challenge, so you do turn to look at him.

It takes everything in you to stay rational when you do. You get the chance to look at him, to really look at him, and you’re taken aback by his features. He looks the same, but different all at once, obviously a little older.

Beside you is no longer the teenage boy with the cute, high-pitched voice, but a man with a deep and matured sound to his voice. He’s smiling a little wildly at you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him smile in years.

You take a sip from your drink so that you don’t smile back and say, “I’m looking.”

“See something you like?”

“Nope,” you lie, as though you weren’t obvious checking him out seconds ago, “just you.”

“Aww, don’t be like that,” Jaehyun grins playfully, “smile a little, won’t you?”

“Let’s cut to the chase, Jaehyun,” you change the subject. You refuse to let his little games work on you. “Didn’t you want me to hear you out? Hop to it or I’m leaving.”

He blinks. “Here?”

Well no one can hear you other than the bartender, but it’s a personal issue that deserves the utmost privacy and it’s not like you’re willing to share your personal business with a stranger, so you agree to walk around the pool with him. Close enough so that you’re not bumping into walls, distant enough to not be overheard.

You glance at him, “So?”

Jaehyun sighs, “Rather than defending myself, I think I should apologize. For not telIing you I was in a relationship, for risking dragging you into drama, it was selfish. I was selfish.”

It was selfish. He couldn’t have been thinking of your feelings, or even her feelings.

“There’s no excuse for what I did, and I can’t imagine how belittled it made you feel. You don’t have to forgive me, and I know you’re probably gonna hate me forever for this and I don’t blame you. But I want you to know that I’m sorry,” he gives you those emotional eyes, the same dejected gleam in them, “Sincerely. And if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you…”

“Tell me why,” you want the answers that you’ve been searching for all these years. Not exactly closure, but you don’t want to live in doubt, wondering maybe you were never enough, and that’s why you were always the side piece.

“Why I did it?”

You nod, and he’s silent for a moment.

“I mean, I don’t know. I don’t know why eighteen-year-old me did the shit I did, but I know that I did it and I can’t take it back. I’ve looked back so many times and I still can’t fathom…” Jaehyun trails off, then starts shaking his head, “you know what? Maybe I do know why.”

Don’t cry, you tell yourself. You’re stronger than this. You’re blinking back tears, attempting to keep your voice level as you whisper, “Why then, Jaehyun?”

“It’s not the shocking, life-changing reason I always thought it would be,” he chuckles sadly, “it’s because I was stupid. And careless. I wasn’t thinking, but at the same time I thought I had the world at my feet, and I guess I did but then I…” Jaehyun stops to take a breath after he realizes he’s rambling. “But then I lost you. And that’s when I realized that this, the lying, the cheating, the going behind your backs—it was stupid.”

“It was stupid,” you agree, and he laughs a little more. “But let me ask you one more thing…” you say. He doesn’t reply, but his eyes tell you to go ahead. “Did you love her?” Or did you love me?

Jaehyun nods lazily. “At one point.”

You bite your lip, unsatisfied.

“Did you love me?”

That catches him off-guard. You almost expect him to stop walking the way he’s frozen, and you feel your stomach churning in regret.

“Nevermind, forget I asked that—”

“When you first left, I was unaffected,” Jaehyun interjects. “Like I said, I thought I had the world at my feet, so I thought you were replaceable. I tried replacing you. But it wasn’t the same, no matter how many times I tried, it was never, ever the same,” his eyes muse at you, “No one looked at me the way you did, no one talked to me all night and made me laugh like you did, no one ran circles through my mind like you, no one was like you. So I knew I needed you back, but by the time I realized you were already gone. And that’s when I knew I had fucked up.”

He adds, “So, yeah. I did love you. Maybe it was at the wrong time, maybe it was too late for me to love you, maybe I wasn’t supposed to, but I did and I don’t think I’ve ever stopped.”

Jaehyun’s thumb runs over your eyes, wiping a string of tears that you hadn’t even know you cried. He doesn’t say anything about it, just pulls you closer to his chest.

“What about you?” He asks.

“What about me?”

“Did you love me?”

Now it’s your turn to freeze, and then you almost laugh. Of course, you loved him. You were in love with him. Hopelessly.

“Can I be honest?”

Jaehyun nods. “Mm-hm. That’s what this is all about, right?”

You exhale a sharp breath, preparing to tell one of your deepest, darkest secrets to the one person that was never supposed to know, “When I told you the reason I wanted to end things was because of you cheating on her, that wasn’t the whole truth. It was part of it, and though I’m no homewrecker, there’s another reason. I was in love with you—hopelessly, helplessly, utterly—and I couldn’t stand the thought that you never felt the same, that I was just a plaything to you.”

“Y/n—”

“Let me finish,” you order, “I left to take care of me. I thought it would have been disrespectful towards myself to stay in that position, when from my understanding, I loved you yet you loved her,” you feel another trail of tears coming, and wipe them away before they have the chance to spill. “At that moment, when I found out you already had someone, I felt like I didn’t know you anymore. I thought that maybe you never really cared, and I was the only one that felt it.”

It, the love. The spark. The connection. The butterflies in your stomach when he held you close, or called you cute pet names. The emotion whenever he was deep inside you.

“It felt like I had given my heart to a stranger,” you laugh humorlessly, “because for all I knew, who’s to say I was the only one you were fucking behind her back? I felt so, so stupid. Like I was never enough. And when I first saw your face again after all these years, all of that hurt came back. But at the same time,” you look him in his eyes, “all my feelings for you came back, too.”

It’s silent for a moment, but it isn’t awkward. You’ve just confessed your feelings for one another, not only now, but for the you of two years ago. For the you of eighteen who never thought you’d ever have this chance.

And you can’t believe Jaehyun’s actually had feelings for you, too. It always seemed like some fairytale thing, but hearing one another out like responsible adults instead of immature teens changes things.

“Wow,” Jaehyun whispers in surprise, “Wow. I was such a fool. I made a simple thing so fucking complicated. Imagine where we’d be if I would have just broken up with her and realized my feelings sooner.”

Together. You’d be together, as one.

“Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve, didn’t,” you say lightheartedly, “There’s no use in worrying about that. You’ve apologized. And I forgive you.”

“You forgive me?” Jaehyun gawks. “Why? I thought you’d hate me forever or something.”

“I kinda still hate the you of two years ago, he’s an asshole,” you giggle, “but the you standing next to me right now, today, is a changed man who knows his mistake and won’t do that shit ever a-fucking-gain. Or else.”

Jaehyun snorts. “Of course not. I wouldn’t dare.”

You smile, “Good.”

“Good. So do we address our relationship too, or…”

“Later, please,” you groan. “Come sit by the water with me.”

Jaehyun agrees, and so now you’re sitting at the edge of the pool, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Is SHINee still your favorite band?” He asks.

“Yeah,” you mumble, heart warming at the fact that he even still remembers that.

Then he teases, “Do you still swoon over Lee Taemin?”

You give him a very, very icy glare, “Shut up. I’ll push you into the pool right now.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jaehyun challenges.

Wrong move, you smirk. You love a challenge.

So in one swift movement, you do push him into the pool, and the sound of him yelling and the water splashing is like music to your ears. You giggle, watching as he comes back up, hair heavy and soaked as it sticks to him like a second skin. You also take notice of his white t-shirt, or his abs through the soaked cotton. Six pack. Toned. Stupid dumb crazy hot. Damn, sometimes you forget why you kept coming back to him.

He sneers, unamused. “Not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” you disagree with a smile.

“Oh yeah?” he says, “Look, Lee Taemin!”

You turn without fully processing his statement yet, “Wha—agh!”

In an even swifter motion, Jaehyun’s pulled your ankles, and now a distracted you falls into the pool with a splash. Not to mention, your bikini cover-up is still on. This, unfortunately, is karma. Inconvenience aside, you’re getting deja vu, a distant memory seeping back into your mind.

You whine, “Not fair.”

“It’s a little fair,” he mocks, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“You’re lucky I know how to swim,” you wringe out your hair, “You would have had an lawsuit against you if I didn’t.”

You wonder if he’s taken the hint, if he’s gonna say it. You remember that exact moment, being so close to his face and feeling so warm. I’d never let you drown, baby.

And like a rehearsed line, he says perfectly, “I’d never let you drown, baby.”

“You remember.” Your tone is like a question, but it’s a statement.

“I remember a lot of things about you,” Jaehyun states, and perfectly timed, the current song fades into your all-time personal favorite—SHINee’s 1 of 1. “For instance, is this still your favorite SHINee song?”

One glance in Yeri’s direction confirms your suspicion that this is all her doing, as you see her giggling at you, phone in hand. It was already suspicious of her to play SHINee when she’s an Ariana Grande girl, but now you definitely see her her crystal-clear intentions.

“Yeah,” you mutter, but as you turn back around you notice he’s definitely close enough to hear you. Your noses are almost touching, and you can feel your heart racing. You feel like a teenager in love all over again, blood pumping, your heart beating in your ears. Deja vu.

Jaehyun must be feeling it too, because he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Yet again, you blush. “Sure.”

And on cue, his lips are against yours. Jaehyun’s still an amazing kisser, he feels gentle yet he’s so fierce, gripping your waist as your fingers tangle in his hair. You know for a fact he’d be even rougher if you weren’t inside of a pool.

His lips feel better than you remember, and then he bites your lip. You moan, lips parting and he darts his tongue in your mouth. You can taste his drink on his tongue, faint remnants of whatever he had in his cup.

Fuck, you forgot how high kissing him makes you feel. It’s like an addictive drug, and you can feel nothing but your heartbeat and his lips on yours. You don’t want him to stop.

And then, to your misfortune, he does stop. You whimper, not really taking notice of how out of breath you are as you’re overcome with greed.

“Why’d you stop?” You frown.

“You need to breathe, babe. You wanna almost drown in the pool like Taeyong?” He laughs.

Speaking of Taeyong, you check on him with your eyes. To your surprise, he’s still talking and laughing with Jaemin, the pair obviously hitting it off and super into one another. It makes you smile. That boy’s had a huge crush on you that you both know you can’t reciprocate for years, and it’s time he lets you go.

“Hello… Earth to y/n? You look like the cute puppy eyes emoji.”

Your eyes snap at Jaehyun, “Shut up,” you reply, “And kiss me.”

“Bossy,” Jaehyun teases, but he must like that about you, because moments later he’s kissing you again, even more passionately than before.

“Oh, c’mon!”

Yeri giggles, “Sorry, y/n. The majority rules!”

For the second day of your California vacation, Yeri’s decided to take everyone to an amusement park an hour out from the hotel. You asked her why she didn’t do Disney Land this year, but she said it was reserved for her first Bae-Cation.

You roll your eyes. What happened to chicks over dicks?

The point is, you wanted to separate into groups, considering it would be easier to keep up with everyone. However, everyone else wanted to do pairs, arguing that there was more freedom and it’d be easier to come towards a mutual decision instead of arguing over what to ride.

So everyone grabs their partners, and you’re shocked when you see Jaemin and Taeyong step beside one another. You’re incredulous. Jaemin’s just been abandoning you left and right ever since he came back.

“You two in love or some shit now?” You fold your arms, eyes pointing at them accusingly. “What happened to those coffee threats, Yong? I thought you said Jaem was annoying. And Jaemin? You said he was scary!”

Jaemin shrugs coolly. “He was, but then I realized something. Taeyong’s like an egg, he has a hard shell—” Taeyong glares, “—nevermind, he doesn’t like that comparison very much. Taeyong’s like a smore, hard on the outside yet warm and soft on the inside. Oh, and very deli—ow!”

Jaemin holds his stomach dramatically, looking at Taeyong who stands with a satisfied grin on his face. Perhaps, Taeyong still is a little scary.

“Jaem! Yong!”

“Ooh, that reminds me,” Jaemin eyes twinkle, “I think our ship name should be Jaeyong.”

Taeyong disagrees, “No way. It should be Taemin.”

“First of all, you two will never be Taemin,” you interject with a scowl. “Anyways, you two figure that out. I’ll go be with my partner.”

And you stomp away to spot Jaehyun waiting for you with a cheeky grin. You’re optionless, you suppose. Yeri’s with Mark again, Taeyong and Jaemin are obviously a thing now, Seulgi’s with Winter and Jennie’s with Nayeon.

It’s not even like last night ended poorly. Last night couldn’t have been better, you spent your time making out and drinking with Jaehyun in the pool until midnight. It was too good to be true, you felt like Cinderella, having to slip back into her normal life by the time the clock struck twelve.

Now though, you have to be alone with Jaehyun. Okay technically, you’ll be surrounded by hundreds of people, and depending on where you go your friends may or may not be accompanying you, though still. It isn’t that you don’t trust him, but isn’t it natural to feel uneasy?

Jaehyun calls, “C’mon, princess! Let’s go get hotdogs. I’m hungry.”

“We ate at the hotel,” you snort.

“So? That was an hour ago. Plus the time it took for us to get through that crazy ass line. If you’re not hungry, I’ll buy you a lemonade or something.”

A lemonade does sound good, you ponder. It’s summertime, and no amount of sunglasses and mosquito-repellent sunscreen is going to help you beat this heat. It’s ninety-something degrees.

“Fine,” you give in, and an eternity later (curse these never-ending lines) you’re sitting down at a bench, you sipping on your humongous cup of lemonade and Jaehyun eating a hotdog.

To be honest, you really didn’t need the largest size that they had. You were just testing his reaction for the fun of it, expecting to have a giggle or two, but he totally surprised you, buying it and insisting you should have it even after you told him that you were just playing.

The Jaehyun you knew three years ago was many things, and rich was not one of them.

“Let’s talk,” he says after discarding his hotdog in the bin. Oh of course, Jaehyun’s brain cannot function when he’s running low on food.

Playing dumb, you ask, “About what?”

“Us,” he answers simply.

“In the middle of an amusement park?”

“It’s important,” Jaehyun grins, “You don’t trust me.”

Perplexity is written all over your face. You trust Jaehyun on the basic level, you feel safe around him and in his embrace. But you’re not sure if you trust him with your heart just yet, and after everything he did, you have the right to be scared.

“And I understand why. I hurt you once, you’re scared I might do it again. So let’s start over,” he concludes, and you blink. “From scratch. Past aside. I want you to get to know me, and I wanna get to know you. I’m sure there’s plenty of things I don’t know about you now.”

I mean, you know the gist. You didn’t say that aloud, of course. Through a discussion last night, he still knows your favorite color and your undying love for pie and SHINee, especially Taemin, your birthday, your mom’s birthday, even your dog’s birthday—okay, maybe he knows too much. Or you overshared. Who knows.

And you still remember a lot of facts about him, but at the same time, there’s still so much you don’t know about one another.

“Right,” you agree, “So by starting over, you mean…”

“Completely,” he answers quick. “Let’s re-introduce ourselves.”

Your lips don’t quiver, drawn into a line. “You gotta be kidding.”

“I’m serious!” Jaehyun claims. “C’mon, I’ll even go first.”

“Jaehyun—”

“Aht, aht! You’re not supposed to know my name,” Jaehyun chides. “Hi, my name’s Jaehyun, I’m twenty-one, and I like Cigarettes After Sex. The band, I mean. I don’t smoke.”

You roll your eyes. There was no need for him to explain, because literally everybody knows Jaehyun likes Cigarettes After Sex, the same way everyone knows you like SHINee. But for the sake of placating him and getting this over with, you refuse to make any comments.

“This is so corny.”

“The longer you wait the longer it takes.”

Reluctantly you give in, but not without a groan. “Hi, Jaehyun. My name’s y/n, I’m also twenty-one, and I like SHINee.”

Jaehyun claps dramatically, “Bravo! Was that so hard?”

“Yes, actually.”

He giggles, tells you to stop being dramatic and you two begin your mission to ride every ride that you can within the span of a few hours. You get more snacks in between, sharing a container of butter-y delicious popcorn and double-dating some rides with the other pairs (which unfortunately happens to lead to you witnessing Mark throwing up in a bush).

Unfortunately, time flies by fast when you’re having fun, and when Yeri texts the Pal-Cation Pals group chat to meet up by the first popcorn stand in fifteen minutes, you know you have little time remaining, enough for one last ride.

The Ferris Wheel.

Last but not least, the Ferris Wheel. You and Jaehyun have been saving it for last, agreeing the full experience is at dark night, when the colorful lights illuminate the indigo sky.

“Let’s go!” You pull him into a cart, and he laughs at your enthusiasm.

When the ride starts, Jaehyun holds your hand and you rest your head on his shoulder. It feels nice and comfortable, and you quickly realize you miss having him like this. Close to you. And it’s silent for a moment. You and Jaehyun have always had these moments together, where you’re not talking one another’s ears off, but holding each other in warm silence. You have always valued the other’s company.

You watch as the world gets smaller underneath your feet, how the Ferris wheel lights twinkle in vibrant colors, and shine on its surroundings. You see how the other rides glow in the dark, appearing so close yet so far away.

It’s beautiful. Your eyes flare different colors—red, blue, pink, green—as you gawk in wonder. If you could, you’d stay like this forever, watching this astonishing sight with Jaehyun at your side.

“You look pretty in the light,” Jaehyun marvels, snapping you out of your daze. The butterflies and their flapping wings come back, and he’s always been able to make you feel like this so easily.

Warmth fills your cheeks, and you turn around so that he doesn’t notice. “Don’t I always? Or are you saying I only look pretty in the light?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, “You’re still impossible. I’m trying to flirt with you.”

“Then do so,” you smile. “Keep telling me about how pretty I am.”

“Look at me,” Jaehyun whispers, but it’s loud and clear to you. Slowly, you do look at him, noticing the way his lips curl into a soft grin, and how the purple light casts on his gorgeous skin and features. “Your lips are pretty, too.”

Next, he’ll call your bones pretty and you’ll still feel your face flush with heat.

Jaehyun kissed you for hours last night, but when his lips collide with yours again you know that you’ll never get used to the feeling. Your fingers card through his hair while his gravitate towards your skin, cold hands sending a shiver down your spine as they mesh with the evening warmth.

You bite at his lip this time, wallowing in the sound of his moan as it tumbles from between his parted lips. He can feel you smiling, the corners of your lips spreading apart as you stifle a laugh.

It feels like fire consumes you, like you’re melting, melting into his touch, like candle wax as his fingertips trace your skin. Like a bomb’s ignited inside you, like you’re exploding, and the more you feel him the more you desire him. The more you crave him, the more your body yearns for him.

You know you have him when you move for his neck, marking a trail of red lipstick stains that look purple in the light. He takes it as a challenge, retaliating with a bite at your neck that makes you sigh in pleasure, and this is definitely why you get along so well—you’re compatible.

“When we get back,” you gasp, ignoring the complacent look he casts at you, “Meet me in my room.”

“What about the others?”

“They saw us making out in the pool, Jaehyun, literally nobody cares,” you roll your eyes. “No more sneaking around shit, right?”

He smiles, “Right. Can’t anyways, your lipstick is all over my throat.”

You giggle, and bring him back in for another kiss as the ride begins to slow to an end.

The next couple of days are equally eventful, yet fly by far too quickly for your liking. You hit the beach and unfortunately witness a woman being stung by a jelly fish, visit some museums, the zoo, and even hike near the Hollywood sign. You also make sure to spend Yeri’s money on some souvenirs, and Jaehyun buys you matching necklaces. You have his J, he has your first initial.

Today is Saturday—already. Tomorrow you will return home, and you’re not sure if you’re ready or not. You sigh as you scroll through your camera roll. You’ve had so much fun this week, there’s the pictures of Mark’s scared face on the roller coaster, Taeyong buried alive into the sand, Yeri and the girls trying on humongous sun glasses at the mall, and the video of Jaemin and Jaehyun arm-wrestling to determine who’s the better Jae to prove it (Jaehyun won).

Like a normal Saturday, today’s the one chill day. The whole week has been chaotic in a fun way, but Yeri had nothing else planned, so she told everyone to take a day to wind down and feel free to venture out to wrap up the vacation.

Which leads you to now.

Jaehyun and you agreed to visit the park, just walking around and talking, and perhaps doing some making out in between. You’ve been doing that a lot lately, and you’re pretty sure you’re addicted. It’s like there’s crack in his lips that cannot simply be fixed with chapstick.

“It’s hot,” you complain.

Jaehyun snorts. “We’re in California, babe. Imagine Yeri took us to Florida.”

You wince. You’re barely beating the Californian heat, there’s no way you’ll survive down south in Florida. It doesn’t even snow there.

“I thought you were gonna say some fake-romantic shit, like I’ll reach into the sky and throw the sun into the freezer, princess, just say the word,” you mimick his voice exaggeratedly.

Jaehyun rolls his eyes, but laughs nonetheless, “No can do, princess,” he teases, “but I can get us some ice cream from that stand over there. Stay put, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” You shout. “You even know what I want?”

He says your favorite flavor, and even your preferred container to consume it in, “Right?”

A smile spreads on your lips, and your heart flutters. He remembers. “Right.”

Jaehyun shoots you a smile then jogs over to the ice cream stand, pulling his wallet from his pockets. You gotta remember to ask him where he’s getting all this money from, this man could be a drug dealer for all you know.

Nonetheless, you sit at a nearby bench and pull out your phone. Nothing beats checking up on your Animal Crossing island while you wait.

You notice the presence of someone sitting beside you but don’t bat an eye, knowing without looking that it isn’t Jaehyun. And who are you to shoo away a stranger if they want to rest their feet?

“You must be y/n,” hearing your name, your eyes snap to the side instinctively.

And that’s when you realize that this stranger may not be as unknown as you initially thought.

Your eyes widen, “You…”

“I am, Jaehyun’s ex-girlfriend,” she, Victoria announces proudly, like it’s some achievement to be clipped onto the fridge.

You never met her, but you’ll never forget her name, or her face for that matter. It’s kind of stupid, how you found out. You were on Instagram, and you saw Jaehyun’s account in the replies of Yeri’s post. You clicked his profile, because you had never exchanged accounts before, and you quickly saw why.

He didn’t post her often, amongst all the flaunting images of himself, but when he did he made it crystal clear that she was his girlfriend, and what sole other woman would he continuously post onto his page?

“What are you doing here?” You ask, an obviously bitter edge to your voice. It isn’t she that you should be bitter towards, but you can’t help but feel slightly defensive.

“Relax, darling, I’m not stalking you on whatever summer vacation he’s had the courtesy to whisk you away on,” Victoria giggles. Of course not, that would be obsessive. “It’s actually a coincidence to see you, but since we’re here, let’s talk.”

Disinterested, you reply, “There’s nothing for you and I to discuss.”

“Of course, there is! You were fucking with him while he was with me, right?” she gives you a picture-perfect smile that makes you want to grit your teeth, yet you compose yourself. She sighs, “You know that, and yet you’re like what, dating him now? I’m telling you now, once a cheater, always a cheater. You might think he loves you now, but I promise you, he’ll stab you in the back the moment you aren’t looking.”

Victoria misjudges your silence as you giving her the go-ahead to continue, “I know that you know, and I know you’re trying to convince yourself that he’s changed, but he’s still the same old bastard he was three years ago. I mean just look at him, he’s even flirting with that lady now.”

With furrowed brows, you turn in Jaehyun’s direction, eyes finding that he actually is flirting with the ice cream lady. You can’t believe your eyes. Really? The fucking ice cream woman? He isn’t trying to be subtle with it, either.

She tilts her head as she speaks in your ear, “See? He doesn’t give a fuck. Not about you, not about her, not about any of us. You’re just yet another notch in his belt.”

And suddenly, all those doubts come back, the ones that you had pushed away and replaced with your growing feelings for him. Yet now that they’re existing within the same space, it’s even more terrifying, it’s exactly what you feared.

What if Jaehyun never really cared? What if all this is just some big act? What if he’s just been playing with your emotions this entire time? What if you don’t really know Jaehyun like you thought?

You want him, but what if he doesn’t really want you?

Jaehyun walks over, seemingly not noticing his ex-girlfriend’s presence, “I got the ice cream. Who’s th—Victoria?”

“Hello, Jaehyun,” she waves, offering him a smile. “We were just talking about you.”

“What the fuck did you tell her?” Jaehyun scowls, taking notice of your silence and the empty, unhappy gaze you shoot him. You don’t even smile, hardly even blink.

Victoria shrugs. “Nothing she doesn’t already know.”

