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livingemkayde · 10 months

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ch v. just you

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter five of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. smut, half porn half plot, unprotected p in v, oral, f!receiving, a little fingering, kinda dom!joel but hes sweet. rough sex and mentions of bruising. some verbal disagreements and fighting. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, talk of miscommunications. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: you confront joel about, well, everything. you talk it out in more ways than one.

a/n: i been waitin for this one. TURN IT UP. i hope you guys like this slow burn reward, im happy with how this chapter came out. enjoy this before all the drama lol. love you all smsmsmsm.

Joel cuts you off, dips his head lower, his tongue dips into your entrance and when you whine and moan he trails higher, tasting you and gently sucking until he reaches your clit. You bite your lip in favor of screaming, and you can barely hear Joel whisper, like he’s in awe— “I knew it,” as he takes another taste of the slick dripping out of your entrance. “I fuckin’ knew it.” “What?” “Knew you’d taste like heaven,” he says with a muffled groan, sinking his tongue back into your aching hole, his nose rubbing against your clit in a way that makes you shut your eyes so tight you see stars.

There are times you wish texting was never invented.

You like calling people — hearing their voice. The intonations of their words, knowing exactly what they’re thinking.

But there are other times, you thank the lord for creating the form of communication — because you have no idea what to say to Joel.

You stare down at your phone. The text’s words float through your mind. Trying to desperately figure out what to say.

Your thumbs fiddle with each other, you bite your lip as you try and concentrate on a suitable text. Joel’s contact name just stares back at you, unmoving.

You: going to the store on my own, i don’t need your—

You delete that text quickly as you start making a pot of coffee.

You: i don’t think we should go together—

You delete that one too.

You run a hand over your forehead, swiping through your phone to get to Tommy’s text.

You slump against your kitchen counter when you realize you don’t know what to say to either Millers. You look out the window, it’s a nice day out, the sun shining through the early morning dew. The spot in front of your house stares back at you. The spot where Tommy was parked in last night. Where he had cut you off after his question, and begged you to consider it.

“Just think ‘bout it before you say no.”

And when you hadn’t said anything—

“Please?”

So you nodded, and you’re not sure why, but tears threatened to spill from your eyes, leaving the truck in disarray and falling asleep in much the same manner.

When you woke up this morning, you hoped it had been a dream — his big brown eyes had never looked that desperate, and you know you fucked up by telling him you’ll think about it — when all you can think about is his brother.

You stare back at Tommy’s messages and type in your own.

You: can we talk in person?

You look at the words for a long time, before hitting send. You needed to clear the air as quickly as possible.

You open Joel’s texts. The last couple ones just revolve around Sarah, pick up times, and what the plans were for dinner.

But the very last one, from last night — looks particularly menacing. Like it might grow wings and fangs and jump out of your phone.

Joel M: Get home okay?

You sigh, ignoring his text and typing out your own.

You: i think i’m gonna go shopping on my own soon. be by to drop off the stuff later

Whatever — you think to yourself before hitting send.

You don’t even know what month it is.

You hadn’t realized the calendars flicked to July, until you walked through the Party City and all the decorations you can find are red, white, and blue. The aisles are crowded, everyone getting last minute party favors and decorations in prep for Monday’s holiday.

You find the birthday section, rifling through to get streamers, string lights, balloons, and banners. You smile to yourself when you find a small toy horse from that show Sarah likes.

You put the toy into the basket.

The market is next, you haul ass to get as many two liters of soda you can carry, chips, and different snacks for the party. Tommy had managed to get a decent turn out from his RSVP (which was just a phone call asking if they could come) and you want to make sure there’s enough food for everyone.

Your name being shouted from down the aisle snaps you out of your thoughts. It’s Janet Baker, one of the moms from Sarah’s soccer camp, she strides towards you pushing a cart full of hot dogs and buns. You distinctly remember seeing her at one of Sarah’s games. The one where Joel and Tommy both showed up, you, slotted to sit between them.

“Hey, you!” she says, pulling you into an unexpected hug.

“Oh! Hi, Mrs. Baker,” you reply shyly with a chuckle, her cart is abandoned when she gets a peek into yours.

“Now, I told you to call me Janet, don’t be makin’ me feel old with all this ‘Mrs’ crap,” she chides, you smile, not really knowing what to say.

“Sorry, Janet,” you say with a chuckle.

“What are you shoppin’ for missy? Fourth of July party?”

“Oh — uh —” you look down to your cart, “actually, Tommy’s birthday is tomorrow.”

“...Tommy…?” she says, while looking up towards the sky.

“Oh my god, sorry — Tommy Miller, Sarah’s uncle?” you say, trying to get it to ring a bell. She thinks for a long time, you’re about to say it’s not important but she cuts you off—

“That’s right! We met at that game last weekend,” she says, nodding her head, remembering the encounter.

You remember that game. It was before all of these new — situations — with Joel.

Sarah had come up to the three of you before the game started, a friend in tow. You were introduced to one of Sarah’s close accomplices, Katie.

“Are you Mrs. Miller?” Katie had said, looking between you and Joel hesitantly. Your cheeks felt hot.

Joel stifled an awkward laugh beside you. Tommy was quiet.

“Oh, no, kiddo — ’M just Sarah’s nanny.”

Tommy was silent the rest of the game. You don’t remember much after that.

But you remember Janet, giving you a couple friendly smiles, when you introduced her to Tommy after the game had ended. The same smile she gives back to you right now.

“Yeah, just getting some decorations and food,” you say, pointing down towards your cart.

“Well, aren’t you a sweet thing for throwin’ him a party.”

“I appreciate that, Janet. Why don’t you and your daughter come tomorrow, she can play with Sarah?”

“Oh, how nice of you to invite us. I sure hope Tommy’s okay with it,” she laughs.

“He will be,” you say back, trying to match her enthused demeanor. Her bright eyes and almost obnoxious laugh make you chuckle to yourself a bit.

She’s suddenly close to you, dipping into your personal space to whisper slyly so that no one else can hear her ask—

“Y’all aren’t datin’, right?”

Your eyes widen. This woman’s timing is fucking impeccable, you’ll give her that.

“No! Oh no, no, I’m just — I’m Sarah’s—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. Sarah’s babysitter. But between you and me, sweetie —” she leans even lower, her hand coming to the side of her mouth like she’s telling you a secret. “ — even though you’re Sarah’s babysitter, all us moms think you look mighty nice next to Joel.”

You don’t even know what to say, Janet’s eyebrow sticking up like she’s hinting at something. Jesus, it’s like she’s had a private viewing of your life this past week and she’s taking the footage and taunting you with it.

“M-me? With…?”

“Joel. Yes, doll—” she says, like now it’s her turn to get you to remember one of the Miller brothers, “—we see the way he looks at you.”

“No — I think you might be mistaken, Janet—”

“Don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll see it soon too.”

Joel’s door stares back at you.

You have all the bags in your hands, the plastic of the handle turns your fingertips white from the pressure of the two liters pulling it down, but you can’t bring yourself to knock.

Not until you hear some movement from inside — not wanting him to catch you waiting outside his door like a creep. You kick the door a little with your shoe in place of freeing a hand to knock.

Joel opens the door, his eyes widening at your state.

“Jesus, what are you—” he cuts himself off with his movements, bending down to take the bags from your hands, though you protest.

“I got it, Joel, just—”

He takes the bags from you anyways.

“Should’ve called me,” he mumbles while turning towards the kitchen counter, leaving you in the doorway sans the six bags you struggled to pick up all on your own.

“Sorry. I —”

You don’t really know what you’re apologizing for.

“Thanks,” you say when he puts the bags on the table and begins to unpack them. You move to help him, opening up the fridge for some of the food.

“What’s this?” he says, pulling out the toy horse for Sarah.

“Oh. It's for Sarah. ‘S the horse from that show she likes.”

He stares at you for a long time, before looking down towards the toy in his hand.

“You got this for her?”

“Yeah,” you say, confused as to why he seems surprised you got her a toy.

“She’ll like that. Thanks,” he says, setting the toy on the dinner table and rifling through more stuff until it’s just decorations left in the bags.

“She’s at her sleepover?” you ask, looking around the living room at any signs of life.

“Mhm,” Joel replies from the kitchen.

You wait in silence for a while, unsure of how to proceed. Normally you would probably just ask him if he wants to set up some decorations but this is far from normal.

“You wanted to go without me?” he asks, when you stop walking around and stand in front of him.

“I just didn’t want it to get too late, since Sarah was here…sorry” you say. You try to keep the hurt out of your voice.

“‘S fine, I…wanted to—” he shakes his head, organizing his thoughts before changing the subject. It sort of surprises you — but it seems like this has been on his mind all day. “You didn’t answer my text. Had to call Tommy last night.”

“Oh.”

Shit.

He sounds so fucking worried it almost makes you sick.

“‘M sorry. It was a—long night.”

“You got back okay? No issues?”

Yeah. No fucking issues except your brother asked me out.

You think you should say something. Not like Joel has the right to know, but it’s the right thing to do in your eyes regardless.

“Did Tommy tell you…?”

“Did Tommy tell me what?”

Fuck.

“He—uh—um,” his eyebrow lifts at your words, you can barely get the sentence out, your pulse thrumming with each second you stall with stuttering.

“He asked me out. Last night.”

Joel looks at you. It might be the first time you’ve ever seen that look in his eye. Like he’s the embodiment of disappointment. Like he doesn’t know what to do with his face, let alone his hands, his body.

The warm sunlight peeking in through the window starts making you sweat the longer he stands looking at you. When he finally speaks you can barely hear him — the drawl you love so much, quiet and blanketed under an emotion you can’t place.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah.”

He nods like he’s trying to collect his thoughts. Though, it only makes you more scared from the uncertainty of his words and actions. But surprisingly he doesn’t act out at all, he just gives you an emotionless face and words that seem harmless, but cut through your skin.

“Oh. Happy f’you two.”

“No—I—”

“Nah—’s…’s good.”

“Stop, Joel—”

He stops. But you’re not entirely sure he’s listening very clearly.

“I didn’t say yes. He told me to…think about it.”

“And?”

“And I wanted to talk to you.”

“About?”

“Jesus, Joel,” you say, exasperated. Your hand comes up to your forehead. “About last night? About…?”

Everything. You want to say. But fall short.

“What about last night?”

God, was this all in your head? It certainly didn’t feel like that at the bar. Nor on the front porch when he almost kissed you, or on the phone that same fatal night.

“Joel,” you plead with him, your voice breaking a bit. He breaks your eye contact when you say his name, almost like it hurts him to hear you say it. This game you two are playing right now is fucking ridiculous, an old tired version of the one from last night, in front of the bar.

“There’s nothing to talk—”

“Don’t do that. You can’t just fucking—” you almost laugh.

Who the hell is this guy in front of you? You continue, even through your ragged breaths and tears that now stain your cheeks.

“You can’t. Don’t—”

“He’s my brother.”

“So? I knew you before any of this—”

“He’s my brother.”

His loud voice cuts off any thoughts you had forming. You wait for a while, trying to understand what he means by that — maybe this is some petty competition they have going and Joel feels like he’s losing. You don’t know what to think of their dynamic anymore.

“I can’t just ignore it,” you say. You hate how your voice sounds so small. “I didn’t want it like this,” you say, more tears falling, you try to wipe them away quickly, embarrassed to cry in front of him.

“You think I do?” his rhetorical question lingers in the air when you don’t respond. “That fuckin’ day you met Tommy, he—” Joel can’t even look at you anymore.

“He asked me if I — liked you — or whatever, ‘n I said no. You and I were done. We had just decided it was over.”

“So you’re just gonna throw this away because he called dibs?”

“I ain’t throwin’ anythin’ away—” he shakes his head. “I don’t wanna throw this away.”

“Right. Like last night?”

“So this is about Caroline? I told you that I don’t like her — it was a fuckin’ set up.”

“This is not about Caroline,” you could almost laugh.

He gives you a knowing look. You both know this is definitely not about Caroline.

“‘M sorry. About last night, ‘bout everythin’, but you left,” Joel says, “You wanted to leave. I—I wasn’t gonna stop you.”

“I thought you were gonna come with me.”

That shuts him up. He looks at you with a slack jaw, like he was going to say something already braced on his tongue but at your response, he became speechless. Like your sentence smacked the words out of his own mouth.

“I wanted you to come with me,” you say, softer this time. “And then you—fucking—left me and got Tommy.”

“Tommy was—”

“I didn’t want Tommy. I don’t want Tommy.” you say, your voice breaking more with each confession. “But you wanted to hand me off to him—”

“C’mon. ‘F course that’s not what I wanted. You know that.”

“Then what? Because this isn’t a game to me, Joel.”

“‘S not a game,” he forces out, like he’s tired of playing too. “It was never a game.”

You stay silent, taken back by his words. You can tell his head is spinning, not really sure of what to say or rather, how to articulate his feelings.

“This is — you’re fucking…Jesus, I don’t know,” he starts, but begins to pace around the room, unable to finish.

You stay silent, watching him walk around slowly until he’s rooted right in front of you, closer than before.

“‘S a mess. Tommy is — you’re gonna break his heart because this is —”

You raise your eyebrows, pleading with him to continue, to finally say what he’s been thinking about since you two met at the bar.

“This is real. You’re real.”

Your heartbeat bangs in your ears, he’s closer than before. You don’t remember when he got so close. Close enough that when he talks after an unbearable silence, you can feel his breath on your nose.

“But you don’t know. You don’t see — any of it.”

“I see you, I —” you can’t get much out because your breath hitches. Big brown eyes stare back into yours. “Help me — show me,” you hiccup out while his hot breath catches your eyelashes.

His hand reaches down, like last night, pulling you closer, this time, you let him. His fingers sprawl out across your cheeks, feeling your neck, his big brown eyes pulling you in. He's a bit more breathless than you if that’s even possible. You keep blinking like you’re scared it might be a dream.

You look up at him. For the first time in a while your gaze isn’t cut short by wandering eyes or loud interrupting voices.

He dips down, his lips just barely touching yours, letting you make the final move towards him, kissing him, tasting him. It might be silly, but you remember his taste from all the weeks before. It feels like yesterday when he moans a bit in your mouth, and your hands fly to his chest to steady your shaky knees.

He breaks away first, you’re both panting into each other, like you’ve just surfaced from being underwater for so long — maybe you have been.

But he doesn’t say anything, only takes your hand in his and with a couple panting sighs, pulls you towards the stairs, towards his bedroom. He looks at you with a silent question etched on his face.

You nod before you know what’s happening, and he’s whisking you off into his room. You’ve never been in his room before, upstairs, sure, to help Sarah with things. But his room was unspokenly off limits. It smells like him, and as the tears reside and the genuine want rushes over you, it seems like he’s one step ahead of you, closing the door, and guiding you back towards the bed.

He’s kissing you, it’s sloppy but calculated at the same time. So much pent up frustrations and wandering eyes seemed to break at the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands running up and down your body.

You’re moaning and whimpering into his mouth, almost desperate despite always trying to remain stoic. But who are you kidding, it’s Joel.

“Please,” you bite when his mouth trails kisses down your neck and even more so when he slips your top off, catching your nipple in his hot mouth.

“Joel,” you whine again, when all he does is hum against your sensitive bud.

“Baby,” he says, and you notice the drawl is back. Like it never left, rich and honeyed — matching what you imagine every night before bed — hell — every waking moment.

You’re naked before you muster the brain power to notice him taking your clothes off. He doesn’t bother with his clothes, almost like he’s too eager to see you, forgetting about himself. You claw at his flannel but he pushes your hands back and over your head, rending your arms useless.

His other hand reaches down, finding your aching cunt dripping onto the gray bed sheets and he genuinely groans at the feeling. Brooding Joel Miller reduced to a moaning mess at the feeling of you wet and hot for him. The thought drives you up the walls a bit.

“Fuckin’ wet, so fuckin’ wet, sweetheart,” he grumbles more to himself than to you.

He runs his fingers over your outer lips while mouthing at your neck — you whimper and squirm under his grasp but his hand just holds yours harder. It might — no, it definitely will leave bruises on your wrists the next morning, but you could care less. The biting pain of it shoots right down to that white hot burn in your lower stomach.

“Quit movin’,” he says while beginning to trail down, almost like a warning for when he releases your wrists and settles in between your legs. He pants hot breath onto your swollen folds and despite his warning, you squirm underneath him. Joel seems a bit too desperate to tell you to stop or punish you otherwise.

When his lips place a hesitant kiss to your clit you almost scream, forcing his head in between your thighs and when he stops, you realize you might be squeezing him too tight. You sit up a bit, releasing your thighs when he stops and looks up at you.

“‘M sorry — shit — I — no one’s ever…I’m sorry, Joel—”

“‘M fine, lay back down.”

You do lay back down, but you're hesitant.

“No one ever do this to you, baby?” he asks, smiling up at you from between your legs, your face feels hot and you hide a shy smile. He mouths at your thighs and places a few gentle kisses to your folds.

“No, I — I guess not.”

“It feel good?”

“Good? Joel it feels fucking—”

“I knew it,” as he takes another taste of the slick dripping out of your entrance. “I fuckin’ knew it.”

“What?”

“Knew you’d taste like heaven,” he says with a muffled groan, sinking his tongue back into your aching hole, his nose rubbing against your clit in a way that makes you shut your eyes so tight you see stars.

His mouth feels like a shot. Your grip in his hair, more like the chaser, grounding you back to the bed, his bed. In his room. The bite of him seeping through every corner of your body, his flat tongue pulling your fast approaching orgasm out of you so quickly you forget your name.

“Joel, I—”

You shut up because you think he knows, his hum against you sending vibrations through your clit, his wide palms coming up to grasp at your thighs until the spasms from your orgasm cease.

He keeps going even after you come down from your high, mouthing at your entrance which seems to get even wetter after you come. He snakes back up to kiss you, you moan into his mouth at the taste of your own slick all over his lips.

The feeling of his clothed length pressed into your all too sensitive cunt makes the wanting need spark back up, like he’s blowing hot air onto a fire starter, and it just ignited.

“Need you,” you moan into his lips as he kisses you, his hands coming to grab your breasts, he’s everywhere, and you need more. And you need it now.

He pulls back at your words, a darker look on his face. You remember this look from the bathroom, when he asked you to beg for his cock, his name, and to cum inside your hot cunt.

“I — I don’t think I can be gentle, baby — I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Please, want it rough,” you tell him, looking back into his brown eyes, almost pleading.

I just need you.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he says with your final words, your permission. Joel suddenly hauls you up towards the head of the bed so you’re resting against his pillows. He shucks off his flannel and t-shirt, undoing the belt buckle of his pants in such a timely manner, if you weren’t watching him intently you might’ve missed it.

He’s kissing you, rubbing his cock through the slick of your folds, you remember the punch of his girth and how the length of his cock almost kissed your cervix, and you don’t know if you’ll ever be prepared for that feeling, especially now, when you’re pent up, and tense and you just need him.

“God, feel fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he says, running the tip of his cock through your folds, when it hits your clit you buck up against him, but he falters.

“Easy.”

His voice, his drawl, a bit darker, but you’re not scared. Like he said before, he can’t go easy, he can’t be gentle. You don’t want him to, anyway.

But what surprises you is when the tip of his cock comes to fit snug against your entrance, he falters. Almost like he’s asking the final permission, in a dark drawl that might almost sound whiny if he wasn’t so brooding—

“Can I? Please?”

“Yes. Joel, yes, please — ngh —” he cuts you off, sinking into your heat with a tight thrust, you’re surprised at the stretch of his length, it’s like he barely fits.

“What…Jesus — you —?”

“Didn’t touch myself much,” you admit, knowing what he’s saying; How are you so fucking tight?

“Was trying not to think — ngh — about you.”

Your face feels a bit hot when you remember your phone call half a week ago. It was one of the first times following the night at the bar you touched yourself, and there was definitely no time to see anyone in the last couple weeks.

Joel can evidently feel that too, groaning when he sinks in to the hilt, his breath punching somewhere near your ear, his hand bruising your waist with the force that he grips you with.

“You gotta relax, baby, I —”

“Please just — move, Joel,” he laughs a bit at your neediness, but it’s cut off with a groan as he moves, retreating a fraction of an inch before pushing back in, rending your breathless, boneless.

He picks up his pace when you start to relax around him, mold to him, like he’s the only one who will ever fit inside you. His groans and grunts are no match to mask your whimpers, his praises ring through your head, you feel weightless.

“Fuckin’ perfect, angel,” he groans, you claw at his back, probably leaving scratch marks but you’re too fucked out to care. “Just like I remembered.”

It feels like old times. Before all this mess, before the incident in the car, on the porch, outside the bar. Before Tommy, or Caroline, or Janet fucking Baker. Before everything. Before all the laters and everything unsaid. Like old times. Like he’s saying Hi for the first time and not Goodbye like he has been for the last week.

His grip on your waist tightens if possible — so much for wearing a bikini tomorrow at the party. The bite of his fingers almost snap you out of it, but he feels so good, teetering you right on the edge of painful as he spears into you with no remorse. It’s like he can’t help himself, and he probably can’t considering all the blue balls over the last few weeks.

For some reason that spurs you on further, your orgasm quickly approaches with each stab of his fingertips digging into you, his hot breath near your face, and the feeling of coarse hair nudging at your clit just right.

“J-Joel,” you moan, but you don’t think you have to tell him you’re close. You know he can feel it.

“Missed you so much – fuck, baby,” he groans, placing hot kisses on your neck, “Needed you. Needed this.”

“Joel—” it’s already braced on your lips, you both know it. An unspoken ritual that feels way too possessive for either of your own good — but you say it anyways and he groans all the same.

“Can I cum? Joel, please?”

You don’t really hear much aside from his small yes and your vision blinks white as you moan out long and deep into his ear. He fucks you through it, grunting out praises when he feels you get impossibly tight around him.

It might even be too much but you don’t care.

You wait for him, your aftershocks sending him closer to his own release as his hips stutter and he gets out one last demand that sends him over the edge.

“Say it’s me — sweetheart. Please,” he groans, almost begging. Like it’s the last thing that will push him towards bliss.

“‘S you, Joel — it’s-’s always been you,” you comply and feel him groan and shudder when his orgasm rolls through him. You can feel the hot stickiness of it roll through you, and he holds himself up to whisper one last thing to you before you both slump onto the bed and fall asleep.

“Tell him no. Tell him — just — just be with me.”

You nod, panting, he finally falls into the crook of your neck and you welcome it graciously, pulling at his curls until you fall asleep.

“Okay,” you whisper.

chapter vi. bruises

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88

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georgiapeach30513 · 1 year

Text

Closer to Heaven and Closer to You, Part 11

Summary: Now presenting, Mr. And Mrs. Ransom Drysdale

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, creampie, Frank Adler, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.5K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Okay, and when is the bed coming in?” You turn around to Ransom holding onto the corgi puppy, giving her a little kiss to her snout. “Ransom, did you hear anything I said, handsome?”

“I did. The bed will be her in two days. The wedding is in five days. Grandpa’s stuff has been delivered, and we've got someone that is going to help put this room in order because I do not want you to be lifting anything. Gucci is going to the trainers starting tomorrow, and Bucky promised that he would continue to take her to school while we are away. Just me, my wife, and our little bean in your belly. Buns, you have got everything in order. Please, just breathe. It is quite alright. Your dress is at your parents.”