“I’m walking back to the hotel,” you announce, sliding your phone back into your pocket and peeling yourself off of the bench.

“Wait!”

He calls out your name.

For the third time, you turn and walk away.

This time, though, he’s not letting you walk away. Not without putting up a fight first.

“Why are we doing this again?” Jaehyun yells. “Why? Did I do something? We can just talk this out, you know. What happened to no more secrets?”

You retort, “You fucking tell me, Jaehyun! How am I supposed to know that you don’t have secrets?”

“The same goddamn way I know you don’t have any! Trust!” And the realization hits him hard. He knows that it’s only been some days, but what could Victoria have said to make you back out so hastily? “Is that what it is? You don’t trust me?”

Tears sting your eyes. “Trust you? You want me to trust you? With you being the kind of person you are? You’re out of luck.”

That burned Jaehyun. After all of the bonding you’ve done lately, he would’ve thought that you would trust him a little more, but he sees clearly now. He sees that he’s done all he can do, and now it’s time for you to do your part.

“What kind of person am I, y/n?” He asks coldly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You spit, “You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah?” Jaehyun laughs tonelessly, “Well frankly I think you’re an asshole, too. So when you’re ready to be assholes together, let me know.”

And this time, Jaehyun’s the one that walks away. This time, you understand his pain, as you have those tear-stung eyes and that quivering voice. That empty feeling inside, the pang in your heart. The way it’s killing you inside, but you don’t have it in you to move, to chase him. All you can do for now is let it eat at you slowly.

Maybe Victoria was wrong. Maybe you’re planting the knife in your own back.

Sunday comes slowly, and you’re glad you didn’t ride the same van as Jaehyun. You still have to deal with the curious stares your friends shoot you, but it’s better than confronting your emotions, or at least you think it is.

You’re not ready yet.

When you get home, the first time you do is order Panda Express via Uber Eats so that you don’t starve as you rot in your room. The next thing you do is flop against your bed and and sob.

A few days go by like this, in pure brutal agony. You drowning in your thoughts, the maybes and the what if’s. You feel like a teenage girl experiencing her first break-up, lost and confused and unsure of how to deal with the hurt. It’s no one’s fault but yours though, and it’s your job to fix it or forever hold your peace.

Love is hard. You know that. You accept that. If you couldn’t, then it would be wrong of you to try be in a real relationship. But loving, as a verb, is easy. Too easy. So easy, to the point where sometimes, you don’t realize you’re doing it until it’s too late. What’s harder is accepting the fact that love isn’t a choice, but a feeling. If it was, you would have chosen to stop loving Jaehyun years ago. You would have chosen to fall in love with Taeyong, or maybe even Kai.

But your heart chose Jung Jaehyun, and it must have a mind of it’s own, because no matter how much you tell it to let go, it doesn’t listen.

That’s why as the days go by, they’re slow and empty. Because Jaehyun’s not there. Not with you. And a little voice in the back of your head is saying he’s with another girl, but your heart is telling you to have faith. You are severely conflicted.

Just when you think you might just spend the rest of your life rotting here, you’re quickly proven wrong by the dedication and genuine care and concern of your best friends.

“Hey, bitch,” Jaemin strolls in casually, as though this is his room, “New guy already?”

“What?”

“Some guy opened the door,” he replies, flopping against your bean-bag cough.

You blink, gears turning in your mind as you try to decipher what man could possibly be inside of your house—oh. You roll your eyes, “That’s my roommate’s boyfriend, you dumbass.”

“Oh,” Jaemin mumbles, then his eyes twinkle as he makes a move for your desk, “Ooh, Panda Express.”

Suddenly, Yeri storms inside your bedroom, flickering on the lights inside your very much dim and deprived of life, sunshine and happiness room, chanting vigorously the lyrics to Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj’s The Light is Coming, “The light is coming to give back everything the darkness stole!”

You groan, yanking the sheets and comforter over your face to block out the light like a vampire, “You guys, please leave me alone.”

“Nope,” says Taeyong, who follows suit after your other friends, venturing into your room. You fight, you tugging the covers towards you while he attempts at pulling them off. It’s a quick battle which you lose, and you soon accept defeat. “You’ve been suffering in silence—and darkness—for far too long. So, fess up. What did that punk do? Do I need to prepare the coffee?”

You sigh, Saturday seeping back into your memory. “He didn’t do anything.”

Jaemin blinks. “What do you mean? Why else have you been sulking in your bedroom for the past four days like a divorced man who’s ex-wife took the kids and the TV? Shit, all you’re missing is a bar and some alcohol at this point.”

You roll your eyes, “I mean, I was the one that fucked up this time.”

“What?”

They all gasp involuntarily, and if you had it in you, you would roll your eyes at the chorus of what’s.

That day rewinds in your head, how it was so warm then so cold within a matter of moments. Your eyes water as you recall everything that happened, Victoria, your public altercation, walking back to the hotel alone while it felt like there was a rain cloud above your head, despite the piping hot conditions outdoors.

It isn’t like you don’t want to let Jaehyun in. You do, but you’re terrified of granting him that permission, of giving him your heart when he’s broken it before. But this way, you’re only breaking your heart more, and breaking his, too.

“I did something stupid. I assumed the worst when I shouldn’t have, and then I got scared. So I ran,” you want to bury yourself underneath the covers and sink into the earth to be forgotten, but you have to deal with your mistakes. “And I broke his heart. Now I need to fix it, but I don’t fucking know how.”

Yeri thinks you’re dumb.

Taeyong thinks you’re stupid.

Jaemin thinks you’re out of your fucking mind and an absolute fool for letting your thoughts destroy you, but he’ll do whatever he can to help.

“Talk to him, duh,” Yeri says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it is, but easier said than done.

“How? I bet he doesn’t even want to see my face.”

“Are you kidding?” Jaemin gawks. “He’s been moping around the apartment like literally all week, and me and Jongin haven’t said anything because we thought it was his fault! He also has divorced man syndrome!”

Oh. You feel extra stupid now, and you can’t believe you let Victoria get in your head. Collapsing onto your pillow, you groan, “I really am an asshole.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Taeyong agrees, “but so is he, you guys are a match made in heaven.”

“Or hell,” Jaemin chimes in.

Taeyong glares. “With that being said—and I mean this in the friendliest way possible—get your head out of your ass and go talk to him.”

And you smile softly at that. If Taeyong’s giving you the push, you know that everyone’s right and you need to do something. Now.

You nod and whip out your phone with a sigh, opening iMessage. Can we talk?

(Delivered.)

(Read.)

Sure.

Antsy, you’re fidgeting. Your anxiety is spiking and you can feel your heartbeat directly in your eardrums, but this time your fears won’t scare you off. You wait for Jaehyun, feet tapping against the ground restlessly, until you see him nearing.

He walks over to your side, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets and you feel your heart wrenching a little when you notice that he doesn’t give you his wild grin he usually shoots whenever he sees you. His face is inscrutable, and you bite back the urge to run, because you know now that no matter how fast you run, you’ll never be able to hide from your feelings.

“Hey,” your voice is giving up on you, but you refuse to let it. Get a grip.

“Hey,” Jaehyun whispers back. His eyes are dark and empty, and that’s how you know you cut him deep. There’s always a gleam to his eyes, whether sad or blissful.

You can do this, you tell yourself. You’ve talked to him about much worse before, this should be nothing. But still, it’s never been quite like this. You’ve never made this bad of a mistake.

“About Saturday,” you begin, still fidgeting but managing to look at him, “I’m sorry. I jumped to conclusions instead of asking you, instead of trusting you, and I let Victoria get in my head—”

“Yeah, what the hell was that about?” Jaehyun interjects. “Sorry for interrupting you, but I’m still confused. Did I do something?”

“She pointed out that you were flirting with the ice cream lady. What was that?”

Jaehyun blinks, processing your statement, and when he does he begins shaking his head, “Seriously? You’re telling me this is all over the fucking ice cream? I was only flirting with her to get free ice cream! You know they was trying to charge me fifteen dollars for 4 scoops?”

“It’s not just that!” You exclaim. “Like, yeah, that triggered it, but—fuck, Jaehyun, I was scared, I was so fucking scared. I was overthinking, and all my doubts and fears came back, that what if you never cared, what if you don’t want me like I want you, what if I don’t know you like I think I do? I was scared to trust you, scared that I love you because I don’t want to lose you again—”

If Jaehyun was a dog, his ears would perk up. “You love me?”

“Yes,” you answer boldly. “I love you, Jaehyun. I’m in love with you, and up until now that scared me half to death, because I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to know that you love me, too,” and especially enough to stay. “But now I know. I trust you, Jaehyun. I love you, I want you, and I’m gonna be honest, I’m still a little scared. But that’s what love is, trusting someone to not break your heart. It’s a risk I’m ready to take for you.”

Jaehyun is silently stunned. He doesn’t have much to say, taken aback by your confession and the fact this actually happening. “You mean that?”

You nod, smiling. “Every word.”

In seconds, Jaehyun has you pinned to the wall, his lips against yours. God, you missed this feeling. The feeling of his plush lips against yours, his hands on your body. You miss kissing him irresistibly, every hour of every day, for moments at a time until you were breathless.

Jaehyun seems to have missed it just as much, kissing you with a passion—hungrily; greedily. He kisses you like he can’t have enough, like his lips have an insatiable hunger.

And you can’t believe you’re making out with him behind your apartment, but you’re willing to try new things for him.

Jaehyun taps your thighs, and by now you know that that meets to jump, so you do, shrieking a little, yet he doesn’t let you fall. “I got you,” he whispers in between kisses, breath tickling your skin, “and I won’t ever let you go.”

It’s been five days. You’ve been trying not to think too hard about the label thing, maybe Jaehyun is planning something, he wouldn’t just forget to ask you to be his girlfriend.

You’re walking back to your apartment when it happens.

“Excuse me,” a stranger with an oddly familiar voice calls at to you, and when you whirl around, the last person to see is…

“Taemin?” You nearly scream. He points his index finger to his lips, gesturing for you to be quiet, which makes sense because you’re in public but there’s literally no way the man standing before you is the Lee Taemin. You’re dreaming.

You even pinch yourself, much to his amusement, and come to the realization that this is very much real. You could faint. Taemin? Lee Taemin? From SHINee? There’s simply no way.

“I believe this is for you,” Taemin holds in his hands your all-time favorite SHINee album, The Misconception Of Us. You take it, staring at the album in disbelief. You’re gawking. “And one last thing. Come with me, please?”

Okay, what the hell. He has to be trying to kidnap you or something, it’s perfect bait. Who wouldn’t agree to follow their favorite artist after they randomly pop up behind you and offer you your favorite album for free? You’re lucky it isn’t some kidnapping scheme, because you ultimately end up following him despite your doubts.

He takes you to the cafe, which, to your surprise is empty. At least you think it is, until Jaehyun slips out of hiding, walking up to you with a smile.

“Jaehyun,” you can’t help smile back, “What the?”

“Flip it over,” he says, gesturing towards the album, and curiously, you obey. To the back is attached a sticky note that says, To my 1 of 1 girl, will you be my girlfriend? It’s cheesy, but it has you smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“Yes!” Instantly, you crash into his arms. “Yes, yes, yesyes yes—” he has to cut you off with his lips, and you melt into kiss.

You pull away the second you hear the intro to your favorite song, 1 of 1, and look onto the cafe stage (yes, the cafe has a stage for Friday through Saturday night performances) to see Taemin beginning to sing and cover the other members parts.

You’re mind-blown. A part of you is still convinced that this is a dream, because how the fuck did Jaehyun get a man as busy as Lee Taemin to do this? You forgot to ask him who he works for, but do drug dealers have Lee Taemin money?

“How did you—”

“Shh,” Jaehyun pecks your lips, “Taemin’s singing.”

You roll your eyes, yet giggle. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jaehyun engulfs you in a warm, comfortable hug, “And only you.”

When he says it, you trust him. You believe him. Because the Jung Jaehyun you know and love today is a man of his word, and that means you get to love him with no fears, and no worries.

Love is a challenge. And in this moment and the next, it’s safe to say you’ve won.

#jaehyun smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #jaehyun x reader #nct imagines #jaehyun imagines #jung jaehyun smut #nct x reader #nct #nct scenarios

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happy74827 · 1 month

Text

Conflicted, Yet Certain

[Albert Wesker x Agent!Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Tension rises when you refuse to do what Wesker orders. The result? Well, it's nothing short of explosive {GIF Creds: @monsieurphantom}.

WC: 2611

Category: Spice/Lime, Insane Amount of Sexual Tension {TW: Choking, Slamming into Trees (lmao), Wesker being a lil bitch}.

I’m going to be so real with all of you rn. I’m not a complete stranger to Resident Evil; I know some things (most all relating to Leon and Ethan 😏), but in terms of Wesker… yeah, I dunno THAT much. I did lots and lots of Google research solely because I discovered him through an edit (I’m also aware of the Separate Ways DLC, too, don’t worry), and he’s cool asf. So, bada boom, this oneshot was born.

And I don’t want to toot my own horn, but I think I pretty much nailed him. Personality-wise, that is. And @yoursacredqueenmother, don’t you come for me. You knew this was going to happen.

So, with that out of the way, enjoy this fic that I spent way too much time on :)

『••✎••』

It was like a gush of wind. One minute, you were staring into the dark abyss of his shades, free to move, and the next, you were against a tree with a firm hand gripping your neck. No matter how many times you were reminded of his inhuman strength, it always caught you off guard.

"I asked you a question,"

Wesker was standing so close that your bodies were almost touching, his grip tightening every second that passed without a response. His free hand moved from his side to rest on the knife on his hip. Your eyes moved down to the weapon, and he let out a low, almost guttural, chuckle.

"What, are you afraid?"

He pressed the blade against your cheek. The cold steel made your skin burn, and you winced as it cut into your skin. He held it there, watching you struggle. You didn’t try to push him away or escape the pain, but you didn’t give him the answer he was looking for, either.

You looked up at him stiffly and gave him a look that was equal parts hate and disgust. He was always playing these games, pushing you, taunting you, testing you. You knew he wanted you to react, to show him that he had any effect on you.

He removed the knife from your face, and you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Wesker didn't remove his hand from your neck, though. Instead, he ran his glove-covered fingers across your cheek, wiping away the blood from the small cut on your cheek.

"I expected better of you," He paused, and you felt his nails dig into your skin, "And, more importantly, I expect my orders to be followed."

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the unspoken threat in his words. You couldn’t stop the shudder that went through your body, and the scariest thing about the whole situation was that you weren’t sure if it was fear or arousal.

His grip on your neck loosened, and you relaxed, letting your head fall forward slightly. You knew that, at this point, Wesker was just waiting for an answer, and you had nothing left to lose by giving it to him.

"I won't do it."

"Excuse me?"

He tightened his grip on your neck and lifted your head up to look him in the eye. Your heart raced, and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

"I won't do it. And you can't make me."

Wesker scoffed and took a step back, letting go of you completely. You took a deep breath and watched him intently, waiting for him to strike again.

He didn’t, surprisingly. He just stood there, looking at you. It was a real pain how he could see right through you, and all you had were his damn glasses.

"You can't make me," You repeated. It was shocking how much confidence you had in that statement, especially given that Wesker could break you in half if he wanted to, but despite everything, you were defiant.

He tilted his head, his lips curved into a smirk. His posture was casual, and, while you were still tense, his attitude was the complete opposite of what it was a few minutes ago.

"I think you'll find that I can."

There was no trace of the threatening, sadistic man you were so used to dealing with. Instead, he was calm, almost charming, but it didn't change the fact that you didn't trust him for a second.

He took a step towards you and then another. Before you could move, his hand was on the back of your neck, pulling you closer.

"You will do as I say because if you don't," He paused and leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Chris will be the one who has to deal with your mistakes."

It was a low blow, and, as much as you wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, you knew he was right. There was no way you were going to put Chris in any kind of danger. Not now. Not ever.

Wesker chuckled. The sound was dark and full of amusement. He was enjoying the power he had over you, and you hated it.

"You'll do what I say, won't you?"

You didn't reply, but it didn't matter. You were both aware that he was right. He knew that, no matter what, you would follow his orders. He knew that if it came down to it, you would give up everything for the sake of protecting Chris.

You felt Wesker's hands loosen, and he stepped away, putting some distance between the two of you. He seemed pleased with your decision, his smirk growing wider as he watched you.

"Now, go and prove yourself useful, my dear," Wesker commanded, the amusement gone from his voice.

He turned his back to you and began to walk away, but you couldn’t leave it like that. You couldn't just stand there and watch him leave.

You rushed forward and grabbed his arm, an act that he fully expected and allowed but not one that was welcome. He spun around and grabbed your wrist, twisting it painfully. If he weren’t so precise in his movements, he would have broken it.

You didn’t bother tugging or fighting his grip. You just stood there and stared up at him, waiting for him to say something.

He didn't. Instead, he just looked down at you. It was a different kind of stare. Not one that was filled with amusement or anger but curiosity. He was curious about what you were doing. He was curious about what kind of game you were trying to play.

"I'm not afraid of you."

Wesker raised an eyebrow. You could almost hear the sarcasm in his voice when he spoke.

"Oh, I'm well aware."

He released your wrist, his touch lingering longer than necessary. You flexed your fingers and rubbed at the spot where he grabbed you, trying to ease the ache.

You weren't afraid of him, but that didn't mean that you weren't intimidated by him. It didn't mean that you weren't cautious. After all, he was stronger and faster than you, and his control was unmatched.

"Why don't you go run along to Redfield now, Agent," Wesker said, his tone almost teasing, "I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear of your obedience."

You didn't wait around to listen to any more of his taunts. Something took over, something that made you do something really, really stupid.

You walked straight up to him, no words spoken, no thoughts shared, just pure, unadulterated instinct. Inches away from him, you pushed yourself up onto the tips of your toes and smacked your palm against his cheek.

His head snapped to the side, his eyes most likely wide, and his mouth slightly parted. The slap didn't hurt, or at least, it didn't affect him physically, but it was enough to shock him. He didn't expect that.

He turned his gaze back to you, his jaw clenching and his fists balled up. His shoulders tensed, and you could see the annoyance written all over his face.

"Do it again."

Stern and cold, his voice was low and full of warning. A part of you told you to walk away, to get out of there while you still had the chance, but the other part of you refused.

Your hands trembled slightly, but you didn't back down. You’ve been holding it in for so long, so agonizingly long, and this was your chance to do something, to let go, even if it was just for a second.

For once, you didn't care about the consequences, or the punishment, or the fact that, at that moment, Wesker could very well kill you.

You slapped him again. Tried to, anyway. He was too fast, and before your hand could reach his face, he grabbed your wrist again. He pulled you forward, twisting your arm behind your back, and held you against him.

His other hand was on the back of your head, forcing it up so that you were looking him straight in the eyes. Except, again, you couldn’t. Not with those fucking sunglasses in the way.

He leaned down, his lips only a few inches from yours. You could feel his breath on your skin, warm and heavy, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Do it."

This time, there was no malice or mockery in his voice. No, he wasn't telling you to hit him. He was giving you permission.

Your heart was racing, and your legs felt weak. It was so much, and you weren't sure how much more you could take. You hated him, God, did you hate him.

But, at the same time, there was something about him that drew you in. Something that made your pulse quicken, and your stomach churn. Something that made your head spin and your palms sweat. Something that made you want him, even if you didn't want to admit it.

And, as much as you hated him, as much as you loathed him, you couldn't help but want him.

He was a monster. He was evil. He was everything you had spent years fighting against, but there was no denying the attraction you felt towards him.

The heat of his body was overwhelming, and the smell of him, a mix of leather and gunpowder, was intoxicating. His grip on your hair tightened, forcing you closer, and you were sure he could hear the way your breathing hitched.

"Come on, dear," He taunted, that mocking, sinister tone back in his voice, "Don’t tell me you're losing your nerve."

That was it. That was all it took. You didn’t know what came over you, but suddenly, your hand was on the back of his neck, and you were crashing your lips against his.

It was messy and rough, and there was so much anger, hate, and lust behind it. Wesker returned the kiss, his lips moving against yours, and he let go of your hair and the arm he had pinned behind your back.

His hands moved to your waist, gripping tightly, and you grabbed a fistful of his hair. He let out a low growl deep in his throat and pushed you backward.

The next thing you knew, your back was once again thrown against the nearest tree. It wasn’t as painful this time, mostly due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins and Wesker taking the initiative to move his arm to the back of your neck to soften the impact.

The bark was rough against your skin, and the scent of pine was strong, but none of it mattered. Not with the way his hands found your thighs, lifting them up to wrap around his waist.

Not with the way his teeth bit and nipped at your bottom lip, drawing blood. Not with the way his tongue soothed the wounds, tasting the coppery fluid.

Not with the way his hips rolled against yours, drawing out a moan from the back of your throat.

Wesker pulled away and trailed kisses along your jaw, moving to the side of your neck. You gasped and bucked your hips as his teeth scraped against the sensitive flesh.

He chuckled, the vibration of his voice against your skin making your head spin, and moved his hand from the back of your neck to hold the sides of your face.

He was so close. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the warmth of his body contrasting the cool air around you.

You wanted to reach up and rip those fucking sunglasses off his face to finally see what was hidden behind them. You wanted to look him in the eyes, to see what kind of expression was on his face.

You wanted to know if he felt the same way you did, the same fire, the same desire.

You wanted to know if he hated you as much as you hated him.

Instead, you ran your fingers through his hair, grabbing and tugging at it, causing him to growl against your neck. His lips were still on your skin, sucking and biting at the delicate flesh, and his hands were exploring every inch of you.

His hands roamed, and you closed your eyes, savoring the sensation of his touch. Your head was clouded with desire, and you could barely focus.

It was all happening so fast. Too fast. Your body was on fire, and, for a moment, you forgot who you were with and what he had done. You forgot the pain and the suffering and the lives that had been lost.

You forgot it all, and, just for a moment, it felt good. It felt right. It felt like you were meant to be together in every way.

Wesker was no fool, and he certainly didn't miss the change in your breathing or the way your muscles relaxed under his touch. He could hear your heartbeat, the rhythmic thumping growing quicker and louder as his hands moved lower, and he could smell the scent of arousal in the air.

He pulled away and looked down at you, the corner of his lips twisted into a smug smirk. He could see the look in your eyes, the haze that was covering them. He could feel the heat of your skin and the way it prickled under his touch.

He knew what you were thinking and what you were feeling, and he could use it to his advantage.

"So, this is how to get through to you," He mused, his voice low and teasing, "Interesting."

And just like that, reality set back in.

Your eyes snapped open, and, as if you were being electrocuted, your body went rigid. Wesker took a step back and released you from his grasp, watching intently as you fell to the ground.

Your body was numb, and your head was spinning. You couldn't move, couldn't speak. You were frozen, unable to do anything but watch him.

"Well, well," He started, his eyes never leaving you, "Perhaps I was wrong about you."

He took another step back, putting more distance between the two of you. You looked up at him, your breath coming out in short, ragged gasps.

He tilted his head, his face showing a mixture of amusement and annoyance, and took another step back.

"Send my regards to Chris, won't you?"

Then, he was gone. Just like that, he disappeared, and you were left alone in the woods, struggling to understand what had just happened.

What had you done?

You didn't know, and, to be honest, you weren't sure you wanted to. All you knew was that you had fucked up big time.

You had let your guard down and shown him a weakness. You had given him the perfect opportunity to use you, and use you he did.

You stood there, your mind racing and your body aching. Your legs were weak, and your heart was pounding, and it took a while for your breathing to return to normal.

Goddamn it, what had you done?!

The question haunted you, and it continued to haunt you as you stumbled back towards the main street, where your car was parked.

You were completely and utterly fucked, and you had nobody to blame but yourself.

You got into your car and turned the ignition, the engine rumbling to life. You shifted into drive and pulled away; the only thing on your mind was how badly you needed a drink.

Or two.

Or three.

Damn it… What the hell had you done?

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

The Wounded

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Reader [Dating], Bucky Barnes x Reader [Platonic] Warnings: mantions of kidnapping, slight depictions of PTSD, angst Summary: After you survive a kidnapping that ends up affecting you in ways you and Steve never anticipated, you turn to Bucky for comfort leaving Steve confused and insecure. A/N: alright this is an older one I had sitting on my computer i felt like uploading but very sorry for the lack of content! I am currently dealing with finals but this is my last year so fingers crossed i’ll have more time after this! Still, please enjoy this, I remember really enjoying writing it :)

Masterlist

You shot up in bed suddenly, praying your eyes would adjust to the pitch black darkness of your bedroom fast enough to ease your brain. As your heart raced and sides ached with bruises, you took in your surroundings finally.