“And our home…Ran, this is our home. And this is our first baby, and we’ve got one in here,” grabbing at his hand you place it on your belly, thinking about how far the two of you had come. You could never imagine this Ransom that was in front of you. Primed and ready to become a home owner, father, and dog father of course.

The first moment you met him wasn’t the most spectacular of meetings. He was pompous and arrogant. But you learned quickly that Ransom was needing the same thing you were; to love and be loved. He had far surpassed your expectations for him or even your thoughts on a future husband. He was the most patient man you had ever met (with you). But the most important thing was he wanted to share a life with you.

Ransom was willing to make these huge changes in his life for you. And shockingly he was adjusting to this life easily. And Ransom now had a friend in Bucky. Had schemed this whole house and proposal with Bucky. And your old rodeo friend was letting Ransom help pick out the livestock. Even if he did laugh at your Gucci girl, despite you telling him she was a herding dog.

“Ran,” you smile at the most handsome and amazing man you have ever met in your life. “You did this. Thank you.”

“No, no. We did this. I’ve never wanted a home of my own. Yes, I had my place, but it was a house. This is our home. Our little Gucci girl is going to chase this little nugget around, and…”

“Ransom.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to name him or her after you. I love your name and how it’s a homage to Harlan. I want our nugget, be she or he, to be named after Ransom Drysdale.”

“Well, for the nugget’s sake, I hope that it’s a boy. Could you imagine a girl with that as her middle name?” Starting to giggle you nod your head. Smiling so big as you look at him. “You would prefer a girl, and her middle name be Ransom, huh?”

“Yes! It’s the cutest little thing. I just imagine this little angel baby with her herd of corgis following her around. She thinks that it’s her job to keep up with them, when in fact they’re making sure that she stays safe. And she’s got the prettiest dainty first name, but her middle name is so strong like her daddy’s. And she will be our baby Ransom.”

“It is kinda cute to think of this sweet baby girl that hopefully looks and acts like you with the name Ransom. C’mere,” his free hand pulls you into him and Gucci, and she gives her sweet little barks that weren’t so sweet in the mornings. “Now that you’ve convinced me, if we have a boy, his middle name can’t be Ransom.”

“Are you two always hugged up against each other?” Looking behind you, Bucky leans up against the doorframe, whistling as he sees the master suite. “I don’t know if this room is big enough. So the cattle will be here a few weeks after you guys get back, so there’s not much more to do for me, but to look after the baked potato. Ran, you don’t have to carry that thing around everywhere. Put her down. Gucci, you think you’re going to be able to handle watching after a Drysdale?”

She barks her tiny bark, waddling over to Bucky who squats down with her, noting how she really was a cute dog. Petting on her fluffy fur. “Steve said to tell you thanks for the invite.”

“I’ve never hated Steve. Never even hated Frank,” Bucky gives you a grimace, but it was true. There were times you were so angry at Frank, none more angrier than the other day when you confronted him about trying to break you and Ransom up. Frank was your first love. And it taught you everything you didn’t want, but more importantly, to trust your instinct.

You knew you had waited for far too long to leave Frank. Had made up way too many excuses for him. You were miserable. You allowed yourself to settle, and become a person you couldn’t even recognize anymore. But getting away, living alone, learning who you were, and time helped you find a better you. And somewhere in the midst of it all you found your best friend.

A painfully slow relationship, until things progressed. Nights where you would stay up and talk until you fell asleep to those first sweet kisses. Kisses that lingered on the lips a bit more. Kisses that had him pulling you into his lap, straddling him, while his hands held you so softly. Too timid to touch you more.

That is until you were the one pulling off your shirt. Bringing yourself closer to him. Hands running over the skin on his neck. You both were touch starved, and overwhelmed by the feeling. But still needing to make the sweet parts of the relationship last. You didn’t want to rush into the sex. It’s what you always had done, and nothing ever lasted.

Until Ransom. Until your future husband, and father of at least one child. “Bucky, what do you think we’re having?”

“Oh, no, I don’t do that. My mom can do the old wives’ tale things with you, but I don’t get into that. A healthy baby. That’s what I want. I’ll need help on the farm. Don’t think daddy-o here is going to be much help. So looks like I’ve got to train Gucci and RJ up right.”

“RJ?” Ransom’s eyebrow cocks up as he stares Bucky up and down.

“Oh, come on. Bunny will get her way, and she’s going to have her Ransom Junior. RJ. And like I said, I’m going to have to train them, and the fur ball up.”

“Fur balls. There will be more corgis. I want at least three, preferably four. Miss Gucci is just going to be the ringleader. We also got to get Chanel, Dior, and Dolce,” Bucky sighs, turning to leave the two of you. “You don’t have to wear a suit, Buck!”

“I want to! I haven’t got to wear one in a long time.”

“I helped him pick one out,” Ransom whispers, and you giggle imagining the two of them combing through suits to find the perfect one for you. They were the sweetest things. You hope that he could maybe eventually be cordial with Frank. Maybe. Hopefully.

“Baby, just breathe,” your mom says calmly behind you. Clasping your grandmother’s necklace around your neck. Your eyes flutter close as you touch on your something borrowed, somehow the vintage necklace matching perfectly with your engagement ring. “Are you getting cold feet?”

“Never,” the tears already start to well up in your eyes. Taking a deep inhale, you slowly let out your breath. Your hands move to your stomach, already feeling the nugget’s first flutters. Ransom was always touching your stomach, hoping to find his own little piece of their movements.

“I’m just ready to be Mrs. Drysdale,” you finally open your eyes looking at your mom’s reflection. “You always told me to find someone who was crazy. Crazy in love with me. I found him. Well, we found each other. And we’ve got us this little…baby.”

“Just tell us what you’re having!” Noelle, the oldest sister screams playfully. Slapping at her leg, it was killing her the most. “I gotta get a jump on buying things for the nuggie. I already know that between Ransom, Harlan, Bucky, and daddy I won’t get to.”

“You’ll get to. I promise. They’ve all been put on a budget.”

“He or she will be the first on both sides, and you’ve got a bigger closet than I have a bedroom for that baby, and you think that you’re putting a budget on anyone? How’s the in-laws doing? The snippy one that always has a cigarette was telling Bucky what to do,” you turn to look at Jacey, the baby, mortified. “Ransom told Bucky the only one he had to listen to was you, him, and Gucci. Your husband took care of it.”

“Does Ransom happen to have a brother?” You shake your head no to Claire. There was only one Ransom. It’s all the world could handle. And he was made perfectly for you. “Dammit. Does he have any cute cousins or anything? What about Bucky?”

“No!” Claire holds up her hands in surrender, laughing, and starting to question your feelings towards Bucky. “Bucky is a precious angel. You can only talk to him if you’re completely serious, and you’re not. If you want a fun time, Steve will be a blast. Bucky is off limits. He is a serial monogamous, and he doesn’t do one night stands. Do not put him in the position to feel uncomfortable at my wedding, okay?”

“Wow. Call me out in front of mom why don’t you,” Claire rolls her eyes. Crossing her arms, she leans back on the couch. Her fingers lightly tap on her arms while she glares at you.

“Yeah, well, she didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know. Besides, Steve is quite adorable if you ask me,” Claire’s mouth falls open as your mom shrugs. “Honey, it’s a small town. People talk. It’s okay. I’m not judging you for your lack of wanting to settle down. Sow those oats.”

“Not all of us can marry a rich man.”

“Not all of us marry for money either. His money and looks are an added bonus,” biting at your lip, you take another look in the mirror at yourself. You didn’t even recognize the woman that was staring at you. Turning to the side, you look at your stomach, kinda sad you weren’t really showing yet. “I want h…ahh, I about said what we were having. I want this baby to pop out. I want Ransom to feel the kicks.”

“And I for one am glad that you haven’t. No one had time to alter this dress or your after the wedding dress. As pretty as your wedding dress is, why would you want to take it off?”

You and your sisters all look at each other with the biggest smiles, giggling before answering, “It’s a party!”

“Would you calm down?” Bucky dusts Ransom’s shoulders off, laughing as his new found friend was bouncing around again. Taking a quick sip from his highball glass. “She’s still here, and agreed to marry you for some reason.”

“The reason is he stays, and doesn’t run off to ride bulls. Instead he stays behind and rides her,” Bucky turns to look at Steve with his mouth hanging open, and Steve shrugs his shoulders. “Oh, come on. Those two are perfect for each other. His lack of running away and being able to deal with his shit helps.”

“We don’t…we don’t have shit. The biggest obstacles are my family, and we moved far…far far away from them,” Ransom exhales sharply as he runs his hands through his hair again. “Why are you here now?”

“Uhh…you see, I have this friend. Um, we’re going to call him Stank. And Stank, he has this thing where he likes to go to a bar on a Saturday, and Stank may drink his loneliness away. And on this particular Saturday, because we know that the paper had this huge picture of this man in front of us and his bride to be, Stank started calling me early. Stank was wanting to do something, and Steve didn’t answer.”

Bucky and Ransom stare at Steve without blinking. More because of the information he divulged, but Steve has never been the man that could read people well. “In my story Stank is in fact Frank.”

“Yeah, I got that. I’m not going to feel guilty for marrying Stank’s ex. I want to thank him. He led her straight to me, and to our future, and made her guarded. Her inability to have something with me quickly helped us. We learned from each other. Took our time, and now we’re ending it with this grand gesture of our love. Our little…well…uh…they’re going to be the most spoiled little — thing ever. And I appreciate the offer to help Bucky on the ranch. By all means, finish out your season. And even if you want to go and rodeo, that's fine. However, if we’re going to continue to be whatever this is, you don’t have to talk in code about Frank. I’m sure the man has good qualities, or Bunny wouldn’t have stayed with him. They had something real. And then they drifted apart, and that is life. But I’m growing with her, and we’re growing our family. Let’s refer to him as Frank from now on.”

“Why won’t you tell us what’s in her belly?”

Ransom shrugs, straightening up his tie. “Buns didn’t want what we were having to overshadow the wedding. The baby will be the first on both sides of our family, and we’re excited. So far Nuggie is healthy, and their middle name is going to be Ransom, so…I want to throw up.”

Steve looks between Ransom and Bucky with a smirk. Ransom was getting everything that Bucky had ever wanted. A family of his own. The ranch part he was basically getting. Land upon land. Ransom and Bunny even had it in Bucky’s contract that after five years the house and a few acres were his. Now he needed a woman. Steve could already see Bucky devoting all his time to you and Ransom. Holed out in the middle of nowhere. And forgetting to live his life.

“You getting cold feet there, pal?”

Ransom shakes his head as he turns toward Steve, “Never. I’m just ready for us to be married.”

Your dad turns to look at you, but you can’t look away from Ransom. He was beaming at the front of the aisle. You had locked eyes with your future husband, and couldn’t look away, “Daddy, he looks so handsome. Move your feet, I’ve waited long enough.”

“No,” you tear your eyes away from Ransom to look at your dad who was tearing up. His hand pulsing on your arm. Eyes rimmed in red, and he aggressively wipes away his tears.

“Daddy.”

“Don’t you daddy me. You’re the second daughter I’ve given away, and this isn’t any easier. But honey, he’s the one,” it isn’t that you didn’t know that. You are fully aware that the man you were waiting to walk to was every bit of your dream. “He’s so good to you, to your sisters, to your mom, and me, and even Bucky. He’s going to be the best daddy to your little boy that you’re going to name Ronnie Ransom Drysdale. Just promise me something. Two things actually.”

“What is it? And I didn’t confirm or deny if we’re having a boy.”

“No, just…maybe baby number two you could name Sinclair? Or a middle name. I’ve got nothing but girls, and your sister just wants one kid, and she’s got their names picked out like a crazy person. Your other sisters aren’t old enough or in stable relationships, and…”

“Daddy, I promise, if we have a little girl, we’ll put Sinclair as her middle name.”

“Did you just confirm you’re having a boy?” You shake your head no. You would not be discussing what baby Drysdale was today and especially not while Ransom was waiting on you. “I just want to know if I need to buy my grandson his first saddle or my granddaughter her first saddle. I need to know.”

“And I need to marry that man up there. When we get back I promise we’ll tell you what your grand baby is, but if I don’t marry that man right now,” his feet are already propelling the two of you forward and you’re back to looking at Ransom. “Daddy, I can’t see.”

“It’s your tears. You’ll be fine. You’re going to have to start relying on Ransom for this silly little stuff now. Just don’t forget about your old man. You haven’t needed me in such a long time. And with that man, you won’t anymore.”

“I’ll always need you. He doesn’t know how to change a flat tire.”

“But you do. This is as it should be. That man is going to love you, take care of you and your baby, and his grandfather, and I’m just going to be your father.”

“The father I want at our house when we have our little nuggie. They’ll need you daddy. Ransom will, too. He’s never had a father. He had a grandfather. But he’ll need you,” he stops you right in front of Ransom, and the sound that releases from your mouth is pure joy. “But I need him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Here’s my daughter. Take her away, but thank you for not taking her too far. And for making her dreams…all her dreams come true,” with a lingering kiss to your cheek, he steps back to sit with your mom, and you just want to hold Ransom. He hated this. Hated being up in front of his family making him vulnerable. If you could wrap a shield around the two of you, it’s exactly what you would do.

“Our vows are just for us, Ran. I’ll hear them later, babe,” giving him a wink, you reach towards his hand, holding it so tightly in yours while the officiant goes through the most simple and sweet ceremony. Anything to keep him comfortable. This was the compromise. Vows that only you and Ransom would hear.

If Ransom isn’t the biggest softie, squeezing your hand gently, while pulling you closer to him. “Is it time?” He whispers with every pause, ready to just kiss you and move on to the party. Repeating his lines, and sliding the ring over your finger.

“Son?” Ransom looks towards the officiant with the biggest smile, “It’s time. You may now kiss your bride. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. And Mrs. Ransom Drysdale!”

Ransom’s hand wraps around your waist, pulling you tightly up against his hard chest, while you cup his cheek. Kissing him so tenderly, and reveling in the minty taste of his mouth. It was official. He was your husband. The hand on your waist slides over in front, rubbing over your nugget’s tiny little home, and he is unbelieving that this life was his. That he and you were on your way to becoming parents.

“Oh my god, stop kissing,” your dad grunts. You are never going to quit kissing him. Everyday of your life you want to kiss him. Want to love him. Whistles and cheers from everyone else erupts through the guests, but you pull apart smiling up at your best friend.

“I love you, Mr. Drysdale.”

“And I love you Mrs. Drysdale.”

“You know there’s an open bar in the barn,” Harlan looks up at the man who had been lingering outside of the barn the entire time. Never going in. Never saying anything. Just standing there. His eyes transfixed only on you. An expression that was both relieved, and yet sad. “I take it, you know her?”

He nods his head, watching as you peacefully smile up at Ransom, and Ransom’s hand is never far from your belly. Randomly would change the location to rub a thumb over your ring before leaning down to kiss you. “I’m going to have a seat. Care to join? I don’t bite. Normally I conduct these conversations over a round of Go. It is frustratingly packed up in a box, and I can’t get to it. I’m sure you would think it rather odd to have a huge Go board outside of a wedding though.”

“You don’t even know me,” he says, his eyes leaving your beautiful face to look at Harlan as he sits down slowly. Reaching over to pat the bench that Harlan had insisted be put out here for when he needed an extra moment to breathe.

“Do I not? You're fondly staring at either my grandson or his wife. Seeing how Ransom is new in town, it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re Bunny’s cowboy,” Frank glares over at Harlan, who taps the bench again. “Come on.”

“You should hate me.”

“Why? Tonight is a night of love. I know you see her. Have you happened to look at my grandson? Or are you too busy watching her? Look at how he can’t remove his eyes off her. Sweet love.”

“She looks so beautiful.”

“People often do when they’re in love. There’s a glow to their cheeks. A twinkle in their eyes. And the best part is they can’t stop smiling. A smile that spreads over their entire face. A smile you can see is in their blood. They’re so light and airy. Two people that can’t quit touching each other, smiling at one another, and just being them. She’ll soon bring a baby into our lives, and it’s just as it should be.”

You look over to the exit, worrying about Harlan when you spot Frank. Giving him a strained wave, and you pull Ransom more into you. You didn’t hate him. You hated what he tried to do. Hated that he thought your happiness was worth the risk when he made baseless claims about you and him hooking up.

Frank gives you a nod before turning to sit on the bench with Harlan. His hands running up and down his thighs, “I love her.”

“Loved. It’s past tense.”

“No, I was going to marry her.”

“Did she ever smile at you like that?” Lifting his head up, he looks over to the ridiculously large house of yours and Ransom’s, beyond annoyed that you were living this fantasy life that he could have never provided for you. “If you love her, you’ll let her go. And that’s advice for you. She’s happy, Franklin. She’s married, and carrying my great grandchild in her belly.”

“She always wanted to be a mom. I just thought I was going to be the one that gave that to her,” Frank sighs, turning to look back towards the opening of the barn. Laughter and music spills out, and he looks towards yours and Ransom’s house high up on the mountain. The moon casts the most beautiful silver glow on the home. Reflecting everything into the pool. “I couldn’t have ever given her this though.”

“Did she ever ask you to?” Frank cuts his eyes over to Harlan who pulls out butterscotch hard candies, handing one to Frank. “She didn’t ask Ransom for that. He talked to her sisters. Used her Pinterest. Listened to her stories. That mountain was her dream. Frank, if you ever loved her, you will let her go. Those two deserve each other, and they’re beyond happy. Look at them. You have all night. I’ve seen you lurking. Let her go. Neither one hates you. But don’t come in between my grandson and Bunny again. They need each other. Have a nice night.”

Standing up, Harlan walks back into the barn, bowing his head to you on the way in. You look up at Ransom with a bit of a pained smile. Rubbing your hand up and down his arm as you look at him. “Go talk to him. Tell him to come in and get some food and cake.”

“Ran, you know it’s you I love.”

“I also know there’s unfinished business. You took my last name, and this,” pressing his hand over your stomach, his fingers splay out, and he pulses them on your belly, “This little angel nugget is mine. Ours. Buns, babe, you need this, too,” he leans down, giving you the softest and sweetest kiss on your cheek before acknowledging Frank at the edge of the barn.

Some days you didn’t know if you deserved Ransom or his kindness. Didn’t know how he grew up to be the most kind and trusting people. To you. Love was the only word you could think of to describe it. He loved you enough to trust you with Frank. Even if neither of you fully trusted him.

“You look good, kid,” Frank croaks out when you hold your hands out for a hug. “Care to share a dance with me?” You allow him to lead you onto the dance floor, grabbing his hands to get into position as you sway around. “There’s really a baby in there?”

“Yeah, little nugget. Ransom and I have been planning the nursery. I’m going to paint a mural. Bucky keeps calling the baby a chicken butt. Not to me, but to Ransom.”

“I’m sorry. You were right. You gave me every sign of how unhappy you were. And I…you’re where you belong. I just can’t help but think that I lost everything that I ever wanted today. He gets it all; the house, the baby, and the wedding. Do you ever regret our relationship?” Shaking your head no, you take a peek over towards your handsome husband who was talking to your sisters. Using big hands, and grand facial expressions.

“Why not?”

“I believe everything happens for a reason. I learned what I didn’t want. But more importantly, it gave me the push that I needed to get out of here. Took my ass to Boston, and came back with my best friend. I should thank you. You were the first hurdle to reach Ransom.”

“So, it’s all my fault that you met that pretty boy? Ugh, I guess that means you should tell me thank you. Without me, you wouldn’t have this life. You know, my life isn’t terrible either. Got my National championship belt again.”

“Thank you. Thank you for our happy times, but thank you for leading me to my future. Frank, I want you to have everything you could ever dream of. You. Your dreams. Our dreams didn’t align together. We were just meant to be for that amount of time. But I know, you’re going to find someone, and your lives will fit perfectly together. You deserve that. Thank you.”

“Thank you, Bunny. Now, go on. Start your life with Mr. Perfect over there. Enjoy having him in your life, and the baby’s. Thanks for stealing my best friends. You better watch Steve. He looks like he’s talking Claire up. You know how he is.”

“I know. Claire’s a big girl. I’ll see you around, Frank. Take care of yourself. I won’t be there to mend you back up,” Frank takes a deep breath, before leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. Giving a quick tap to your belly before walking out into the night. Leaving you to watch him, wishing you knew everything that Frank was thinking. He was loved. And you hoped that one day he would find love. But until then, you just wanted Ransom.

The man of your dreams. All you had ever wanted, and then some. Turning back to see him completely stop the conversation with your sisters when he sees you alone. A bright smile on his face when steps away from them. A direct walk right over to you looking every bit the dream you had always dreamed. The man you had wished for so many times, just up on that mountain. His cheeks are brighter than you had ever seen them.

“Mrs. Drysdale, are you ready to spend our first night at home?”

“Yes, Mr. Drysdale. Wait, who has Gucci tonight?”

“Your parents. Harlan is staying with them along with most of your sisters. I think. Claire may be going home with Steve. And I really don’t care about any of them. Our sweet girl is taken care of, and now I’d like to take care of my wife.”

“Okay, Ransom. Let’s drive the Beemer up to our home. Make love until the sun comes up,” There was no need for an official departure Noelle and her husband notice you and Ransom walking hand in hand as you head up to your home. You can’t even stop looking at him. Your long journey was worth all the wait.

Opening up your door, Ransom helps you get in. The party dress is much more manageable than your wedding dress. Jumping into the car, his fingers weave into yours, and he pulls your hand up to his mouth as he kisses along your knuckles. Holding your hand to his mouth the entire time you drive up to the house, giving you the sweetest kisses over your knuckles. Running over to your side as he helps you out.

Your home. It was finished. And you and Ransom wanted the first time having sex as husband and wife to be in your home. Leading you into the house, he turns around, and starts softly kissing along the column of your neck. Walking backwards as he pulls you to the master suite.

“Ran,” you breathlessly say as he pulls you further into the home. “Ran, baby,” his hands slide around your waist as he drags you into the bedroom. Drifting up to the top, connecting to your zipper, “Ransom Drysdale. We have got to say our vows. I promised they would only be for you. But.”

He whispers out your name. Licking his lips as if the sound of your name was the most decadent dessert he had ever tasted, “Bunny, I love you,” he pants out, kissing on your lips again. “I love you in a way that I have never loved before. I love our life. And our life that we made. I never saw myself as a father, even though I wanted kids. The thought of spending my life with someone I couldn’t stand was always in the back of my mind. And now we’re here, and she’s there, and we’re doing this. And Bunny, it’s all because of you. You made me believe in myself, and in us. And now…look at us.”

His hand finds his resting place on your stomach, and that bottom lip juts out a bit, “This is ours, and we made this happen in pure love. You’ll never know how much that this means to me, because you didn’t have to do this for us. I love you.”

“Ran, you’re making me cry, and I just can’t see properly,” raising up on your tiptoes you give him a chaste kiss. Lowering yourself slowly, you give him the most beaming smile. Holding both your hands as you lick the saline off your lips.

“I’m so proud of you, and of us, and of this life we’re making. On our terms because this is what we want. Not because we feel obligated. We created this path and journey, and I can never tell you how proud I am enough. I can never tell you just how much I love you. You never believe me, but I will make sure that my life’s journey is proving to you how worthy you are of love. Of my love, and just how much I want you every day. You were worth every heartache that I had to have to get to this. You are worth every frog that I ever kissed. And you are worth every wish that I ever made in this exact spot. I swear you made them build our bedroom over the place that me and my sisters would lay at.”

“In all those wishes I wanted a man like you. Loyal, kind, smart, protective, loving, creative, handsome, tall, blue eyes, good teeth, loves my family, a good father, my best friend, smelled good, and so much more. It’s like you were handpicked and made just for me. Here’s to the start of forever.”

The thought of not touching him skin on skin is too unbearable, and you run your hand up his chest, around his neck, and pull him down for a lingering and desperate kiss. Cupping his cheeks as he slowly starts undoing the zipper of your dress. His hand drifts down your spine, making you feel all tingly as slick pools at your core.

Your hands go to his shoulders as you push off his jacket. Your trembling fingers move to his buttons as he dips his hand under your dress to grip at your ass cheeks. Getting his buttons done completely before the two of you are left to remove the undone articles of clothing. Stepping out of the dress, you press your body up against his. Heated and aching for each other.

Clamoring at his belt and pants, and when the heavy material drops down, he removes your bra, and wraps his arm around your body, taking the two of you down to the bed. Hovering over you while a hand drifts under the elastic of your barely there panties, “The best part about your pregnancy is you're always horny and wet,” he moans, pumping two fingers into your quivering cunt.

“Shh,” you pant out pulling him back down for a bruising kiss. Biting at his lip gently as he pushes off the back of his shoes with his feet. Pulling down his boxer briefs, and moaning into his mouth when his cock springs free. Thick and heavy, leaking precum on your thigh.

He gives your panties a little tug before he’s lifting off you completely and goes down to his knees. “I want you and I naked all night long. These shoes included,” lithe fingers move over your sticky skin as he pulls off your shoes, taking a moment to remove his own socks. A trail of sweet kisses paint up your legs before yanking apart your thighs.

Sighing when he sees your glistening honey leak from your panties, and coat your thighs. “Don’t rip them,” you choke out, and Ransom changes his motions to drift them off your body. Standing up straight, and you look up at your husband. Statuesque. Your eyes looking all down his front. Tracing an outline of every hill and body that creates his hard torso. Right down to his quaking cock. In need of something warm and tight.

His fist goes around his cock, giving the member a few pumps as your own hand plays with your clit. “Ransom Drysdale you better get over me in this bed, and fuck your wife.”

“I was being sweet and looking at that little pooch of your belly,” stopping your motions you spread your velvety lips apart, letting him see just how wet you are. Letting him see your fingers dip into your tight channel. He needs to hear how wet you are. “That’ll do it,” he mumbles, placing a knee on the bed and it sinks down with his weight.

You keep your legs spread wide to accommodate his thick frame, but his teasing continues. He runs his tip up and down through your slick. Coating his bulbous mushroom with your juices, leaving you whimpering out his name like an innocent girl having sex for the first time.

Staring only into his eyes when he slowly starts to push through your walls. Gaping you open as he slowly slides into your warmth. Becoming one like you have done so many times before, but this feels brand new. His body sinks lower the deeper he goes. Not stopping until he is balls deep, and he settles his weight on his forearms.

“I’m not hurting you?”

“No, Ran. Or the baby. Just…oh my god,” you sigh as his hips rare back, and he fucks back into you hard. “Yeah, I like when you have me pinned down like this.”

“We better enjoy it while we can.”

“Stop talking about the baby as you fuck me. Not this time. Just…yes. Yeah, Ran just like that,” he lets his hips rail into you as he kisses up your neck. Giving your jaw nips as he makes his way to your mouth. Kissing over your kiss swollen lips and swallowing every sweet sound you make as he ruts into you.

Wrapping your legs around him, you pull him completely into you. You want to feel his entire weight on you. Every part of him is yours, and you own every inch of him. Sobbing into his mouth as the pleasure rushes towards your nether regions. He felt so fucking good. Pushing into you with this fervent need. You had the rest of your lives. Right now is complete desperation.

A buildup of being away from each other the night before and that morning. So in love and close enough to touch. Looking like a fairytale dream, but now you could touch him the way you had been craving. Could have him closer to you than any man has ever been in your life, because you let him fully into your heart. Completely into your soul. And he listened to every word. Protected you with every breath that he took, every beat of his heart. He is your everything, and he made sure to tell you daily that you were his.

Ransom snakes his hands down to yours, lacing his fingers with yours before he slams them above your head. Leaving you breathless as the only man you had ever truly loved takes control of your body. Grunting into your mouth with each thrust. The rumble from his chest going straight to your stretched out core.

A puddle in every sense of the word. You, yourself, were a puddle for Hugh Ransom Drysdale, and judging by the echoing squelching sounds in the room, your juices had created a puddle underneath you. A pure love with the most filthy outcome.

“Ran!” You moan into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his as your walls flutter around him. Gulping when your whole body lights on fire. “Ransom!”

“I know,” his voice nearly growls, but he doesn’t change his pace. Doesn’t stop even though his balls tighten up. Saying your name like a prayer when he grabs your hand tighter.

“Ransom, baby…oh god! I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Screeching out in your release when your walls clench down around him. Holding him tightly. Milking him until his warm seed plants deep inside of you, and the both of you moan into the other. He drops your hands, and rolls the two of you over. Pulling you on top of him, but never leaving your warmth. Your fingers explore each other’s skin like the most delicate scientist. Holding him like the precious human that he was.

“Buns…”

“I know, Ran. This is our every day. Every day in this house. Every day with you.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @patzammit @lavender-annd-lilac @midnightramyeoncravings @slowdownbeforeyouregretit @elrw24

#closer to heaven #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale smut

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aziraphales-library · 1 year

Note

hi! first off thank you so much for this blog and all your hard work it’s honestly so impressive. i was wondering if you knew of any fics centering on hurt/comfort (crowley doing the comforting) in which crowley just…..HOLDS aziraphale? sorry for the specific ask, have a nice day!

Hello! Here are some hurt/comfort fics in which Crowley holds Aziraphale...

It’s what you worry for by orphan_account (T)

Crowley had noticed some things about Aziraphale that were... concerning.

They had become more apparent since they moved into their cottage. Maybe it was just the close quarters? They weren’t used to being near each other for so long, and, pleasant as it was, it was a big adjustment.

But that didn’t stop Crowley from worrying.

if you ever leave me… by gazing (G)

Aziraphale doesn't mind Crowley's absence.

Not at first.

Love Knows Boundaries by AnonymousDandelion (G)

Aziraphale's hands were shaking, his throat was closing up again, and there were tears coming out of his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the tears kept trickling through anyway.

“Okay,” came Crowley’s voice again, very near at hand — gentle, steady, undercurrent of anxiety audible but, doubtless for Aziraphale’s benefit, tamped down under control. “Okay, there. Yeah. All right. You want a hug?”

And it was Crowley, it was just Crowley, they’d hugged plenty of times before. Aziraphale liked hugging Crowley. When he got like this a hug was an almost guaranteed way to help him feel better, to ground him, to calm him down. It was just Crowley, for goodness’s sake, this was ridiculous…

Aziraphale discovered that he was shaking his head from side to side, very emphatically.

“Okay,” Crowley said for the fourth time, calm and grounding even without any physical touch, and the sound of his voice retreated a foot or so. “Not a hug. Is there anything else I can do?”

~ ~ ~

OR: After a performance review and a dubious "reward" from the Archangels, Aziraphale arrives home badly in need of comfort.

Baptism by Aethelflaed (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley thought they were free, but Heaven calls their wayward angel back to get the last word.

After being humiliated and robbed of everything that matters, Aziraphale seeks out Crowley and the one place he will always belong. -- “I just...don’t know what to do anymore. I thought I finally could...make my own life.” Aziraphale looked down at his fingers, resting on the bed between them. No ring. Would he ever get used to that? “And they come along to remind me. That they’re in control. That they can still hurt me, still take away everything I have. Still leave me feeling so weak and alone.”

Deserving by IneffableDoll (T)

“I’ve always reminded you, again and again, that I’m an angel and you’re a demon,” Aziraphale whispered, “but…neither of us deserve to be what we are.” Crowley made some sort of sound in the back of his throat, one of those ones Aziraphale had always loved interpreting. Now, he had no idea. He couldn’t think about it. He was simply tired. Drained, hollowed out. He didn’t want to fight anymore.

Touch by Stigitsune_shipper (G)

Aziraphale is not touch-starved. No. Nope. Nuh-uh. Not at all.

Angels don't need hugs, after all... Or books. Or food. Or demons. Sadly, Aziraphale was never a good angel. And sometimes you break down.

--- Basically just a soft h/c one-shot I wrote because Heaven is shitty and Aziraphale needs hugs.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #hurt/comfort #hurt aziraphale #comforting crowley #cuddling & snuggling #hugging #short fic #mod d

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bubble7o7 · 2 years

Text

Mature Content

Over 18’s Only

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

You Know…

You’re busy in the kitchen washing dishes while your boyfriend sits on the sofa.

“Hey should we go for a walk?…”

You watch him scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to your question.

“I said!… should we go for a walk!”

“I SAID let’s have sex?!” You shout louder

“Wait! What!?” He stutters

“I said let’s go for a walk” you giggle

“No no you didn’t” he shouts as he scrambles up from the sofa falling over himself to get to you.

“No… no. I definitely heard have sex?” He smiles moving closer, his hands reaching for your waist and mischief written all over his face.

“So it’s selective hearing you have then huh?”

“I’m sorry I was distracted”

“By your phone, yet again!… So shall we then?”

“What?… Fuck?”

“No!… go for a walk! Come on you need some fresh air.”

“But it’s raining?”

“Perfect! we can use the umbrella to hide under, so you don’t have to cover your face up. Let’s take a walk along the river… even just for 5 minutes?”

“Ok then, come on” he caves

You skip through to the bedroom to get changed. 5-10 minutes later you come back out to Yoongi in the same position you left him and on his phone again.

“For fuck sake!… 5 minutes that’s all I wanted!”

“I’m soooorrry!” He shouts while running through the room to get his hoodie and trainers.

“Ok I’m ready!” He quickly pecks your lips as he runs past you to get to the door. You grab the umbrella and head out.

“Isn’t this nice?…”

“Baby… it’s monsoon season” he laughs

“I know but I love the rain and at night with the street lights… and you… heaven!” you smile.

He has one arm around your shoulder and is holding the umbrella with the other, he pulls you in to him kissing your forehead and holding you closer.

“Look we have the whole stretch to ourselves”

“That’s because… it’s cold… everyone will be inside…” he turns to face you, stopping you in your tracks as he leans in to you “And it’s after 7pm…” he kisses you softly “Aaaand if they’re luckier than me they will be too busy having sex” he smirks

You slap his chest “You’re obsessed!”

“Yes… with you” You lean in to each other and kiss passionately. His tongue gently gliding across your lips, teasing them open.

You moan “Your kisses will be the death of me Min Yoongi”

He pulls you in to him again, kissing you harder. You have one hand either side of his waist and pull him in to you, your kisses getting more fervent.

There’s one thing guaranteed to throw you into a whirl of desire and that’s a kiss from Yoongi.

His lips are the only thing you crave.

You kiss each other again a little sloppier, you desperately want more of him, you’re not even sure you’re breathing as he moans lightly and kisses you harder.

You suddenly feel rain on your face as you both snap out of the kiss and look up. “Mmmm that kiss was just… I forgot I was holding the umbrella!” He laughs

“Shall we go back ho…?” You don’t get to finish.

“Yes!!” With his arm round your shoulder he quickly turns you back in the direction of home, forcing you to walk a little faster, your feet trying to match his pace.

“Yoongi!” You start laughing as he’s walking with such determination “Slow down!”

“Nope… I have to get you back home before you change your mind!” He laughs

You get back home in record time, you barely get through the door and he’s already taking your coat off, he presses you up against the door not satisfied that he’s already manhandled you in the elevator! (Of which you loved every minute). You wrap your arms around and run your fingers through his hair.

Suddenly there’s a loud knock at the door.

“Shh!” He whispers, his lips only millimetres from yours. You sneak a little kiss, then hear singing from the other side of the door.

“Is that Jimin?” You whisper

“Aaaa Shit… I invited them for drinks, I totally forgot”

“Oh well done Yoongi” you whisper digging him in the ribs

“Yah! You’re the one who told me I need to have the boys round more!”

You turn and open the door, Yoongi’s arms surround you as he holds on to the door frame and handle.

“Hi, come in guys” Yoongi greets them with a hug.

“Are we interrupting something?”

“Nope, no!” You hurriedly say.

“Yes, yes you are!” Yoongi interrupts

“Tough” shouts Jimin as he makes his way to the sofa.

“We have alcohol and snacks” shouts JK “and these are for you Y/N” he hands you some fresh flowers.

“Thank you, that’s so sweet!” You kiss his cheek.

“Hey!… that’s enough of that” laughs Yoongi

“Get comfy guys” You fix them some snacks and drinking glasses, leaving them to a bit of quality bonding time. You potter about the kitchen fixing your flowers and sorting laundry then sit at the kitchen table with your laptop, smiling as you watch them laugh together. You put your headphones on and blast a bit of music while you catch up on work emails.

A while later you hear raised voices and look up to see Yoongi shouting to you.

“What!?” You yell

“Y/N!!”

“What!?”

“Y/N-aaaah” he shouts “Kiss me!”

“For fuck sake” you laugh, you can see the boys lying on the sofa, tipsy and laughing at him shouting.

“Don’t encourage him!” You tell them as you walk closer.

“We have two huge sofas, why are you all squashed on to one? It’s doesn’t matter I know!” You laugh.

“Should I order you guys some pizzas?”

“Yes please… but you should also kiss me!” He clambers his way over to you, pushing his face to yours until your lips meet and he kisses you hard. You take his cheeks in your hand smooching his lips softly “Not in front of the kids baby!”

The pizza arrives and you sit back and watch the boys as they dig in. Yoongi moves closer to you, sitting next to you, his head resting on your boob, his arm on your thigh and his hand stroking the inside of your leg.

You watch him as he watches Jimin telling one of his many stories, both JK and Yoongi are totally engrossed by him as always. You’d be a little jealous if you didn’t know the bond they share.

“Guys I’m heading to bed, there’s more snacks in the kitchen and drinks chilling in the fridge, are you guys staying over?”

“NO!” Yoongi yells,

“Yes if that’s OK?” Asks JK

“The spare rooms are always ready for you guys, just don’t get up to any mischief!”

You blow kisses to the boys “See you in the morning”

You lean in and kiss Yoongi whispering “Good night my love”

You head to the en suite to brush your teeth and change into your Pj’s. You opt for a sexy little short and bralet set, one of his favourites. Heading back to the bedroom you see Yoongi sprawled out on the bed, you stand and pose at the door frame waiting for him to catch a glimpse of you.

He’s too busy scrolling through his phone again!

You huff and about turn back into the bathroom and throw your big over sized t shirt on and head to bed.

“Why did you change?”

“I didn’t think you’d noticed” you huff

“Of course I did!… Wait are you upset with me?

“No!… Yes!”

“Is it because the guys came round?”

“No of course not… it’s because every time I’ve tried to get your attention today you’ve been on your phone…”

“Have I, no I havent?”

“It’s still in your hand even now! Have you put it down at all today?”

“I have important things I’m working on, I’m sorry”

You grab his phone out of his hand and hide it behind your back “Hey! Come on!” He shouts jumping up from the bed to grab you.

You run round the room, wobbling as you jump on the bed teasing him, waving the phone up higher.

“Give!”

“Nope” you hold it higher

He has hands on either thigh pulling you to him.

“I’m serious, give me the phone” he grabs your thighs a little tighter

“No!”

He pulls your legs from underneath you, completely sweeping you off your feet, you land flat on your back.

You let out a squeal a mixture of shock and excitement. He’s hovering over you as you tuck the phone behind your back.

“Stop being a pain in my ass and give me my phone” he kisses your lips “Please…”

“No not unless I have your full attention. I’ll give it back if you do something for me?”

“What, what do you want…” he sighs

“I want you… to look at me the way you look at Jimin” you laugh

He grabs at your waist and tickles you hard

“Stop! Ok Stop!” You squeal

“What do you mean the way I look at Jimin?”

“You always look so mesmerised by him and you’re not on your phone!”

“I can’t look at you the way I look at Jimin… I don’t love Jimin the way I love you. The way I look at him is because he’s so expressive, whenever he’s saying/doing anything you can’t help but watch him. The way I look at you is because I’m trying to work out when I can kiss or touch you next!”

“What way are you looking at me now?”

“Like I want to see what’s under this shirt” he gently tugs at it.

“What are you waiting for?”

“My phone back so I can take a picture of you like this”

“Kiss me first and I’ll give it back”

He moves in closer to you, you feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. You lean in to him yearning for his touch but he continues to tease you hovering his lips within millimetres of yours

“Yoongi… please”

He lightly licks your top lip making you moan before he sucks on it hard then crashes his lips into yours kissing you passionately.

He pulls your t shirt over your head and flings it to one side, he takes in a deep breath through gritted teeth as he gazes at you adoringly, your cheeks flushed, your eyes filled with lust and you’re wearing his favourite underwear set.

“I’m sorry that you feel I’ve neglected you and have been on my phone a lot” he kisses you softly. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

He slides his hand down to your shorts and slowly slides his fingers inside you, as he scatters kisses down your neck. You grab hold of his wrists and slowly thrust against his fingers.

No wonder he’s so good at the piano and guitar, his fingers play you like an instrument.

He whispers your name in your ear and as his fingers work their magic, you can barely hold on as you feel a snap in the pit of your stomach. You cry out “Ohh my god, oh Yoongi… don’t stop… pl… please… mmmmmhh fuuuuck”

“Shhh my love” he whispers as he quickens the pace “You don’t want to disturb the kids” he smiles

“Fuck th…” He quickly moves his lips to yours, kissing you hard while his thumb swirls round your clit “Fffuck!” you cry out, your head buried in his neck, your whole body trembles as you cum.

“I should steal your phone more often” you laugh

“No!… no you shouldn’t” he smiles

You turn on your side to face him and he turns to you, brushing your hair from your eyes “You don’t know how beautiful you are”

You feel your face flush and you try to hide with the bed sheet. He quickly grabs his phone and snaps a picture of you, then leans in close and snaps a selfie of you together. You lean in and kiss his cheek as he takes another.

“I love you, you know?” You tell him

“I know” he replies pulling you in close, his face resting in your neck as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

You wake to the sound of dishes clashing from the kitchen. Yoongi’s spot in the bed is empty.

You grab a quick shower and head to the kitchen, the boys are huddled round Yoongi’s phone whispering to each other but quickly stop as you enter the room.

“Good morning boys! What are you whispering about?l”

“Nothing… erm just some lyrics” Yoongi mumbles

“Here Y/N. Come sit” JK pulls out a chair for you and pours you a cup of tea. While Yoongi and Jimin serve breakfast.

You chat/laugh with the boys while you eat, they always have you laughing hard when they’re together.

You catch Yoongi staring at you from across the table. You smile and he quickly starts fumbling with his phone… again.

You let out a sigh and take your dishes over to the sink. “Thank you for the food guys” you say as you start to wash up

“Here let me help” offers JK

“No it’s ok, go finish your coffee”

Yoongi walks over to you scratching his head, he rests his chin on your shoulder and rubs his hand across your arse cheek.

Kissing your neck he whispers “Good morning my love… are you ok?”

“Good morning, yeah Im ok” you turn and kiss his cheek.

“Good” he wraps his arms around you burying his face in your neck.

“Eurgh they’re kissing again Jimin!” JK yells “I think it’s time to go!”

“Aww but they’re so cute” coos Jimin “but yes let’s go I can feel my breakfast coming back up!”

“Yah!” Yoongi yells smiling

You dry your hands and give the boys kisses and hugs goodbye.

“How will you cope while we are away for 3 weeks Y/N?” Jimin winks at Yoongi

“Oh I’m sure it will be a struggle and I’ll pine for him every minute, every day but somehow I should get through it!” You say sarcastically slapping Jimins shoulder.

“If I’m not used to it now I never will be!” You tell them.

Yoongi pulls you to him.

“Yah! Quick before they start again!” Jokes JK

“Ok Bye boys!” You say pushing them out the door.

Yoongi closes the door and pushes you gently up against it… “Will you miss me?” He asks as he kisses your lips.

“You know fine well I will but you better message me every-time your phone is in your hand… which shouldn’t be a problem as it’s never out of it!” you smirk.

“Aaaaaggh!… ok ok! I get it! Shhh! Come help me pack” he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards his closet.

“I need my bla… ahh the sweater your wearing”

“Sorry I just picked the first thing, I can wash it for you?” You panic. He holds his hands up in protest “No don’t wash it!” he asks as he leans over to you smelling you/it. “It’s perfect as it is, I’ll wear it to travel in”.

You feel your face flush “You’re too fucking cute Yoongi”He blushes and carries on packing.

The next couple of days pass by in a blur. Quiet days/nights on the sofa lounging together making your favourite meals and watching TV.

Yoongi’s doing his last minute checks before the boys leave for the USA. You have a little cry watching him pack the last of his kit. “Please don’t Y/N… I can’t take seeing you cry”

“I’ll be fine, you know me I just don’t like saying goodbye to you” wiping tears from your cheek

He checks the time on his phone, he hasn’t been on it as much in the last couple of days as he had been the last few weeks, you feel like you’ve had more quality time with him. Keeping his promise to do better, despite how busy he’s been.

“Ok, I’m getting picked up in 20 minutes… There’s a surprise for you on our bed but don’t open it until I’ve left” he says matter of factly looking through his bag.

“What?!… why?” You cry

“See you’re already crying and you don’t even know what it is” he laughs as he strokes your cheek.

He pulls you over to him “Kiss me?” he asks. You happily oblige as you straddle his lap. You spend the remaining 15 minutes kissing each other like it’s the last time you’ll see each other!

“I’m only away for 3 weeks, it’ll fly by”

“You know that’s bullshit” you laugh as you plant kisses all over his face.

“You missed a spot” he pouts pointing to his lips

You kiss them sloppily, “Aaggh Y/N, this gets harder every time!” He muffles putting his head in your boobs.

Just as his phone buzzes. “Ok that’s the driver. I better head out. I’ll call you whenever I can. Go check your surprise out and call me when you’ve opened it”

He squeezes you tightly taking your breath away “I love you you know?”

“I know” you tell him, you give him one last kiss.

And just like that he’s gone, the house is quiet minus your little sobs here and there. You head to the bedroom and see a large box with a black bow tied round it with a little note card attached. It reads:

“My love, here’s the reason I’ve been on my phone so much these past couple of weeks. I’m sorry… I love you you know? xx”

“What have you done” you say to yourself… you open the box and inside is giant album, the cover reads “You Know”

You open the first page and it’s photos from your first date with Yoongi… every page is filled with beautiful candid shots of you or you and Yoongi. You bawl your eyes out over every photo, most of them you didn’t even know he’d taken but ugly cry at the final few pages. Photos of you washing dishes on the night you forced him to go for a walk, followed by you in the kitchen fixing your flowers, working at your lap top listening to music while the boys got drunk. The very last page is the selfies he took on the evening you stole his phone and finally a picture of you drinking your tea at breakfast with the boys. Another note is attached “I know I was on my phone a lot but I was looking at you the whole time xx”

You call his number he answers “My Love? Are you ok? Did you like your present?”