You were in your bed, your boyfriend Steve sleeping peacefully next to you. You knew this in your brain but your heart didn’t. It still raced relentlessly, just a haunting reminder of your latest nightmare.

The nightmares always had the same theme. They always seemed to circle back to your troubling and scarring kidnapping you had suffered just a few weeks ago. It was a devastating ploy by some equally devastating men to get to your boyfriend. The abduction didn’t last very long — just about a week in some musty, dirty cell being kicked around — but the scars it left on your brain where so much deeper than you had ever realized until recently.

The physical abuse was bad but the bruises and cuts were healing just fine. It was the mental and emotional games they played that was going to take longer to ease. The words were haunting and they followed you in every crevasse of your brain, typically leaving you running on a couple of hours a sleep. It was a cruel routine: go to bed safe and sound, find peace for two hours, wake up in a cold sweat, watch mindless TV in the common area until breakfast.

Here we go, you thought as you made your way out of the bed. Steve was still undisturbed, in a peaceful dream sleep, typically unaware of your absence. The few times he had caught on you rushed him back to bed, claiming you just wanted a midnight snack. He never questioned it but his eyes always told you he wasn’t convinced. You ignored it — you just couldn’t tell him. The guilt he carried about your kidnapping was unbelievable. You worked so hard to convince him you were alright, it wasn’t ever his fault, and that the wounds were healing because you couldn’t bare to see those eyes in such a miserable state.

It really wasn’t a total lie — the wounds were swell and you wouldn’t dare to blame him for something not in his control — but then the nightmares started. The daunting voice began chiming in. The depression… the anxiety… the fear… it all came at once so unexpectedly.

You tugged on your fluffy robe along with your slippers and made your way to the kitchen. As you rounded the corner you were stunned to see the kitchen light already on. Peaking your head in, your eyes fell on Bucky who was situated at the kitchen island snacking on some chips.

You stared, unsure of whether you should head to the living room and venture into the kitchen. No one had ever been up with you before and if they did, they never made themselves known.

"I can feel you staring, Y/N."

Bucky’s rough voice brought you out of your ridiculous phase. You sighed and made your way to the fridge.

"What are you doing up?" You asked, grabbing a carton of vanilla ice cream along with a spoon and making your way to the island. You stood opposite of him, watching and waiting for a reply as he crunched on the chips.

"Isn’t this the time you always get up?"

His question stunned you. Holding his intense stare, you placed your spoon on the counter next to the ice cream. Suddenly, your stomach was in a knot. Maybe a part of you didn’t want anyone to know what was going on.

"I just wanted a snack," You gave your go-to spiel but the ex-assassin wasn’t buying one bit of it.

"Every night?" Bucky scoffed. "Probably should eat a bigger dinner, then."

You rolled your eyes as he gave you his know-it-all smirk. You loved Bucky really —totally loved his company and all that — he had been such a great friend to you and so inviting but no matter what, without a fail, he could always pick up on anything that was off. Steve, of course, could see right through you but he always gave you the benefit of the doubt. He was gentler with you, never wanting to pry or upset you, and you were so thankful for that. But Bucky didn’t give a shit — if something was wrong he was gonna find out one way or another.

"Why are you up?" You repeated your initial question, getting a bit fed up with this now. He stalled your question and reached for more chips. You sighed in annoyance and opened the ice cream carton, digging into the creamy deliciousness.

"Something’s up with you," Bucky finally answered. His voice was a bit softer and way less cocky. Hearing someone express they saw you weren’t okay nearly had you in tears. You shoveled more ice cream in your mouth, staring down at the granite counter.

You shook your head. "Just wanted a snack."

"Jesus Christ, Y/N." Bucky groaned. "Come on, don’t make this hard." You placed your spoon in the carton, pushing it to the side. You fiddled with your nails as thoughts and feelings swarmed in your brain. It couldn’t hurt for someone to know, right?

"Nightmares," You spoke softly, voice cracking ever so slightly. "Just some bad nightmares."

"The kidnapping," He whispered. You saw his fists clinch at the mention of it. Your kidnapping had shocked everyone. They all had their own way of handling it but usually it was just a lot of confusion. You weren’t some hero. You didn’t have magical power or a fancy training. You were just a nurse who bandaged up the heroes when they came back. Even with dating Steve, no one expected you to be a casualty.

"It’s really messing with my brain," The words were rough to get out but once they were out there, you felt a new freedom. A weight you never realized was so heavy was being lifted so carelessly with words.

Bucky just nodded and waited for you to continue.

From then on, your nightly routine was no longer a lonesome thing. Bucky began joining you every night with snacks and a therapy session. It felt easy to talk with him about it especially since he understood. He didn’t have to pretend to know how you felt — he had felt it all, too. He got what being captive was like, how the mental manipulation went, how strong the effects of it all could be… You for once didn’t feel crazy. But most importantly — someone knew. Like really knew. And you were immensely grateful.

It seemed to be helping as well. You knew when the thoughts got rough, you could just spew it all out. You could talk about what exactly had happened to you without fear of being looked at differently. The whole thing was like breathing fresh air. You could even sometimes fall back asleep on the couch which now put your sleeping time up to four glorious hours.

The nightly chats really put your daytime spirits back up. So much so, Steve was getting a little suspicious. While he was so relieved you seemed to be doing better, the steps you took to get there were still a mystery to him and you could tell he was curious. When you’d join him in your shared room at the end of the day, he’d ask more questions about what you had done through the day. It was almost like he wanted a play-by-play and you did your best to comply.

It wasn’t until a week or so later that he started catching on to you leaving in the middle of the night. Without knowing it, he had used all his might to stay up one night to see if something was going on. You didn’t appear to be doing anything but work during the day so something must’ve been happening in the night — and that’s when his mind wandered. The thoughts of what could be helping you started to get a little unpleasant.

It was a random Tuesday night and you were on the couch with Bucky eating some pretzels. He was sitting up right while you were laying on the couch, legs thrown over his lap. You were going on about how your nightmares had gotten weaker when unexpected foot steps halted your words.

"What’s this?" The unmistakably strong voice of your boyfriend boomed through the living room. You scrambled to sit up, throwing pretzels all over the coffee table. Both stunned and unsure, you and Bucky stared at Steve. His demeanor was hard, his face unamused, and his eye said he was ready for a fight.

"Steve, babe, what-," You fumbled for your words, trying your best to reason. He hadn’t caught you two doing anything but his energy was so startling it made you unexplainably scared.

"What? What am I doing up? What are you doing up?" He marched towards the couch. Hesitantly, you stood up to face him. Bucky stayed seated, looking at you both with a slight expression of annoyance. He knew how possessive his best friend could get but this felt excessive.

"Just wanted a snack-,"

"Don’t bullshit me," Steve growled, taking an intimidating step towards you. You jumped at the harshness. Sure, you guys had had disagreements before but this was entirely new.

"I… I’m not… Steve-,"

Steve took a deep breath.

"Y/N," His voice got deeper. It was slightly too calm compared to his attitude just seconds before. "Tell me why you’re up at night sneaking around with my best friend."

"Sneaking around?!" You gasped. "Steve, that is not-,"

"OH, IT’S NOT?" Steve’s voice boomed throughout the common area. Even a watching Bucky jumped at the noise.

You quickly backed away from him, completely scared beyond belief. His eyes were harsh, his entire demeanor fuming with anger. You had never seen anything like this from him and it started to bring up the memories you worked so hard to heal from.

"Steve, man, take it down a notch…" Bucky finally stood from the couch and placed his hands on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve flinched back, nearly ready to throw one at Bucky, but something in him clicked. He lowered his hand and took a few deep breaths. Coming to his senses, he looked at you and saw the absolute horror on your face. He had never seen you look at him like that and it broke him into a million pieces.

"I… just… what the hell is going on?" Steve meant for it to come out nicer, but the harshness was yet to leave him and his tone. You started rubbing your hands together, a nervous tick you’ve had forever. Bucky tried to get you to stop when he noticed your movements, but Steve’s cold glare wouldn’t let him anywhere near you.

"I can’t sleep anymore," you said, breaking the silence with a much more powerful voice than you intended. You didn’t know you had the strength. "Ever since… I can’t sleep. I keep having these nightmares and Bucky’s been helping."

Steve scoffed, "Helping?"

Bucky rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Now you were getting weary of both super soldiers.

"We sit up talking," Bucky explained. "It helps her… well both of us, really, to talk, watch TV… anything."

"And you didn’t tell me this because…?" Steve asked, pointing his attention back on you. When his eyes met yours, a shiver went down your spine as his cold gaze. You sighed, realizing the gig was up.

"God, Steve, I didn’t wanna worry you!" You exclaimed. "The last thing you need is a girlfriend with PTSD. You go through enough shit and I just didn’t wanna pile it on."

The admission sat in the air heavily around you three. Bucky looked relieve you finally said something but Steve’s eyes just held so much confusion. Personally, you felt so much weight coming off you. You thought you’d never have to tell him, assumed everything would sort itself out, but no, you finally spoke up.

"Honey," Steve sighed with sudden tears forming in his eyes. "You didn’t… You shouldn’t have done that, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

You nodded, "Steve it was just so scary. I didn’t know what to do. Bucky was just there and he got it and would just sit up with me and-,"

"Alright, hon," Steve cut you off and made his way closer. Thankfully, you didn’t flinch away. "I understand and I’m glad you had someone, but I would’ve helped. I can help you, sweetheart."

"I’m sorry," You whispered as he pulled you into a hug. You threw your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest, letting the pent up tears flow. Steve rest his chin on your head, stroking your hair softly.

"I didn’t know you were hurting this much," he admitted.

"It’s been so fucking scary,"

Steve could almost feel his heart breaking at the sound of your voice alone. Your words just piled on so much.

"I should let you two…" Bucky began, essentially forgotten standing next to you two. You pulled away from Steve to look at him.

"Thank you, Buck," you said.

Steve nodded in agreement. "I’m sorry for the overreacting I just… I thought the worst, but really you probably saved my girl."

Bucky gave a small smile and patted Steve on the back. "I didn’t do anything. It’s her strength you gotta thank."

With that, he made his way to the elevator and back to his room, leaving you two still standing in an embrace in the common area. You stared up at Steve, watching his expression towards you change. What was once so scary and harsh was back to the softest man you’d ever met.

"We’ll make some calls in the morning but for now, would you come back to bed?" Steve asked. "I can’t imagine anymore nights without you."

You nodded, giving him a peck on the lips. He led you back to the shared bedroom and for once, you went to bed with a sense of hope.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #angst #steve rogers angst #mcu #mcu fic #marvel one shot #marvel fanfiction #marvel #avengers #writing*#fluff

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fuck-goes-on · 3 years

Text

Creed

pairing/s: din djarin x gn! reader (no y/n)

summary: you and din get mixed up with a dangerous bounty that ends up fatally wounding you. din pov.

warning/s: ANGST, character death, blood, crying, hurt no comfort, helmet removal, established romantic relationship

note/s: i havent written in a long, long time and add that to the fact that i dont know jack shit about writing a star wars fic or how to write fight scenes, i had a pretty hard time typing this out. based on my post

masterlist

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Din narrowly avoided the throwing knives, moving to hide behind a crate. His chest was heaving with heavy breaths; He hadn't had a difficult bounty in a long time. The bounty was well equipped, surprising him and you.

You. Cyar'ika.

Din clocked where you were and relaxed slightly when he saw you hidden behind a crate like he was. If it were up to him, he wouldn't have brought you along and made you stay at the Crest. But, as much as he has faith in his skills as a bounty hunter, it proved difficult to catch this guy and needed you to help him.

Sighing in frustration, he grabbed the crate and charged at the bounty, using the wood to block the knives. He threw the crate away when he got close enough, immediately doging the weapons held by the guy.

He heard you walking out from your own crate, moving to help you detain the bounty. Glancing at you, he admired the way you ran towards the guy, using the bounty's own knives against him. Din loved that about you; The way you used whatever was around you, be it small or big, as a weapon. You adapted quickly in a fight, and that was something that he, as a mandalorian, was attracted to.

You slashed at the bounty, trying to at least nick the skin, but the guy was quick to sidestep it. The bounty was about to retaliate when Din grabbed their shoulder and threw them away from you. Before the guy could get their bearings back, he lunged to put them in a choke hold, flexing his arms to crush their throat.

Mistake. Din rarely made mistakes.

The bounty struggled against him for a moment, clawing at him and failing due to his beskar. But the bounty, before they lost consciousness, threw his the last of his knives towards you,

one,

two,

three-

Three knives impaled your chest, making you stagger and fall backwards. Three seconds as Din watched felt like three hours. Three steps forward, he tried to catch you, yet he was three steps too late.

Your body landed on your back against the rough ground, pained sounds coming out of your mouth. Din didn’t even register tossing the bounty away as he rushed over to you. Kneeling beside you, his hands hovered above the knives deep in your chest with your blood seeping through your clothes and on the floor.

“K-Ka'rta?” Din breathed out, head empty of all the survival first aid training he had when he was still a little foundling. Your head turned to look at him, mouth open as you struggled to breathe. He saw agony and desperation in your eyes that were usually filled with happiness and love for the people, for the galaxy, for him.

You tried to say something to him, but all that came out was a bloody cough. Din shushed you and tried to carry you in his arms. However, your whines put a stop to his movements, worried that he would hurt you more.

"D-Din... It hurts..." You said with a slight wheeze in your voice. Your skin was quickly becoming pale, the blood loss shocking your body to have less oxygen in your system. He shushed you, his hands resting on your cheeks and wiping your tears and blood away.

"I- I can't take the knives out without you bleeding out on me, ka'rta." Din recalled, his brain finally catching up to what happened. "But I can't move you back to the crest either- Fuck!" He swore, feeling frustrated with his limited options. Options he'd rather not take.

You watched him panic in place, your breaths coming out sharp and short, and lifted a hand to his helmet. "My love, you need to leave now with the bounty. You won't be able to handle them if they wake soon."

Din shook his head, gripping your hand tight as he tried not to cry. "No, I will never leave you, ka'rta. Never. There has to be a way."

But there wasn't.

He watched you blink slowly, your blood spreading all over his armour and gloves, your chest rising and falling erratically. He watched you dying in front of him.

"Don't- Don't close your eyes, baby, stay with me, please," He begged, his gloved palms on either side of your head, lifting you up gently to lay you on his lap. You took his hand and pressed a light kiss on the leather, your bloody smile still so goddamn bright.

"You know I'll always be with you, Din." You let out a shaky breath and rested your forehead on the cool metal of his cuisse. Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you stared up at his helmet. He let your fingers caress the sharp angles of his helmet, wishing it was caressing his cheek instead.

You chuckled lightly, and Din furrowed his brows in concern. Before he could ask you what you where thinking about, you said:

"I wonder if I can see your face since I won't be a 'living thing' any longer."

Din felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew, realistically, that the oxygen in your body was decreasing rapidly and weren't getting enough of it in you brain for it to function properly. But, then again, you weren't wrong. The creed specifically said that no living thing could see his face unless they were clan, and he doubted you could manage to recite the mandalorian vows so close to your passing.

So, Din reached up to release his helmet from the clasp inside, and took it off without thinking about it any longer. Your eyes widened, the hazy gaze you had had gone away just for a moment.

"Din- I-" He took your hand and placed it on his cheek, closing his eyes to savour your touch on his skin. He wouldn't have the chance to do this ever again, and he regretted not asking your hand for marriage sooner. When he opened his eyes, he saw you look at him in awe and felt your thumb stroking his stubble. "You're beautiful."

He broke and cried. Bending down at the waist, he rested his forehead on yours, his tears dripping down on your bloodied skin. He took off his gloves and ran his hand through your matted hair, wanting to feel your skin as well.

"I'm sorry we didn't have more time together," You whispered quietly to him, your own tears rolling down your face. Din shook his head again, unable to find his words to talk. Smiling softly, you ask of him, "Kiss me?"

And he did.

Din didn't care that all he could taste was the the iron of your blood; He pressed his lips on yours, his inexperience obvious with the way he molded your mouths together. You didn't mind, anyway, only enjoying the physical intimacy you regretted not having sooner.

When he pulled away from your soft lips, he opened his eyes only to see you closing yours. Panicking, he held you up to his chest, hugging you tightly as if it would stop you from leaving. "No- Ka'rta, don't go- I need you- I love you-"

Din repeated his words over and over again, his tears increasing tenfold when he felt you fall limp in his arms. Your head sagged back, your beautiful eyes half lidded with a small smile on your face. He held you up with his hand, sobbing as he called your name, and rested your foreheads together; a kedalbe kiss you both frequently shared.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," He managed to say, cradling your head to his shoulder and rocking your limp body back and forth. Tears streamed down his face, a pressure in his chest building and wanting to be screamed out. His voice broke as he recited an unreciprocated vow. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde."

Din stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding you close to him and pressing kisses on your temple, before he needed to get up. He closed his eyes as he tugged out the three knives out of your bloody body and went to stand over the bounty. Ruthlessly, he stabbed and slashed the guy numerous times until he was sure the bastard was dead. He didn't care for the bounty any longer and left them behind as he carried you back to the Crest with his helmet on.

He didn't pay attention to the people who openly stared at his bloodied armour and your dead body in his arms. He focused on getting you both to the secluded forest where he landed the ship and when he did, he placed you down gently on the soft dirt before digging a hole between the tall trees.

After he finished, he went in the ship to grab the blanket you both liked to cuddle under together and wrapped you in it. He pressed a last, goodbye kiss on your forehead, lingering on your soft, cold skin, because he knew he would never see you again.

He buried you in the ground, trying to shovel the dirt on top of you quickly and methodically to not let his thought go down the spiral of 'I'm burying the love of my life in the ground' and 'I didn't express my love for you enough'.

Din left the planet empty and unfeeling, lonely and mourning, and most importantly, without you.

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

Cyar'ika - Darling

Ka'rta - Heart or Soul

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you

Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors (Mandalorian Wedding Vows)

#lol #i wanted to write it #so i did #please look at the warnings before proceeding #thank you and youre welcome #JAJAJJAJA #mandalorian #the mandalorian #mando #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x gender neutral reader #mando x you #mando x reader #tw: blood #tw: death #blood #death

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obscureamor · 3 years

Text

— something about you

⋯ ukai keishin x fem! reader

⋯ t/w | nsfw, noncon, choking, mentions of blood (you get cut on a thorn), degradation, ukai refers to himself as daddy, open ending (?), 18 y/o manager

» ukai can’t get sugawara’s girlfriend out of his head. you plague his thoughts and have him taking action in the worst way possible.

✧ a/n | i was putting off posting this for the longest because i’m honestly so nervous about it sksjjss but! this started out as a thirst and then spiraled out of control, so i do hope you enjoy! also... i wasn’t lying when i said i’d make reader work at a flower shop.

The smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes invades each and every one of your senses, eyes watering at the intrusive scent. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t— You can’t understand. And as Coach Ukai mouths at your neck, teeth nipping at the skin, as his warm hands find their way under your uniform top; you finally realize that he’s going to make sure you understand by the time he’s done with you.

You were just so tantalizingly sweet. Sugawara Koushi’s precious little girlfriend. The backup setter that didn’t have much going on for him in terms of volleyball games, but who needed that when he had you by his side? You, who’d help manage the volleyball team. You, who’d always try to make small talk with Takeda-sensei and Ukai, profusely apologizing on your sudden— not so sudden —interruptions.

“C-Coach? I... I—” you choke, words that you want to say getting caught and your throat hurts; the feeling of it constricting with every breath, mouth dry. It seems like all the water in your body is going to your eyes as he presses you harder into the alley wall. The darkness of the night paired with the dull lighting from the street lamp up above doesn’t let your mind fully register the color of his hair. And you think maybe, just maybe, you can picture Koushi biting at your neck and his hands gripping your hips so tight, too tight you know bruises will blossom and you’ll both blush about it the next day.

It’s Koushi. It’s Koushi. Until your mind tells you it’s not.

Koushi would never take you in a dirty alleyway outside your job. He would never slam you so hard into a brick wall, you feel as if something’s broken. And most importantly, he knew where you worked. The small little flower shop that seemed like the epitome of you or you, it. You shine as bright as the sunflowers you care for. You exude love like the roses you de-thorn. You're as calm and devoted like the lavender you use as filler. You don’t know how Ukai knew you’d be here— in this exact moment, at this exact time —flowers in hand because it’s yours and Koushi’s anniversary.

Freesias, roses, and carnations bundled up and neatly tied.

Scattered. Scattered all over the ground in the dim lighting, petals crushed and weeping and trembling as your lips part to choke out a sob, trembling as his hand starts to reach into your panties. Ukai doesn’t know what it is about you. He’s asked himself that question night after night of his hand wrapped around his cock, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he jacks off. His warm cum splattering on his shirtless chest as he gets off to the thought of you.

“Been waiting for this... for so fucking long.” He breathes, pulling back from your neck to study your face but your eyes are locked onto the fallen bouquet behind him. “You’re such a teasing little slut.”

Koushi would never call you such words... at least not with so much animosity laced within. If you try, like really, really try, you can once again make yourself believe it’s Koushi’s hand. Koushi’s fingers poking and prodding at your entrance.

Your teeth clench, jaw setting, and—

There’s a loud smack that rings in your ears. It’s not your skin that burns. It’s not your skin that reddens at the contact. Ukai and you stare at each other as he pulls back, hand gripping his cheek as his other curls into a fist.

Always the one to be respectful, apologies come rushing out of your mouth. It falls from your lips like cherry blossoms in the spring. Your fingers splaying out before you, a silent warning to not come any closer because ‘You can leave. I-I won't report this. Just please leave, Ukai...’ But you’re so silly. You’re so naïve. Ukai isn’t listening anymore, mind focused on only taking what he wants especially after that little stunt you just pulled.

His hand falls to his side limply, staring at you with an expression you can’t read. You both can hear your panicked breathing. The way your lips part with words that can’t escape because you just want to get to Sugawara’s house. That’s all you want. That’s all you need, but when Ukai rushes towards you, fingers rooting and tugging you downward by your hair; you come to the conclusion that it’s no longer possible.

Your back hits the cement harshly, wind getting knocked out of you and stems crushing under your weight. A stray thorn you forgot to take off pricking you, digging deep into the skin like Ukai’s fingers on your hips. A strangled scream leaves your parted lips as warmth sticks to your skin from the small puncture.

“I-I need to—!” You need to what? You need to what? You don’t really know. Mind scrambling, thoughts running and scattering like petals in the wind. The only thing that registers is— “I-It hurts!” Your back arches, chest pushing into his, and when he places his hand on your chest, shoving you back down, the thorn shifts… a jagged line marring your skin. An even bigger cut oozing crimson that soaks the lone thorn. It’s no longer facing up from frantic shifts but stems still press into you uncomfortably.

“Look at me.” It’s mumbled, his warm hand wrapping around your throat ever so softly. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Coach Ukai so desperate. Not when the team is about to lose. Not when the team has lost. This is a different desperation that’s running through his veins. It soaks into his actions like flowers soak up water. Your vision clouds more, bright blond being looked at through splotchy vision. Your shoulders raise, body tensing as you look off to the side. “Look at me!” he shouts, hand around your throat tightening with a grip so strong it almost kills you.

Stubborn. Always so stubborn. You don’t do it. Instead, clenching your eyes shut, lips wobbling as you choke out another sob. Sobbing as his hands start to work off your pants leaving your lower half bare before he works off his belt. You gulp in breaths, barely listening as his lips part to utter words of disdain towards you and ‘If you even think about fighting back again, I’ll ruin you, you little bitch.’ The words hold so much weight. They fester in your stomach and the urge to kick and scratch at Ukai wells up even stronger.

“You slutty little manager.” His cock taps at your clit making you flinch. You can’t help but clench around nothing, an action you correlate with Koushi. And even though he’s not the one doing it, your body still reacts. “Always talking to me for a sliver of attention, huh!?”