You can’t get your words out “I’m sorry” you sob

“Why are you sorry” he laughs

“I was horrible to you, complaining you were always on your phone but you were doing all this… for me, I really wish you were here so I could kiss you!” You cry

“I am… come to the door baby”

“What?!” You run to the door and fling it open sure enough he’s standing there. You crash into him kissing him desperately.

Laughing he says “I only needed to get my luggage in the van, I have another hour or so before I have to leave for the airport”

He wipes your tears and kisses you softly. He lifts you up and you wrap your legs around him while he carries you over to the sofa and sits down with you straddling his lap. He gently kisses your neck and starts to unbutton your shirt as he whispers “Let’s make more memories”

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smilesrobotlover · 11 months

Note

*crashing in, half delirious* HI YES HELLO

I'm having Miphlink brainrot but have exhausted my muse for the night/morning

Just... them <3

Sneaking away to lover's pond once in a blue moon while prepping for the Calamity. They never get to go because they both have duties, but just once they can be there and he can wear the engagement armor and they just have a picnic and swim and are just together for once

Link is so familiar with the Domain he knows every nook and cranny, it's his second home. He's welcomed like a fellow Zora by many (though not all - many of the elders are still wary, given previous tensions)

Link and Mipha going fishing together when they're kids and he shows his dad how Zora fish and tries to catch one with his teeth and his dad is losing his mind because for heaven's sake Link have some decorum you're a Hylian--

(He still fishes like this and it's a competition between him and some of the Zora to see how many they can catch in a given time. Obviously the Zora win but Link continues to beat his record and is proud of it)

Mipha is always there to listen when Link needs to vent... once he finally learns how to open up

Link is always there to remind Mipha to rest and take care of herself

idk what else, Smiles, I'm just vibing with Miphlink <3

MIPHLINK AAAAGH 😭😭😭😭😭 I love them so much it’s not even normal.

And yeah them taking advantage of every free second just to be together because they’re so busy, and Zora’s domain easily being a second home for him and Dorephan being a second father to him is dbdndbndbeksbsnsbsbsjs. They’re so sweet

And yeah there’s no way that Link fishes normally, he’s hung out with the zoras when he was a kid, of course he’s gonna try to fish for them with his teeth and of course he’s gonna give his parents gray hair because of it.

AND AAAGH THEM TAKING CARE OF EACH OTHER cuz Link shuts himself out and doesn’t speak but Mipha makes sure to be there so when he does want to speak he’ll have someone to talk to, and Mipha cares so much about the safety of others that she neglects taking care of herself so Link makes sure she gets the rest she needs and AAAAHH I can’t handle them they mean so much to me 😭😭

#asks #miphlink #I’ve been working on a miphlink fic but I only work on it when I want to and I’m not good at writing fics #but AOC gave me such great ideas

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autisticgayngel · 3 years

Text

Canonverse Castiel-centric/pining/loving Cas fics

some of these are Dean's POV and a lot are alternating POV, but all of them really delve into Cas's emotions and his love for Dean. All canonverse and all happy endings. Categorised by post-confession, pre-s15 curtain fic and other canon-era. Descending word count within each category. If anyone has any recs for things I should add lmk!

Post-Confession Fics

things happen (they do, they do, and they do) by sobsicles 28k rating E

Everyone has recced this, and for good reason, it's stunning. Cas gets back from the empty and Dean sort of lets him down gently and is very worried about breaking his heart. Despite this Cas is finally able to express to Dean how much he loves him and takes full advantage of this. He's earnest and sweet and so intense about it, but also incredibly hurt about the lack of reciprocation, though he tries to hide it. He does get the love he deserves in the end and it's so good!

closer (isn't close enough) by fleeceframe 18k rating E

Again, Dean's POV, but very much focused on how much Cas loves him. Has the gorgeous Cas line: “When you are hungry, you eat. When you are tired, you rest. When you are dirty, you bathe. But what are you supposed to do with love?”

My unintended by DeanaWinchester, Jeanne_de_Valois 10k rating E

Really good Cas POV, he’s obsessive and insecure but also deeply loving.

my heart a compass by lagaudiere 10k rating T

The empty torments Cas with visions of Dean and of the family he longs to have with Dean. Dean saves him.

I said show me something by ilovehowyouletmefall 7k rating E

Sparked by the debate about whether or not Dean thinks Cas can feel. Cas is hurt by Dean saying he thought he couldn't feel and vulcan mind melds to show him exactly how he feels about him. It's a really interesting exploration of both of their feelings and fears.

Gift by thisisapaige 2k rating G

Very sweet little fic of them trying to work things out once Cas returns from the empty.

Pre-s15 Curtain Fics

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden 95k rating E

Dean tries to retire with his family but finds himself alone as Sam and Jack take a road trip and Cas goes hunting in order to prove he's still useful as a human and to avoid thinking about his feelings for Dean. Really agonising and harrowing at the start as they both feel so rejected and miserable. Cas gets into situations where monsters use his feelings for Dean to attack him. Eventually, they're able to tentatively work out their feelings and settle down together and it's very sweet.

Morning Glory by edgarallanrose 26k rating E

Dean and Cas retire together. Cas becomes a beekeeper and Dean starts to use the honey he makes to bake goods, which they sell at the farmer's market. Cas is very much in love with Dean but it takes Dean a bit longer to work things out.

Other Canon-era

A Winter's Tale by NorthernSparrow 64k rating T

This one hurts a lot, so fair warning for that. Cas falls ill while human and homeless and is hospitalised. Dean finds the journal Cas kept as he struggled to survive in this time. Pre-Destiel but Cas does write a lot about his feelings for Dean. Sam and Dean shower Cas with love and kindess as he recovers. Also a destiel epilogue that is very sweet and fluffy.

In the Shadow of your Wings by Enochian Things (Salr323) 57k rating E

Cas confesses his love to Dean post s11 finale but the timing is terrible and Dean is very repressed about it all and breaks Cas's heart. Cas gets an Italian man of letters boyfriend in an attempt to get over it and Dean is insanely jealous (which Cas is oblivious to) but they all have to work together to try to save Sam from the BMOL. Dean eventually gets his shit together and treats Cas the way Cas has learnt to understand he deserves.

That Black Dog Ache by SaltyWords (agent4hire22) 28k rating E

This is very much Dean's POV but I'm putting it here anyway because it has a really intense love confession from Cas, which I'll include an excerpt of that drives me insane:

'“I listen to your music, and I close my eyes. I try to imagine I’m in the Impala, hunting with you. And, sometimes,” his throat jumped, “I lay on your bed. I think about what it would be like if I got to have a place on it beside you... If you ever let me get close enough.”'

Kelp!I Need Somebody by andimeantittosting (Saylee) 27k rating E

A really sweet fic in which Sam, Dean and Cas go to investigate a case on Jesse and Cesar's ranch. Switching POV with really good mutual pining as they tentatively begin to realise the other feels the same.

Being Dean Winchester by Anonymous 26k rating E

Set early s4, Cas has to possess Dean temporarily. While doing this, he has to work to hide his feelings from Dean. Cas is already obsessed with Dean and in love with him but is embarrassed by it and struggles to keep Dean from seeing all of this, especially when Dean wants to have sex with someone while Cas is possessing him.

Après by imogenbynight 24k rating E

Set after the angels fall in s8. Cas falls to earth in Paris and realises he's in love with Dean. Dean comes to get him and they find love together in Paris.

desiderium, lost by atlasian 20k rating T

Castiel confesses his love for Dean and Dean tells him to move on. Cas tries, fairly unsuccessfully, before Dean gets it together.

No Other Worthy Quest by MajorEnglishEsquire 15k rating E

Cas just loves Dean very much.

'“For fuck's sake,” his skin is heating. Cas can feel it. “Stop saying lovey-dovey shit.”

“I know,” Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s so mortifying for you when I want to tell you I love you. I’m using all my self-restraint, I promise not to embarrass you.”'

The Arrow by jscribbles 12k rating T

Valentine's day and Cas has been hit by a Cupid's arrow and is literally sick with love for Dean.

and all this devotion by dothraki_shieldmaiden 10k rating M

Dean gets hurt on a hunt and Cas takes care of him in a cabin. Very sweet, delightful Cas POV of him being very much in love.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits 10k rating E

Cas struggles to work out why Dean deems some things meaningful and some things worthless, and where he fits into this apparent dichotomy. Really gorgeous and agonising Cas POV that deals with their constant issue of Dean just wanting Cas to stay and Cas wanting Dean to want him to stay but they're both too afraid to express it.

Breathe by turningthepages 9k rating G

Dean and Cas platonically sleep together to help with Dean's sleep. Cas both likes the situation and longs for it to mean more.

First Date by aeli_kindara 9k rating T

Dean asks Cas on a date and they're both trying very hard to make it all work. The sequel is stunning too.

'Dean says, “We should do that. Go on a date.”

Something in Castiel’s chest fuzzes, like static on a TV, and stops.'

weights on my ankles by dothraki_shieldmaiden 9k rating M

After 15x3 The Rupture, Cas goes back to Rexford. While there, he thinks about how Dean hurt him all those years ago and how he hurt him more recently. Partly a 9x6 Heaven Can Wait fanfic-gap fic.

Let it Linger by OmniscientOranges 8k rating M

Cas starts sleeping with men out of jealousy when watching Dean pick up women at bars. The way the fic describes how in love he is and how hopeless he feels about it is both agonising and very sweet.

He Thought He Was Reckless by MajorEnglishEsquire 8k rating M

Cas plays up injuries so that Dean will coddle him. Self-woobification from the Angel of the Lord and it's so sweet!

Something to Protect by Sass_Master 6k rating G

Cas tries to work out how to make Dean feel less unsafe so that he no longer has to jolt awake. Sweet, tentative intimacy and Cas enjoying it so much.

lonely hearts. by outpastthemoat 5k rating G

Deals with Cas accompanying Sam and Dean on hunts and feeling incredibly lonely and longing to be with Dean. He finds solace in romance novels.

Some People Would Call This Romantic by almaasi 5k rating G

Human Cas goes to the beach and finds it rather overwhelming. Taking a romantic walk with Dean along the beach is also overwhelming.

The Tea is Decaf by mnwood 4k rating T

Really sweet! Cas and Eileen talk and gossip about Sam and Dean in the bunker at night over tea.

A Place to Rest by Inessencedivided 3k rating G

Dean and Cas talk through things after the Stuck in the Middle with You love confession. Cas cries some more.

White Noise by domesticadventures 2k rating G

Cas struggles with feelings of worthlessness in the aftermath of Lucifer's possession.

Receipts by surlybobbies 1k rating G

Cas writes little notes about how much he loves Dean on receipts from meals they share together. Dean finds them.

#fic rec #destiel fic #fanfic #spn #destiel #pining cas #fic

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morsking · 3 years

Note

is shirou a mary sue? the guy is universally well liked, cooks like a pro at 17, has the most op power from all fate (and arguably one of the most cool powers on media), nothing ever happens to him on the true/canon path of each route, he does many stupid things but no one cares 5 minutes later, other times like in salter vs rider he is just a tactical genius out of nowhere

he is not.

shirou is well-liked but he isn't particularly popular. he is known at school for being helpful and handy but otherwise not that many people are aching to get to know him or involve him in their lives. most people only know shirou very superficially. he is not sought after as a person, only as a handy man. there's a really neat scene at the beginning of hf1 where people are talking about shirou in the dojo and see that while he's earnest, hard-working, and talented, he's a bit odd and intense and that makes him a little difficult to approach casually. the only people who really like him are those who sit down and actually spend time with him. apart from the heroines of the story with whom he has time to develop a romantic bond, you don't see other girls falling head over heels for him. in fact, in hollow ataraxia the homurahara trio and mitsuzuri are quick to write him off as someone they are vehemently not interested in romantically whatsoever.

he only cooks like a pro because he had to teach himself to cook since he was 8. it's vital to understand that since kiritsugu became increasingly disabled and was utterly incapable of living as a normal human being, shirou was forced to grow up well before he was ready to take care of his adoptive father. he learned to cook, do the dishes, do the laundry, and clean the house because there were no other real adults in the house. shirou's domestic usefulness didn't come out of nowhere, it's a set of skills he took on out of necessity and came at the expense of his emotional growth.

shirou's power also isn't op. it's stated multiple times in the story how difficult it is for him to tap into it. he's not a natural mage with strong magical circuits, and neither does he have any real "useful" magical alignments that would make it easy for him to use conventional magecraft. every training session shirou has is a life-threatening act where he pushes his body and mind to the utmost limit for the low chance he might succeed at strengthening or projecting something. whenever he grabs hold of an ability that elevates his combat skills, it's either a) done with saber's help in the fate route, b) acquired as his soul inherits experience from his proximity to archer in ubw and receiving mana from rin, or c) obtained at the expense of the integrity of his mind and body as archer's arm starts to supplant his existence in heaven's feel. and even then, there's limits to what he can trace and project. he can't trace divine constructs normally as seen with ea, and his projections eat through his mana. think about what happens in heaven's feel too. every time he projects something with archer's arm he leaps closer to death because he can't handle the strain.

to say nothing ever happens to him in canon is also disingenuous. he doesn't die in a permanent sense, but take a moment to consider the amount of mental and physical pain he suffers that forces him to confront something about himself and change. did "nothing" happen when he faced gilgamesh and heracles with saber? is growing closer to her to find the best way to help her assert her personhood "nothing"? did "nothing" happen when he fought archer? is realizing the truth of your ideals and grasping the resolve to realize them anyway in a healthier and more self-aware manner "nothing"? did "nothing" happen when he fought heracles, saber alter, and kotomine? is saving your loved ones and claiming your life as your own after years of not seeing yourself as a human being to protect those dear to you so they too learn to love and accept themselves "nothing"?

take a moment to consider in what ways shirou is stupid that aren't contradicted by him being smart in others. shirou is socially inept and utterly incapable of asking for help because he is a traumatized teenager who doesn't know what a normal life is. he has few friends. he survived a fire. he is constantly trying to make up for being unable to rescue anyone in the calamity that destroyed his childhood. he constantly jumps in front of danger to save others for that very reason and refuses help because he doesn't want others to get hurt because of him until he learns to overcome that fear of being destroyed and seeing others be destroyed. he is dumb at being a person because he's never let himself be one. he is smart in a fight because he's at least been able to process his stress and trauma in a way that helps him rationalize his way out of a crisis.

i feel the need to stress that a protagonist having special qualities fit for the narrative isn't them being a mary sue. it's them simply being a main character with agency, a main character that is engaging and interesting. how boring do you think shirou and the story would be if he was really a shit-ass mcnobody with no talents, personality, qualities, or meaningful connections to the setting? he'd be no different from every other harem protag the cishet male audience can use as a self-insert. he is supposed to subvert ideas of masculinity by being domestic. he challenges conventional ideas of heroism by showing how his ideals are flawed and how important it is that he self-actualize.

shirou faces consequences for his inaction and inexperience multiple times too. saber gets frustrated because he won't (tell her why he really won't) fight and that causes a rift in their relationship he must fix with honesty and mutual understanding. shirou's inability to protect himself from hypnotic suggestion gets him kidnapped by caster and forces archer to rescue him, and in turn their shared stubbornness elevates their conflict to deadly levels until they're forced to fight to work out their differences. heaven's feel shows you how his unwillingness to forsake who he is to properly scold sakura and save her makes the situation worse when sakura loses faith that shirou will keep his promise to her until he decides he will fulfill it for both their sakes. people do care! saber cares when her master doesn't see eye to eye with her! rin cares that shirou is too willing to throw away his own life for others! archer cares that he is at risk of becoming that which archer can't forgive himself for being! sakura cares because seeing the man she loves come home bruised and bloodied every night is wrong! illya cares because he is her only true family! rider cares because if shirou can't be sakura's ally then she's as good as dead! everyone cares because shirou has to learn to care too, and he does!

i'm going to ask you to try to engage with media without trying to uncover flaws under rigid standards like this because all it does is keep you from properly understanding what is being shown to you. you cannot hope to judge a story and its characters for all their flaws or merits if this is how you approach things.

#long post

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

Text

Ashens (Part 18)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian. Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 17,000 (I’M SO SORRY) the first half of this story is flashback. The second half is the present.

Chapter Warning: Sex, twice. Sad Sex. Filthy sex. SMUT. VERY strong Language. Bucky and Reader will be very toxic in this chapter. It might be triggering if you’ve ever been in an emotionally abusive relationship.

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

Full Masterpage |

There’s an imminent smell of old wood garnish and pumpkin spice escaping a bright orange glow that flickered in the background.

The odor was extremely strong, trickling through the thick and heavy air of the twelve by twelve room. There was a draft coming in through the window and it continued to help push the flame directly towards the center of the room- the scent marking anything in its direct path with a faint reminder of the close arrival of winter.

Though the glow of a candle was soothing, to many it was anything but pleasant; scented candles were a new thing and it was said to be something for the upcoming future generation.

The idea behind it was that it carried an artificial smell that held a memory you could carry along with you wherever you went. Its point was to remind you of where you were or what you wanted to be feeling, come the fitting setting. This specific pumpkin candle was to remind us all that it was a season of festivity and gathering, and much-needed warmth. The other obvious reason being that pumpkin was delicious.

If you weren’t eating it, you might as well be smelling it.

To most people, it made no sense. Why would you want to smell something so delicious and not be able to physically consume it? It was a pleasant odor coming from an artificial chemical, completely contrary to what is expected. Put simply, it was an empty promise.

One more strong whiff of pumpkin, mixed together with the cozy sound of a crackle of fire, he blinks and Bucky is brought out of his daze. He’s now entirely environmentally aware of his surroundings and sounds coming from additional places come into his perspective.

Within a moment’s relapse, he chooses again to regain focus on the other specific sounds aside from the antagonizing fake fire, gazing his eyes over the pleasant words in front of him.

To his dismay, they don’t sink in. He is distracted by the harsh rain pellets and the distant undeviating sound of a honking Durant. Unlike the candle, those sounds didn’t stand out to him as empty promises, but instead as a reminder of the harsh reality of the outside world.

His strong and confident fingers appeared to skim the yellow worn-out pages of his book on their own accord; his eyes still looking, but not necessarily seeing. Looking closer, with shoulders painfully slumped, he squinted his blue eyes. The words blurred into one and he began blinking desperately and shifting in his seat. He tried to regain his proper vision, not enjoying the sensation of not knowing or seeing what he was trying oh so hard to understand.

His right thumb gave a slight unconfident tremble as he tried to pick up the next page. After a couple of failed attempts, the paper not obeying (most likely due to his careless attempt- it’s not like he was actually reading it), he sighs in aggravation.

He closes his copy of This Side of Paradise harshly between his hands, bringing it to his face. He bounces his right leg uncontrollably up and down as he tapped his pointer finger on the cover of the worn-out novel, resting one elbow on each knee.

It was a nervous tick he picked up somewhere along the way.

The walls of the study room seemed to want to envelope him warmly, as if trying too hard to show comfort and security. There was an eeriness that made him constantly tremble and not feel comfortable at all. Maybe it was the hideous wallpaper, or maybe it was that disgusting odor of varnish from the freshly repainted wooden chair that he smelled when he first came in and could not stop thinking about.

There was no longer a sound of a honking Durant, and the rain seemed to dim down drastically as he continued to look into the distance. He wondered if it was the December air leaking through the slightly ajar window that made the tightness in his chest grow cold and frigid.

Aggravated, he placed the book down next to him on the side table, avoiding the waiting and apprehensive eyes staring at him. They had been staring at him for what felt like hours but had been only mere minutes.

He knew he was a strong young man, he'd always tried to be because that's how he was raised back in his little home town of Shelbyville, Indiana. And if asked about it, he would speak of it with great confidence.

When his mother passed away, his father had been the one to make sure to teach him that nothing like her death would be strong enough to tear him down. That instead, it would, and should, be a motivation for him to be a better person each and every time. He would need to transfer that hurt and despair into physical action.

But clearly, it had to come with a price and tremendous hard work. Things like that, non material things like emotional determination, could not be bought. If you wanted to be great, you had to work to be great. If you wanted to be strong, you'd have to work for it. He’d have to push through all the heartache and pain to reach that level of excellence that he knew his father wanted to see in him.

That is that natural characteristic they’re born with: soldiers.

It was well known, Bucky Barnes was a military brat. His father was always well respected at Camp Lehigh. They'd say back at camp that he was much like his father: loyal, headstrong, patriotic, and obtained strong morals. It was practically in his blood to be a fighter. A fighter for the good in people, the kind, and the innocent. It was his duty, and when he'd grow up to put his own two feet in combat boots himself, he would be prepared to take on any mission he was told. He would be more than capable of doing so.

They all promised him this and he himself grew up believing it.

But this, this of all things, was not something he was prepared for.

Because he's realized -at this exact moment- that his entire life he has lost almost everything and gained absolutely nothing in return. He'd put himself out there so many times to try and do the better good, from giving his last twenty five cents (that he initially wanted to use to buy flowers for the new pretty girl he met) to the little boy he saw walking down Broadway with no shoes.

He excelled in every class he'd ever taken because he knew it was good for him because it would make his father proud.

The shadow that belonged to the eyes and voice from earlier sat down in front of him behind a large desk that had a plaque.

It read ‘Director' in golden ink that had begun to fade from years of scratching and unkindly picking by kids that faced much less traumatic sentences than this.

Bucky's eyes lifted for the first time in what felt like a long time. He could feel the strain on his heavy eyelids as he did so. He regretted it the moment he looked up, because that's when reality seemed to have punched him directly in the gut. His eyes swelled and he blinked away quickly, not letting emotion get the best of his masculinity.

He'd refused to let a tear out.

But the look of pity on the man's face is what did it for him, it made him want to completely fall apart. He didn't like being looked at that way. He didn't like being the victim, the way it felt. He hated it with a passion. He wanted to run out of there and hide himself away for at least one small moment and cry.

"I'm so sorry."

That was the response he exactly did not want to hear. Bucky let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his short hair as the words rang in his ears like ticking bombs. Again, he didn't like the pity.

He tried to deny it and shake his head back and forth to himself but all that did was drive tears to trickle out of his blue eyes.

He knew this would pass with time, but being weak was not the reaction he needed to put on display. He was a soldier for heaven’s sake. No matter how destroyed his life seemed to be getting, he couldn't let it show.

Bucky cleared his throat, making sure his voice would sound strong before he would begin to speak.

And it was.

"It's not your fault.”

Twenty-one. That's how old Bucky Barnes was when his father passed away.

+ + +

They were both laughing so hard that she started getting tears, but she wasn’t sure if it was from the laughter or the bitter cold. They were both so caught up in the events of the night neither noticed how cold it really was.

Once their laughter dwelled down, she continued to stare at him in total admiration. He was something else for sure. She wanted to feel his arm around her again. She looked down at his freezing hand and took it into her cold one.

“Tell me about you, James.”

He smiled when she looked back up and he gave her a tight squeeze.

“First, tell me what a fine dame like you is doin here in Brooklyn.” A playful smile plays on her lips, but it’s a rhetorical questions so he continues, “What do you wanna know?"

She smiles even wider and this time it reaches her eyes, “Everything. I want to know everything about you by tomorrow mornin’.”