“That’s not true!” you cry, head shaking frantically. ‘Get away! Get away!’ is repeated over and over, breathing frantic and hands coming up to his biceps. His statement is the furthest from the truth. Your actions of respect, mistaken for want. Ukai says nothing as he starts to push in, leaning forward so his face is right above yours. His actions are brash, thrusts frantic but he holds you as if you’re a flower about to fall from its stem. Your eyes shimmer with already shedded tears, brows furrowed as you speak, “Please, take it out! Please!”

He’s so different from Koushi— the feeling of him. His movements. The words he says to you are so different, but when he kisses you so softly, so feather light it reminds you of Sugawara and your pussy just gushes at the thought. Every push and pull just makes you mewl, sobs and pleas swallowed by Ukai’s warm tongue.

“Does he fuck you like this?” No. “Does he make you feel this good, huh?” Yes and even better.

Ten times better than Ukai could because Koushi knows your body. He sinks into you slowly and teases you so much you sob because you can’t take it anymore. He thrusts into you with such fervor, teasing voice asking, ‘You gonna cum on daddy’s cock like the little whore you are?’ Eyes scanning your body and hands gripping your heated flesh, lips mumbling words against yours. ‘My stupid little whore.’

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you so good.” Ukai’s voice cuts through your thoughts, cutting them away like garden shears to rose bushes in the summer. The sound of smacking reverberating throughout the alley leaves your ears ringing and your heart clenching in pain. An empty feeling in your chest blossoms because you wonder what Koushi’s thinking right now.

“You want daddy to cum in this pretty little cunt?” He groans. The vein on his cock is pressing up against your walls so snuggly and dragging against your walls so deliciously it makes you moan. But still, you shake your head no.

“Please don’t, Ukai,” you murmur, “P-Please... Y-You can’t—!”

“Yes I can and you better take every last. fucking. drop.” It’s snarled out, two fingers making their way into your mouth, calloused pads stroking the expanse of your tongue. The pink muscle writhes around his digits, trying to force him out but instead making him groan at your unconscious actions. “Tell me you want it.”

Garbled noises and whimpers leave you as he shifts his hips, repeatedly hitting that spongy spot. You gasp, back arching and hands grasping at his shirt. Every thrust moves you. It shakes your entire being with how roughly he’s thrusting into you and why does it feel so good? The realization makes your mind go blank, only focused on Ukai’s cock now pressing flush against your cervix with every thrust.

“N-Nnn... plea—” you try and force out, eyelids fluttering because too much is happening. You’re drunk off the feeling of him inside you but brought back down to earth as stems remind you of who you really belong to.

Ukai picks up his pace, fingers leaving your mouth and instead taking place on your clit. He’s rubbing tight circles as he raises to get a better look at you.

The tears in your eyes are now falling for a different reason.

“Tell me you want it!” he repeats.

“I don’t! I don’t want it!” you wail. “Please don’t! You can’t— You can’t cum inside!”

“I can’t?” He pouts, words mockingly said in disbelief. He watches as you shake your head, trying to move away but your slutty cunt just keeps sucking him in, gummy walls just trapping him. The warmth makes his hips stutter, but he wills himself. “You let Sugawara cum in this pretty pussy? You let him hit it raw?” He’s nodding his head and you don’t know why you repeat the action.

You’re sure every inch of you is going to be marked with bruises as his hips snap into yours, nails scratching at his skin and legs locking up. ‘Please don’t cum in me’ seems like the only phrase you know, puffy lips parting as you mewl. Ukai can see you creaming all over his cock, a milky ring left around his dick as you cry, body betraying you and leaving you with such dread. It’s betraying you. It’s betraying Koushi by cumming on another man’s cock. And even though it’s forced you can’t help but like it, walls fluttering like butterflies in the summer. Flowers bloom in your throat as you try and breathe. It blocks your airway and leaves you loathing the very thing that gives you life.

If you never met Koushi, would this still have happened?

Butterflies turn into wasps. You can’t hate him when he has no control over this.

The sight of you tensing, chest heaving has Ukai’s cock twitching. “I’m gonna— fuck!”

He pulls out... spilling himself on your lower half, shirt staining, and a gasp leaves you. It's silent before you can feel Ukai’s thumb draw soothing circles onto your hip. The action makes you want to hurl and the literal emptiness you feel when you stare at him makes you want to curl into yourself. Warmth seeps into your skin, eyes now focusing on the void sky as you will yourself to look down. Your lips tremble, shakily parting as you stare at the mess. There’s no way you can see Koushi like this. There’s no way you’re facing him with another man’s cum on—

“Let me drive you to Sugawara’s house...”

Freesias, roses, and carnations bundled up and neatly tied, left in a dirty alleyway as Koushi stares at his phone in his room. It’s bordering on 2am and he still hasn’t heard from you.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere haikyuu x reader #yandere x reader #yandere ukai keishin #yandere ukai x reader #i'm going mimis now bc i'm very scared about this and idk why sksjsjss #tw.noncon #tw blood #tw choking #haikyuu #ukai x reader

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suicidalslasher · 3 years

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forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her. i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed. The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be.

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again. But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second. The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash, wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire) but a name - Harry Warden. 1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened. For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed. Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters, buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with love in their hearts and a smile on their face. Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself. Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs got decomposed, rotting corpses, instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings.

It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as a threat. Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable. A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay as they read the paragraph out loud all while shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards. The recent two cards had said; From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near! And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot. Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you. Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps. It could have very well been the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying. (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song.

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

(Of course, there was more.)

(The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.) Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs. "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully." "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N) turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs.

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason. Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was.

(Y/N) was trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge. With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things. Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel. She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse. "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital." (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name, the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up. Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received has said he's been missing since two days ago. He can be anywhere. More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.

Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off. "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's. The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same. She instantly regretted not doing so now, however.

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'. (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together. She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe. Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice. And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere. She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself. Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open. There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself. He looked up, surprised she had answered the door. Giving her a weak, lopsided smile, Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle. "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N). (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant. "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together." Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet. "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything. Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right. "Tom..." "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes. "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a coincidence.

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up.

Now that she was thinking about it....

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago....

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne. If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner. Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her. A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too. "I love you too." Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot.

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to." "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs." Tom grins and (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom.

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

#Tom Hanniger x reader #Tom Hanniger x Y/N #slasher imagines #slasher one shots #slasher x reader #Jensen Ackles x Y/N #My Bloody Valentine #Jensen Ackles x reader #Slasher fanfictions #Jensen Ackles fanfictions #Jensen Ackles imagines #Tom Hanniger imagines #Jensen Ackles one shots #my works #Tom Hanniger one shots #Tom Hanniger fanfictions #Harry Warden x reader #Harry Warden x Y/N #cierra's stories

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forever-rogue · 4 years

Text

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit.

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad.

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend.

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life.

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business.

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge.

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him.

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man.

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance.

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet.

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary.

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned.

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter.

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine.

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on, he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago.

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him.

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too.

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it.

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was.

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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cacti-are-like-flamingos · 3 years

Text

The Golden Hand

° Assassin’s Creed Odyssey Imagine °

Chapter 4

Fem! Reader

Central Masterlist | The Golden Hand

You gazed upon the piece of parchment as though it had told you the ugliest truth. Your brows furrowed and wrinkled as your eyes displayed the world’s most intense confusion.

Just what the hell did Alexios write?!

Allow me to explain, you had woken just a few minutes ago. Your legs sore from yesterday’s horseback riding and your eyes swollen from a night’s crying session. It was only after you had searched all over the house and near fields that you came to the conclusion that your only guide had gone off, most likely either in search of new employment or finishing one.

You sighed, “Most likely it just says he’ll be back by ---what? Sundown? Yeah, sounds reasonable enough.” You spoke to no one but yourself.

Situating yourself back onto your bed, you allowed yourself to relax. Leaning your back onto the cold stone wall with your eyes closed, you took a deep breath in. The memories of the day before still fresh in your mind. You could still hear their screams...the pain in that little girl’s voice as she cried out for her parents to come and save her.

“Argh!” You yelled, dragging your hand down your face as you forced yourself to push down the knot that was quickly forming at the back of your throat.

“Alexios?” You jumped at the sound of a new voice. Peeking through the spaces of your fingers, you caught sight of a familiar young girl standing by the doorway. A small smile playing on her lips as she entered, “Ah! You are the pretty lady from before! Uhh...” You felt the ends of your lip contort upwards into a smile of your own upon hearing the innocent compliment. You quickly added, “(Y/n).”

“Yes (Y/n) --- wait, you have such a strange name. Are you not from here?” You chuckled, “No, no I am not. And you are Phoibe.” She nodded, “Then where are you from?” Thinking your answer over, you decided that being vague was your best friend, “I am from a land very far away. Now, you are looking for Alexios, no?” Phoibe nodded her head once more, “Yes, have you seen him?” Shifting over so that you sat at the very edge of the bed, you shook your head. A small frown hanging low on your lips, “No, but he did leave this. Are you able to read it?” You grabbed the parchment before handing it over to the brunette. Skimming over it, Phoibe quickly responded with, “Sorry but I can’t read. But it most likely says that he’ll be back soon.”

“Oh. Well, okay then.” A silence bloomed between the two of you. It was somewhat of an awkward sort considering that you had just quite actually met if one were to exclude the events of the day before. It was then that the young child called for your attention once more.

“You are not familiar with Kephallonia, right?” She asked. An excited look in her eyes. Narrowing your own slightly, you slowly nodded your head, “No I am not...why?” The child grinned.

“Would you like to go on an adventure with me?”

...

“Malakas!” Exclaimed the seasoned warrior in annoyance. The palm of his hand slapping the skin of his forehead as he sighed in exasperation. Arching a single brow, Barnabas leaned closer to his newfound friend and companion. His eyes posing the question his mouth offered to ask.

“What seems to be the matter, Alexios?” The older male inquired.

Sighing once more, the Spartan gazed back upon him, “I have committed the stupidest mistake. I shall be traveling with another and so I had left for them a message on a piece of parchment; however, it has just dawned on me that they most likely do not know how to read the language. What an idiot I am!” Barnabas roared in laughter. His calloused hands coming to grip the cloth on his stomach as he desperately tried to compose himself. All which earned him a mighty stern glare from Alexios himself.

“Do not laugh at me!” The man cried before soon he, too, began to chuckle at his own stupidity.

“Ah, Alexios, I am enjoying this friendship more than I thought I would; however, do tell me of this companion of yours,” Barnabas said, continuing to walk along the path to Sami’s Harbor where the Adrestia was docked.

“There is not much to tell. I had only met them two nights ago.” His words earned him a reaction from the other, “Two nights ago and you decide to sail with them?” “I met you not a minute ago and I am sailing with you.” Alexios retorted, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Barnabas chuckled, “Quite true. Why are you to sail with them, may I ask?” This question, however, was briefly answered with a moment of silence as Alexios pondered how to word his actual answer. Perhaps it was better to avoid the truth for now and only speak partly of it.

“She saved my life, and in return, she asks for me to take her home,” Alexios answered at last.

“Oh? A woman?” Alexios nodded, “Yes. I owe her my life. Although, I know not of the ways to get her home.” The silver-haired probed, “And why’s that?”

Licking his lips, the misthios gazed upon the nearing vessel that was to be his ship, “Let’s just say, she is quite far from home.”

...

You never would have thought that when Phoibe mentioned an adventure, that the adventure would mean walking all across the main island. Like damn, your feet really hurt. It’s genuinely unbelievable how the people walk miles in literal sandals. Panting heavily, you watched with tired eyes as Phoibe continued to move forth with grand energy.

“Hurry (Y/n)! I have to finish this adventure so that Markos can give me another!” The scrawny little girl exclaimed, climbing over some well-sized boulders not too far from where you had taken a rest stop.

“If...you’d had informed me that this...adventure was actually just you running...errands---ugh, how I miss my bed.” You cried.

Rolling her eyes, Phoibe jumped off from the large rock and instead jumped onto your figure. Groaning loudly as your body stumbling backward with the additional sudden weight, “Phoibe...!” In the spur of a moment, she turned around and began to run down one of the forks in the path, yelling, “I’ll be back!”

You went to chase after her, shouting out her name in protest for her to come back, but unfortunately, her small body allowed her to be faster. And so, soon enough, her figure fell out of sight and you were, once again, left alone and to your own devices.

How swell.

Taking a moment to calm down the painful drumming of your heart, you groaned as you shifted your weight to your other foot. The feeling of pins and needles digging into the flesh of your foot being too great for you. You seriously needed to rest somewhere. And it had to be NOW.

Quickly moving towards the boulders, you threw yourself onto the one closest to your height, a sigh of pure instant relief escaping past your lips. You stayed there for a moment, slowing down your breathing to a proper pace. You breathed the fresh sea air into the depths of your diaphragm, allowing our blood to enrich itself with precious oxygen before breathing out the remainder. You could feel yourself instantly loosen up. The tension in your shoulder’s soon disappearing away as if they had never been there in the first place.

It was in this brief moment of peace that your thoughts became muddied with worry and conflict. Yesterday plagued your mind unlike any other memory you stored. It was strange, you know? The fact that you tore yourself apart at the remembrance of how you sent a family to their deaths whilst you bore almost no remorse for the man you helped kill upon your arrival. Was it because you did it in an effort to save someone? Is that why you felt nothing about it? But then again, you didn’t really send that family to their deaths...wait, but by doing nothing, you did.

Is this really the right time to question your mor-

“Oh my, I must say that such a horrid expression is quite unbefitting of such a beauty much like yourself my dear.” You snapped your gaze up to the face of man you were unfamiliar with. There stood man, much older than you, wearing a look of curious upon his aged features. A gentle smirk sitting about his shaven face as his eyes sparkled with the faintest glint of intrigue. You had to admit, something about him didn’t sit quite as well as you had hoped with you. In your eyes, he was much like a snake. Hidden in the grass and ready to bite.

You smiled bashfully, “Thank you...?” “Elpenor. I hope you do not mind the sudden intrude, it’s just that to see such a lovely creature as yourself with a look so conflicted as that was quite troubling to me. People who have been blessed by the goddess Aphrodite should always bear a fruitful smile.”

...did this motherfucker really just tell you that you would look better with a smile but just in a more eloquent and polite manner?

Huh.

You huffed at his words, “I wouldn’t go that far but, nonetheless, I thank you for your kind words Elpenor.” He smiled at your humbleness.

“Might I intrude some more and ask for your name?” You smiled, “I don’t see the harm, my name is (Y/n).” You introduced, presenting your hand to shake his own but only to have the male guide the appendage to his lips, which he used to lay a gentle kiss upon the skin of your hand.

Oh. Okay. Right.

H u h.

“It is a pleasure to have met such divinity,” You could not help the flushing of your cheeks as he continued to compliment you. Not when he spoke them with such apparent truth. His voice honeyed as to deflect any doubt of his true nature, you noted. He continued, “Judging by the weariness in your gaze, I am held to believe that you are quite tired from your travels. Perhaps you would like to accompany me...?” He gestured over to behind him. It was then that you noticed the small carriage that stood not too far, the coachmen looking away from the two of you.

“Oh. Wow. I did not see that...how...” Chuckling amusedly at your surprised expression, he repeated, “How will you answer?”

Now I know your mother always told you don’t talk to strangers and most importantly don’t get in the car with strangers but you could say the situation was rather different right now.

Thinking back to your blistering feet, you made your decision instantly. Grabbing his hand, he smiled joyously as he led you to the entrance of the wooden carriage, helping you up the steps before joining you. He sat across from you, the beautiful purple fabric he wore bundling into his lap.

And as the carriage began to move you realized something.

Where the actual fuck am I going?

...

(A/N): Got a sudden spur of inspiration lol.

Hope you enjoyed!

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randomrosewrites · 4 years

Text

Scorched by the sun

*Contains BNHA manga spoilers up to chapter 291*

Pairing: Hawks x gender netural reader

Word count: ~1700

He looks so small without his wings. Helpless. Without them, he seems younger than he actually is. It’s so hard to think that the person in your arms is a pro-hero, and not just some college student trying to pay off his student debt.

He’s still so young, and yet, he’s already had to decide between his life and the life of others.

Warnings/ tags: BNHA manga spoilers *Up to chapter 291*, angst, brief instance of a panic attack, decription of Hawks’ injuries, angst and fluff, reader is a pro-hero

a/n: I needed to get my feelings out about Hawks in the latest chapter so take this (with better medical treatment because why the fuck would you lay an unconscious person face down?) Also, the reader’s relationship with Hawks is never specified

Read it also on my ao3!

WARNING: This work has BNHA manga spoilers up to chapter 291

Everything is in chaos.

People are screaming, multiple sirens wail in the distance, and the smell of smoke clings to the air, even with how far away you are from the battlefield. There’s this persistent urgency that spreads like a plague from person to person, making your nerves jolt with electricity.

“Bring only what’s essential and light enough for you to carry!” you shout, directing a wave of people further away from the evacuated area. “Leave behind anything heavy or non-essential!”

Boom! An explosion a few blocks down makes the ground shake so much you have to put a hand out and steady yourself. You grit your teeth and regain your balance. That was the closest one yet and they’re just getting closer.

Things aren’t looking great for the heroes. Even though you’re on their side, that doesn’t mean you don’t agree with what they’re doing.

You never agreed with the world the Hero Public Safety Commission strived to enforce. One where heroes were expected to always triumph, where they never lost, where they were always pure of heart. Just listening to that gobbldy-gook being ranted about everywhere you went was enough to make you roll your eyes.

No, you aren’t on the side of heroes to hold up the ideals of the commission. You’re only one reason why you’re on the side of the heroes. Specifically, one person.

That’s when you hear it on the radio.

‘H - kws i-s….d...own...out...figh…’

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest. You press the bud deeper into your ear, moving to get a better reception.

‘H...awks….is...Hawks is down and unable to fight. I repeat Hawks is down and unable to fight!’

Your blood turns to ice.

You don’t think, you just move. You take off, sprinting in the opposite direction of those evacuating. One of the on-duty heroes calls your name, you don’t hear them.

You shouldn’t be doing this - you know you shouldn’t - but you can’t help yourself.

The radio crackles in your ear. “ Y/N, hold your position!”

“Where is he?” you bark into it.

“That’s not-”

“Where is he!?”

The person on the other end sighs. “The temporary med camp by the rear guard - don’t! -”

You tug the bud out of your ear, letting it bang against your shoulder as you run.

Please don’t be dead, please be ok. You pray, forcing yourself to sprint faster.

---

You go as fast as you can, but it still takes you a while to each the medical camp the person on the radio was talking about.

Located behind the last line of defense, the place is a chaotic, frantic mess. Broken trees are snapped in half and lying on the ground, rubble is strewn across the camp and some white, medical tents have collapsed on themselves, temporary beams propped up haphazardly to keep them from falling completely.

Doctors and nurses run around, tending to the wounded, giving out blankets, or passing along bottles of water and first aid kits. The wounded lie on blankets spread out on the ground, wherever space is available. The place reeks of disinfectant and blood, making your nose curl.

You pass, ten, twenty, and even thirty wounded. They’re bloody, pale, writhing in agony or clenching their teeth as cold sweat pours from their face. The knot in your stomach only worms itself tighter with each person you pass.

Then you spot him.

Near the end of the camp, lying on his stomach, covered in bandages from the waist up.

Hawks.

Or a figment of what used to be Hawks, the number two pro-hero. There’s no sign of his beautiful, large, red wings, only little bandaged humps where the stumps would be. His hair is tousled, singed at the edges and spread upon the pillow like a halo.

Tokoyami is beside him, eyes wide when he notices you. “Y/N!”

“Oh,-” the cogs in your brain turn and you rush forward. “Oh my god. Jesus, Tokoyami, why is he on his front?!”

Don’t cry. You tell yourself. Don’t cry and don’t panic.

You kneel beside him going to touch Hawks before you pause. You know it’s bad to move people that are injured. “Is his neck injured? Why is he on his front? He shouldn’t be on his front! You could cut off his airway!” Fuck it, bad or not, you’ll take it over Hawks suffocating. Being as gentle as you can, you gently roll Hawks onto his side. His body is limp as you do it - he’s unconscious.

“I- I didn’t know,” Tokoyami splutters. “There’s been so much going on and there’s not enough doctors and-” he cuts off, choking on his own words.

Fuck. The poor kid is terrified and looks to be on the verge of tears. You take a breath, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, look at me.”

He lifts his eyes to meet yours.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have done that. I was panicking, and not thinking straight.” You shouldn’t have even moved Hawks without knowing how severely he was injured. “Deep breaths. Slow. Ok? Here, breathe with me.”

The two of you take breaths together. As you do, your eyes travel to Hawks. Relief floods you when you see his chest rise and fall slowly. He’s breathing.

You breathe in silence. You don’t want to say ‘Everything is gonna be ok’ or give some sort of false reassurances to Tokoyami, because will it? You don’t know.

Once you’ve both calmed down, you ask him, “Can you tell me how he’s doing?”

“He’s badly burned.” Tokoyami starts. “I tried to stop it as best as I could but…”

You clutch Hawks tighter. “Who?”

“Dabi.”

You growl. That bastard who’d been ranting on the television just as you had almost reached the camp. Among his speech, he’d made a few stabs at Hawks, claiming he was a violent person and revealing to the world how he murdered a villain in ‘cold blood’.

Your fingers tighten. Hawks killed someone, in cold-blood or not. It’s a hard but true pill you need to swallow.

Despite that, you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around Hawks and hold onto him for dear life. The only thing stopping you from doing that is the fear of aggravating his injuries further. You settle for combing your fingers through his hair. What would normally feel soft and healthy now feels like dry straw between your fingers.

Just how badly was he burned?

“I asked Hawks what to do and he told me to run, so I grabbed him and ran as fast as I could,” Tokoyami continues. “We got here less than an hour ago.”

You look down at Hawks, where the little patches of bandages don’t cover his face. The skin is an angry shade of red, stretching up his neck and his face. “Is it...bad?”

“He’s stable, but he’s in rough shape. He hit his head as I was trying to get us back and he’s been unconscious since then.”

You brave yourself for the thing you’re most nervous about. “How about his wings?” you ask breathlessly.

“...There’s barely anything left. The doctor’s don’t know if they can be saved at all.” Tokoyami pauses, biting his lip. “I wonder, if I’d been faster-”

“Hey. No,” you interrupt him. “Don’t start that. You did amazing, Tokoyami.” You pull him into a tight hug with one arm, nails digging into his back and tears pricking your eyes. “Thank you, thank you so much for saving him. Thank you for keeping him alive.”

Toyokyami slowly wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly and sniffling. Dark shadow pops out from under his cloak and wraps around the two of you. You hold each other like that for a while, letting the moment soak in.

When you finally release Tokoyami, you’ve both got tears in your eyes. He hands you a handkerchief and you gratefully use it to wipe your eyes.

A sudden roar shakes the air and ground, reminding you of your situation. You both look in the direction of it and grimace. The fight’s not over.

Tokoyami turns back to you, face serious once more. “Can you watch over Hawks? I’m gonna go see what I can do to help.”

“No,” you say firmly. “Tokoyami, you’re exhausted. Dark Shadow’s lost most of his strength too.” He seems unconvinced, so you keep going. “If you push your limits, you’ll get yourself or someone else killed.”

He hesitates, brow furrowing.

You sigh. “Look, I got Hawks. Just...stay here and get some rest, ok?”

Even with his quirk, he’s still just a kid. His biggest concern should be studying for a test or figuring out where to eat for supper. Not worrying about society falling apart or having to die on the battlefield.

“Ok…” Tokoyami relents. “I will.”

He heads off into one of the tents, supposedly to get a bit of rest in the dark.

In your arms, Hawks twitches in his unconscious slumber. Your attention turns back to him and you rub a hand over his hair, shushing him.

“It’s alright,” you coo. “I’m here.”

He’s still so young, and yet, he’s already had to decide between his life and the life of others.

Slow small tears leak from your eyes. You let them fall, curling around Hawks’ fragile form.

Fuck. You’re feeling so much right now. Both relieved that he’s ok and upset with how much he’s injured.

But more importantly, you’re so glad he’s alive. So, so so glad.

You kiss the crown of his hair. He smells heavily of smoke, and you’re heart breaks at the thought of how painful his fight must have been, how scared he must have been.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, clutching him tightly “I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go.”

You don’t know what Hawks’ future will hold. You don’t know how hard his recovery will be. You don’t know what will happen when he wakes up to his entire life being shattered before his very eyes. You don’t know if he’ll have the strength to piece the broken shards of it back together.

You don’t know what will happen. But for now, you hold him close, staying by his side until he does open his eyes.

#hi i live in a constant state of suffering #i just want to hold hawks is that too much to ask for #hawks #bnha #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #keigo takami #takami keigo x reader #hawks/ reader #self interest #bnha x reader #bnha imagine #hawks imagine #bnha manga spoilers #mha manga spoilers #my writing

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indimlights · 3 years

Text

✨Merry christmas Cille✨

To: @birthdaysentiment 💛

-> From: @indimlights (Rodrigo)

Hi Cille! I guess it's up to me to kick off this "little" surprise but I don't even know where to start...

I remember really well the first time I saw a post of yours, I was still lurking back then and the moment I read it I felt so many things, things I don't know how to describe and that I never thought words could make me feel and I knew, I just knew that I had to see more. Fast-forward a couple of hours I knew your blog by heart, I had looked at so many of your posts and every single one was as amazing as the first one, as touching as the first one and as deep as the first one.

The meaning you put on words still gets to me every single day, you have such a way into them and don't even get me started on your music analysis. The moment I read the first one I was mind-blown! The things you catch, the connections you make between the music and the scene, the way you describe the scenes, it makes me go back, relive the moment and feel everything I felt the first time I watched it and all this just by... reading your words! If that doesn't tell me how amazing you are with them I don't know what will.

From that day I always wished I could talk to you, get to know the person behind the words, behind the masterpieces, behind the blog because you seemed like such a sweet person and now... After some time, I got that chance and I'm so happy I got it. You are everything I thought you would be and 1000x more, you are sweet, caring, smart, loving, wise, joyful and so supportive to me and to everyone in this community! You always spread love and that's so important and so nice of you to do, the way you write essays in the tags for everyone's posts just shows that! It's such a simple thing but means so much.

And I'm not even mentioning how talented you are with non-written posts because those are on another level aswell, I mean you always surprise me with your ideas and creativity and just knowing that whenever I come here I will have some sort of attack waiting for me just keeps me going and I love everything you do so much.

I'll never be able to thank you enough for being so welcoming when I barely knew anyone and for making me feel so much more comfortable here! Getting to know you better and to share this experience with someone like you has been a blessing and I wouldn't change any second of it, thank you for everything you have done and for always being so sweet to me. I don't understand what I did to deserve all that but that just shows again how wonderful you are.

I'm wishing you a merry christmas! Surrounded by everyone you love and that makes you happy because you deserve that and so much more, please never change, never stop being like this, a special and wonderful person. I hope you enjoy this surprise :) Have a wonderful day Cille 💛

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-> From: @remy3010 (Remy)

Hihi Cille❤ I love your blog so much especially music analysis! I just fall in love with your music analysis since your first posts.

For me whose mother tongue is not English, it takes a while to read but I'd love to. Because these articles deserve more people to see (including me)！

I have read every article of yours, the content touches me all the time. (Sometimes I have a lot of words want to tell you, But I don’t know how to speak in English..sorry🥺so I give❤ and reblog)

Anyway, thank you for writing beautiful words and sharing with us! I hope you can keep this passion forever, and everything go well. May you have wonderful days my friend ❤

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-> From: @franboos (Francine)

hi bb cille,

wanted to tell u that i love u blog and the time u put into analyzing stuff is shhshdhdhdhd. queen shit. u seen so genuine to talk to idk, i get those nice, non judgmental, relaxed and cool vibes from u. lmao. pls stay on tumblr for as long as u can cuz i love ur posts. u notice such little things in clips from wtfock, like u have a very detailed eye miss hehe. i really want to get to know u more cuz i really think we could vibe v well together, and that’s on perioood 😌. i hope u have a great great day while reading this queen. never stop what you’re doing cuz ur great at it. i love you !!

many kusjes and knuffels*,

fran

(*knuffels means hugs but also stuffed animal in dutch, did u know that? otherwise now u do, nice isn’t it)

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-> From: @dagcutie (Pauline)

hey hey cille!!

I must admit i’m very much a fan of you and your blog

first of all, your posts? chefs kiss!! i mean your music analysis are amazing and so on point, your photo edits are always perfect and the colorings are so beautiful, your long text posts 'drabble/headcanon style' are so cute and always makes me so soft and emotional...

your love for black and white? that’s a big yes!! anyways everything you do is perfect!!

also can we take a moment to appreciate your person? i think we can and we must do it..

you’re always so supportive and kind, all the nice tags you let under peoples creations are so sweet!! I also could cry about how cute you are always leaving lovely messages to people inbox or coming randomly to them to say something nice.. you’re the most beautiful soul and a blessing for this fandom!! please never stop being you!! ily a lot, sending you all my love and i wish you an amazing day<3

knus og kys til dig💛✨

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-> From: @allee-sander (Tanya)

Cille, you are an amazing person. you are so kind and loving. every time i see you on my dash, my face lights up. you are a literal angel. you are loved and appreciated, never forget that.

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-> From: @tsjernobyl (Emma)

Cille, you are a genuinely kind and loving soul who's just on this site to talk about the things you love and spread a little joy and everyone can tell that the moment they go onto your blog. i've seen you be nothing but lovely to everyone you interact with and it's a real honor to be mutuals with you and interact from time to time. You are always one of the sweetest and most supportive people here, and i hope you feel that love flowing back to you at all times because you always have my warmest wishes and love!!!!!

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-> From: @dreamaur (Ann)

How does it feel to be so cool and sweet and supportive??? I love you and your mind and how you see so many details and capture them so well with words,,,queen keep going with your top tier analysis and text posts that make me emotional everything single time

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-> From: @annonymannonym (Alice)

Where do I even begin ummm ... well words may not be enough to describe such angelic human being that Cille is but today is about her *about you Cille* !♡! Honestly I’m so so happy and honoured and so grateful to have meet and know you and come along your blog and your amazing posts and edits , let’s s not forget about the masterpiece that your analysis is cuz I live for every single one of them ! Always so on point and touchy and so so emotionally, they give you a whole new perspective and point of view and helps you connect with the person that goes throught those feelings , helping you understand so much deeper the feelings and the emotions he experience in that right moment( so thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking your time and writing these it really shows how much passion and love you put on making these! they absolute helped me to understand and feel much more the meaning behind all these little moments you captured so so well and wonderful ! ) You’re always such a blessing here so lovely friendly so goodhearted and sooo on ... < insert here all the good compliments in the world > cuz they all applies to you ! Know that you’re so special and such a light a sunshine wherever you are and go , you always spread so much positivity and good energy and love and compassion and you support every single people your way comes along with and you shown so much respect and love and understanding ! Always with a wise and thoughtful mind and with the right words at you using them with so much care and mining fullness ! And your blog i love love love it the b&w aesthetic and your love for it owns my heart !! I adore your posts so much ( or ramblings or thoughts as you may call them but know they are so so much more than that its a way of yours to express yourself and open up and pour every feeling you experience and many people found themselves and feel with you , I find myself in them and resonate with them every time ! ahh and your tags that you write in every post are sooo sweet and cute i could read them all day long just coming on your blog and read them makes my day so much better ) they are such a good way to brighten your day and they put a smile on my face whenever i see you on my dash truly a blessing to have you here! Never forget how unique and special human being you are and every one who has you in their lives are very blessed to have you ! Never change being this beautiful inside and out but most importantly inside ! literally a tresure your soul is and must be protected at all cost so take very good care of it ! Don’t forget to always do what makes you happy and gives joy and peace and just you know that good feeling you have in your chest and heart whenever you do something you love and like with passion and joy. I could say so much more but maybe I’ll repeat myself cuz there are never enough compliments to say about how wonderful person you are! you deserve every single one of them ! I really meant every word i said from the bottom of my heart and know that i really apreciate and love all you do and I’ll be here to support you anytime! You deserve the absolute world and more!! love you Cille! ♡ Okey bye✿

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-> From: @robbesdriesen (Bianca)

Cille ~ such a lovely presence to see on my dash always!! Your support towards everyone in the fandom is more than appreciated and so is your love that you continuously aim to spread <3

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-> From: @happilyinsane (Dharaa)

Hey Cille 💕

Just wanted to say that I think you are really sweet and lovely. I see you everywhere on the tumblr. Wanna thank you for keeping this fandom alive during the drought and keep us entertained. I see your tags on people's posts and I always feel like you are so kind and sweet to spend your time appreciating people's work. Doesn't matter if its a photo or an edit or whatever. You are so nice to pay attention to everyone individually. You are such a good friend/mutual, always appreciating and sliding into their asks and just making their day a lil bit better. You definitely bring so many smiles on our faces. I am sure everyone is very thankful to have you in this fandom, I know I am.

I know we haven't interacted that much but thank you for sliding into my asks and giving me an opportunity to interact with you. You are the sweetest, baby. And I hope you like this whole thing that Rodrigo is doing, because you definitely deserve it. Keep lighting up our dashes with your posts, pls. Ilysm 💕

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-> From: @alwaysaneverland (Sarah)

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-> From: @theflowerisblue (Lola)

Cille! You’re such a present part of the tag! You’re always interacting and posting and I love reading what you have to say. Your music analysis are so interesting and I also think you’re really funny! I love your black and white aesthetic and most of all I love how supportive and positive you’re towards everyone!

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-> From: @fvae (Fae)

hi cille!! I'm really glad to have met you through this fandom and I hope you like the surprise!! I loved to read your song analysis because they're always on point and well thought of👌 💯 and your edits!! *chef's kiss*

sending you lots of love and hugs 💕💖💫

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-> From: @embeddedinmybrain (Tasfia)

Hi Cille! You are just a ray of sunshine!! And you are the sweetest and kindest person here. I loved following through with your wtfock music analysis posts bc everything you felt is exactly what I felt. They made me really emotional!! And of course I (and Sarah and Fae) appreciate your tags for moyo season so much. We wait for them and we read them to each other and we just love seeing your reactions to it. Your edits are incredibly amazing too and I love the colouring in them. You are just an amazing sweetheart and I’m so glad to know you 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕

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-> From: @veerledejaegers (Soph)

Cille, you are very friendly and sweet, always insightful and seem like an incredibly lovely person that i hope i can get to know better ❤️(also love the black and white aesthetic)

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-> From: @sanderxrobbee (Semri)

Cilleeeeeeeeeeee loml!!!! Merry Christmas to you! I genuinely wish you all the best and I hope you get to spend all the holidays in the best way possible! You’re such a blessing to this fandom because you’re talented in every single way, whether it’s your writing or your godly Photoshop skills, oh and let’s not forget your dedication because you’re there all the time to brighten our days and make us smile. I haven’t known you for long, but I truly love and appreciate all you do and I’m grateful that you always take the time to compliment everything and everyone. You have no idea how much it makes me smile when you say my gifs are good because I’ve yet to learn a lot, but you are seriously one of the biggest reasons I haven’t given up the second something got too complicated. Where am I going with this? No idea. Anyway, I adore the fuck out of you and I’m happy to take part in this “project” because you really deserve all the love in the world. Once again, happy holidays!

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-> From: @hopelessromanticvirgo (Elene)

Talking about you Cille is making me always so emotional but I will try my best not to burst out from love and emotions. You’re one of the sweetest person here and I will never get tired of saying that.

We haven’t talked that much directly but I don’t need that to know you’re one of the greatest person here, I just know that for sure. I’m also sure about it because I can see the way you treat people? Even speaking about your tags? Like you take the time out of your day to make sure everybody gets love and everybody gets attention. You make all of us smile and I adore your tags on my stories. You can’t even imagine how many times I have reread your posts about it, like I crave it, I’m in love with it, it makes me feel so happy and so loved and I’m certain that everybody else feels the same way too. You always know how to make everybody’s day better and how to make them feel special.

And please, don’t even get me started on your posts! Your song analysis. Like I know I’ve told you this thousands of times before but I don’t care, I’m saying it again! The way you pictured and described all those songs and scenes!!! Like wow! I’d always reread your posts about that one specific scene after rewatching the season countless of times. (And you also did so many scenes!! I’m in awe and I’m emo from just thinking about it)

Watching clips were different but reading them with lyrics were a whole other thing. I just felt so connected with the whole story and scenes when I’d ready your posts. And connect scenes with the music and it was the best thing ever. Sometimes I still go back and reread some of my favorite posts of yours. I never get tired of it.

And you’re so kind and so sweet that I could write essays about it! Such a blessing to this world! I just love you a lot okay? Everybody needs somebody like you, somebody who shines from kindness and love and people around you must be so lucky who get to meet you everyday and talk to you!

Thank you so much for everything you do, for being you and for making my day better and making me smile every time you reblog my posts or every time I just see your username on my dashboard! It’s such a small gesture but means so much!

Thank you for existing, babe! I hope you’re gonna have a wonderful day! And I’m sending you the biggest hug and my positive vibes! I hope a smile never leaves your face! And I only wish the best things up onto you! I love you! ❤️❤️❤️

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-> From: @itubainaretro (Esther)

Cille, my queen!!! Hi, sweetheart! Just dropping by to say that I hope you’re having a good day, despite the situation that the world is in, and that you’re feeling happy, loved, cherished and warm today, because you’re you and you deserve to feel all the best feelings in the world! I wish you all the happiness in the world and that all your wishes come true too, because you sure deserve it! Thank you for being this amazing, inspiring, talented and sweet person that you are and that I’ve come to know a little bit in the past few months! I know we don’t exactly talk that much, but I want you to know that I love seeing you, your beautiful edits and your extremely heart warming “moments that live in my head rent free” posts on my dash daily! They all really make my days! Thank you for sharing your posts with us and making this fandom (and the world, honestly) a better place! You’re amazing and I’m really glad I pressed the follow button the day I did when I started following you! I hope this little message makes you smile today, babe! Best wishes and lots and lots of love,

Esther (itubainaretro) ♥️

PS: don’t forget to hydrate yourself, wear a mask and stay safe haha xxxx.

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-> From: @driesendotkom (Marie)

Dear cille,

the reason i‘m writing this is to simply say thank you. thank you for being such a stable part of the fandom. every time i go into the tag i know i will see you there and it makes me smile every time. i can’t tell you how many hours i spent reading every one of your song analysis. even now a year after season 3 ended i find myself going back to them now and then to reminisce and relive those moments all over again.

i also want to say thank you for being such a kind and welcoming person. you care so much about the people you are close to. you are so easy to talk to and you make the people around you feel comfortable instantly. you brought a little bit of hygge into my life and one more time i want to say thank you 💛

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-> From: @driesenrobbe (Becca)

my dear, sweet, cille! you never fail to make me smile and im beyond happy that we became mutuals! im sure i’ve already said this a million times before but you really do have the biggest heart and i couldn’t thank you enough for all the love and support you constantly share to everybody in the wtfock fandom. plus the talent you possess... girllllll i love seeing your edits and reading your posts (honestly your mind is just wowowowow, it’s on a whole other level of incredible and i hope you know just how wonderful you are). also the way you always write entire essays in the tags of other posts... like you really do take the time to make everyone feel so welcomed and loved, and I’m sending you an infinite amount of love and appreciation in return! you really are the sweetest, most caring person who deserves all the happiness in the world, an actual ray of sunshine! i hope you know how loved and cherished you are, and that good vibes are always being sent your way. Many hugs and kusjes, ilysm!!!! <3

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-> From: @mijnlief (Eline)

Dear Cille,

This year has been a weird one, but I do know that it has also been one of the best because of meeting you. In such a short time we became so close, and I am so grateful to have met you during these weird times. We are so alike in many ways and I love that so much. Our Skype conversations are my favorite and the essays you send me about my writing and just about me being me always make me feel happy and loved. You are the kindest and most generous person ever. I hope you know how special you are. I am so proud of you for everything you have achieved this year and for choosing yourself in situations where it got hard to make a choice in the first place. I know I tell you that everyday, but it doesn’t hurt to say it again right here. I hope this post makes you smile, because you deserve that so much for just being who you are. You bring happiness to all of my days and I can’t wait to hug you one day soon when everything in the world calms down again. I love you lots! 🧡 Eline

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-> From: @onzeziggy (Laurien)

My sweetest Cille, where do I even begin? I suggest we should just begin from the very beginning and I’m sorry in advance if this is going to be a long, sappy text! But now that I have the chance (shout out to Rodrigo) for saying everything I want, I’m not able to tell you how long this will take.

So Cille, I still remember very clearly the first time I saw your account appearing on my dash. It was a music analysis from one of the songs from season 3. I was so amazed by it, because I could imagine how much time it takes to make it and observe every little detail in a single clip. I immediately fell in love with the concept of it and one week later, when you posted another one, my mouth dropped to the floor. Another music analysis? From the same person? Who is she and how do I become her friend? After that second post, I immediately started following you and became your little fangirl. I don’t lie when I say I was waiting every week for a new update of your incredible music analysis nor when I say I loved every single one of them (and still do). I know I already said this a million times, but your words of telling what was going on in every clip, about the emotions present in them, and how the music blended all of it together… No one, and I mean no one could have done it any better! I will forever be grateful for those posts and I want to thank you once again for wanting to share them and your talent with us!

After the music analysis adventure, your picture edits catched my eye. I love them so so much and I also took some creation of it for making some myself. Still, I was this little fangirl, knowing your name is Cille, but also wanting to know so much more about the person behind one of my favorite blogs. And now, during this hiatus, I can say I’ve got to know you and I couldn’t be any happier about it! Starting with little comments in each other’s tags, having little chats in the comment sections to screaming about a possible drawing of Robbe from Sander on their one year anniversary. And look at us now, reblogging almost every post and writing essays in each other’s tags hahah! Honestly, it keeps me alive during these times and I’m so glad I can do this together with you! I live for your attacks! Aaaah now that I’m talking about an attack, the fact that you have a dimples post ready is making me so excited and I think about it every day! We both know what’s important in love and life and that’s Robbe’s dimples! But this right here shows once again what an amazing sweet person you are! No one on here has ever done anything like this for me before, so I can’t thank you enough for this and all the other things you did and still do for me! And the privilege I have to be able to call you my friend warms my heart <33

I’m going to end this with a little quote Robbe wrote in one of his Instagram posts. When I read it again a couple of days ago, I immediately thought of you and what we’ve been through together the last few weeks :’)) Once again, thank you so much for everything you do for me and for everyone here in this fandom and being the amazing person you are! You deserve the whole world for it!

“Sometimes it’s like we just met yesterday, but other days it seems like I already know you my whole life, I love you Cille!” <33

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I hope you enjoyed this💛 If you didn't know this community loved you yet (and I don't think that was possible), now you definetly do.

Extra: I'd like to thank once again everyone that took part it this surprise, you are all the sweetest for taking some time to write this and to help me with it! Thank you so so much✨

#Surprise!#Cille this is the least you deserve #but I'm so happy I got to do this #with the help of all this sweet people #I'm wishing you (and everyone) an amazing day!#and never forget that...#we all love you!

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dust2dust34 · 4 years

Note

Hi Bre, I read your "Talk to Me" fic and LOVED it! I always wonder about similar situations from Oliver's POV for some of Felicity's S2 dresses - what his thoughts and fantasies of Felicity in her dresses. Do you think you will have the time to do S2 UST canon fics?

Thank you so much! (Here is Talk to Me if anyone fancies a re-read - I loved the skirt Felicity wore in that scene almost as much as Oliver.)

Here’s a fun little ficlet that takes place between 2x06 and 2x07:

(read on AO3)

A Rock and a Hard Place

Russia was a mistake.

The thought rattled through his head, over and over, turning into a mantra he repeated until the words blurred into a meaningless stream of nonsense. He never should have taken her there. He never should have agreed to Isabel going. He should have found a way for just him and Diggle to get in, get Lyla, and get out. Because then things would still be normal.

Relatively speaking.

Things would at least be the way they had been. Before Russia. When things were just simple ideas, whimsical what-ifs that went nowhere. But most importantly? When certain kinds of thoughts stayed in the darkest part of the night where they belonged.

When only he knew what he was thinking when he was in bed, alone, his hand slipping under the sheets as he thought about slipping his fingers underneath-

Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.

Russia was a mistake.

“Aha!”

Felicity’s triumphant shout was muffled where her head was buried in the unfinished hole in the wall.

Oliver kept his eyes shut, offering her a vague hum in response. But he did tighten his grip on the flaking sheet of drywall he held up for her in the cramped space they occupied. Boxes from before and after the Undertaking mixed with unused building material and old furniture left only the narrowest of passages to weave through.

“It’s all structurally sound, but I ran out of the money you gave me when I decided to not only fix what the earthquake had done, but upgrade, and so we were left with a bit of a mess. A safe mess, but a mess.”

That meant when she needed to check on some old wiring, she had to literally dig her way through to get to the spot she needed. The spot this time happened to be in a tiny alcove, and the hole she needed to get through happened to be covered with drywall, and the space happened to be so small that the drywall could only go up to make room for her.

So here he was. Holding up drywall so she could get on her hands and knees and crouch down to reach deep inside the wall.

Oliver concentrated on the heavy drywall digging into his palms.

“Got it.”

His eyes opened of their own volition and he just barely stopped from groaning.

She was wearing that damn grey dress. He knew logically that there were at least two of them, because he’d seen one with red cutouts and one with yellow, but they were the same damn dress and right now it was perfectly snug around her backside where she leaned over on the ground to see inside the wall. It was dark, but his eyes adjusted just fine to appreciate all of it in its glory. The dress wasn’t usually that tight, but the angle of her body stretched it taut and he could see the faint outline of what had to be a thong. The zipper cut down the center of it and he couldn’t stop from wondering how it would feel if he tugged it down and slipped his hands inside-

Oliver gritted his teeth and slammed his eyes shut.

Russia was a mistake.

Something had changed and it was ruining everything. His stupidity with Isabel, the look on Felicity’s face when she realized, Isabel’s snide attitude. But all of that he could have handled. The worst part was when he’d tried to backtrack when they had gotten back to Starling City.

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“Well, I think you deserve better than her.”

He didn’t. He really didn’t.

But, for a blip of a second, he had let himself wonder.

And want.

It was supposed to be a second, a tiny moment of self-indulgence, but instead it had ripped the damn floodgates open, and now he couldn’t stop. Before she had been Felicity, but now she was Felicity-

“There we go.” Her voice became clearer as she inched out of the wall. His eyes popped back open and he nearly bit through his tongue as she pushed up off her knees. His palms tingled when her lush curves were right there, so close, but then she was straightening with her little tools in-hand. And she was talking, he realized. “... I’ll have to reroute this because it’s not my best work, but it’s good for now.”

“So you’re done?” he asked gruffly.

“Yep,” she replied, all brightness and light and sweetness as she spun in the tight spot to face him. A bare inch separated them, and it was all he could think about as he fought to breathe. But then she smiled up at him and he softened. “Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime.”

“I’ll just...” She gestured behind him. “Go, so you can set that thing down.”

He smiled, and nodded, and she moved to slip past him.

Except there wasn’t enough room.

Felicity pushed her front against his side, and when that didn’t get her what she wanted, she tried to wiggle past him. Oliver nearly choked on his tongue as her soft lines rubbed up against him, his skin burning where her breasts smashed into him, her hand on his ribs for leverage, her legs damn near cradling him as she worked to get through.

But she couldn’t.

“Oh,” she breathed as the same realization hit her. Then she did the worst possible thing: she started wiggling even more. “I... I’m almost there, I just need a little more...”

The highly erotic slideshow of every single wet dream he’d had about her lit up his mind and he gasped for air. Oliver shuddered as a crash of heat washed over him. His jeans tightened, enough to make him curse, and he shook his head with a hard, “Felicity, stop.”

She froze.

Oliver swallowed hard, and forced his voice to even out. “You were sitting when I came in, so I had enough room to lift this up.”

“Right.” It came out in a tremulous breath he felt on his neck. The heat swamped him again, but more urgent this time, and he nearly ripped holes in the drywall because it was the only thing stopping him from leaning into her. “Well, let me just get out of here, and I’ll get back down there-”

The thought of her on her knees before him had him looking down to see the growing problem in his pants.

“No,” he blurted. “No, just... Stay there. Please.”

“Oh, okay.”

He quickly lowered the drywall. He didn’t realize how heavy it was until his elbows unlocked from the position he’d held them in, and he grunted, his muscles tightening to maintain it so it didn’t smash into the ground. It would have been fine, except Felicity was pushed up right against him, so close he felt her quick intake of air, then her hand flutter to his back as the other on his ribs slid up to his pec.