The fact that she suggested spending the night with him made him gulp.

He looks down at her lips and nods slowly.

He followed up by telling her that the apartment he had rented out for the next few weeks was just a couple of blocks away. On the walk there she had questioned what he meant by rent for a couple of weeks to which he responded with that he would explain there, but that they should get warm first.

When they arrived, his door ended up being three floors up. His dingy beat-up door made her smile inside. He gave off a classy, rich, stuck up vibe, but really he was simple and not much for being out there. She liked that he seemed so original.

He inserted the key into the normal door lock and bolt lock and opened the door for her to let her in first. She stepped into the “foyer”, if it could even be called that, and took a look around. It was more like a two by two feet space. She walked in the rest of the way and took a look around. It was basically a small studio, but a lot smaller. It was one room, inside there was a tiny kitchen on the left corner, a window that looked out to another brick wall, and to the right a metal bed with a white blanket.

But it was made, military style.

He walks over to his record player and places the needle gently down on the vinyl. If You Only Knew starts playing quietly.

He looks over his shoulder at her and notices her facial expression.

“Yeah, sorry” he chuckled dropping his keys by his iron stove, “I know it’s not much, but it’s temporary. You should’ve seen my old place before I left for training.”

He catches himself when he says it but it’s too late. Her head snaps to his direction and her face holds an emotion that he can’t really pin point. He can’t tell if it’s fear or surprise. He swallows hard and tries to direct the conversation to a different direction.

He curses himself in his head for his stupid slip up. He goes to the far kitchen and opens the cupboard, “I got some cookies, uhm,” he doesn’t know what to say with her staring at him like that. He closes the cupboard and runs a hand through his brown hair. It’s silent.

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. A car honks outside after it runs through a puddle and Ella’s voice is haunting.

“You’re in the army.”

He’s caught off guard and his eyebrow raises at her voice. He looks at her. It wasn’t fear or surprise that she had felt when he said that, it was sadness. It was the one feeling he was afraid she’d feel, it was the reason why he didn’t want to tell her just yet. But it was too late, she knows now.

He nods.

He sees visible tears build up in her eyes. He doesn’t want this, he wanted this to be happy. Just a half hour ago they were laughing and now she’s in his apartment, shattered. She nods quickly and crosses her arms across her chest.

She was different and he knew it the moment he saw her. Any normal girl would love to be with a soldier, but not in this case. Not when it was something like this.

She looks at his bed and his window and shakes her head. This was a damn pit stop.

The made bed revealed just how loyal he was to what he had signed up for and she knew there was no backing out. But he was perfect, she couldn’t lose him. She had to at least stay for the long hall, she thought. It wouldn’t last forever anyway.

Her eyes meet his again. The tears had been blinked away and evaporated and her strong satire was back.

He takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over the sink, sighing. He had been waiting patiently for her response. Whatever she said would ever make or break this, and for God’s sakes if there’s anything he didn’t want to do it was break this.

“How long?” Her tone was strong.

“How long till I leave?” He was a bit confused by the question.

She nodded.

Bucky felt his heart sink. It wasn’t long. She would not like the answer. It was not good. She concluded this herself by his delayed answer and his stare at the floor beneath him.

She let out an exhausted sigh and a click of her tongue as she turned away from him. Now she was angry.

“Five days.”

They’re silent, standing there letting reality sink in. Minutes pass by. She takes a seat on his bed and takes off her coat. He watches her every move intently, wondering if she would decided to stay for the long haul or run out of his cheap room he dared call an apartment.

“Like I said. I want to know you.”

He heart soars and he smiles. He re opens the cupboard and takes out a box of cookies. He fills up two jars with milk and hands one of them to her as he practically dances over to her. He sits criss crossed on the bed. She chuckles at how innocent he looks just sitting there like that in his dress shirt and suspenders, like a kid.

It’s awkward at first, trying to sit cross cross with a long dress on, but eventually she manages by pulling her dress up around her thighs. Bucky blushes at this. She brings him out of the moment.

“So what are you doing in Brooklyn?"

He smirks, “I live here, Doll.” She gives him a confused look. He takes a deep breath and decides to start from the beginning, “I moved here when I was a teen. My father was in the army since we used to live back in Indiana. I used to go with him to camp, I loved everything about it. The respect those men held, the strong mentality they had, there’s was so much about what they were doing that made me see there was something greater to live for. To make this country better for us, so we can live and be peaceful and happy. There are way too many nasty people out there who don’t deserve to breathe our air. We are good people and I want to save the good people. It’s something serious, putting your life like that on the line. Unfortunately not all are willing.”

Daisy smiles at him talking about his love for the military. She remembers her mother’s words at that moment.

It really was in his heart, his love for humanity, “it’s in my blood, just like dad. I did training in New Jersey where he was stationed.” Mentions of his father makes him trail off for a second and Daisy notices. She places her hand on his, “and then they sent me back here for some additional work just until our physical forms go through to see who gets accepted. Who does leave in five days.”

Daisy perks at this, “So you’re not actually certain if you will leave?”

Bucky chuckles to himself and looks down. He reaches for another cookie, “Doll, my dad was well respected on the forces. They raised me to do the same. They practically have my name already there ready for me. I know I’m not staying.”

Daisy stays silent again. Bucky tosses the cookie back down and reaches for her cheek. She gasps and looks up at him, her blue eyes soft, “I’m not saying this to make this harder. I’m being honest with ourselves, because,” he looks at her eyes and then her lips. She swallows hard when she sees him looking there. Her heart starts to race in his chest as he moves in closer, “because I know all we have is five days and I want to make the most of it. I’ve only known you for a few hours but what I feel with you is something I know will last forever.”

The moment he says this he feels like he’s just put his heart own on his sleeve. Something he has never done. There was no taking it back now. He’s never had a relationship like this before, he prays to God he didn’t just mess it up. He starts getting afraid when she doesn’t respond, she just stares up at him. His eyes swell up slightly and he wants to add that it’s okay if she didn’t feel the same.

But No. he didn’t not want to lose this. So he slides his hand from her cheek even higher up the side of her head through her hair and watching her, “Please tell me you feel the same.” His voice is low and full of emotion. Hopeful.

She’s never felt this. This had to be the boy of her dreams, and now she felt like the one that was dreaming all over again. Just three hours ago she never even knew this man existed, but all of a sudden she felt like she’s known him all her life.

She moves in closer and watches his Adam’s apple bobble up. The proximity was too much to bear. He was too much, and yet she wanted more. She wanted him.

And she only had five days. They had five days.

And they were going to make the most of it.

The moment her lips crashed onto his was a moment he wouldn’t forget. The fire that exploded inside of him was a bright red flame and it burned through his heart. Instinctively, he brings his other hand up as well and slides it to the other side of her face. She slides her left hand up his thigh and he growls against her mouth, their tongues meeting for the first time. It was fast, hard, and needy.

He raises himself up onto his knees so he’s towering above her still criss-cross body. Her hand raises up higher up his thigh and he feels her delicate fingers reaching in his waist band. He growls against her mouth once more.

She uses his belt loop to bring his body downwards as she uncrosses her legs and lays herself down onto his bed. Bucky’s right leg drops down the side of the bed and accidentally kicks the glass over. They’re lips still stay connected and he’s bringing his right hand to the strap of her dress, and now Ella’s voice sounds like a goddamn melody.

He’s about to pull her strap further down but he stops himself.

He pulls away and they’re both breathing heavily, Daisy whimpers at the distance he puts between their lips. The sound makes him want to go back to what he was doing, but he stops himself.

She’s about to question him when he places her strap back against her clavicle. He pats it down gently and the act makes her laugh. His lips are swollen and she kisses them one more time. He moans into her mouth. She pulls away and lets him speak.

“I want to know you, too.” He says.

“We will. We have five days.”

+ + +

Her legs had curled up against her chest as she laid on her side, a single finger making soft patterns against his chest. It moved up and down sharply as his breathing became affected by what her touch was doing to him. He had stared down at her finger and then grabbed it diligently. She watched silently as he used his right hand to unfold her twirling fingers and fold it with his, holding it against his body.

She looked up at him incomplete awe, her eyes drifting down to his approaching lips. He dipped his head just slightly as he brushed his lips against hers.

They had stayed up all night talking about their goals, and what they loved to do. Daisy was a simple, innocent,, young girl. She loved dancing and flowers and she also admired the simplicity of innocence. She grew up in a Christian household and her morals were up there. They both laughed together when she brought up the fact that she never would’ve had thought she’d be cuddled in bed with a man she met only hours before.

They commented about their families, how Bucky’s little sister had been taken away from him not too far back, about his mother’s death.

“What about your father?” She had asked.

Bucky remained quiet as he stared up at her. She noticed his change in demeanor and her eyes squinted. Bucky let go of her hand and switched his position from on his side to on his back. He brought his leg up and folded his hands on his chest.

He felt her shift and lean against him. He looked over and saw her resting on her elbow, her left hand drifting up his neck and into his hair. She pulled on it slightly making him close his eyes.

“James.” She whispered, pleadingly. He opened his eyes and looking into hers.

“He passed away,” he could tell she was going to start saying condolences as her mouth opened but he beat her to it, “this morning.”

He thought she was going to start giving him sympathy, he expected it. But instead he felt her rest her head on his sturdy chest. He was taken aback at first, but then smiled softly and took in a deep breath. He allowed his hand to snake in through her soft blonde hair.

“You’ll get through this. You’re strong.” He swallowed as he felt her hand skim against his chest, feeling him. He didn’t want to push her into anything and was thankful that her hand just went to his waist, pulling his body closer to hers, “I can tell.”

“I want to be with you. And when I get back from war, I want to be with you again.”

+ +

She knew she was taking a risk by inviting him over to her house, but she had wanted him to meet her family. Sure this was fast, but how long did they truly have together? She obviously remembered the stories her mother told her.

Underneath the anxiety, love, and happiness she felt as he helped her mom cut the carrots, she genuinely hoped her parents would love him, too.

“How long have you known this boy, Daisy?” Her mom had asked over her shoulder as she washed some lettuce and tomatoes in some cold water in a bowl under the sink. Daisy bit her lip. Her mom noticed her hesitate, “ Daisy .”

Her tone was judging and all too motherly. Daisy looked up and saw her mom giving her a glare that quickly told her that she didn’t like where this was going. Daisy felt defensive.

“Momma, before you judge me, he’s an amazing gentleman and I fully trust him with everything,” she saw her mom shaking her head to herself and murmur something but the sound of the sink water drowned it out. Daisy got up exasperated and walked over to her mom, “Think about it, when was the last time I brought a boy home? You know I don’t bring just anyone. You are going to love him.”

Her mom smiled and looked over at her, shutting off the water.

“You are lucky I’m me and not your dang fatha’, Daisy.” She washed two more tomatoes, “Do you?”

Daisy gaped at her, not really know how to respond to that. To be fully honest she didn’t really think about it. When it came out while she was cuddly with Bucky earlier that day, it was natural and she hadn’t thought twice about it. But it seemed to soon to tell, but yet not fully impossible. She’d never felt the way she felt that when she was with Bucky. She felt heat creep up into her cheeks and her mom started to smile. The moment was interrupted by a strong voice.

“Love who?”

Both Daisy and her mother’s face fell at the heavy tone that washed over them like pure ice. Daisy’s eyes drifted up to her dad who was standing in the door way. He held a cigar in his right hand, his leather covered foot tapping away. He eyed them both, clearly he was eavesdropping and was not liking where this conversation seemed to have been going.

Daisy gulped. She looked down and fidgeted with her fingers.

“A boy, daddy.”

“Daisy invited him for dinner.” Her mom added casually, draining the water out of the bowl with her hands. The silence was deafening. Her dad could tell she was avoiding his gaze.

He chuckled maniacally as he tapped his cigar with his pointer fingers, some ashes tickling towards the freshly mopped floor. Daisy watched as if it were poison. Suddenly, she was very fearful.

“Is that so?”

Daisy nodded, finally looking up. Her dad looked serious, territorial even.

“Charles, quit scarin’ her. I hear he could be the one.” Her mom winked at her.

Her dad squinted angrily, “The one? And I’m just now hearing about this kid?” He walked over to his wife and rubbed her back soothingly, still giving Daisy a disapproving look, “and did I just hear love?”

Daisy groaned in aggravation, running her hands through her curls, “Mom, stop that.” Daisy sighed as she wiped her hands on her little dress and walked back over to the stool that sat on the far side of the large kitchen, “he’s a great guy. Daddy, I know that, it’s why I invited him today.”

“I just don’t get why I’m not meeting this damn boy.”

Daisy flinched at his tone, “Daddy, please.”

“Then explain it to me!”

Daisy dropped her face into her hands, “I was just worried about you meeting him because he’s not the typical guy you go for. But I do care about him, please, just give him a chance. He’s very sweet.”

Daisy practically felt her father roll his eyes. She looked up and saw a snarl on his face.

A soft knock on the door and Daisy immediately flew out of her seat to open it. Her dad made a comment to Daisy’s mother about agreeing to this in the background, but Daisy was now momentarily too excited to care. She took a deep breath as her hand wrapped around the doorknob.

She opened it and the moment her eyes landed on him, her heart went soaring and she literally felt herself smile. All the anger and fear she felt before dissipated. His reaction was mirrored to hers, his pearly whites making her blush hard. His gorgeous eyes wrinkled at the sides as he smiled. He looked perfect in a soft black suit, underneath it is a white dress shirt, but the top button undone. His hair was in a small quiff and shiny from his pomade.

She extended her hand out to take his in hers and pulled him inside playfully hard. They both giggled together, Bucky’s face leaning down to kiss the top of her cheek. She hadn’t realized how hard she really pulled him until he stood right in front of her, their fronts touching. She was blushing as he stared down at her face and then her lips.

He tilted his head slightly and started to lean down, and her eyes drifted shut, when the moment was interrupted but a cough.

“So you must be the boy Daisy won’t stop going on about.”

Bucky pulled back, red tainting his cheeks. At that moment he realized he had just been caught almost wanting to devour this woman’s daughter’s mouth right in front of her. He stepped back bit and straightened out his back and cleared his throat.

He brought his one hand across his chest and with the other he extended it out for a handshake. No longer lust in his eyes, he was now completely serious, his mission being to impress a high class family. Her mom smiled at how charming he was.

“Mrs Davis.” Bucky greeted with a firm shake and smile.

She could tell by his strong handshake that he had been raised well. She exchanged looks with Daisy, who clearly looked terrified and expectant of what her reaction to him would be. She looks back at Bucky.

“Daisy never mentioned your name.”

“James, mamn.”

“That’s a strong name.”

Everyone looked up to follow the voice. Charles stood there tall and brooding, another cigar in hand. Bucky stretched out his arm once more, too eagerly this time, “Please to meet you, Mr. Davis.”

Bucky waited as Charles stared down at Bucky’s hand, not taking it and clearly not wanting to anytime soon. Bucky stood there awkwardly, fear and rejection creeping into his guts. He slowly lowered his arm, Charle’s gaze not leaving his face.

“You live on the upper east side, too? What’s your Street? You’re dressed like a damn paper boy.”

Bucky’s face fell immediately and Daisy inwardly groaned.

Bucky licked his lips nervously and then fixed his back to stand taller as if to appear powerful. There was no way he was going to let this man tear him down.

“No, sir,” He hates that his voice is shaky. He gives Daisy a nervous side glance and then back to her dad, “I live in Brooklyn, sir.”

Her dad frowned and both Daisy and her mother knew this was going to go down fast.

“Brooklyn,” his tone was disapproving, “What do you do for a living, boy?”

Daisy took a step next to Bucky, “Dad, that’s enough.”

Bucky frowned and realized Daisy hadn’t really told them close to anything about him. While he understood, he was now dreading the whole entire conversation that would go down. Him and Daisy shared a look before Barnes looked back up at Charles.

“I’m in the military, sir.”

Her dad raised an eyebrow as soon as the words left his lips, then a scoff. Daisy looked up to his her mother’s face fallen and sad.

Bucky’s eyes darted between Daisy and her father, suddenly realizing that something that he said was not good.

“Sir, was something I said -“

“Daisy, tell me hows a boy who doesn’t have a real job suppose to be with my daughter? A goddamn soldier? Jesus.”

“For heaven’s sake, Daddy!”

“Charles, stop that!”

Daisy’s mother’s angry voice made everyone go silent at once. Bucky felt small, wanting to fade away into the ground below him.

Charle’s scoffed, tossing his cigar at Bucky’s beat up dress shoes. It was the best pair he owned and even those were not his best. He swallowed hard, trying to not feel small and sad.

“I’m gonna get Jimmy and then we can eat.”

Bucky stared down at the cigar at his feet, his heart feeling heavy. “A goddamn soldier”.

It replayed over and over in his head.

Suddenly, he felt a comforting hand on his back. He looked up and saw Daisy staring down at him, sad.

“Just a goddamn soldier, Daisy?” He motioned upwards with his hand. “What is this?”

Daisy looked down, “James, that’s my father, okay? If anything, let’s just be glad he didn’t kill you. He’s like that with everyone.” That actually did help Bucky feel slightly better as he stood up taller. Daisy’s hand reached up as she cupped his cheek, “And the soldier thing, he’s weird about that. I’m not sure why.”

Bucky stared at her for half a second, doubting every word, before he simply complied and nodded. He smiled slightly.

+ +

The dinner was quiet and tense, and over much too slowly. Bucky had quickly pulled Daisy out into the hallway to say goodbye before he left, groaning into her mouth how he was never going back in there ever again. They both laughed and kissed.

And now here they were at the bar, the night before he had to leave. Bucky didn’t want to leave, because he had a feeling that this would be one of the last few days he would have any peace and serenity. His gut was twisting and turning as he played with the strand of her hair between his thumb and pointer finger. As his gaze drifted from her lips to her blue eyes he just knew deep inside that this is exactly the kind of feeling he wanted to be feeling for all of eternity.

He felt it when he touched her, when he looked at her, and when he held her in his arms.

It was like a wave of fresh air that reminded him of home - Daisy was his new home. He knew it happened fast, they all did, but sometimes true love doesn’t have to be complicated. When its meant to happen, it just simply happens. It’s simple as that - as simple as him tucking her hair behind her ear and giving her that pearly white smile that made the cheeks on her face turn a crimson red.

She leaned her forehead onto his as he held her close by her waist, the piano in the background that was once haunting, now insanely beautiful exactly like the woman in front of him.

When Bucky had told Steve he might ask her to marry him one day.

Those words Steve said kept ringing in Bucky’s head, even as he now held Daisy in his arms, but they meant absolutely nothing to him. She was his sanctuary, his now, and he would take it by the hand.

He would take advantage of these last few hours he had with her and he would pretend all is good in the world and it would stay that way. It had to.

He kept telling himself that so he, himself, could believe it. The truth was it was all going to go downhill, he could tell.

He knew that once he left for New Jersey tomorrow that he wasn’t going to automatically be drafted into war, there wasn’t a necessary need just yet. But his father had told him the speculations of how the US wanted to go after the Nazis, and he knew there was something else his father wasn’t telling him, and it would not be long before hell broke loose.

That’s when Steve and all the others would eventually be even more so analyzed and drafted, and so would Bucky - without a doubt.

Sure, he was courageous. It wasn’t that he was scared to go, but he needed to be certain that Daisy would always be safe. He would surely miss the moments of having her in his arms, safe and happy.

Softly, he took her left cheek in his hand and rubbed his thumb across the top of her cheek bone,. He needed to take advantage of this moment that was staring them dead in the eye. He needed to. It didn’t matter how fast it was, how much he wanted to treat her preciously, and how much he respected her faith. He needed her.

“Come to my apartment with me,” he noticed her gulp and her mouth opened slightly. Daisy’s mouth went dry and she watched his usual blue eyes turn a heavy grey. Bucky smiled slightly, “I don’t want to seem like I’m making you do something you don’t want to, but I just…” his voice drifted off as his gazed dropped slightly. His eyes became clouded with disastrous visions of the future. He blinked it quickly away, wanting to just see the image of Daisy underneath him. Just her and her pearly white skin and those gorgeous lips kissing him.

At that moment Daisy knew exactly what he was asking.

She was a virgin and she had mentioned that to him when they started talking about the topic of her faith. She technically wasn’t supposed to be engaging in anything that was sexual before marriage to which Bucky simply nodded. At that moment, he decided he wouldn’t be too strong on her nor mention anything of his past sex life which would surely leave her blushing. He loved fucking.

But as she stared at him right then and there, realizing this could be the last moment where they’re both happy together and not having to worry about anything, she wanted just exactly the same thing he did. She closed her eyes tightly together and leaned her face closer to his, giving him a deep and sexy kiss on his top lip, biting it as she pulled away.

Bucky practically growled at her action, never seeing this side of her. Daisy was innocent, a classy lady, one that should always be treated as such. Sure, he knew of her passions for burlesque and lingerie (when she told him he had practically tried not to cum right then and there in his bed), but that was a dirty little secret that he concluded shouldn’t be mentioned out loud. She was always that beautiful, young, and morally behaved girl that stole his heart.

When she let go of his top lip, which was definitely throbbing now, he narrowed his lusty eyes at her and took it as a sign of acceptance.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly shaking the whole time he walked her to his dungy little Brooklyn apartment. He looked straight adorable in his little Italian flat hat and suspenders, his coat draped across one of his arms, the other holding her hand as he slid his key into all three locks of the door.

She swore she could see him shake a little too when they had gotten inside and he put his coat on the tiny kitchen table and he turned to her.

The room suddenly felt even smaller, the air between them hot and utterly thick.

He eyed her up and down and swallowed hard. She wore a beautiful black dress that covered every single part of her that he now wanted to see exposed to him.

Her lips were slightly red from the many kisses they shared on the way to the apartment, and her pinup eyeliner was so damn pretty as it shaped her eyes to perfection. She was damn gorgeous and she knew it.

He slid off his dress shoes and then walked over to where she was standing. Her heart hammered away in her chest as his stunning blue eyes traced her body. The moment he finally stood before her, he realized he didn’t want to do with her what he did with every other girl.

He lifted his left arm to the side of her neck and watched her chest fall rapidly up and down. He grabbed her there lightly, and then slid it down the side of her body, eyeing the beauty that was simply her.

“James.”

“I’ll be gentle.”

He grabbed her right hand and pulled her along over to his bed. She looked down at him as he stared up at her, in awe and in love. She brought her hands to his face and touched his perfectly combed hair, smiling.

She stopped when he laid his hands over hers and brought it down between them. His face was now serious as he whispered, “Lay with me.”

He wanted to make love to her tonight.

Did they and it was slow and tender.

+ +

Bucky had told Steve he’d be back soon. It wouldn’t be too long - maybe a month, maybe even a few weeks. Bucky stepped onto the steam train and Steve and Daisy had stood next to each other as they waved him goodbye. The moment he sat down in his seat and the vision of the love of his life and his best friend became nothing but silhouettes, he threw his head back against his cold seat, taking a deep breath. He made a vow to himself that now was the time to make himself, his father, and his country proud.

The only thing he wanted more than his girl was to save the lives of every person he possibly could.

He took an additional deep breath, running a damp hand over his face. He stared up at the iron ceiling as the train swayed side to side and up and down over the slightly uneven tracks, making its way south.

He fidgeted uncomfortably as each horrible made up scenario of what could happen when he arrived went through his mind. He wondered if the chief and sergeant would agree that he’d be as fitting as his father in taking his place and if he’d make the best soldier he always wanted to be.

He took a deep breath and simply leaned his head against the glass.

His blue eyes watched as the scenery of green and trees became the last of peace that he had a feeling he would feel for a very long time.

+ +

Wheaton, New Jersey

The train ride wasn’t long; a little over an hour which was just enough time for Bucky to take his well-needed nap. When he had arrived at the station, he had noted the Jeep he was told that would pick him up along with two others who were on board. He didn’t even bother to meet up with them while onboard the train, wanting to take as much time to himself as he could, knowing it was probably his last opportunity.

The Jeep zoomed down a dirt road and through an intimidating metal gate. Bucky watched as young men ran around the perimeters, training intensely. Others were talking amongst each other as they took their break, sweaty bangs dangling onto their foreheads.

They looked at him in curiosity as his car sped towards its destination, probably wondering what was so special about this guy that he had to get to where he was going so quickly.

Suddenly, the car came to a heavy jolt and a hand slammed down beside him on his seat announcing their arrival. He jumped slightly at the intrusion but took a deep breath and opened the dingy door.

As Bucky stepped off the jeep and into the dirty mud of his new camp, he knew he needed to find his uniform and combat boots as fast as he could.

He stared down in a slight grimace at his freshly destroyed dressed shoes - he had just gotten them shined. He scoffed to himself and dragged it’s front against a random dry patch of grass trying to get off as much as he could. A young man jogged by, kicking some mud up onto Bucky’s new pants. Bucky looked on at the man as he ran, a look of anger written all over his face.

From a distance (from beneath a random tent that provided cover for a rest area, Colonel Douglas Smith watched in amusement the entire scene unfolding.

“This is Barnes’ son? The sniper?” He snarled under a grimace. He turned his head and gave Williams a disappointed look.

Another man -Williams- which sat to his left, looked towards Bucky’s direction over his daily newspaper. He watched on along with Douglas and smirked as Bucky looked around, lost.

His eyes drifted to Smith and then back down at his paper, giving it a slight smack, “Yes, sir.” humor tinted his voice heavily.

Smith shook his head in wonder as Bucky dusted off a piece of lint that was on his coat’s collar, “He better be right about this, or I swear to God.”

Bucky’s eyes scanned his vicinity, eyes narrowing diligently. His eyes finally landed on someone who seemed to be who he should be looking for, judging by their attire and posture of authority. Also, the fact that they had been looking at him first.

“He seems too pretty to be as good as they say.”

“His father says he is the best.”

Colonel Smith eyes Bucky up and down as he made his way over, sporting his new suit and fresh suspenders. As soon as he reached the two men, Bucky nodded at each one and took off his Italian flat hat, tucking it into his armpit revealing a perfectly groomed gorgeous head of hair drenched in pomade.

He reached out with his right arm for the Colonel to shake with a bright smile on his face, “James Barnes.”

“Colonel Douglas Smith,” he nods over to the man sitting down who seems very busy jotting something down, “This is Sergeant William of the one-oh-third.”

“Colonel. Serg.” Bucky confirms with a nod to each.

“Sit, boy.” Colonel demands with a motion of his hand in front of him. Bucky politely abides as he pulls out a chair to sit himself down. Bucky places his hat down in front of him and takes a deep breath, “First, I’d like to give you my condolences.”

Bucky momentarily stalls as his eyes drift back and forth between both men, but then clears his throat nodding, “Thank you, Sir.”

“Your father was a great man. Quite a fighter used to say he raised you from young to be the same way.” Colonel eyes Bucky up and down. Bucky gulps, finally feeling the pressure he had been slightly dreading from the beginning. He knew they were expectant of him, and now he was here to prove it and he wasn’t sure he had the balls of steels he had one day ago, “That true?”

Bucky clears his throat, “Yes, sir.” He leans down to reach into his briefcase and pulls out a beige file. He puts it onto the table and slides it across to Colonel. Smith is impressed by his promptness and professionalism and sees William smile from his peripheral.

“What’s this?”

Bucky clears his throat once again, “Dad trained me for many things,” he took a brief glance around the base, “I experienced boot camp at the age of fifteen. I’ve done long races, obstacle races, everything that tested my endurance, boxing, running- both in the rain and scorching heat. I’ve bled, I’ve learned not to cry and hold my own. I know tactics, I know what it takes to be a soldier, sir,” Bucky notes their faces still hold no expression of amazement he was looking for and he feels his palms sweating harshly, “My father did it so I knew how to be strong and prepared for when the time was right.”

Colonel Smith crosses his arms and leans back in his chair, not yet touching the paper in front of him. Bucky looked on in simple embarrassment from Smith to his folder, wondering if it was pointless to show as much pride as he did.

Smith’s strong voice makes Bucky jump when he starts talking, “You think that because you’ve trained since you were a young boy, but clearly have no experience being on the front line, that you are an American Soldier?”

Bucky automatically becomes defensive and his posture becomes confident. He didn’t like the nagging, the accusation of something he was not. That’s when he realized, he needed to prove himself. He was good, and they wanted to see it.

He leans closer to the table and crosses his hands out in front of him, “No, sir, of course not. Not yet,” His voice was strong and clear. The colonel sat there waiting for what Barnes had to add, “I have no experience yet with being in a war, not yet. But I have other experiences, first-hand experience.”

“And what is that exactly?”

“Guns.” Both Smith and William now give Bucky their full attention, looking straight at him in total interest. Smith even moves up closer to Bucky.

Bucky is almost one hundred percent more confident now than he was ten minutes ago because now he’s finally talking about something he knows he can own up to well. This he enjoyed immensely.

“Sure. Your file we have here does show you are good with targets, that you know what weapon is best for what, that you helped your father when it came to assembling and reassembling them for the troops, and that you are great at knowing the anatomy of a gun but many here can do that with intense training. What do you have that the others here don’t, James?”

The colonel was pressing now, and Bucky at that moment realized that what he was doing was not because he didn’t see a reason to not trust Bucky, but more so so he could prove himself, and this was his chance.

Bucky looked Colonel Smith straight in the eye with a snarl. He slammed one finger down on the table in front of them, “I’m not just good with targets. I hit them all.”

“I do not miss. This file,” Bucky again slams his finger down on the folder in front of them, “There are diagrams, spreadsheets, rough drafts, charts, and all my grades for every algebra, geometry, physics, and trigonometry class I’ve ever taken. All As. It also includes my use of Pythagorean theorems.” Colonel raises an impressed brown and opens the file. His mouth is slightly agape as he reads on what is pages and pages of mathematical equations, transcriptions, and each a different weapon usage.

For a cocky good looking guy, Bucky was clearly very very intelligent - a closet nerd.

“I might no be a soldier yet, but I’m already a good fucking sniper.”

William and Smith are smiling now as they see Bucky in the way they wanted to, “Look, I’ll go out there tomorrow if you need me to. Sure, I’m a kid, but that just means I have the time to learn more. I’m ready to fight.”

Colonel stares at Bucky for a beat. He nods, takes the folder in his hands, and stands up. Bucky looks up at him, “You will be here to assist Serg. William and I. And then we’ll see where we take you from there. We want a hard-headed kid here to help get these other guys in order.” His voice was softer now as he spoke on, “Soon, we’ll be out there in the real world and I feel you’ll do fine, kid. Your health record looks great, I saw your previous training records here at the base and they are impeccable,”

“Thank you, sir-“

“but,” Bucky swallows hard. Smith hands the file over to William, “We want you to focus on shooting. And train these damn ass kids that this isn’t just a game. William will escort you to your temporary quarter.”

Bucky nods and stands up, a wide grin on his face as Smith initiates the handshake this time, “Good luck, Kid.”

+ +

Letters.

That's how he spoke to her for two years. He missed her, he missed Steve, and he missed school. He missed Brooklyn, but he missed her most of all. She was everything he had ever wanted and more.

They refused to lose touch, but it seemed to have gotten harder the longer he spent time away from her. He almost started forgetting what it was she looked like and he did not like that at all.

He hoped more than anything that she didn’t forget what he felt like, what his cock felt like the inside of her pretty self. God, he missed her so much.

He’d be laying down in the bunker after one of her letters where she’d admitted that she missed all of his body, and suddenly he’d find himself a panting mess, a hand wrapped around himself. No other women in his life made him cum as much as she did. She was perfect.

Dad has been gone for four weeks and I don’t know why. Jimmy has gone with him- it’s just me and mother. I overheard her saying something about Germany but I’m not quite sure.. Or maybe it was something else. Though none of that matters to me, James- I want you. Please come home to me.

He would pick up his pen and start writing.

Daisy,

I’ll be home soon, my love. I want and miss you, too.

For some reason, a chill ran down his back as he reread the words “something about Germany”.

Like an awful memory that has never happened, he sees a child in front of him. It was a little girl and she screamed in agony for mercy. She was getting strangled to death by his own hand, a silver glint caught his eye-

“James!”

Bucky jumped up looked upfront his lap from where he was writing to see Williams looking at him in curiosity, waiting.

“Be right there, Sergeant.”

Take care of Stevie for me, Daisy. Be careful, both of ya.

Much love,

Bucky

+ +

He’s standing in front of the men, showing them how to correctly calculate the wind and kickback of a PPSh-41. Ten iron cans laid on the grass as Bucky allowed his gun to swing back towards him. He smirks and slides it back into place in the holster around his waist.

“Johnny, you’re up.” Bucky would announce each boy’s turn until they’ve all managed to hit all targets. Some of them taking more thirty tries each to succeed.

As much as he’d try and teach them how to properly shoot each and every gun they had on hand, it was evident that they’d never be as good as him.

But there were good in other aspects, some of which actually reminded him of Steve back at home.

“Faster.” Bucky would demand as he walked in front of them as they did fifty push-ups each. He knew they could handle it.

Williams and Smith watched from afar as Bucky’s men eventually became some of the strongest and most courageous they’ve seen in a long time.

They shared a knowing look and Smith gave a small nod.

Bucky’s gaze drops from the men he’d grown to love down to his feet. He didn’t expect to be there for two years. He didn’t think he would go that long without seeing Daisy, but they ended up loving having him there.

Within weeks he had the entire infantry under his finger. At first, he wasn’t too keen on yelling at them at what to do and how to do it, but with time he realized it was for their best and they realized that too. He was actually not a complete asshole when it came to bossing everyone around, but to be fair it mostly had to do with the fact that they were all not too much younger than him either, some even older.

+ +

It had been Friday night when Bucky had everyone in their bed by 8 o clock, without a complaint or disobedience.

Bucky sat in his little office under the vintage desk light as he was reading one of Daisy’s latest letters, where she spoke about how her father had come home briefly but was quickly leaving for Siberia within a few weeks and how much she was dying to hold Bucky back in her arms again.

She kept begging and begging him non stop.

Bucky’s face was crestfallen as he wrote back that he promised he would be back, and that he had to talk to her about something special when he saw her again for the first time.

Truth was, he was going to ask her to marry him. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her even if it was from such far away. Bucky was tucking the letter into the envelope when someone cleared their throat from his left.

His head snapped and he smiled when he saw it was colonel Smith.

“Bucky, mind if we speak for a second.” Bucky nodded his head and tucked the letter in his back pocket. The colonel noted this with a nod, “That for the lady?”

Bucky smiled slightly, although it was also sad, “Yeah. Miss her,”

Colonel patted a hand on his shoulder, “I know, kiddo.”

They were about to go into Colonel’s office when Smith turned around. Bucky practically walked into him, not expecting him to stop so suddenly in his path. Bucky’s face was serious and he felt worried at the tension that quickly grew, “What is it, Colonel?”

Contemplating before speaking, he looked over Bucky’s shoulder, “The men love you,”

He looked back at Bucky, “You’re good. Really good.”

Bucky should’ve been proud of his words (he was slight) but he could tell something was going on. Smith’s tone and his eyes were off, something was clearly up.

“What’s going on?”

The colonel looked down. It looked like for a second that he was going to back out on telling Bucky. But clearly this wasn’t something anyone could control anymore, “They want them in.”

World War II had merely started about a little over a year ago. Nazi Germany was at its peak and troops were being sent out constantly. Bucky knew there were several infantries being sent in, along with the heavy draft. Bucky had spoken to Steve back at home and Steve kept mentioning about the guys all being deployed out, but not all. They were still trying to recruit more as time came, seeing who was eligible and who wasn’t. Bucky tried to convince Steve as much as possible to quit trying to join the army, to stop lying on his forms to get accepted.

At their base, they were training until they were to be pulled out.

And now was the time.

“But that’s not what I want to talk to you about.”

Bucky’s heart plummeted for a fraction of a second. He wondered what else he possibly had to say.

Colonel turned into his office and allowed Bucky to follow behind. Bucky closed the door behind him, reluctantly and with a hard swallow.

“There’s a group being deployed in two days. To England, the one-oh-seventh.”

Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat. Pride filled deep within his gut and he tried to contain as much excitement as he could.

Smith went around his desk, “We agreed that you’re more than suitable to be deployed as well. So you’ll be with them.”

Bucky smiled. It was finally his time. It wasn’t just his men, but him as well.

“When?”

“A couple of weeks. The week before you’ll be allowed one week at home to see your friends,” Colonel looked at the letter that was peaking out behind him, “and your girl.” Bucky felt like he was going to cry from excitement at this point. Colonel’s face was still serious, “we want to assign you as an official Sergeant.”

The earth seemed two have shifted for a moment while Bucky processed the words. He couldn’t believe they would want him to serve at that level. Bucky’s brows raised in surprise as he stood motionless.

A soldier he always knew he would become one day, it was practically in his blood, but “Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.” Smith crossed his hands out in front of him and stared up at Bucky, hopeful, “I knew the moment you started talking that you were different. You’re good, you’re loyal, you’re a true born soldier just like your father always said you were. You wouldn’t dare lay a hand on something unless they were worth it. You know how to take charge and you’re willing to be on the front line.”

That same image of a tormented child being strangled to death by a hand flicker’s through his mind's eye, except now the kid is thrown against a brick wall, completely deceased.

Bucky swallows hard, “My men, they will be with me?” He knew the answer because he was already told upfront but Smith but he needed to be sure. He needed to know all of them would be there by his side when he killed Schmidt.

“Yes. Drafting starts soon, son. You’ll be home for a little bit to say goodbye.” Smith smiled, “Go get your girl.”

+ +

He’d made sure all their beds were made before they all left to say goodbye to their loved ones one last time, and he made his as well. What good Sergeant would he be if he weren’t the best example if he were a hypocrite?

He hadn’t told Steve nor Daisy that he was coming home- wanting it to be a surprise. He stepped off the train, a tailored uniform, his new Sergeant cap on his head, and a pin on his left chest. He was ready.

A sharp wind blew in from the west, making him frown slightly in pain. The January air burned him like fire but yet gave life at the same exact time. This was reality and it was like a slap to the face. He was here to say goodbye.

Bucky had grabbed a paper from the boy at the train station and saw something about Howard Stark’s Expo and he felt like a little boy all over again. He loved Howard Stark, to be frankly honest he was quite a nerd for it. Not only did he make the best weapons that Bucky would love to have his hands on one day, but he also loved how smart and genius he was. How he was never afraid to reach the unreachable and to do what no one else had the guts to. He would kill to meet him one day and just tell him how amazing he was.

So he had to go to his expo before he left. He was ready to see his best friend and his girlfriend and that’s exactly who he was going to go with.

Bucky had been walking excitedly from the train station to Steve’s house, but he was not expecting to see him getting beaten up by a gentleman in an alley outside a theatre.

Anger blew up inside of Bucky as he ran towards the scene, “Hey!” He called out, grabbing both of their attention.

When Steve saw Bucky his eyes lit up.

Bucky grabbed the bully by his collar and kicked his ass while Steve watched from the corner of the dirty alley.

“I think you like getting punched.”

Bucky said as he helped Steve off the floor.

“I had him on the ropes.”

Bucky decided not to comment any more on how Steve needed to lay off and instead wanted to spend the last few hours he had with his best friend and his girl. He told Steve about how he was sergeant now for the 107th and that he was leaving for England in the morning the next day.

But he was also excited to share with Steve the one thing that Steve knew Bucky loved the most - Stark. When Bucky pulled out the newspaper that showed the expo that was happening that night, Steve notices the fanboy smile written all over his face. He couldn’t wait to pick up Daisy so they could all go.

When Bucky and Daisy saw each other for the first time, he had spun her around so hard her dress spun with her. Bucky kissed her so hard and she cried as she told him how much she missed him.

Steve just stared back in boredom.

“Are we going, or…?”

They both giggled and Bucky punched him playfully on the shoulder, “Come on, punk.”

The three of them walked into the expo. Steve was looking around in awe while Bucky had the biggest grin on his face as he held Daisy’s hand. She wore a beautiful dark drey below-knee dress and brown leather oxford heels and her lips were coated in the most beautiful shades of red.

It was everything Bucky had ever dreamed of. Stark literally blew his mind, especially when he brought out the beautiful to die for women and then make a car fucking fly. Even if it was for just a second.

Bucky’s heart soared.

Daisy looked up at him wonder and she watched his face light up in pure happiness. She didn’t know someone could be so beautiful and that she could love someone so much. She raised her right hand up to his face as a firework went off behind his head in the sky. It was blue - the same shade of his eyes.

He wasn’t expecting that gesture from her at that moment, so when he felt her soft little fingers on the side of his face, he snapped his head down to look at her. Her smile faded as he gave her a look of pure want.

She traces his lips with her thumb and leaned her head down on his chest. Her heart soared even more as he brought her to him in a tight embrace. He kissed the top of her head and then told Steve that they should call it a night.

Steve gave Bucky a tight hug and told him to be safe.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky warned him with a smile.

When Steve split ways with the couple at his door, he knew exactly what they were up to. He was happy for his best friend, he just hoped they weren’t too emotionally involved more than anything. He didn’t want to see Bucky get hurt.

He looked at his best friend with a weird sorrow. He wasn’t sure why something in his gut was telling him that this happiness, this simpleness, was going to be very short-lived.

+ +

When they had gotten back to his apartment, he had her against his door and his lips were on hers.

This was it.

Snippets of that flash of that dead child kept hitting Bucky over and over as he kissed Daisy up against his door.

He tried to get rid of those images as much as possible as he grabbed her gorgeous legs, pulling them around his waist.

That seemed to have done the job perfectly because he felt himself growing hard for her.

“Please.” She pleaded desperately over his lips. He pulled away from her for a second and just stared at her beautiful face trying to take it all in. Reality hit them like a truck as he caressed her cheek with his thumb. This was goodbye, for a while.

He leaned in slowly, and this kiss was different. It was love and care, and so much need. A need for forever. He felt tears building behind his lids as the thought of never getting the chance of holding her like this ever again tried to take over his brain. She tightened her legs around him, her hands going to the straps of his belt.

“God, I missed you, Daisy,” He moaned against her mouth. He brought his right hand between her legs, pushing her panties to the side. He slid one finger from her clit down her slick slit and her head fell back with a thud against his door. She groaned out loud at the sensation that wracked through her body, “Missed the sounds you make. I love you so much.” He growled against her.

She ran her hands through his hair and pulled his face away from her neck to kiss him deeply again. She nodded against him as her hips met the rhythm of his hand, confirming that she felt the same way.

“Please take me, James.”

He walked them over to his bed and gently laid her down. She stared up at his lustful eyes, her lips swollen from his kiss, and her dress bundled up at her waist.

Bucky didn’t waste two seconds to pull it off her. Next, she helped him pull off his uniform jacket and shirt, revealing his gorgeous abs that she wanted to lick over with her tongue.

Next, she removed his pants.

She slowly tucked her fingers into the underside of his underwear as she bit her lip. It was obvious that she was teasing him.

“Just take it off.” He ordered.

She did as told and practically whimpered as his hard cock was revealed to her. She sat up and reached behind herself to unclasp her bra.

When he saw her perky breasts, he leaned down and kissed her once more. The first time they had sex it was different. It was innocent and timid, but now that he knew her body and she wasn’t so shy anymore, it was more carnal. The first time was about opportunities and their future.

But this, this felt like goodbye.

“I can’t wait, Daisy. I need you.” He confessed as he laid her down all the way. She nodded against his understanding.

He stretched out his left hand to hold onto the headboard while the other grabbed his pulsing shaft. She spread her legs and he slid into her with a long moan.

He looked down at her and watched as she arched her neck back in pleasure, the nails of her left hand digging into his sides.

“Faster.” She moaned.

The other thing that was different about this time was how fast it was. The first time it lasted for almost an hour, they had made love in the most sensual way that left his skin crawling. This time they were both so close so fast, they just needed that release due to being away from each other for so long.

She was practically screaming as he fucked her fast and oh so deliciously into the bed below her. It was so good that after only a few minutes she was looking down at the spot where they both met, her lips formed into a perfect o.

She started nodding quickly. She cried. Bucky groaned as he twitched inside of her, his pleasure growing just as strong as hers. He was right behind her. He put his other arm up on the headboard too, letting his restless hips do all the work.

All that was heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin and their moaning.

He picked up his pace as he stared deeply into the blue orbs. When she shut her eyes she let out a silent scream, and he felt her clench around his cock.

That did it for him. He whimpered.

He increased his speed until he felt his own end approaching, and it was going to be strong. When it did, he groaned, tightening his grips on the headboard, making it bang against the wall behind them. He continuously slammed his hips harsh against her.

“Fuck.” He groaned slipping out of her. She watched in awe and as he stroked himself so fast his hand became a blur - little spurts of white falling over her pretty tummy.

His eye drifted back to her face and he watched as a smile played on her lips. Her face was extremely flushed as she bit her bottom lip in a way that made him want to take her again. He chuckled lightly. It made his heart heavy, and he knew that now was the perfect time to ask her what he had been wanting for the last two years.

He let go of the bed and laid himself next to her. He placed his left hand above her hand and the other on the side of her face. They watched each other in complete love before he kissed her long and hard.

When he pulled away, she felt him slightly shaking and noticed the look of nervousness in his eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Daisy,” he whispered. He traced her features with his hand, and just like that the fear escaped his eyes, and instead of scared he was now feeling complete love and he was ready because knew this is what he wanted forever.

+ +

Diamond ring on her hand, big heart in his chest, Bucky Barnes had been ready to devote his life her and to love.

Life had other plans for him.

Why be a husband when he could be brainwashed into becoming the Head of Hydra?

Why love with his heart and soul when he could kill and become the world’s greatest assassin?

They’re at the New York Library. Steve stands behind him, hands in pocket and eyebrows furrowed together.

70 years later, Bucky detests himself for who he has become. He hates it all. He hates that he woke up.

His hand trembles as he reads the article. It’s worn out, ink faded.

YOUNG WOMAN, FOUND IN HALLWAY, SHOT

Reason unknown, ongoing investigation

The blonde 21 year old was found shot through the skull in the five story building but an other woman after a shot was heard.

The woman states: “There was blood everywhere. It reeked of disaster. The poor girl was always so quiet and sweet.”

Her family has been under investigation after her father’s disappearance —

Bucky’s heart shattered, but those beautiful memories still stayed fresh in his mind.

Present

You watched him from underneath your lashes as his chest slowly moved up and down. He looked deep in thought, as if his mind had been somewhere else, even though he was physically there.