Could she feel how hard his heart pounded?

Oliver bent over to set the drywall down and winced when his hip dug into her soft stomach.

It would be so easy to turn around and fit himself against her.

And very, very wrong.

Oliver straightened on a burst and tried to turn to give her room to get out, but the space was tiny, and his shoulders were too broad.

“You’re so big,” Felicity said, and it was Oliver’s turn to freeze as she caught herself, her eyes quickly shutting. “I don’t mean... I-I mean, you are big, like shoulders, and chest, and arms, and... and other things. Things I don’t know about! Obviously. I mean, I think I would remember that.”

Amazingly, her babble calmed him.

Oliver chuckled, and she huffed at herself, rolling her eyes as she blushed.

Taking a quick breath, he let the dust and dampness in the air clear his head. The familiar lilt of her perfume wasn’t exactly helping, but it didn’t stop his mind from functioning properly again.

Until he grabbed her and spun them so her back was to the drywall.

She squeaked, and whether it was from the abrupt move or from having her entire front plastered to his, he didn’t know. Nor did he suddenly not know how to let her go. In the grand scheme of things, it lasted barely a second, but it was a painfully long second, like every other one he’d been experiencing with her as of late. Ever since Russia. Ever since she had looked at him with such disappointment, but also sadness, with a look he wanted to do everything in his power to erase from her face.

A look that was nowhere to be seen right now.

Their eyes locked, the space growing ten times smaller around them. But instead of suffocating them, it felt like a buffer against the rest of the world. Her soft breaths danced over his lips. Her hands fluttered to his shoulders. When her fingers curled into his shirt, he felt a needy pull deep inside him start to take over as her eyes darkened, her pupils blowing wide...

All the reasons he told himself this could never happen were suddenly far away.

But not gone.

Common sense walloped him so hard it hurt and he abruptly let her go.

“I’ll go out first.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Felicity nodded. “Right.”

He quickly backed out of the tiny space. Her hands hovered in the air, eyes wide, but the flush in her cheeks and the way her lips were parted foolishly caught his attention. He couldn’t help it. His eyes dropped to that damn grey dress once more, and he knew he wasn’t going to be sleeping soundly for a long while.

Oliver spun around before he did something stupid as hell and left.

Russia was a damn mistake.

Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.

#olicity #olicity fic #olicity fanfic #olicity fanfiction #oliver x felicity #oliver queen #felicity smoak #arrow #arrow season 2 #my fics #my fics: season 2 #dust2dust34 #Anonymous

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lovelylou · 4 years

Text

Waiting by @allwaswell16

Louis Tomlinson was Harry’s omega, of this Harry had always been sure. Unfortunately for Harry, Louis seemed to think they were just best friends. The six weeks that Harry has to live with Louis were going to be rough.

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sleeping on our problems by @risthebrave (falsegoodnight)

I’m in love with you, Louis thinks. He feels empty, weighed down by his sadness and the loss of Harry inside him just moments ago before his knot finally went down.

There’s moments where he’s sure Harry feels the same. Like now, when he’s gazing down at Louis with so much adoration and tenderness. It’s like they’re both on the cusp of something more, but neither of them ever say a word.

His confession is on the tip of his tongue ready to slide out like honey, and yet he remains silent. They both do, looking at each other and recognizing the reluctance mirrored in each other’s eyes. It’s then that Louis realizes they’re both scared.

Or Louis sleeps with Harry and they have more than just catching feelings to worry about.

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Mine Would Be You by @crinkle-eyed-boo

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache.

A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind.

He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

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my love’s not simple (it’s fragile) by @risthebrave (falsegoodnight)

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks. “My shift ends at 7 but we can go for dinner at 8.”

Louis is silent for a few seconds and then, “Like… on a date?”

Harry swallows thickly. He hasn’t done this in years, hasn’t ever wanted to. “Yeah.”

He’s worried he’s misread things but then Louis raises his head to kiss Harry’s cheek. “Yeah,” he says easily. “Sure.”

Tension leaves his body swiftly. “Are you sure?” asks Harry. “I know we’re both so busy but I can’t not try with you, Lou.”

“Neither can I,” says Louis. “I think we can figure it out. I care about you a lot Harry. We’ve known each other for a week, but I already like you so much.”

Or Harry's new job is threatened by his impending rut. Desperate for a solution, he allows Niall to introduce him to Louis, an omega whose heat begins the same day. They click.

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we both got nothing to hide by lovelarry10

“Talk to me, Lou.”

“I can’t,” Louis mumbled, knowing he genuinely couldn’t say it. He couldn’t admit to what he was doing. “Don’t ask me to say it, because I can’t.”

“Then… I’ll try and guess. You’ve… got some stuff of Harry’s. Something of his to make it smell like him?”

Louis just nodded, eyes fixated on the floor. This was humiliating, but he knew Zayn wouldn’t stop until he found out what was going on.

“Okay. Like… a blanket, or a comforter or something?”

“Kind of…”

Omega Louis has a secret nest. Alpha Harry keeps losing his clothes.

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in a world alone by @risthebrave (falsegoodnight)

Harry’s breath catches as the glow grows bigger and bigger until he’s squinting his eyes and blinking at the sudden intense brightness. He closes his eyes, rubbing at them helplessly. When his eyes open again- he gasps, grip loosening on his bow as he gawks at the sight before him.

Because the swan is gone.

And in its place is the prettiest omega Harry has ever seen.

A Swan Lake AU

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like a siren in the night by @crazyupsetter (whoknows)

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

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move so pretty (you’re all i see) by @risthebrave (falsegoodnight)

Harry’s pretty content with his life. He loves his job- a veterinarian at a local clinic who’s already built up a name for himself despite his young age. He loves his gorgeous flat with its wide, open space and minimalistic, yet still homey feel.

He loves his family who he talks to and visits as much as possible, not bothered by the long hours of driving to Holmes Chapel from London he endures multiple times a month. He loves his friends and his coworkers and his neighbors- especially Allison, the little old lady next door who brings him and Louis cookies on holidays and who always comments on how “strong and handsome you are, Mr. Styles,” everytime he sees her.

And most importantly, he loves Louis, just- maybe in a slightly different way.

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haunted by the ghost of you by missandrogyny

He’s tall—that’s the first thing that registers in Louis’ head when he spots him, standing with his hands behind his back. Tall, with curly hair, staring at them with the widest, greenest eyes Louis has ever seen. And wait, are those dimples? Louis didn’t know ghosts could have dimples.

Because he’s definitely a ghost, this boy. At first glance he looks normal, standing there pigeon-toed in a band shirt (The Ramones, Louis can’t help but note incredulously), dark jeans, and some boots, with rings on both hands, and tattoos littering his left arm—a sleeve made of anchors and names and roses and other completely unrelated things. But he’s also a little bit translucent; if Louis focuses, he can see the outline of the furniture, the design of the wallpaper through him.

“Hi,” the boy—the ghost—says to Louis. His face shifts; somehow his dimples dig deeper into his cheeks. His eyes flit from Louis, to Niall, to Liam, and finally to Zayn, and his face goes from shocked to elated. “I’m Harry.”

At in that exact moment, standing between three of his best friends and staring at a (quite handsome) ghost, Louis can only think one thing.

Nick Grimshaw was right.

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to kill the mess we've made by missandrogyny

And when he's finally standing, Liam fussing over him, rubbing his hand at the red mark blooming on Harry's forehead, does Harry learn two things:

One, he wasn't actually hit that hard, and Tommo--or Louis, rather--is just as pretty when Harry is staring at him head-on and,

Two, Louis is the Adidas model he's going to be working with on today's photo shoot.

(or: AU where Harry and Louis are both models, and they decide being friends-with-benefits is a great idea. It isn't.)

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UN(RE)SOLVED. by @boldbabe (feermartsant)

The ghoul boys are back, but this time around there are some unresolved feelings involved. Harry is a skeptic, Louis is not. Watch them go on their ongoing investigation into the question: are ghosts real?

Or, BuzzFeed Unsolved AU.

#blfic #bottomlouis #fic #ficrec #larry #larryfic #au #fanfic #larry au #falsegoodnight #whoknows #fic recs #larry fic rec

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queerofthedagger · 4 years

Note

hello! i noticed you have prompts open, and i love your writing! no pressure ofc but do you think you could write james and sirius rescuing regulus? maybe getting him out of grimmauld, or maybe when they're all older, getting him away from the death eaters?? james and sirius CAN be in a relationship, or they could be just uselessly giving each other heart eyes until reggie does something to facilitate their boyfriendhood?? i don't know, the ball is in your court, now :')

Hey nonnie, thank you so much for the prompt! ❤️ It really took me a while, but on the bright side, it also got quite long (most of it is under the cut.) I hope it’s more or less what you were aiming for - it got angst-y, but there’s a happy ending.

The first part of this was also written for a writing exercise on discord, “Have your character write a letter to their younger self.” All of the fic was heavily inspired by this video, and by the song used in it, which also provided me with the title.

or maybe you were the ocean (when I was just a stone)

Teen and Up || Graphic Depictions of Violence || 5,7k words || AO3

Pairings: Sirius Black/James Potter; Sirius Black & Regulus Black

Tags: Regulus Black Lives; Fix It; Established Relationship; Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief. --- Kreacher does not like Master Regulus' plan. Kreacher has his orders about them, but they don't include a piece of parchment, meant to join Regulus the following day. Kreacher thinks there's only one person able to help, loath as he is to admit it.

Kreacher's right.

Dear “younger self,”

I would never write this if I wasn’t going to die tomorrow, but there is a strange urge to acknowledge everything in a place outside my own head, and this seems the easiest way. At least it is a dying wish easily fulfilled.

That is a horrible way to start a letter. I suppose it is of no consequence though, seeing that these words will disappear with me.

If I could give you only one piece of advice, it would be this; listen to Sirius. Listen to Sirius and go with him when he leaves – do anything, anything at all to get away from this house that has never been a home to either of you.

I know what you’re thinking; he abandoned you first. He is the one who replaced you. He made everything so much harder on himself with his stubbornness, his constant need to be contrary; by always stepping into the line of mother’s fury.

But he is also right, about so many things.

Most importantly though, he is right about this – no matter what you do, it will never be enough to make them proud. Not getting sorted into Slytherin, not upholding traditions and echoing their beliefs and, most of all, not joining the Dark Lord. Nothing will ever be enough.

You will only burn yourself up by trying; you will do everything that is expected of you and more, and it won’t be enough. You will do unspeakable things that leave you shaking for days on end, will wake you up every night with screams lodged behind your teeth and fear buried in your bones.

Will leave you aged decades within a year, and still mother will only stare at you blankly and ask where Sirius is.

You won’t know either, but you’ll wish you did. You will wish that you could find him, warn him, beg him for help. But not only will you have aged decades, you will have drifted away so far that there’s no way to go back anymore.

Not a point in trying either.

You may think that I’m dramatizing in typical Black manner, but to be honest, it’s still so much worse than it sounds.

Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and nobody will know. Tomorrow, I will die in a cave, and all I’ll be remembered as is a spineless coward who has been wrong all along.

At least I won’t have to deal with Sirius’ ‘I told you so.’

I’d take a hundred of those if only to see that grin one more time.

There always is a choice, and there always are consequences. Sometimes, they just come for you as an army of Inferi and the Drink of Despair.

- Regulus

* * *

Regulus doesn't know that Kreacher slips the letter out of his pocket later that night; doesn’t know that his always loyal elf is still searching for his least favourite family member when Regulus leaves for the last time, in the early hours of dawn.

Anything, anything at all to save Master Regulus.

* * *

James hears the crashes and the shouting already on the staircase, Sirius’ voice unmistakable. He breaks into a run, taking the steps two, three at a time, wand drawn and ready to fight whoever has found them.

An old, wrinkled house-elf is not what he expects to find sneering up at Sirius, and it effectively stops him in his tracks. Sirius doesn’t seem to notice him though, glaring down at the creature with so much hatred written over his face that James doesn’t dare let his guard down just yet.

“I’m not going to promise you anything without knowing what you want from me,” Sirius just spits, contempt dripping from his every word. His hands are shaking at his sides though, muscle in his jaw jumping, and James knows that this isn’t a usual threat.

Knows that there’s something personal in this because Sirius’ anger only ever burns bright and hot like this when he’s terrified; when there’s something on the line beyond his own life.

Sirius only ever loses control when it comes to his loved ones, and just like that, James knows whose elf this is; knows with startling certainty spreading through his lungs that this has the potential to break Sirius, and inevitably himself.

Neither of them has noticed him yet, or at least not considered him noteworthy enough to avert their glares from each other, and James takes a second to take in the details.

The living room looks wrecked, books and papers littering the floor and the coffee table lying overturned. Sirius has a cut on his cheek, slowly oozing blood while the elf appears to be unharmed. It’s clenching a crumpled piece of parchment in one gnarled fist though, and underneath the disdain spilling from its eyes, James can make out a deep wariness.

“Sirius,” he says, taking a few steps into the room without lowering his wand. “I don’t think he’d be here if it wasn’t important.”

Because there’s only one reason James can come up with for the elf of the Blacks to appear in their home; only one reason, and he knows that Sirius knows it too, sees it in the thin line of his lips and the tightness of his shoulders.

“It could still be a trick,” Sirius presses out, not taking his eyes off the elf, and there’s a plea ringing in his words, desperation for it to not be what they both fear it is.

“Kreacher would not expose himself to the presence of filthy blood-traitors for – “

“Shut up!” Sirius snaps, eyes flashing, and James quickly wraps his fingers around his wrist. Looks at him and silently says, not now, not yet, it’s not worth it.

“What are the terms?” he asks out loud, glancing at the elf whose face twists as if contemplating if James is even worth answering to.

He seems to decide that it’ll have higher chances than with Sirius, though he turns his nose up when he speaks. “Kreacher has a message that was not intended to reach the – you. Kreacher will deliver it still, if the blood-traitor son promises to help.”

And yeah, that would be a problem, James thinks. Looks at Sirius and sees the conflict there, twitching fingers and working jaw, and thinks to hell with it.

“You were not ordered to not deliver it either, then?” he asks, because he might be reckless, but he’s not stupid; might be willing to risk everything and anything for Sirius every second of the day, but never once Sirius himself.

The elf’s sneer slips by a fraction. “Kreacher received no orders at all about the letter. Kreacher does want to add that time is an issue. He will be needing help soon.”

Sirius still doesn’t look convinced, but James knows what will happen if they refuse; knows that Sirius will run himself in circles, will drive himself mad with not knowing. Knows that it might be the deciding push to finally plunge them off the precipice this war has them balancing on.

Thinks that if it’s as bad as he thinks it is, refusing might end up being worse than whatever potential trap they’re about to walk into.

His grip on Sirius’ wrist tightens, but he doesn’t glance away from the elf when he says, “We accept. Give us the letter, and we’ll help.”

Sirius makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat but he’s also already gripping for the parchment, nearly tearing it in his haste.

James is barely able to take in the words with the way Sirius is shaking beside him, and still, all he can think is that it’s so, so much worse than he could’ve ever anticipated.

“Where,” Sirius finally chokes out, his face pale and haunted, and he’s swaying on his feet, knuckles white around his wand. “Where,” he repeats, voice breaking over the shout.

James does the only thing he can do; takes Sirius’ face between his hands and digs his fingers into his skin. Presses their foreheads together and says, “No, not like this.” Holds on even as Sirius struggles, eyes wild and caught so firmly between anger and desperation that it makes James’ heart ache. “You’ll kill us both like this,” he says, shaking him for good measure. Says, “Breathe,” again and again until Sirius finally starts listening, or at least accepting that it’s the only way James will let him out of this flat anytime soon.

“Better,” he finally allows, but he only lets his hand drop to Sirius’ wrist once more as he turns back to the elf.

There’s disdain again, but also poorly hidden relief, and James could honestly not care less about what a house-elf thinks of them right now.

“When is he planning to go?” Sirius asks, and his voice is still strained, full of fear buried underneath fury, but at least he’s thinking again.

Of course, it all flies out of the window when Kreacher answers, “He left an hour ago. Kreacher can take you to the entrance of the cave but not further.”

James doesn’t protest when Sirius snarls, “Take us,” doesn’t think that Kreacher would be willing to give them more information even if he’d get Sirius to listen for another second.

The words Inferi and Drink of Despair are still echoing through his head, and they’re mixing with the guilt that is already radiating off of Sirius in waves, mixing with it’s my fault, and I should’ve tried harder, and if he dies, it’s because of me, that he knows are running rampage in Sirius’ own head.

As they’re pulled into the Apparation, James silently lists defences against Inferi and poison, hoping that they’re the only things he will have to fight tonight.

The sounds hit him first; desperate, guttural sobs that seem to echo, magnified and thrown around between what turn out to be the smooth, dark walls of a large cave. There are pleas in between, broken off words and swallowed fractures, though through the seconds it takes them to orientate themselves, two words are repeated over and over.

Sirius, please.

The words twist themselves underneath James’ ribs, race down his spine, and still he is glad for them. They freeze Sirius in place just long enough for James to reach out and hold him back from storming straight into the water stretching out between them and the small island Regulus seems to be kneeling on.

A green glow coming from a basin spends just enough eerie light to illuminate Regulus’ trembling figure, curled in on himself and pleading, crying, screaming himself hoarse.

It’s only Kreacher’s voice that prevents James from having to outright fight Sirius to keep him where he is.

“There’s a boat,” he says. “It will only take one of you.”

“Can’t you take us?” James asks before Sirius can, one arm still tightly wrapped around his chest as his own stomach sinks, panic clawing its way slowly up his throat.

Kreacher’s jaw sets and he shakes his head. “The wards would be tripped, and Master Regulus forbade me from doing anything to alert him.”

There’s no way, no way in hell that James will let Sirius go alone, or leave him behind, and he spares a thought to curse whoever set up this nightmare of a setting. He has some suspicions but no time to really bother with them, Sirius already struggling again, glaring and spitting and snarling at James as if he’s seriously contemplating to hex him within the next few seconds.

He needs an answer, a solution, anything, but there’s nothing, and then there’s movement from the small island, the sudden sound of waves drawing their attention.

It shouldn’t be loud enough, shouldn’t drown out Regulus’ cries and Sirius’ curses, but still they both stop moving, eyes forcibly dragged to witness Regulus bowing low over the edge of the lake.

Grey hands are breaking the surface of the water, followed by heads and bodies, so many of them that they appear to be moving as one. The green light reflects on the dead skin, catching on empty eyes and white teeth, and James has to clench his jaw against the bile rising in his throat.

“Take us,” Sirius says, and his voice is cold all of a sudden, tightly controlled fury pressed into two words as he stares at Kreacher.

“Kreacher cannot – “

“Take. Us,” Sirius repeats, drawing himself up. “I command you to take us, or I swear by all that I hold dear, my mother will look like a bloody joke when I’m done with you.”

Kreacher’s still hesitating, visibly struggling with himself in a way that would give James a pause in different circumstances, but they’re losing time they can’t afford.

Regulus’ screams have turned hoarse, barely audible over the other noises filling up the cavern now, and it’s impossible to spot him any longer in between the throng of Inferi.

“You want him to survive as well, don’t you?” James tries, and there’s terror ringing through his words.

Finally, Kreacher nods, and they don’t get another second to prepare themselves for the lurch of Apparation; to question just who they’re alerting by tripping the wards.

Sirius twists out of his grip the second they have solid ground under their feet again, wand slashing through the air in ferocious precision. Still, for every cutting curse that hits its target, three more seem to appear, and the whole bulk of them is already moving back into the murky water.

“Fire,” James snaps, unceremoniously digging his elbow into Sirius’ side when he doesn’t seem to hear him. “Fire, but not directly at them, come on.”

An incantation rolls off Sirius’ tongue that James has only ever read about and his blood runs cold. His own movement slows and stops as he watches white-hot flames burst forward, rushing over the surface of the lake surrounding them, forming indistinct shapes.

“Sirius,” he tries, grabbing his arm. “Sirius,” he shouts, shaking him, but to no avail. There are no Inferi left in the vicinity of the island. No other bodies either but for Kreacher cowering by the basin, and James knows, knows that Sirius has noticed too. That he’ll burn the whole cave down, no matter how little it will serve an actual purpose, and himself with it if James lets him.

The light of the flames is breaking on Sirius’ face, all hard lines and pain etched into every crease as his eyes seem to burn, grey blazing just as bright.

There are only two ways this can end, and James refuses both of them. Refuses to accept that they will die here, like this, joining the hundreds of dead bodies in their eternal grave; refuses to be the one who has to drag Sirius out of here, to tell him that he’s failed in the last second. To watch him shatter underneath the weight of his grief.

It’s not a plan. It’s not even something he expects to work or to not go horribly wrong, but it’s the only thing he can think off beyond forcing Sirius to give up for his sake.

The Summoning Spell shouldn’t work on people, and the seconds after he casts tick by so very slowly. The heat keeps scorching his skin, licking at his hands and his face and supplying a painfully tangible warning of Sirius’ suffering.

Then there’s a ripple in the water close to them, a body hurling out of it and barrelling into James with a force that knocks him off his feet. Sharp stones are digging into his back, his head is thundering with the strength of the impact but he’s laughing, laughing and crying and only just making sure that it’s Regulus lying on top of him, unconscious but with breath brushing against James’ neck.

Somehow, he manages to climb back to his feet, pulling Regulus up as he goes. Manages to stumble through the thick smoke that’s curling through the air, through his lungs, threatening to choke them all before they can burn or drown.

A distant, hysterical corner of his mind that he tries to ignore as best as he can helpfully points out that it at least keeps out whoever created this cavern from hell, and he wants to laugh again.

Finally, he reaches Sirius, standing rigid at the very edge of the water with tears streaming down his face but wand still raised, staring straight into the flames. James wraps his free hand around his neck, pressing his nails into his skin and shaking him until Sirius finally turns his head to look at him.

It takes several seconds until the haze leaves Sirius’ eyes and they widen, realization bleeding into them, swiftly followed by guilt. James wants to feel relief, wants to reassure him that there’s nothing to be guilty about; wants to shove Regulus at him and shout, see, everything will be fine, you idiot. As if I’d ever let you down.

He’s not sure yet that he believes it himself though and does none of those things. Does only tighten his grip on both brothers and shouts for Kreacher, the words scraping against his raw throat, and he nearly slumps in relief when the elf appears next to them with wide, terrified eyes.

“Take us to our flat,” he orders, praying and begging silently that he will listen. The fire is breaking through the barrier Sirius must’ve kept up, heat already singing their clothes, and he thinks he can hear a shriek of rage even over the roaring of the flames.

The sight of Regulus must’ve convinced Kreacher because he doesn’t waste a second to grab the limp hand, and then the world is twisting, lurching, and the last thing James sees is white and red and yellow, and a person materializing out of black smoke in the spot they’re just leaving behind.

Regulus’ weight drags James down as soon as they land, and he pulls Sirius with him. The quiet and cold of their living room is like a punch, adrenaline snatched away with the sudden absence of heat.

For long moments, he’s unable to move, to do anything but breathe. Unable to comprehend that they made it out, all three of them still alive and here, maybe not unharmed but not on the bottom of a lake full of Inferi either.

“Is he - ?” Sirius breaks the silence, and when James turns his head to look at him, his eyes are clenched shut, hands still trembling where they press against the floor, and lips white with the force his teeth are biting into them.

“He’s breathing,” he answers quietly because he has no idea if Regulus is fine, will be fine again, and he can’t lie to Sirius, never could, not even about something like this.

Sirius gives a jerky nod, still not opening his eyes but reaching out a hand to wrap around James’ own so tightly that he can feel his bones shift. “I could’ve killed you. I could’ve killed you and you didn’t stop me.”

It’s not an accusation, not even a reprimand. It’s only horror, and guilt, and James wants to erase the previous hours from all of their minds. Wants to take all three of them far away from a family that pitches brothers against each other, from a war that’s eating away at all of them, and from whatever it is that led Regulus to the cave and his near self-sacrifice in the first place.

Wants to take them far away and forget about the terror that’s still woven tightly around his ribs, pressing into his lungs and choking up his throat with a grip so crushing, he’s not sure if it’ll ever leave again.

“As if I’d let you,” he finally chokes out, squeezing Sirius’ hand in return and pulling them both into a sitting position.

It falls flat and they both know it, but Sirius merely gives another nod and scrambles until he’s kneeling at Regulus’ side, hands shaking as they hover helplessly over his still body.

James wants to take them far away from here, or scream and rage until the memories don’t feel so achingly raw anymore, and does none of it. Instead, he pulls himself together with more effort than it’s ever taken him and knocks his head softly against Sirius’ in wordless reassurance.

Taking a deep breath, he starts pulling away Regulus’ torn robes. “Kreacher, could you get me the potions from the bathroom?” he asks when he finds deep gashes underneath the fabric, littering his arms and chest, bleeding into their faded blue carpet.

The elf disappears, the crack of his Apparition startling Sirius out of his shock. The following minutes pass in silence, both of them working on closing the wounds, dispelling the water from Regulus’ lungs, and checking for invisible injuries.

After Kreacher reappears with the potions, he watches them closely but otherwise stays silent and keeps his distance, hands wrung tight into the hem of the pillowcase he’s wearing.

“That’s it,” James finally says, sitting back on his haunches and rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. “Some of it will scar, but he should wake up soon.”

At least he hopes so; neither of them is a Healer even if they’d inevitably picked up the basics since leaving Hogwarts. He doesn’t want to consider what would happen if he doesn’t.

Sirius doesn’t answer, merely sits back to lean against the back of the couch and carefully moving Regulus until his head is resting in Sirius’ lap.

For long moments, James only watches the slow movements of Sirius’ hand carding through Regulus’ hair, the way his eyes keep roaming over his body as if expecting new injuries to appear. Watches how two of his fingers stay pressed against Regulus’ pulse point at his throat, hand twitching every other second.

Eventually though, James forces himself back to his feet, legs trembling underneath him as he makes his way into the kitchen. His throat is parched, his eyes are still burning from the smoke, and he knows that Sirius must be in a similar state; knows that he won’t get up and take care of himself until Regulus opens his eyes because it’s what he’d do if it was James lying there.

It’s what James would do if the roles were reversed, and that’s a scenario he shoves away as best as he can whenever the thought so much as tries to form.

When he steps back into the room with two glasses of water and PepperUp Potion, Sirius is still in the same position, but he’s talking quietly, words barely audible. “Come on, lionheart, you have to wake up. I owe you several I told you so’s, remember?” he’s just saying, voice rough and still so, so heavy with regrets.

“Sir-us?”

James freezes where he’s just sitting down next to them, nearly forgetting to keep up the levitation spell, and watches with fear and relief warring in his chest as Regulus’ eyelids flutter, eyes slowly blinking open to reveal a grey several shades darker than Sirius’.

“You idiot,” is the first thing Sirius chokes out, his grip on Regulus’ shoulder visibly tightening, and in spite of everything, James smiles faintly. “You complete, utter idiot, how could you?”

Regulus’ eyes widen, his body going rigid while his hands curl into fists at his sides. “What – where – “

“You nearly died,” Sirius spits before James can even think about answering, and he winces at the note of anger creeping back into Sirius’ tone. “What were you thinking? If Kreacher hadn’t – “

“Kreacher came to you?” Regulus interrupts, surprisingly alert all of a sudden as he sits up, and James wonders if it’s only adrenaline that’s fuelling him. He twists so he can keep looking at them, pushing himself onto his knees, and his eyes flicker between them as fear and disbelief chase each other over his expression. “I – you – you got me out of the cave?”

Before Sirius can answer, James reaches out to squeeze his knee.

Sirius swallows, eyes closing briefly, but his voice is much calmer when he says, “Yes, though if it wasn’t for James, I doubt – we only arrived when you – when the Inferi attacked you.”

Regulus’ expression doesn’t change, confusion and wariness still shining in his eyes. “But how – I forbade Kreacher from telling anyone and anyway, why? Why would you – “

Care is what he doesn’t say, what he doesn’t have to say if the flinch from Sirius is anything to go by.

James watches out of the corner of his eye as Sirius’ jaw clenches and unclenches, fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his legs, and he eventually draws his shoulders back.

“Because you’re my brother. And I – even though I never regretted leaving Grimmauld’s, I regretted leaving you behind. That we grew apart so badly and I – that you thought you couldn’t come to me with whatever insane thing you were attempting tonight. Because the thought of you dying – I couldn’t – I’d never let that happen,” Sirius finally says, his voice quiet but gaze boring into Regulus’.

Regulus stares with wide eyes, a frown etched between his brows as if he isn’t quite sure that any of this is real. “But you’re – I’m everything you hate,” he finally spits, face twisting into a snarl while his hands tremble at his sides. “I joined the Dark Lord! I did things so horrible, you wouldn’t – “ he chokes off, turning his head away.

James thinks it’s startling how similar the two of them are, after all, despite everything. He’s itching to make this easier for both of them, but all he can do is press his leg against Sirius’ and hope that it’ll be enough to get through this.

“And you realised what a shit-choice that was,” Sirius shoots back, and for the briefest of seconds, his lips twitch into a smile. “I told you so, by the way.”

Regulus’ head whips back around, and James wants to bury his face in his hands.

“The letter,” Regulus whispers, his whole posture slumping. “Of course. I should’ve – “

“If you finish that sentence, I’ll kill you myself,” Sirius growls, then shakes his head and huffs. “I just – are you really so keen to die that you wouldn’t even consider asking me for help?”

There’s desperation bleeding through his words now, and Regulus must’ve heard it too because his head snaps up, his hand twitching as if he wants to reach out.

“It’s not – no,” he presses out, running a hand over his face. “But I – not only didn’t I expect you to believe me, it’s also dangerous. More dangerous than this war already is, and you have a traitor in your precious Order and I couldn’t – he’ll hunt me down anyway.“

“You betrayed Voldemort,” James says before Sirius can, the final pieces clicking into place, and it reminds him of the flash of white skin materialising just as they’d left the cave behind.

Regulus flinches at the name and seems to hesitate. Eventually, he nods, resolve hardening his features. “He’s mad, completely, utterly mental. I just – I couldn’t do it anymore and when Kreacher – when I found out something important, something that could help bring him down, I – “ he pauses, biting his lips. Takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before looking back at Sirius. “I thought I could at least do one good thing. What does it matter if I die in a raid, in a cave, or because he decides to kill me?”

“Because I couldn’t bear to lose you!” Sirius snaps. “Because it was already bad enough to lose you once, and I won’t let Voldemort, or anyone else for that matter, lay a fucking hand on you, alright? And you’ll better get used to that, you complete idiot, because I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

There’s a beat of silence in which the words seem to ring through the room, and then a dry sob wrenches itself out of Regulus’ throat, his hand flying up to press against his mouth.

Sirius instantly moves forward, wrapping his arms around Regulus and burying his head in the crook of his neck, his own shoulders shaking. It takes only a second until Regulus’ arms come up, his hands clenching in the fabric of Sirius’ hoodie as if holding on for dear life.

James watches, something loosening in his chest, and when he looks at Kreacher for the first time since Regulus woke up, there’s barely any disdain left on his old face.

The two of them stay in their embrace for a long time, murmuring to each other so quietly that James can’t make out the words.

As much as he wants to give them their time, to leave them to make up for all those lost years, there’s still a memory at the forefront of his mind that is impossible to ignore. He doesn’t want to think about it, wants to think about nothing but all three of them being alive and well, but if he truly wants to keep it that way, they still have more important things to worry about first.

Clearing his throat and flashing them a strained, apologetic smile, he waits until he has both of their attention. “I’m not sure that we weren’t seen just before we disappeared.”

All the blood drains from Regulus’ face and he flinches back as if he’s been slapped. His hand finds Sirius’ arm, fingers twisting into his sleeve, and James’ heart aches at having to do this at all.

Sirius’ features only harden, jaw setting and lips pressing into a thin line.

James knows what he’s going to say and shakes his head. “We have to leave,” he says, raising his hand to stall Sirius’ protest. “We could go into hiding, but Regulus is right. We have a traitor in the Order, and whatever it is Regulus attempted to do tonight, you and I both know that it was too well-guarded to draw anything but Voldemort’s utmost attention.”

“A Horcrux,” Regulus says quietly, turning his head to send Sirius a look full of meaning that’s lost on James. “Did you take a locket, by any chance?”

“A Horcrux,” Sirius echoes, his voice suddenly hoarse again, and he slowly shakes his head. “We didn’t but I – well I guess it got probably caught up in the Fiendfyre.”

“You – “ Regulus starts, then cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Never mind. James is right though, we can’t stay here. We have to – I need to, I’m – “ he stammers, hands starting to shake and fear filling his eyes.

Sirius’ eyes meet James’, and he finds the same resolve that he’s feeling mirrored back at him, a silent, old promise between the two of them that now includes a third one.

“My parents had a house in the middle of nowhere in Iceland,” he says, a plan starting to take shape in his mind. “We’ve never been there but I know the coordinates to create a Portkey, and that there are a few elves who’ve taken care of it over the years.”

“I should be able to ward it and make it unplottable,” Sirius picks up, already getting to his feet and dragging Regulus with him. “We’ll contact Dumbledore, get a message to him with the information we have and that we’re leaving, nothing more.”

“What about mother?” Regulus asks, the panic receding even though there’s still uncertainty in his eyes. “I know you don’t care but if he saw me, if I disappear…”

Sirius sighs, closing his eyes briefly, but he nods. “Send Kreacher back, order him to not tell anyone but report to her that he hasn’t seen you in days. Voldemort won’t outright kill her if she doesn’t know what’s going on, the support of the family is too important for him.”

There’s a beat of silence as Regulus and Sirius stare at each other, but eventually, Regulus nods, exhaling a sigh. “I hope you’re right.”

Summoning parchment, James hands it to him. “Write down everything you know about – whatever it is you were talking about; I’ll call one of the Potter elves to deliver it later. We’re going to pack a few things, I think Sirius has some clothes that should fit you.”

Regulus nods, fiddling with the quill, and James decides to leave him to it. Just as he and Sirius are about to leave the room, Regulus calls, “Wait!”

Turning back around, James watches him, hoping that there won’t be another argument coming; it’s all a mess already, all of them running on their last reserves of strength, and they can’t afford to lose any more time.

“Thank you,” Regulus says, the words quiet but sincere.

James smiles, but it’s Sirius who answers. “Always.”

As soon as the door to their bedroom closes behind them, Sirius twists, pushing James against the wood and crashing their mouths together.

His own hands come up on instinct, wrapping around Sirius’ waist, and he keeps his eyes closed even as Sirius pulls back to lean their foreheads together.

“We’d all be dead without you,” Sirius chokes out, voice breaking over the words, and his fingers press against James’ jaw so harshly that it’s bordering on painful. “We’d be all dead, and now we have to leave everything behind. Are you – I won’t force you to come with us.”

James huffs a laugh, wet and nearly hysterical. “Merlin, sometimes you’re such an idiot,” he presses out, his own throat closing up. “I’d go anywhere with you, anywhere at all. You should know that by now. And we’ll be safe. At least, we’ll finally be safe.”

The last words linger in his mind, circling as they haphazardly throw clothes and trinkets into bags, packing up only what they’ll need most. Linger as they send off the letter to Dumbledore and create a Portkey out of the mug that Lily gave them as a house-warming gift. As the three of them grab it tightly and are whisked away.

Circle through his mind still, as they set foot into the small cottage at the foot of a mountain, waves crashing in the distance, dark wood cracked with age but warm and cosy and safe.

They’ll be safe.

#prongsfoot #regulus black #sirius black #james potter #regulus black lives #my fic #answered prompt #i'm always happy to get them!#mona's writing

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apharine · 4 years

Text

Blizzard in the Reach

Pairing: Reader/Argis the Bulwark

Fandom: Skyrim/The Elder Scrolls

Rating: Explicit

My Writing Commission Info | Please consider tipping me on Ko-Fi!

Read on AO3

Summary: The Druadach Mountains of the Reach are known to be dangerous for travelers - not only for the presence of the Forsworn, bandits, and monsters, but also for vicious blizzards that have killed many a traveler. You had hoped to get through the mountain passes as quickly as possible, especially with a snowstorm coming in, but now it looks like you and Argis might be in store for a night spent together on the mountains.

Notes: This started as part of a series of one-shots with Argis the Bulwark several years ago, back when I was writing for the kink meme still. Some of the one-shots have been lost to the Internet and to now-dead computers, some are still with me and in desperate need of re-working, but this one was always my favorite. I found it on an external hard drive recently, and thought I'd share it with the world - there's really not enough Argis content. I know he doesn't have a lot of dialogue, but he's always been my favorite Housecarl and follower, and I always marry him in-game. If anyone would want to see any of the other Argis one-shots, let me know, and I can see what I can dig up and re-work! I've certainly got a little more time on my hands with this coronavirus thing. Hope everyone is staying healthy and happy, and most importantly, stay at home <3

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“We need to make camp for the night, my Thane.”

You turn to face your Housecarl, Argis the Bulwark, and you immediately see obstinacy in the way his arms are folded across his broad chest, his feet spread in a wide stance. This obstinacy has served you well time and again, especially in the stubborn way he never gives up on you. He's rushed back into battle after receiving grievous injuries, his only care in all of Tamriel protecting you. He's sat up all night with you, waiting for you to explain what in Oblivion is bothering you. He's carried you, as you lay dying in his arms, to whatever nearby town was available, on the slim chance he could find a healer skilled enough or a potion strong enough for you. Yes, you're grateful for all that this man has done for you.

But that doesn't mean he's any less stubborn than he was on day one.

“We can still make it back to Markarth, and be home in Vlindrel Hall by morn,” you retort over your shoulder, anxious to keep moving. The Reach is howling with a snowstorm, and visibility on this face of the mountains is becoming terribly low. The accumulating snow and the slick rocks will only make traveling all the harder - you need to press on, not have a debate with one another.

“My Thane,” he warns, his deep voice dark. You continue marching ahead. If that stubborn man would just cooperate - “My Thane,” he repeats, more firmly, and you stop in your tracks, irritated. He knows you long ago disregarded any illusions of rank between the two of you, and that, as equals, you don’t believe in issuing him orders. He also knows that his obstinacy is driving you insane at the moment, as it so often does, and that he’s only calling you by your title of Thane to hammer home his point. Moreover, the snowstorm is already picking up more speed, threatening a full blizzard, and he knows he's right about it. All of it.

“Maybe they should have called you Argis the Bull-headed, not Bulwark,” you quip as you trudge through a snowdrift back to the man. For an instant, you think you see his scarred lips quirk up in a smile, but visibility is terribly low.

“You may call me whatever you wish,” he responds evenly, his face the epitome of calm.

“Anything?” You tease him drily as you continue your trudge, tilting your head back to affix the tall Nord with what you hope is a stony gaze.

“Aye, anything,” he agrees, his lips again twitching at the edges as he watches you - an unmistakable gesture, at this close proximity. “As long as you’re alive to say it and not frozen to death, like you will be if you try to keep on in this.”

“You are insufferable sometimes,” you sigh, coming to a stop, and Argis quirks a single eyebrow at you, as if to say you’re the one who’s being insufferable. But he doesn’t say it out loud, instead commenting,

“There was that deserted camp we passed by not more than a quarter of an hour ago.”

“There was a good lean-to there,” you agree, nodding slowly. “As long as it really is deserted.” You shudder at the thought of being snuck up on at night by bandits or Forsworn, but a moment later you shudder even harder as a blast of wind roars down from the mountain peaks, so cold as to be ungodly, and with as much ferocity as the worst frost breath of any dragon you’ve fought against. You turn away from it, drawing the hood of your cloak closer about you, but even so, your eyes water from the chill and a few loose strands of hair flutter about your face, whipping your cheeks with the condensation that quickly freezes on them.

You feel a solid form at your back, two great armored hands steadying you by your shoulders, and though the roaring of the wind hasn’t died down any, some of the worst of it is blocked from you now.

“Deserted or not, we have to get you out of the cold,” Argis says from behind you, his deep voice just loud enough to cut through the roar of the wind.

“I just hope there isn’t a fight waiting for us,” you admit, but Argis gives your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, as if to say I know, but I’ll be there. The next moment, the great hands are gone, and you start backtracking through the treacherous mountain trails, the Bulwark right behind you.

The camp is much as you had last seen it about a half hour ago, with no new tracks in the snow around it and no signs of any items disturbed. An encouraging sign, you think, but not an absolute certainty that you will be safe.

You follow Argis’ lead as he slips behind a large rocky outcrop jutting out from the Druadach mountains, peering around it to get a glimpse of the camp every couple minutes. It’s a bit harder for you to get a glimpse of the place, as Argis is largely shielding you with his body, ever protective. But when you do manage to peer around him, you realize that the camp looks decidedly made by a group other than the Forsworn. You’re relieved; you’ve discovered enough abominations at Forsworn camps to hope not to be forced into one right now. There’s also a better chance that, if the camp was made by non-Reachmen bandits, they were either traveling through or moving from site to site, instead of inhabiting the place continuously. On your second time glancing around the outcropping, you notice there is one lean-to in particular that catches your eye, the way it caught it on your first pass through - it’s reinforced with multiple furs, and looks like it might actually be made out of wood underneath versus just stretched leathers. The overhang it sits under seems to provide some degree of protection, as well, and a rather enormous firepit is positioned close to it.

You open your mouth and turn to Argis, but he gives you a sharp nod, already on the same page.

“I’m going in to scout it out,” the Bulwark says, shrugging off his heavy pack, stuffed with supplies and topped with a bedroll, leaving it by your side. You do the same with your pack, which is also stuffed full but smaller than his, aware that you won’t want to be encumbered by it in the next few minutes. “Back me up if I need it,” Argis adds, drawing his bow and knocking an arrow to it in a movement you can’t help but feel is graceful, especially for a man as massive as he is.

“Aye,” you agree solemnly. Suddenly, struck by impulse, you reach up to him before he slips off, your hand brushing against his armored elbow. He starts at the contact, turning to you, and you realize you’ve surprised him on his blind side, where he can only make out faint shapes based on contrast in the light. “Be safe,” you say, just loud enough to be heard over the storm. He eases the tension on his bow, transferring both bow and arrow back into one hand with practiced ease. The next moment, he reaches out with his other hand, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers, lingering just a moment. Never one for unnecessary words, he silently turns back to the camp, letting his fingers fall from your face and knocking the arrow to his bow again.

You’re a little dumbstruck for a moment as he sets off, keeping his blind side close to the mountain walls. Affection from Argis is not terribly uncommon - he’s a man’s man by all accounts, but you know well enough how fond he is of you. But the look on his face - the tenderness - had nearly been enough to set your heart to aching.

You recollect yourself, peering back around the outcropping, barely able to follow the Bulwark’s receding figure through the whiteout. If you’re going to have his back, you realize, you had better follow him. The trails he has broken in the accumulating snow make it easy enough for you, and you summon some fire to your hands. Not only is it nice to have the heat on your frozen fingers, but a quick blast of flames from a near-invisible location will disrupt any plans of potential marauders and buy you some extra time to help the Bulwark.

But you and Argis circle the whole camp, with no signs of any life visible in the entire place. Upon nearly coming back to the outcropping you had started at, Argis sets his bow back to its place on his back and returns his arrow to his quiver, instead unsheathing his sword. He walks boldly into the center of the camp, roaring a battle cry at the top of his lungs.

“Is there none here who would defend this place from me?” He bellows. “Show yourself!”

But he receives no reply except the whistling of the wind.

To be safe, he approaches each lean-to, beating the furs with the flat side of the sword and prying open the front flaps. You follow him again as he goes, still not wanting to lose sight of him.

“Coward! Craven! Fight me for what is yours!” He challenges at each shelter, but there is nothing and nobody. Satisfied, he doubles back to you and sheathes his sword. He doesn’t have far to travel; at this point, you can’t be much more than 20 feet away from him, or you’ll lose him in the ever thickening whiteout.

“We’ll be safe here,” Argis shouts over the wind as he comes to stand beside you. You nod your agreeance, not sure you would be able to say anything the Bulwark could hear over the increasing storm. “Let’s get you in the shelter.” One great hand rests on your waist, gently turning you around to backtrack through the path you had cut through the snow earlier. With a degree of alarm, you realize that the snow has begun to come down so fiercely that even this path has begun to fill in. Argis walks beside you, cutting a new path as he guides you along back to the big lean-to. You’re relieved when you see the place, and even more grateful to see that the overhang is keeping some of the snow from accumulating around it, as you had suspected it might.

“I’ll go get our packs,” Argis shouts again. Fear clamps around your heart, though, and you grab him quickly by the shoulder, pulling him down towards you so he can hear you.

“How will you find your way back here?” You shout, immediately frustrated that your voice doesn’t carry the same way he does. He hears you, though, and smiles.

“I grew up in the Reach,” he reminds you. “I had to learn how to navigate in storms like this. How to count my steps and my turns. But if it makes you feel better, make a big fire for me to find, and I’ll be back faster.” You glance at the firepit adjacent to the lean-to - yes, that’ll work, you think. By the time you’ve turned back to Argis, though, he is already trudging away through the deepening snow.

You set to work immediately, casting the brightest magical flames you can conjure, stoking the flames higher and higher. There’s enough of a woodpile left in the fire pit to burn brightly, the magical fire making short work of any wetness that had soaked into the lumber. You only stop when the heat becomes so searing that you’re not sure you can stand near it any more; the snow in a wide radius all around it has begun to melt away, as well, which you figure is good for keeping your camp from getting buried.

It feels like an eternity that you’re waiting by the fire you’ve conjured, watching the bright colors dance back and forth, hoping they can cut through the whiteout enough to help Argis. You remind yourself of what he said - he’d grown up here. He knew about how to navigate in a blizzard, how to see the tiniest remnant of a path, how to count his steps and how far he’d turned without getting confused. No Reachman who wasn’t well-versed in these things would last long outside the city gates of Markarth. But all the same, you feel an immense amount of relief when he appears again, shouldering his bigger pack and your smaller one. He’s moving at a plodding pace through the deep snow, nearly hip-deep in places, obviously fatigued. When he is close enough, you move to help him with the load he carries, and he gratefully swings your pack down to your waiting arms. You follow him into the lean-to, immediately impressed by the thing’s construction. There is wood under all the heavy furs, as you had suspected, and virtually none of the wind makes its way into the structure.

“By the Nine, it’s brutal out there,” Argis pants, unceremoniously dropping his heavy pack on the ground and plopping himself down, knees bent in to his chest, next to it. You drop your pack and move to his side.

“Are you okay?” You ask, glad to be able to talk at a normal volume instead of shouting over the wind.

“Yeah,” Argis grunts. “Just tired.” You reach out to touch his immense, armored shoulder, and let a little bit of a healing spell flow into him - not enough to tire you, but enough to help him recover his energy. He closes his eyes and drops his head back, exposing his thickly muscled throat, the large Adam’s apple, the beard stubble under his chin where the beard ends -

“That feels good,” he murmurs appreciatively. You let your magic infuse him for a few moments longer, and pull both your hand and your eyes away when he opens his eyes and smiles at you. You summon up the courage to look back at him and smile back, knowing that to be thanks enough between the two of you.

“Let’s get the bed rolls set out,” Argis suggests, raking one hand through his thick golden hair, now matted down with the melting of the snowflakes that had accumulated on him.

“Aye,” you agree, moving to open your bedroll, but he gently shoos you away from the entrance of the lean-to and towards the back of the structure with a gentle pressure of his hand on the small of your back.

“I sleep by the opening,” he reminds you. Despite his fatigue, a light comes to his good eye as he teases, “I swore an oath to protect you. We’ve been through this before.”

“I thought it wouldn’t matter if the place was empty,” you quip at him with a smile, pleased to see that he wasn’t so exhausted as to lose his sense of humor.

“Can never be too safe,” he answers, and though he tries to sound light-hearted, you know for him it’s the most serious matter in the world. You hum in response, pulling your bedroll out of its tightly-rolled Horker skin covering, pleased to find it dry, but chilly, underneath. You spread it out on the ground; beside you, Argis is doing the same with his.

“Argis?” You call to the man.

“Aye?” He answers quickly, raising his head from his work.

“You were right, earlier. When you kept me from trying to push on in this to make it home. I’m sorry for being foolish about it,” you finish.