As his eyes examined you across the bed, you wondered what was going through his head.

You were shocked when he stretched out his arm and you felt his hand run through your hair, letting his thumb linger over the back of your neck.

“What does it mean?” He asks. His voice is deep and filled with emotion.

He’s asking about your tattoo.

“Nothing.” You say breathlessly.

His eyes were enthralling.

“There’s no meaning?”

“No.” You eyes leave his and you look out towards the direction of the dining area.

“Why did you get it?” He asks.

“It was in the moment. It felt like it would be thrilling; fun. The thought of forever made it even more so.” You say without a thought, letting your eyes close.

His hands don’t leave the back of your neck, and his touch remains gentle.

“You’re absolutely insane.” His tone has a chirp to it that you’ve never heard before and a near chuckle escapes your chest. He rubs his thumb there again it sends a jolt into your stomach. You open your eyes again to take a peak at him and the looks he’s giving you must’ve triggered something in your own appearance because his eyes furrow together, “What?”

“You reminded me of someone.”

He swallows thickly.

“Yeah?”

“Will.” You feel your throat grow tight at the mention of his name. Bucky senses a change in your tone and he knows that whoever this Will is, he had an impact on your life, “He died just a few days before Fury found me. He was my best friend. He was sweet, humble, funny, sarcastic, optimistic,” there’s a crack in your voice and Bucky’s breath hitches, “I loved Will. He was supposed to be here with me. We were coming to the Capitol together.” Bucky watches you intently as you speak so fondly of your dear friend. Emotions consume him and he’s in a warped daze, right hand that had been on your tattoo running up the side of your face and into your hair, “he was the only friend I ever had.”

Your eyes meet his and he sees in the tears in your eyes. He looks at you confused, fingers tightening in your hair.

“And then after I laid him to rest, I walked into the woods. I was crying and I was angry at him for leaving me. I fell down at slope, hurt my hand and my leg —” Bucky says your name quietly but you ignore him, “it was dark. I was afraid. But I wanted to continue on. Deep down I know I did. I needed to do it for Will. Then this man came and he was going to ruin everything, so I killed him. I had to,” it’s the first time you’re addresses your killing so verbally and so emotionally and it affects you more than you thought, “I had to kill him.” Bucky watches with concern as your fingers tremble against the sheets, “And then Fury found me and took me to your camp. I met Steve, and then I met you.”

Bucky pulls his hand away moments later.

You both lay there in silence. It’s the most you’ve spoken to each other since the night he first fucked you.

After you had sex in the kitchen, you both had separated quietly, going your separate ways until night time. You both slept on opposite sides of the bed and a couple feet apart.

It wasn’t even that it was awkward. There’s was just too much unsaid and still too much tension. You kept falling harder and harder, and you were getting weaker.

The next day you had gone to work and Bucky had found a plan to get into Ashen’s tower.

A day later, you finally spoke again.

At nights it was the hardest. You hated his sudden silence.

You hated that you had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Your eyes met in an intense gaze.

Bucky watched curiously as your left hand grazed over the sheets and up over his waist. You watched as his breath hitched, his breathing picking up.

“What the hell are we doing, Bucky?” You asked sincerely.

Part of you genuinely wondered if he was only doing this with you because you were the only girl available.

“Fucking.” He spats out too quickly. He continues to watch you as tug your fingers into the band of his dark grey sweats, “we’re fucking.”

You feel a surge of energy build its way up your body. You don’t know if it’s lust or anger, and it scares you that you can’t distinguish it. You begin to wonder if possibly it’s both.

You move closer into him dragging his sweats down as best as you could. Bucky had to help you by lifting his hips off the bed for a second. He lets out a long breath as his length escapes the confinements of his pants.

Your heart hurts as you take in his glorious body and his face. The face of a boy that you wished could give you more than this, the face of a boy that changed your life.

Because even though he was pure man, you knew deep down inside he still felt young. He felt robbed. You hated that you wanted to take him in any way you could. You hated that you loved making him cum and that he let you.

Eyes darting down to his half soft cock, you lick your bottom lip. You take him into your hand, thumb sliding over his tip. Bucky lets out a tight moan. It comes out heavy and needy.

His reaction gives you a boost and you give him a few languid strokes.

“Over the head, and under it.” He tells you with a gruff. You do as told, watching as pre cum oozes out of his hole. Bucky groans, stretching his right leg out. He mumbles something you can’t make out. Your look up to see him quickly lick his hand and the replace yours with his own over his growing dick, “Like this.” He curved it up towards his body and he teaches you how to stroke. You watch amazed as his flesh hand moves over his cock, noting how where his thumb and pointer finger meet focuses on the edge of the mushroom tip.

You put your hands over his and he lets himself go, letting you take charge again.

The feel of his saliva on your palm over his cock is filthy. Dirty. Fucking sexual.

You mimic his actions from earlier for about a minute until you decide to lick a strip up the underside of his shaft.

You hear him gasp underneath you and a heavy hand meets the back of your head. You look up at him timidly and he’s looking down at you. He looks as sinful as ever. His cheeks are flushed and his mouth is agape. You can’t tell if it’s the pleasure you’re giving him or if he’s shocked.

It kills him how innocent you look with your head between his legs. Your lashes are so long and pretty and, oh, your lips look small plush too. You keep eye contact as you flick the tip of your tongue over his tip and a whine escapes his throat. You do it again, and again.

“Oh my god.” He moans. You take him into your mouth little by little, careful to not let your teeth scrape him.

You bob your head up and down, your right hand stroking what you can’t take down your throat.

You feel his hands pulling your hair into a makeshift pony tail and you groan around him.

“Fuck.” He gasps at the vibrations. One of his hands leave your head but the other stays there, helping you; guiding you.

You sit up up until your butt is in the air, with him still in your mouth, and your place your hands on his thighs. You take a deep breath, and he watches as you lower your head down his cock, as deep as it could go.

The chocking sounds are erotic to both your ears.

Bucky is breathing harder now and he takes your head in both of his hands, running his fingers gently down the sides as he slides you up and off his cock.

When your eyes meet, his looks lust blown. His gaze is briefly on your now swollen lips, and then he composes himself, hands going down to the hem of your white camisole dress.

He helps you pull it off in one go followed by your underwear. As soon as it’s off your feet you go to sit up when he stops you.

He grabs your pillow and places it behind you. You sit back. Bucky gives your body a hungry look as he grabs each of your knees, bending your legs up. He gives them a shove away from each other.

You feel exposed and naked and you know he can see just how soaked you are. You whimper as he slides to fingers up your bare and freshly shaved folds. He lets out his own moan as he gathers your juices onto the tips of his fingers, smearing them over your clit.

Shocked, you watch as he leans down until his front is almost perpendicular to the bed. He kisses the inside of your thigh, nibbling it as he makes his way to your center.

You feel his hot breath against your cunt as he tells you to put you to grab his head.

In a euphoric daze, you do as you’re told. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you as he licks your clit. You feel two of his fingers spread your lips and then he’s licking at you, feeding on you like you’re his favorite meal.

You groan, shoving his head closer to your pussy.

“Oh, shit.” You moan when he enters two flesh fingers into your as he sucks on your bundle of nerves.

Your left leg kicks out as he sucks and sucks. You’re breathless as you look down, the sigh of his head between your thighs being the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, god.” You say.

He looks up at you and you’re gasping. His eyes don’t leave yours as he continues to fuck you with two fingers, the tip of his tongue now flicking at you like mad.

You let out a heavy groan, your head tossing backwards in pleasure.

You feel him pull away and you whimper at the loss of feeling. You feel him grab the side of your waist and he’s pulling you against him until he’s back into the same position he was before.

Bucky leans over the side of the bed and goes into his night stand. You don’t know how to feel when you see him grab a box of condoms.

Did he buy that? Did he know he didn’t want it to be just a one time thing? He didn’t want it to be a one time thing?

You rips box and tosses almost angrily, and when he’s got the foil in his hand, he tears the edge with his teeth.

He slides the condom over his dick and then gently grabs your arms.

“I’ve never…” you stutter as you sit on his lap.

“I know you haven’t, i’ll teach you.” He slides you up and down over his cock, coating it with your slick. You’re leaned over him gasping and he’s grinning his teeth, “You can ride my cock, can’t you?” He purrs up at you so deliciously you have to bite your bottom lip to keep from whimpering, “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you cum. I want us to cum together.”

Your movements quicken as his words turn you on. He takes himself in his hand and rubs his tip up and down over your slit before finally pushing into your heat.

You both groan simultaneously. The pleasure is mutual and you both feel full and satisfied, for the first time. He’s gasping, both hands taking a hold of each side of your face.

He hates what this has become. He hates that his emotions are at an all time high right now.

His eyes look into yours as you move up and down and he remembers why he was so afraid of loving again.

As you move over him, he knows he wouldn’t be able to handle it if something bad were to happen to you. As you fuck yourself on his cock, he knows he can’t fall down that rabbit hole again. He tried so hard to make you hate him and yet here you were, letting him fuck you.

You couldn’t like him. Not emotionally and not physically. It was for your own good. He was bad news, he knew he was.

Everything he touched always got destroyed. It always died.

He was cursed.

Your cunt gives him a perfect squeeze and he shouts.

“God, Y/N.” He cries, grabbing your hips and driving you down faster and harder.

He bends his legs and the sound of your skins hitting echoes around the loft.

Dirty.

Your hand goes to your pussy and you rub yourself furiously.

“Oh yeah.” You moan. He moans back in response, his own hips lifting off the bed to fuck into you.

He tells you to rest your hands on the pillow next to his head and you do so.

He grabs your hips and starts ramming up into you.

Looking down, his face is only a few inches from yours and you wished you could kiss him. You wonder if he can see past your lie of just wanting him for sex. You wanted so much more than an orgasm.

He was killing you.

With one of his ruthless trusts, he hits that spot inside of you that makes you see sparks and you feel your end approaching.

You’re breaths come out of your nose in sharp huffs, fingers curling into the pillow case.

You scream when he leans himself up, taking the side of one of your breasts into his mouth. His nibbles you with a growl.

You know he’s getting close too because his eyebrows are tight together and there’s a thin sheet of sweat over his body.

You cum beautifully over his dick. You know you’re probably shouting but you don’t care because there is absolutely nothing that could ever feel better than this. He helps you drag it out and he rams into you and you look down to see his eyes tightly closed.

You rub a thumb over the tops of his left cheek.

“Cum for me.” You whisper.

His mouth gapes open and he gives you a few more strong thrust before they start to falter. He lets out a loud and animalism grunt, followed by a slap to your right ass cheek.

You’re both panting as you collapse on top of him.

+ +

The building’s security infrastructure was a lot less advanced than Bucky had planned for, which was a great thing. He half expected to have to divert more cameras and more security. Especially for a Hydra centre.

Or maybe he was just that stealthy.

He had commenced his part of the mission earlier in the afternoon than he usually did, but that was because he wanted to see if he could catch Ashen this time.

Just as planned, at three forty five sharp, Ashen and three other man came in through the main entrance.

Bucky, having come in through a weak and dingy window across the building, watched from afar as they took the elevator. On cue, Bucky took the door to the stairwell.

He made it quickly to the seventieth floor until he hear the familiar voice. Waiting until it was far enough and he could no longer hear anything, Bucky stepped out into the hallway.

He makes sure to avoid directly sight of any cameras he sees along the way. So many years as the world’s most dangerous assassin gave him the stealth and experience needed to do it successfully. He would go undetected.

The building was modern and gorgeous. There were glass panels and long hallways. Bucky followed the men from a safe distance until they finally walked into a room, closing the door behind them. Bucky tried to maneuver as best as he could without being seen.

When he turned he saw something that left him stunned.

It was a medical bay, expect that there was just one bed.

He could see Ashen and those few men, who were now adorning lab coats.

What caught Bucky off guard was the little boy laying in the bed, unconscious. There were several tubs and IVs coming in and out of his little body. He was a strange color, almost light green. Ashen sat next to the boy, sad.

Bucky watched carefully as Ashen took the little boy’s hand in his.

“Hey, kiddo. Daddy got you a gift this time. It’s not the usual one you like, but I figured you’d still love it.” Bucky watched as Ashen pulled something out of his suit pocket. It was a Hershey kisses. Ashen placed it on the bed, “You need to wake up, buddy. It’s the only thing left before we can figure this out. Please, Ashens.”

Bucky’s heart sunk as the kid’s father’s head dropped down onto the bed. His hand ran over his head, the other continued to hold onto Ashens’ hand.

“Sir?” One of the men in the lab coats speaks.

“Yes?” Ashen responds.

“We can hold him on the machines for a few more months, but if things don’t start to look up —-”

“I don’t want to hear it. He will wake up. He will stay on the machines until I say otherwise.” He snaps, “We already have Stark technology being detected within the walls, we can’t afford to lose guard now. We are getting closer!”

“Sir—”

“He’s my son!” He shouts.

Bucky starts to back away when he hears someone about to turn the corner. He hides behind one of the walls that lead into a room until the close is clear. He finds his way back the way he came.

He needed to find you.

+ + +

“Pour me a Knob Creek on the rocks, sweetheart.” The man slurs, giving you a nod towards drinks behind you.

You tried not to groan as you gave him a fake smile. You quickly poured him the drink and slid it across the bar to the douchebag who wouldn’t stop eyeing you like a piece of meat.

“I’ll have the same.”

A voice says on the opposite side. You look over and you feel fear creep up in your bones.

Silas.

You nod, hands shaking as pour his drink.

He watches you closely.

“You nervous about something?” He asks.

You let out a shaky chuckle.

“No.” You say bluntly.

You slide him the drink and he takes it, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

“I won’t bite.” He says.

You look away. Shit did he remember you?

“Didn’t think you would.”

You go to turn around when he grabs your wrist. Your blood runs ice cold and your freeze on the spot. You can feel your heart beating away inside of your chest.

His eyes are intense as they stay on you.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He asks.

You let out another chuckle.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You’re not a whore?”

His blunt question insults you. You know he means one of the call girls down stairs, but it still bothers you.

“I’m a bartender.” You insist.

“Bartender?” His grip tightens slightly.

He stares into your eyes and you feel threatened.

Did he remember?

“Hey, everything alright out here?” You turn around, relieved to see Pietro behind you.

Silas quickly lets go of you and returns to his drink.

Pietro looks up from your wrist to Silas with a raised brow.

Your heart only calms down a bit before you clear your throat.

“You okay, Marina?” He asks you in the corner where Silas won’t hear.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Pietro doesn’t believe you and you can tell by the way he looks at you.

“If you ever have any issues with anyone here, please let me know.” You nod, “Good. Have a good night, you did good today.”

You give him another short nod, still unable to breathe properly.

+ +

Bucky was standing out on the balcony when you came home. He looked to be deep in thought about something so you gave him the space he needed. You avoided the bedroom and instead hung out for a bit on the couch, trying to process what happened tonight and how you would tell Bucky. You knew for certain he was going to flip out. Or maybe it was just your paranoia and he would tell you to relax and that you were overreacting.

You weren’t sure what would happen.

Bucky doesn’t decided to come inside until you’re in the kitchen grabbing some left over take out from yesterday. He stands in the entrance for a few seconds before sitting down at the table behind you.

“We need to talk.” He says.

You wait a few seconds before sitting in front of him. He’s looking down at his hand on his leg instead of at you.

He bites his lip and scoffs, disappointedly.

What was going on?

He stands up, runs his hands through his hair and begins to pace around.

“We shouldn’t have done this. Any of this. It was a mistake. I knew it would’ve been bad. A distraction. We shouldn’t have done this.” His mumbling under his breath and not making any sense to you.

“Bucky, what’s going on?” You ask quietly and concerned.

He walks over to the counter and slams his flesh fist on it.

“What the fuck are we doing?” He shouts, “We’re supposed to be working, focusing on this mission, and instead,” he spins around pointing out the kitchen, “instead we’re out there fucking, Y/N. We’re acting like a bunch of fucking animals, humping each other’s brains out!”

“Bucky —”

“I knew, I knew this would’ve been a bad decision. I fucking knew I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“You need two people to have sex, Bucky.”

“You should have never told me you wanted to fuck me.”

“I never told you to fuck me. I was only telling you how I feel. That’s all I’ve been doing this entire time.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re the one who told me you wanted to fuck me, Bucky! You’re the one that bought a fucking damn box of condoms while I was taking a damn shower!” You’re angry now as you stand up from the chair, “Don’t you dare tell me this was all me or all you, this was both of us.” You jammed a finger into his chest, “You bought me fucking plan B just so I couldn’t get pregnant with your damn child and then you fucked me again not even an hour later. Don’t you fucking dare.” You can feel the tears in your eyes.

He grabs your fingers and walks you back until your back is against the wall. He snarls down at you.

“Then fuck it. We like to fuck. Either it’s me or you or both us, fine. But we shouldn’t have done it.”

You want to push him away from you as you feel repulsed by him.

“Yeah? Was that what was going through your mind as you were shoving my head down your cock, Barnes? Making me choke on it? Or when you fucked me up against our window so our neighbors could see? I don’t have to fuck you ever again.”

“Good —!”

“—I literally told you I loved you and you attacked me for it—”

“—because it’s obviously only making everything worst—”

“—I then sleep with you, I gave you my virginity, and you have the audacity to stand here and say I seduced you when I gave you my innocence!” You shoved him away and he stumbled back. Your face felt red and you feel furious. You were shocked you weren’t crying, even though you felt like it, “Huh?” You give me another shove, “How fucking evil are you? You gaslighting piece of shit.”

He looked at you after that and your breathing was the only thing that could be heard. His face was stern and turned into a scowl as he looked down at you.

“I’m evil?” You took deep breaths through your nose to control yourself, “No, yeah you’re right, I am. I know I’m a piece of shit. I’m abnormal.” He spat the same words out you had used against him the other day, “I’m so damn evil, Y/N, that I’d rather try and focus on this damn mission than worry about getting laid.” You’re both breathing hard now. He takes a deep breath before continuing, “Yeah, maybe before I was thinking with my cock instead of my head, but it needs to stop now. Last night was the last time.”

You could feel your heart thundering away inside of you. You squinted your eyes at him, seeing the underlying discomfort in his eyes.

“What happened today?” You ask slowly, carefully. He doesn’t answer you and you start to get angry again, “I come home, I found you outside looking all depressed and now you’re in here snapping at me about focusing on the mission. What. Happened. Today?” You emphasize through clenched teeth. He takes a deep breath again, looking away from you he runs a hand through his hair and turns away from you.

“They know we’re here. We weren’t careful enough.” He says.

Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach along with your worst fears.

“What?”

“They know we’re here! I fucking followed them and I overheard them. We either weren’t careful enough or —- I don’t know!” He’s pacing again, “Your parent’s must’ve put in some kind of tracker to make the capitol aware or something of stark technology or maybe Hydra pre installed something. Whatever it is, they know we are here, and for all I know they could be watch us right now. We fucked up.”

You watch him as he stresses over this. He grabs at his hair.

“They don’t know it’s us, Bucky. If they did they’ve would’ve caught us by now.” You tick your jaw as you watch the muscles in his back flex, “Something happened at work today, too. I think Silas remembered me.”

Bucky scoffs, turning around again to face you.

“There’s no way he remembers you. We wiped him.”

“Maybe you’re right, but he was acting off. He came to order a drink and he grabbed me —”

“He grabbed you?”

“Just my hand. I was fine. Pietro showed up, sensed the tension, and Silas backed off.”

“Fuck.”

You take a deep breath, stepping away from Bucky.

“You’re right,” you eye him up and down, “We can’t let it happen again. We need to focus on this and I’m already exhausted from you.”

“Exhausted from me?” His voice is a low timber now, the anger from before having died over.

“You don’t even know the amount of emotional turmoil you put me through, do you?” He continues to stare at you quietly and you take another step towards him, “You took something I can never get back.” You say quietly, “And it’s up for you to decide what that something is.”

+ + +

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#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes series #Bucky Barnes x you #Bucky Barnes x y/n #captain American fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier fanfic #tfatws fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut

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t0wnspersonb · 4 years

Text

I Got You (Sugawara Koushi x Reader)

Anonymous said:

Are you taking requests? I was wondering if you could do a smut with sugawara. Like they get a little drunk, and YN sits in Suga’s lap. Then Suga says something like, ”i know we're just friends, so I'm sorry if I get hard.” and then you can finish it however. Thank you so much!

Anonymous said:

Hiiii I justo read tour Tsukishima post! Is just great! Would It be posible to request a scenario with suga and his S/o un which she is a bit "scared" of being intimate with him because her first sexual contacts weren't good. she was sexually harrased when younger and so She is a bit reluctant of intimate Contact or sex being afraid that it just the same she has experienced. Also being afraid if she doesn't do the do with him he Will leave her. And how would he respond to that?

~~~~~~

Word Count: 3,124

Warnings: SMUT, mentions of sexual assault, drinking, alcohol, Suga being a fucking precious bean, my shit writing

Summary: It’s been a couple of years since everyone on the volleyball team have been together, one night during a get together you end up having one too many drinks, resulting in Sugawara taking you home and confessing his feelings to you. But a situation from your past might prevent you from reciprocating those feelings.