“Lass,” he murmurs, a soft expression upon his face. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. If we were in Whiterun Hold, or anywhere in the South of Skyrim, you would’ve been right to push on. The blizzards here in the Reach are different.”

“I’ve never seen a storm as bad as this,” you agree. “The snow must be coming down a couple feet an hour, at least, never mind the drifts that are growing, and I could barely see you at twenty paces.”

“Aye, Reach blizzards build quickly and are unrelenting. They take many travelers unaware,” Argis agrees, finishing spreading out his bedroll.

“Well, thank you for knowing these lands better, and for making sure to keep us safe. The Divines blessed me the day we met, Argis,” you say honestly, finishing with your bedroll, pulling your rucksack to you, and beginning to rummage through it.

“Not as much as they blessed me,” he murmurs, and when you look up at him, the expression on his face is unreadable. You give him a small smile and return to your rucksack, triumphantly pulling out a slab of very frozen venison packed in enchanted paper, some root vegetables in a small burlap sack, and a little bit of cheese and bread. “Looks like a pretty good spread for tonight,” Argis notes, procuring a small pan from his rucksack and gathering your ingredients up.

“Aye,” you agree, continuing to root around in your bag.

“We probably don’t need much else,” the Bulwark offers, but you’ve already found what you wanted buried at the bottom of the sack.

“Here - we - are,” you grunt, pulling it out laboriously until it sits before you - prize of all prizes - an oversized bottle of beautiful, golden Honningbrew mead.

“I can’t believe you packed that,” Argis laughs, shaking his head at you in disbelief.

“But I’m sure you’re glad to see it, all the same,” you laugh back. The big Nord lets out a deep belly laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners, before admitting,

“Aye, I can’t argue with that.”

As you finish your dinner, you can’t help but think to yourself that you and Argis together are formidable - not just on the battlefield, but also in the kitchen. Or around the firepit, as the case had been tonight. In fact, you were hard-pressed to find a time on the road when the two of you hadn’t managed to take whatever scraps were in your bags and conjure up something delicious out of them.

“That was good,” Argis shouts, echoing your thoughts. His voice manages to carry over the wind, which, against all odds, has again managed to pick up even further. You’ve had to set up a ward to keep the worst of it from freezing the both of you, but even the ward can’t keep all of the chill away. You smile and nod at the Bulwark, picking up the large bottle of Honningbrew mead you’d stuffed in what little snow was left by the fire. Uncorking it, you take a swig; the alcohol burns on its way down, and a warmth settles in your belly. After one more swig, you nudge Argis' arm with the bottle. Honningbrew isn't his favorite, you know. He likes that darker Black-Briar stuff. But you're a fan of the sweeter taste, and Argis has never been one to protest, especially when you’re willing to carry a surprise bottle in your rucksack and share it with him. Mead is mead is mead to him.

He takes the bottle from you, his fingers brushing yours again before closing over the neck of the bottle. His touch is surprisingly gentle for such a big man; you can’t be sure, since the fire already has your face heated up so much, but you think you might be blushing. You resist the urge to duck your head, instead reaching up to Argis’ shoulder and pulling him down so you can talk closer to his ear and be heard. There is no way you can shout over this storm now.

“You don’t happen to have any more of those sweetrolls from the other day, do you?” You ask. Argis turns towards you, his face apologetic as he shakes his head no.

“Just the meat and mead for us tonight,” he murmurs into your ear. Pulling away, he takes another deep swig of the Honningbrew mead before handing it back to you. You share the rest of the bottle in a companionable silence, listening to the howling of the wind and tasting each other’s lips on the bottle.

By the time you're crawling back into your bed rolls, you’re both quite drunk and very relaxed. Sleeping tonight should really be no problem, you muse. Still, for a little more peace of mind, you cast a couple quick lightning runes outside the tent - just far enough away to alert you if anyone were to approach. You take down the ward you’d left by the fire, setting up another one outside your shelter for the night.

Back inside the lean-to, the wind is blessedly absent, though the air is still bitingly cold.

“Do you mind if I conjure a little smokeless fire in here?” You ask Argis. The Bulwark, in the middle of unclasping the greaves that cover his shins, frowns, pursing his lips.

“Go ahead,” he says, a trace reluctantly. You know his Nord upbringing has made him naturally mistrusting of all magic, and that mistrust is still not entirely gone, despite his fondness for you and admiration for what you could accomplish with it on the battlefield. “But…please make sure it’s the smokeless kind. I don’t want to suffocate.”

“And I don’t want to freeze,” you laugh, waving your hand. A soft, blue flame sputters to life in mid-air between the two of you and, though it veritably produces no smoke, its heat still permeates the tent. You mentally thank Farengar Secret-Fire for creating this nifty little spell and for deigning to teach it to you; his work was honestly that of pure ingenuity. A condescending little snot though he may be, you admit to yourself.

Argis moves onto the cuisses that cover his mighty thighs, beginning a small pile of armor on the far side of the lean-to next to the rucksacks. You pull off your vambraces first, throwing them in the accumulating pile and starting in on your greaves next.

“Could you help me with these, when you get a chance?” Argis asks, and you turn your attention from your armor back to him. He’s pointing to the large pauldrons that sit on his shoulders, and you move closer to him obligingly.

“Of course,” you agree, your fingers setting to work fiddling with the straps and clasps that hold his heavy armor in place. You’ve done this many a night, by now, and you make short work of them, sliding both pauldrons off the Bulwark’s broad shoulders and moving to put them both in his armor pile. You help him with his cuirass next, until Argis is finally free of all armor, covered only by the light linen pants and shirt he wears underneath. You shift back to your bedroll, starting in on the cuisses over your thigh, eager to be free of the restrictive coverings as well.

“My turn to help you,” a gentle murmur comes from behind you, and a light brush of fingers at your neck lets you know that Argis is gathering your hair, moving it over your shoulder so it won’t get in the way and pulled.

“Thank you,” you reply, throwing your first cuisse into your pile.

A warm “mm,” is the only answer you get, and you smile to yourself; Argis is probably really rather drunk, having finished the majority of the oversized bottle quite quickly. The way he gets when he is drunk and tired is surprisingly adorable, you think; more like a teddy bear than the Bulwark you know him to be. You’re certain that relatively few people have ever seen him in this state.

Argis, too, knows how to make short work of your armor, and it’s not long before you’re freed of your pauldrons and cuirass, as well as the second cuisse you take off your own thigh. You sigh and stretch out, raising your arms overhead and arching your back. It feels great to be in just linens again, even if you are chillier in the slowly-warming air of the lean-to than you were with your armor on. Feeling bold, you lean back far enough in your stretch that you rest your head on the Bulwark’s shoulder behind you, smiling lazily up at him.

Argis is smiling back at you warmly - not an uncommon response to any of your antics. But, to your surprise, you feel his strong hands slide over your waist in a way that feels almost sensuous. He pulls you into his lap with ease, and you let out a quiet gasp. He pauses, his hands loosening their grip on you, his smile fading somewhat and concern that he had overstepped emerging in his eyes.

“I’m sorry -” he begins, but you cut him off, turning in the loose hold of his hands to face more towards him and hooking one arm over his shoulder. You slide your other hand up his chest, letting it rest on the large swell of his pectorals.

“You’re so warm,” you sigh, leaning into the Bulwark, a heady feeling stronger than the mead itself building in your brain.

“And by the Divines, you are cold,” he murmurs, that warm and soft smile spreading back across his face as his hands hold your waist more firmly once again. “How can you be so chilly with a fire right above you?”

“Only a Nord could ask how someone could be cold in the middle of a blizzard,” you tease back with a laugh, resting your head against his powerful shoulder and gazing up at him flirtatiously.

“Aye, very well,” Argis concedes, pulling you still closer to him, so that your breasts are pressing into his broad chest. When he speaks again, his deep voice is murmuring in your ear, the heat of his breath fluttering against your skin. “Then join me in my bedroll, and let this Nord keep you warm tonight.”

“Gladly,” you answer breathlessly. Argis lets out a quiet, low groan, one arm winding all the way around your waist now while the other reaches back for his bedroll, unfurling the covers. With ease, his powerful frame carries you close to him as he shifts back into the sheets. He lays down with you resting atop his broad frame, chest to chest, one arm still wound around your waist. With the other hand, he pulls the blankets of his bedroll over the top of the both of you, and moves beneath you, tucking them in on one side. You reach one hand up to his thick blond locks, threading your fingers through his hair and braids. Argis finishes tucking the sheets in on both sides and turns his attention back to you with another of those heart-achingly tender smiles. Gently, his thick fingers find their way into your hair, playing with the locks there. At the same time, the hand around your waist slides down, slow inch by inch, until it is resting on the outside of your hip. Still moving tortuously slowly, he slides his hand away from your hip, moving across your ass.

Hand still in his hair, you pull him in for a deep kiss. His lips are surprisingly soft and full, and you can feel the ridges of the scars that run over them as he kisses you. He’s yielding at first, moving his mouth gently against yours, the fine, trimmed hairs of his beard tickling your skin. Your head is buzzing and your whole body feels like every nerve is lit up. You’d always imagined a kiss with Argis to be rough, dominating - but this kiss, his soft lips, his hands in your hair, it’s romantic and sweet and just a little hungry, and it’s so much better than you could have ever hoped for.

“Oh, Argis,” you breathe against his lips. He lets out a deep moan; you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. After a long moment, he licks at your lips, asking entrance. You grant it to him, and he starts slow, exploring your mouth. But it’s not long before he’s battling your tongue, then winning, and he ravages your mouth in deep, hungry, passionate kisses.

The hand on your ass gives it a firm squeeze mid-kiss, and you feel a jolt of pleasure - of need - start in your core. You moan into Argis’ mouth, and he continues the hungry kiss for a long moment, pulling away slowly.

“Oh, little lady,” he growls against your lips. “You have no idea how badly I want you. How badly I’ve wanted you.”

“How long?” You breathe against his lips. You let your hand leave his hair, reaching instead for his beard and toying with the blond hairs on his chin.

“Truthfully?” He asks, and you nod. He lets out a bark of laughter, a wry smile spreading across his lips. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you.”

“Really?” You ask, a little surprised - he had hidden it well, always professional towards you in the early days, and warm and kind towards you as your companionship blossomed.

“Aye,” he confirms, unabashed. Then, watching you carefully, the smile fading from his face, he adds, “And you?”

This time, it’s your turn to let a wry smile cross your lips, as you remember how handsome - how gorgeous, really - you’d thought the big Nord was when you first met him.

“I’ve wanted you for a long time, too, big man,” you admit. The smile he gives you this time is no longer wry - he seems relieved to hear you speak those words, perhaps even genuinely happy. He pulls you back into another hungry kiss; you meet his lips with yours enthusiastically, and as he again ravages your mouth, you grab at the enormous swell of his biceps, almost as if to steady yourself. You run your fingers over the thick, bulging muscle, marveling at the size of it, how your hand doesn’t cover even half of the swell of it, how the portion you can feel ripples under your hand with power. As you explore his body, Argis squeezes your ass again, and yet again, you feel that primal jolt of pleasure. You let out a sound in response to his ministrations - a sound that is, to your ears, surprisingly needy and submissive.

This seems to trigger something in Argis, as he grabs you and maneuvers you off his broad chest, rolling so that his powerful frame now hovers above you, supported on his elbows and knees. You rest one hand on his broad shoulders, and let the hand that had been exploring his biceps move under his shirt to his chest. You run your fingers through the thick blond curls that cover his pectorals, then grope at the enormous muscles themselves, unable to keep from thinking how many times these muscles of his had saved your life. Tenderly, Argis presses another gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then works his way down your jawline and to your neck. You move your head to grant him more access, loving the way his full lips and bristly beard feel against your skin.

“Oh, little lady,” he moans, lips ghosting over your collarbone. Slowly, he lowers his hips down to rest partially atop you, some of his frame shifted to the side to keep from hurting you with his weight. As his hips come to rest atop yours, you feel the hard length of his manhood pressing into you, and you can’t help but note that your earlier name for him had been correct - he is a big man, both thick and long. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, and asks, “Is this okay for you?”

“More than okay,” you answer, grinding your hips up into his cock. He drops his head down into the crook of your neck again with a groan.

“I’m going to finally make you all mine tonight,” he rumbles, his lips against your skin.

“Please,” you breathe, grabbing at his heavily-muscled shoulders as he nips and sucks at your neck with renewed vigor. You slide your hand down from his pectorals, through his chest and body hair, to the ridges of his abdominal muscles, not yet daring to go too low - you want to enjoy feeling his body for a little longer first. You do, however, grind upwards into his manhood again, and feel him stiffen further against you. Argis grinds back down into you in response this time, and you moan to encourage him.

“And you want me to take you, don’t you, little lady?” He growls, continuing to grind into you. “You want your Housecarl to have his way with you.”

“I do,” you agree, sliding your hands just a little lower on his stomach.

"Then let’s get these clothes out of the way,” he suggests, grabbing the bottom hem of your linen shirt and starting to slide it up. You help him get yourself out of the garment, and while your hands make short work of your breast bindings underneath, Argis pulls his linen shirt off his frame. “By the Nine,” he groans when he sees your breasts laid bare before him, though you could say the same about his sculpted torso. He wastes no time, though, lowering his head to one breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple while one hand gropes and kneads at your other breast. You arch into his touch, desperate for more, but he pins you back down on the ground firmly. The hand that isn’t busy with your breast quickly gathers both your wrists up, pinning them above your head in a firm grip.

“Oh, Argis,” you moan, trying in vain to squirm against him for more pressure.

“You like the way I make you feel?” He asks, before doubling down on his assault on your nipple, flicking back and forth over it fast with his tongue.

“I do,” you agree.

“Good,” he murmurs, then pauses his ministrations to look up at you. “Because I’m going to fulfill your every desire tonight, lass. And when I’m done, you’ll know that no man can ever take care of you, as both your protector and lover, the way I can.” He moves to your other breast, first swirling it with his tongue, then flicking at it quickly.

“Argis,” you moan, halfheartedly wishing your hands were free so you could move his head down south a little- so he could put that tongue to use somewhere else.

“Promise me something,” he rumbles, this time without looking up at you.

“Anything,” you agree, all reservations gone. You’d give him just about anything right now.

“Promise me you’ll moan my name like that when you’re stuffed full with my cock,” he growls, pulling away from your nipple with a sharp scrape of his teeth.

Well. For someone who usually didn’t say anything that didn’t need to be said, he could certainly be a dirty talker in bed, you think to yourself.

The hand at your wrist releases you, and he moves to your waistband, pulling the linen pants and your undergarments down. You lift your hips obligingly, and soon, you lay completely bare before the Bulwark.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, letting his hands trail down your waist, over your hips, and over the tops of your thighs. The look he gives you is another of those heartbreakingly tender looks, and it occurs to you that Argis might not just want you - he might really love you, too.

The thought is gone a moment later as Argis maneuvers his own linen pants off himself, allowing his manhood to spring free. His cock bobs before you for a moment before flattening up against his belly.

“You’re huge,” you blurt, and it’s true - he’s so thick, you wonder if your hand would even be able to close around his base. Looking at him, the size difference between you, a Breton, and Argis, the largest Nord you’ve ever met, becomes more apparent than ever, and you wonder for a moment if he can even fit in you.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, reading the concern you struggle to conceal in your expression, leaning back over you. His thumb brushes your cheek gently. “I’ll make sure you’re ready for me. I promise I won’t hurt you. And if it does hurt, we’ll stop.” You reach up for Argis, your hand caressing his cheek in return. You have no doubt that he means what he says, and again, the thought that he might love you enters your mind. Staring up at him, the man who has served as your protector, who has carried you to safety, risked his life for you, and given you his unyielding friendship, you know you can trust him with everything and anything - including this.

“Okay,” you agree, and Argis smiles, pulling you in for another deep kiss. You reach up to his enormous body above you, feeling the thick cords of muscle rippling over his chest, once again running your hands through the soft blond curls of hair that cover his chest and belly.

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” you manage to tell him between open-mouthed kisses. He smiles against your lips.

“Oh. Thank you,” he mumbles, and you’re certain he almost sounds embarrassed, but still pleased. A moment later, his larger hand reaches for yours, and gently guides you just a little lower down his belly, until you are brushing against the tip of his manhood. He lets out a quiet hiss at the contact, and though he lets go of your hand, you know what it is he wants. You oblige, grabbing him at the base of his length - as you had suspected, your fingers don’t meet around him at his thickest part - and give a long pump up his shaft. When you slide back down his shaft, you take a moment to reach down to caress his balls, which are heavy and large in your palm.

You quickly return to pumping Argis up and down, and when you look away from his manhood, you see his eyes, heavily-lidded, watching you carefully. His hands are kneading your thighs, working further up them, until one hand reaches your core. He gently parts your folds, finding your clit and swirling his thumb around it. You moan and squirm under him, and he takes his other hand and pins you down at your hip, holding you in place. Continuing with the quick circles, he delves in between your folds with his fingers.

“Little lady,” he groans, “you’re so wet for me.”

“Of course,” you answer, your voice husky. “I want you so badly, Argis.”

“You’re going to have me,” the blond replies, slowly pressing one finger into you. Even his fingers are thick and long, and he takes a long moment, letting you adjust to the digit within you. Rather than begin to pump it in or out, however, he plays with the angle of it for a long moment, pressing against your front wall. It’s not long before he finds what he wants, and gently begins crooking his finger against the spot. Within moments, you’re seeing stars, the pleasure within you absolutely explosive.

“Oh, by the Nine, Argis,” you gasp, feeling the pressure against your hip intensify as the Bulwark has to work harder to hold you in place. “I - oh, Argis, that feels amazing.”

You get no response besides a low growl as Argis presses another finger into you, joining the first in its motion as his thumb keeps working away at your clit. The second finger begins to stretch you, and you try to grind into the feeling of fullness, forgetting about pumping Argis’ manhood for the moment. It’s not long before a third finger joins the first two; the sensation is almost painful, but you quickly adapt to it, spreading your legs just a bit more to accommodate Argis’ ministrations.

The pleasure is relentless, and you drop Argis’ manhood entirely to grasp at the pillow behind you with one hand and to grasp at Argis’ shoulders with the other. He watches you, seeing your pleasure build, and when you reach for the hand of his that rests on your hip, he obliges, taking your hand and holding it with a firm but gentle pressure. You hold to him tightly in return, grateful for the gentle point of connection between the two of you. Truthfully, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had sex good enough to make you cum like this, and you are feeling increasingly vulnerable before Argis, as he continues to stoke your pleasure relentlessly.

A stream of curses and cries of Argis’ name are falling from your lips, and the coil of pleasure is building ever more tightly within you. Finally, your orgasm breaks over you, slamming you in wave after wave of throbbing pleasure, and you tremble under Argis’ hands, crying his name one more time. He continues stroking you through it, eventually stilling his fingers within you, and slowly, the waves subside. In the end, you are left looking at the Bulwark, who is watching you like you’re the most gorgeous creature on Nirn.

“Fuck,” you breathe.

“Oh, little lady,” he groans, pulling his fingers out of you and smearing the fluids on them across his cock. “You’re so perfect.” He leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, the feeling of his beard scratching against your lips and his chest hair against your breasts electrifying. You pull him into you hungrily, and you feel him smirk against your lips. “Do you want more of me, lass?”

“Please,” you manage, feeling Argis lower himself so that his hips rest between your legs.

“I love the sound of you begging for me,” he growls, moving so that the tip of his manhood presses against your slick folds. “Begging for your Housecarl, your protector.”

“Please, Argis. Please take me,” you repeat, sliding one hand down his broad back to grasp at his firm ass and try to push him towards you. He obliges, one of his hands lowering to his manhood to guide himself as he presses into you. His tip slides in more easily than you would have expected, and he continues pressing into you, stretching you, with a low groan. He stills halfway in, waiting for you to accommodate him, but you’re already so wet, so desperate for him, that you want more. You move against him, trying to take him in further, and he chuckles, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Ready for me, are you?” He sounds pleased as he eases himself the rest of the way in. You feel, for a moment, like he could split you in two, he’s so large. But then he starts moving in small, gentle thrusts, and the way he presses against all your walls, fills you and stretches you, is unrivaled. Slowly, he works up to larger thrusts, pulling back to watch you carefully for any signs of pain, but you’re already seeing stars, sensitive and excited from your last orgasm. “Doing okay?” He grunts.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Take me how you want. However hard you want.”

Argis wastes no time in obeying your order, his hips slamming into you suddenly. He sets a grueling rhythm, ravaging you with such force and power it’s all you can do to hold onto his shoulders through it. You wrap your legs around his muscular waist, offering him the opportunity to plow more deeply into you, and he takes it, never once breaking his rhythm.

A breathy moan comes out of you, followed by Argis’ name. Argis lets out a loud groan of your name in response - and then one of his enormous hands is at your neck, choking you with a gentle pressure as he continues to pound you. You feel even more pleasure coil within you at this, at your submission to the muscle-bound man fucking you without mercy.

Argis doesn’t change positions - he doesn’t need to. It’s not long before you’re coming undone on his cock, screaming his name to the heavens and clenching his manhood between your walls so tightly you feel that your orgasm may never end. He holds his pace through the waves of pleasure, but as you begin to wind down, you feel his movements becoming erratic, his hips stuttering in a desperate bid for more pleasure.

“Oh, love,” he gasps. “I’m close - I -”

Argis comes with a wordless roar, not unlike the ones you��ve heard him loose in battle, his cock shooting cum deep into you as he loses his pace entirely. Even as he rides through his orgasm, you feel the hot strands of his cum leaking down the insides of your thighs, threatening to spill onto the bedroll beneath you. Finally, he has spent himself, and he collapses above you, letting go of your throat to support some of his weight on his elbows, his face again buried in the crook of your neck.

You reach up from his shoulders to stroke his thick blond hair soothingly. Had he called you love, just then? Did he really mean it, you wonder, or was it just a figure of speech he’d used in the heat of the moment?

But when Argis raises his head from your shoulder to look at you, you see again that tenderness and adoration in his face, and you suspect that he really had meant to call you his love.

“Are you okay?” He asks, shifting off you and onto one shoulder, pulling you with him so you’re tucked against his body.

“More than okay,” you answer earnestly. “That was amazing.” Argis chuckles in response.

“I’m glad it was as good for you as it was for me. Let me get you cleaned up.” He disappears from the bedroll for a moment, moving to his rucksack. You can’t help but watch his form as he moves - from his impossibly broad shoulders to his narrow hips and powerful thighs, you’re amazed by how gorgeous he really is. When Argis returns, it’s with a small piece of cloth, and he cleans you gently until you have no more of his hot cum leaking from within you. He wipes himself clean quicly, too, then throws the cloth to the side. You’re grateful when he returns to the bedroll, which has begun feeling chilly without him.

“The smokeless fire has gone out,” Argis mumbles into your hair as he draws you back into his chest, tucked beneath his chin. You nestle into him gratefully.

“Couldn’t keep enough focus through all of that,” you laugh. He laughs, too, but asks,

“Are you cold? Do you want to start it again?” You pull back in mock surprise, amazed that the Nord had volunteered to put up with your magical proclivities for once.

“Are you actually asking for me to use magic?” You tease with a smile, but flick your hand out from the bedsheets, starting the smokeless fire above you again.

“Only until you’re warm again,” he returns, pulling you back into the warmth of his chest again.

“Fair enough,” you laugh, one hand playing with the golden curls on his chest. “After all, I don’t know what Skyrim would do if the mighty Dovahkiin froze to death tonight.”

“I don’t know what I would do without you,” Argis murmurs, his voice a deep rumble in his chest, reverberating throughout your body. His strong arms tighten around you, gently, protectively, and you feel the soft brush of his lips against your forehead.

“Nor I without you,” you murmur back, tipping your head up and managing to reach his lips for a return kiss. He kisses you back for a moment, then hums contentedly, deep in his throat, and tucks you back down under his chin.

“The Divines have blessed me,” Argis sighs. “This life is a hard one, at times, but by the Nine, am I blessed.” You wrap your arms around his chest, feeling the slow, soothing beating of his heart in his chest, and though you have a thousand – a million – questions for him, you don’t know how to ask any of them. Maybe they shouldn’t be asked, just yet.

“I’m blessed, too,” you whisper to Argis, and you know he hears you by the way he holds you just a little tighter. And not long after, the comfort of each other’s arms and the mead and the heat of the fire conspire to overtake you both and send you both to sleep.

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