~~~~~~

So I decided to incorporate these two requests together, I hope you guys don’t mind! I also apologize in advance if the writing is terrible😭😭😭 also another note for you guys: IF MENTIONS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT IS TRIGGERING FOR YOU PLEASE DO NOT READ. SAME IF YOU HAVE AN ISSUE ABOUT THE DRINKING. I NEVER WANT ANY OF MY READERS TO FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE SO PLEASE DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THIS STUFF MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE. This blog is all about feeling safe and being welcoming. So please do not read if any of those warnings make you uncomfortable. Thank you all for the love and support and I can’t wait to continue writing:)

~~~~~~

The team reunion was everything that you thought it would be.

Complete chaos.

It had been several years since you all had graduated from Karasuno, naturally you guys had stayed connected with everyone despite the different lives you all lead now.

But it was like it had never changed.

Currently Daichi was yelling at Hinata’s and Kageyama’s rivalry, both deciding to see how many shots they could take.

Team reunions and alcohol definitely didn’t mix.

You sat beside Asahi, watching the madness unfold before you, debating on if you should sneak out now.

“If Tanaka and Noya aren’t careful, Daichi is going to lose his mind on them soon too.” Asahi laughed nervously as he stared at the other chaotic duo causing a scene.

“The youth these days can’t handle their liquor.” you sighed, shaking your head.

“You’re drunk too Y/n.” Sugawara said in amusement, taking in your flushed face and slightly dazed expression. “And what youth? They’re only a year younger than us.”

Well… he got you there. You weren’t super drunk per say, but you were definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol you had consumed.

But in your defense, you were also a light weight.

“Don’t be rude Suga-kun.” you pouted staring at the grey-haired male. “I’ve had a long day.”

“And I haven’t?” he teased. Sugawara was a teacher at Karasuno, and the faculty advisor for the volleyball club.

It suited him; you had thought. Sugawara was always kind and smart, the fact that he had chosen a career where he could display those characteristics was wonderful.

He was wonderful.

Out of the entire team, you had remained the closest to him after you all had gone your separate ways.

That was to be expected though, considering that you two had been close since before high school, childhood friends.

And let’s be honest, you still harbored an enormous crush on him.

“- Shut up you two! You’re disturbing the people around you!”

Daichi was now yelling at Tanaka and Noya, although the people around you consisted of the old volleyball team.

More commotion could be heard from Kageyama and Hinata, and then suddenly you found yourself being pulled onto the lap of Sugawara; a volleyball now resting when you had just been.

You blinked in confusion.

“Oi! You almost hit Y/n-chan! Where did you guys even get that ball!?” Daichi yelled.

“Boke! Hinata! Boke!” Kageyama screamed.

“Maybe you should just sit here for now.” Sugawara murmured next to your ear, his chin resting on the top of your shoulder as he stared at the scene(s) unfolding before you guys.

“... Yeah.” you finally uttered out. “Were they always this bad?” you asked, thinking back to your days as a Karasuno manager.

“Definitely.” Sugawara mused. “But maybe we shouldn’t have met up at a place that serves alcohol.”

“No kidding.” You muttered under your breath, unconsciously shifting in Sugwara’s lap, making yourself more comfortable as you leaned into his strong chest.

You both were oblivious to the eyes of Kiyoko and Asahi. They smirked slightly at the sight before them.

Everyone knew of the crush you guys had on each other. It was obvious. But the fact that you guys had never dated, even after high school, baffled them completely.

Maybe tonight would change that?

You couldn’t help the laughter that began escaping your lips as the chaos increased, Daichi had all but given up lecturing everyone and now sat beside Ennoshita.

You were completely unaware of the way that Sugarawa had stiffened underneath you. The hands that were wrapped around your waist carefully began shifting you, so that you weren’t resting directly on his crotch anymore.

He could feel the slight race of his heart, and - well - the rising in his pants. He prayed that you didn’t notice.

But it was just Sugarawa’s luck.

You could feel the heat in your face rising rapidly, your heart beating just a tad quicker as you felt a growing hardness against the curve of your ass.

“Suga.” you whispered; your mouth felt incredibly dry right now. “Is that -” “I’m sorry Y/n.” he interrupted you. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” he said gently, attempting to move you off of his lap.

You shook your head, waving him off. “I-It’s okay. Y-You don’t have to move me… unless you want to.”

Both of you visibly froze at your words. Shit, maybe the liquid courage you had in your system made you too bold.

“Okay.” he murmured, and carefully tugged you closer now. This caused your bottom to slide against his growing member as he attempted to adjust you comfortably on his lap now.

Despite the growing tension and nerves between the two of you, you didn’t move. His arms were wrapped around your waist carefully, his chin returning to your shoulder as you guys continued watching your teammates/friends create havoc in the room.

This felt natural, this felt… right. Being wrapped up in Sugawara’s arms was quite literally heaven on earth for you.

His body heat felt extremely pleasant, despite how overheated you were feeling. The mouthwatering scent of his cologne filled your nose, you could feel his breath against your cheek as it stirred your hair, and the gentle rising and falling of his chest.

“Kiyoko-san! Marry me!” Tanaka cried, reaching for the dark-haired female.

“Kiyoko-san is gonna marry me!” Noya said, shoving at his friend.

This time it was Ennoshita that began yelling at them.

You could feel the rumble of Sugawara’s chest as he laughed quietly behind you. Unconsciously he pressed his face into your neck to muffle the noise. You gasped softly as you felt soft damp lips gently brush against your neck as he attempted to quiet his laughter.

But he had heard the soft noise that escaped your mouth, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

Sugawara couldn’t help but wonder what other noises you could make.

This was definitely going to be a long night.

***

All too soon the night had ended, but you found yourself being accompanied home by Sugawara.

He and the team were slightly worried about getting you home safely, considering that you were still a bit drunk, and lived the furthest away.

But by the time you had gotten home you had sobered up dramatically, now you were just tired.

“Would you like to come in for a bit?” you asked, gazing up at the male.

His eyes searched your face for a moment before nodding.

Sugawara had been over to your home before, but for some reason it felt different. There was that slight thrill that you shouldn’t have invited him in, the air between you two still held that sexual tension.

As you sat in the living room together, sipping on the tea you had made, it got worse.

Should you… confess? Should you say something about earlier?

You were a grown ass woman for Christ sake, and you still couldn’t muster up the courage to tell your childhood friend that you’ve been in love with him since you were kids.

“Y/n.” Sugawara said suddenly, pulling you from your brooding thoughts. He was staring at you seriously, shifting closer to you on the couch.

“Y-Yes.” you answered back nervously, biting your bottom lip as you stared back.

“Can I… can I try something?” He asked softly, gently cupping the side of your face.

Your lips parted at his sweet touch, nodding softly.

And then he was kissing you.

It was gentle and sweet, his lips incredibly warm and soft as they moved carefully against yours.

You melted against him, threading your fingers into his hair as the kiss deepened, the softness melting into something extremely passionate.

You found yourself on your back, Sugawara hovering over your body. You could feel his hands sliding under your shirt, his soft fingers gently trailing upwards on your skin. His touch burned in a pleasant way, it left you breathless and trembling.

A familiar burn began igniting in the lower pit of your stomach.

Until you felt him cup your breast carefully.

An image you thought you had buried in the deepest pit of your memory came to the forefront of your mind, causing your body to break out in a cold sweat, you flinched hard and began shoving at Sugarawa, feeling trapped underneath his body.

You yanked yourself away from him, feeling tears sting at the backs of your eyes as you sat up, carefully wrapping your arms around yourself.

And then you froze, your eyes snapping over to Sugarawa who was staring at you in confusion and worry.

“Y/n -” “I’m sorry!” you interrupted him, biting down the hysteria as you fought back the painful memories that wanted to invade your mind.

“For what?” he asked gently, carefully moving closer to you, he gently placed a hand on your shoulder in comfort. “I shouldn’t have gone that far, I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

You shook your head, wiping at the tears in your eyes. “You don’t need to apologize Suga… It wasn’t your fault.”

“I find that hard to believe.” he said quietly, carefully moving the hair over your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have forced it, you should’ve told me no if you didn’t feel the same way.” he said, smiling sadly at you. “I should go.”

Panic overtook your body and you grabbed his hand tightly, preventing him from leaving. “Don’t go!” you cried. “It’s not like that! I... I’ve liked you for a while now Suga. Please don’t go.”

His eyes widened at your sudden confession, and then softened dramatically as he took in your hysterical form.

“Well what’s going on. Talk to me.” he murmured, taking your hand in his. His thumb rubbing soothing circles on the top of your hand.

You could feel your heart racing in fear, if you told him would he leave you? Would he be sickened by you? Knowing that you were broken, tainted.

“Hey.” he lifted your chin, forcing your eyes to look at him. His expression was soft and sweet, understanding. “I’m not going anywhere. Talk to me. Let me take care of you.” he breathed, his thumb gently dragging against the bottom of your lip. “You’ve been in my life since we were kids. I’d like you to be in my life more than that now. So please… just talk to me.”

The sincerity in his voice, in his face, sent warmth throughout your entire being. It sent away the coldness that you felt creeping into your heart.

“My first boyfriend…” you said quietly after a moment of silence. “He wasn’t… he wasn’t always so nice to me. Of course, no one knew.”

Sugawara stayed silent.

“His touch wasn’t like yours. It wasn’t wanted at all. But it happened…” you trailed off, lips trembling slightly at the memories.

Sugawara inhaled sharply at your words, anger piercing into his heart. He remembered that boyfriend, he had almost lost his friendship with you because of that guy. The volleyball team almost lost one of their precious managers because of that guy.

“It was never good… he was so rough and… it always hurt. I -um - I haven’t… been with someone like that since it happened.” you finished, blinking back tears. “But… if it means that you’ll keep liking me… then I don’t mind…” you trailed off.

Sugawara had never been more upset in his entire life. Just the idea of someone touching you without you wanting them to, hurting you intentionally… he couldn’t even fathom it. Couldn’t even begin to sort out the rage that he felt.

But this wasn’t about him. This was about you. This was about making sure that you were taken care of, that your needs were being met.

He carefully tugged you onto his lap, gently cupping your face as he stared at you with such an intensity it left you breathless.

“Darling, don’t you ever, ever, say that.” he breathed out, the anger in his eyes simmering down to something sad and soft. “I would never put you in a situation where you ever had to feel that… that the only way to keep me is by…” he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

He took a shuddering breath in before opening his eyes and continuing. “I don’t want to do anything that you don’t want to do. All I want from this… is to make you feel loved and happy. I’ve waited years to hear that you like me too. And now that I know you feel the same way… I just want to make you happy.”

He rested his forehead against yours tenderly, your eyes fluttering shut automatically.

“So, we don’t have to do anything that you aren’t ready for yet.” he finished. “But if you do… I can promise you that I will make you feel good… I’ll always make you feel good. Okay?” he asked, his hand gently cupping the back of your neck.

He stared at you with so much love and adoration, it caused your heart to clench tightly, the fear and worry dissolving from your body and replaced with a feeling of warmth and safety.

“Suga.” you whispered softly, “I want… I want to try. Please?”

He nodded before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss against your lips. The kiss you two began to share never escalated to something that you couldn’t handle, it remained sweet and tender. An unspoken promise of never-ending gentleness.

Before you knew it, both of your guys’ clothes had found their way to the floor, you had ended up in your bedroom, entangling yourselves on the bed.

“You’re perfect.” Sugawara breathed, his eyes dancing across your naked body. He was rock hard already, but right now his priority was you. It was always going to be you.

“Can I touch you?” he asked sweetly, gazing at your face with a loving expression.

You nodded, swallowing thickly as his fingers began dancing across your skin, to your most intimate area.

Sugawara watched your expression closely as he trailed his fingers over your mound, brushing softly at the top of your slit. He watched as yours fluttered shut in pleasure, his fingers gently running up and down against your soaked entrance.

“You’re so wet for me.” He breathed in awe, carefully pushing a finger in. You gasped at the unfamiliar intrusion, but then began to melt. You were actually starting to feel good.

It didn’t take long until you were trembling and whimpering in pleasure at his gentle touches. Sugawara cooing to you about how beautiful you were and how well you were doing the entire time.

Without any warning you began unraveling beneath him, the tight coil in your stomach snapping, you moaned loudly as the pleasure overtook your body. Leaving you a trembling mess as you came down from your high.

Sugawara couldn’t tear his eyes away. You were fucking beautiful, and the fact that he was able to give you so much pleasure, the fact that he was the first one to ever give that kind of pleasure, well, he had never been more satisfied in his entire life.

“Do you want more?” he asked softly. You nodded in a daze, but that previous fire began igniting once more at the thought of Sugawara giving you more.

“Can we try something?” he asked, his fingers rubbing softly at your hip.

“Okay.” you whispered. He tugged your body in a sitting position before laying down beside you. His member standing up painfully tall, aching for attention, for relief.

But again, this wasn’t about him. This was about you. Which was why he wanted to do it this way. He wanted you to set the pace, wanted you to take control, wanted you to feel in control of this situation.

“Ride me.” He breathed gazing at you with half lidded eyes. “I’m all yours.”

Something deep within your belly twisted pleasantly at his words, and carefully you climbed on top of him, your hands resting on his strong chest as you stabilized yourself.

You could feel his cock brushing against your entrance, causing you to gasp loudly at the feeling. His hands rested lightly on your hips as you settled yourself and then you began sinking down on him and -

Holy Fuck.

The stretch that Sugawara provided left you breathless as you sunk all the down, his cock completely engulfed in your velvety walls.

You sat still as you began to adjust to the size of him, to the new intrusion. Your gaze found Sugawara's face and your tight walls seized up in desperation.

His eyes were closed shut, his mouth parted in deep pleasure as he felt your walls squeeze him deliciously.

You were warm, and you were so fucking wet.

“You… can… ngh… you can move if you want.” Sugawara groaned out, his eyes fluttering open. He could’ve cum at the mere sight of you, sitting on top of him, looking absolutely sinful with how beautiful you were.

You started biting your lower lip as you began to move, gliding your hips up and down and - oh. It’s never… it’s never felt like this before. Pleasure began rippling through you as you slid up and down Sugawara’s cock.

Soft zaps of pleasure shooting up your spine. Sugarawa’s hands were resting on your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He knew he wasn’t going to last long, not with the sounds escaping your lips and your sweet expression that was twisted in pleasure.

“I got you.” he breathed out. “I can feel it… just let go. I got you. Cum for me darling.” you were drastically getting tighter and tighter, your body readying yourself for another orgasm.

So, you did.

The euphoria that erupted within your body had you gasping for breath, your entire lower body locking down, causing Sugawara to release himself deep inside of you.

He moaned your name out loudly, carefully bucking his hips up as he spilled into you.

You collapsed onto his chest, both of you trying to catch your breath. He gently began pushing your hair to the side, his hands rubbing up and down your back. Sugawara pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head as you murmured his name softly against his neck.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. Just sleep.” he cooed.

You could feel your eyes fluttering shut at his warm touch and softly spoken words, you had never been more comfortable, more content, in your entire life until now.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen when you woke up, but one thing that you were sure of, was that you were hopelessly in love with Sugawara.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu smut #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi #sugawara kōshi #sugawara x you #suga #smut #sugawara smut #one shot #haikyuu oneshot #request #sugawara koshi imagine #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara koshi x reader #reader insert #haikyuu reader insert

3K notes · View notes

effeminateboyninja · 3 years

Text

Do you feel held?

(Kiba x fem!reader) angst // 3.2k words

cws: toxic relationship, alcohol abuse, drunk sex (brief)

// 18+ minors dni! //

🎶 lover dearest - mariana’s trench

I can't do this anymore. You kept repeating it to yourself, frustrated and hopeless for the fifth time that week after another stupid fight with Kiba, one you couldn’t even recall past the harsh insults that thrown as a result. “Selfish asshole.” “Crazy bitch.” You would keep doing it though, you knew that. It was too comfortable, too easy to stay with him than to bear the thought of being alone after the six years you’d invested in the relationship. He knew every single piece of you, even the ugly bits, and still he stayed. Even if you weren’t exactly happy, that made you feel safe.

It was cowardly, you knew that. He deserved to be with someone who loved him properly, someone who didn’t resent him. And you did too. God you wanted to be so bad, and you wanted it to be him. You’d spent countless afternoons tangled up in bed with the Inuzuka boy imagining your future together - getting married, having a family and growing old by each other’s sides. Even more of your time was spent daydreaming about the details. Where the wedding would be held and taking his last name, the layout of the forever home he’d promised to build you, your future kid’s name for heaven's sake, and what they’d look like… which would be him, hopefully. It was almost unimaginable to think about starting over, about being alone after so many years of sleeping beside someone.

Almost. Despite the guilt that always came along with it, you did create an imaginary future in your mind to escape to at times like this. One where you’d managed to build up the strength to leave him - or let him leave one of the thousand times he threatened to, whichever came first - and it’s years later, and it doesn’t hurt anymore and there’s someone new and they make you so happy, and they never make you question if you’re right for one another because they’re just always there, unconditionally and without doubt. In a perfect world Kiba would be a part of that fantasy too. He would find someone better, the two of you could be friends and you wouldn’t have to lose him forever. But even in your dreams you knew that was pushing it too far. If you ever did find the courage to walk out it would be one burnt bridge that could never be rebuilt.

The two of you had never been just friends, the growth of the friendship that you did have lagged behind the ignition of the romance that had burned so brightly at the beginning. You’d only been seventeen, it’s easy to fall in love at seventeen when everything seems so new and exciting. It’s harder to let go, whatever age.

The sound of Kiba’s footsteps echoed down the hallway and got closer to the bedroom where you were curled up dejectedly on the bed. You flipped on your side facing away from the door and pulled the covers over your head, pretending to sleep. If he saw your attempt to avoid conversation he didn’t say anything, undressing and throwing his clothes on the ground beside the hamper before he climbed in beside you. Then he turned off the lamp and rolled over without a word. His silence managed to annoy you even though you didn’t feel like talking either, and you clenched your fists under the blankets, resenting his presence but too proud to go sleep on the couch. He fell asleep irritatingly quickly, the snoring that you used to find adorable now only served to agitate you as it rumbled from within his chest. Eventually you followed him into an uneasy sleep, your body turning instinctively to nuzzle up beside him despite your heart’s conflict.

You woke the next morning with a kink in your neck from resting on his chest for most of the night, the sun shining unforgivingly through the crack in the curtains and straight into your tired eyes. After a few blinks to adjust to the light you looked down at the man beside you who was still snoring lightly.

It was easier to pretend things were okay in quiet moments like this, when there was no possibility of an argument. He looked exactly the same as he did when you’d woken up beside him for the first time all those years ago - boyish and handsome, coffee coloured hair a ruffled mess against the pillow and those adorable fangs poking out from behind parted lips as he slept peacefully. Without your permission your fingers reached out to brush lightly over his soft lips, tracing the outline with a feather light touch. You stopped yourself before bringing your own lips to his for a kiss though, the insults he’d volleyed at you the night before replaying themselves in your mind just as you were about to lean in stopping you in your tracks. Instead, you opted to roll over and climb gently out of the bed, doing your best to avoid waking him.

You grabbed the first outfit on the floor that didn’t look too wrinkled and headed for the bathroom, closing the door gingerly behind you. Clothes discarded and the room filling with steam you climbed into the shower and let the hot water flow over your sore muscles and released a drained sigh. Maybe you just needed to try harder, stop fantasizing about some imaginary life and deal with your real one. After all, it took two people to produce the level of toxicity that festered between the both of you.

There was a creak at the door and some shuffling, then Kiba climbed into the shower behind you.

“Good morning,” he yawned and rubbed your shoulders with his big hands as he leaned down to kiss you on the back of the head. You flinched a bit unwittingly at his touch, your lip twitching in annoyance. That was just like him, pretending the screaming match he’d participated in the previous night hadn’t even happened. And if you tried to bring it up to actually have some honest conversation in an attempt to actually communicate for once he would just accuse you of dragging out the fight and the “conversation” would devolve into another argument anyway. It was too early for that, you decided, and so rather than make a snarky comment on how much of a better mood he seemed to be in you sighed relaxed back into his arms, laying your head back on his chest and letting the hot water that fell over you carry what anger was left away with as it swirled down the drain.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged, stepping around you to stand under the water. “Fine. I got enough rest for the mission today at least.”

The mission. There was another reason to walk on eggshells this morning. He was about to be gone for three nights, the last thing you wanted was for him to leave on bad terms.

“That’s good,” you said.

He frowned, noticing the apathetic tone of your voice. “Hey,” he took your chin in his hand and tilted it up so you looked into his dark eyes, “you know I didn’t mean what I said yesterday, right?”

Then why did you say it? you thought, Why do you say things you don’t mean just to hurt me? It wasn’t what you said of course, shrugging carelessly instead and replaying with a quiet, “Yeah.”

That was good enough for him. He smiled and pulled you into his arms and you let him hold you like that for a few minutes under that water, relishing the intimate moment devoid of any hostility and trying to forget about how unhappy you’d felt just a few moments before. The rest of the shower was spent in silence and by the time the both of you were dressed and ready for the day things were back to normal, the two of you moving seamlessly through your shared morning routine, quick kisses over your morning coffee and cuddling on the couch, painting a scene in stark contrast from the cold distance between the two of you just twelve hours earlier.

The hours went by too quickly, your short return to domestic bliss interrupted by his waiting responsibilities and soon he was untangling himself from your embrace to grab his bags and head for the door.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you admitted, and despite everything it was still true.

He reached for your hand and squeezed it in his own. “I’ll miss you too babe. And I’m sorry that I’m leaving just as things are getting back to normal, I wish I could stay.”

You prickled at the excuse, your resentment from earlier bubbling back up inside your chest. “Back to normal?” Against your better judgment you did exactly what you’d managed to avoid in the shower and spoke before you could think better of it, “So do. Stay and we can talk about things.”

He screwed up his face, confused. “What is there to talk about?”

You furrowed your brows at him, exasperated. “What do you mean? About the shit show last night obviously. And every other argument we have day after day!”

“I already said sorry,” he scoffed, turning away from you, “what more do you want?”

“Change, Kiba! I’m tired of fighting about the same shit and nothing ever changes!” you yelled, finally losing your cool.

He just laughed, making your ears go red as you clenched your fists and held yourself back from swinging one of them at his stupid, handsome face.

‘Whatever, I don’t need this. My team is waiting for me and I have to go. See you in a couple days, hopefully you won’t be such a bitch when I get back.”

“Get out!” you screamed, pushing him towards the exit and he chuckled again before stepping across the threshold and slamming the door behind him.

When his stomping faded down the hall the sob that had been working it’s way up it’s throat clawed its way out of your mouth and and you slid down the wall to collapse in the entryway.

Why was it like this? Why was it so hard? You knew love wasn’t always easy, that it required work from both parties and constant effort, but surely it was supposed to be easier than this. The tears fell down your face without any sort of hesitancy and you were sure you looked like an absolute mess, bawling on the floor like some kind of overgrown child, but it felt cathartic. And so you stayed there for you didn’t know how long, just gasping for air and some sort of emotional relief. When you’d cried yourself out, throat scratchy and sore from the effort you pushed yourself off the hard floor and headed for the kitchen. It was only noon, but the liquor on the top of the fridge looked awfully inviting.

I can’t do this anymore, you thought as you stood on tiptoes to grab the bottle, and again as you poured yourself a glass, then once more as you downed it in one gulp.

****

It was the third night since Kiba had left and you hadn’t been sober since the afternoon you’d downed that glass to dull the pain of his leaving on such bad terms. He would be home tomorrow morning and you’d either have to deal with the repercussions of your actions at the door a few days ago or just move on and continue ignoring the underlying problems that caused them. Neither of them seemed ideal. So drinking it was. Bottle after bottle to keep your mind from wandering to anything unpleasant.

The lights of the club flashed around you and the music pulsed in your ears, working hand in hand with the alcohol to keep Kiba out of your mind. You couldn’t exactly remember how you got to the busy establishment to begin with but you must’ve stumbled your way to Ino’s and convinced her to come out with you, because the pretty blonde was holding one of your hands, laughing and swinging your arms between the two of you as you moved to the sound of the speakers.

The song ended and she let out a deep breath before leaning in to yell over the next bassline that started blasting, “You wore me out, girl! I’m gonna call a cab and head home, you coming?”

You just shook your head and kept dancing. “You go,” you told her, waving her off casually. “I’m gonna stay a lil longer, I still wanna dance.” And I don’t want to go “home”.

“You’re a machine,” she laughed and gave you a hug before turning away and waving as she left. You could see her mouth “See ya!” but her words were lost to the noise of the club, and soon she was unrecognizable amongst the crowd of gyrating bodies.

Alone now on the crowded dance floor and all inhibitions discarded, you closed your eyes and raised your hands above your head, hips moving in time as you let the music flow through you and guide each movement. After a few moments you felt a pair of hands grip your waist, pulling you close and guiding each swing of your hips. Your head whipped around and after a split second of surprise and another to examine the face of the attractive stranger behind you you eased back into his touch and grinded back against him. If he spoke while you danced on him, hips moving in slow, isolated circles against his crotch, you didn’t hear him. You were in your own world, barely registering the man behind you and focusing instead on the closeness you felt, the attention and the pounding excitement in your chest doing something you knew you shouldn’t. A couple songs later the stranger was pulling you towards the bar to offer you drinks which you took without question.

You blacked out again then, your last memory the flashing lights and the cold feeling of a shot glass on your lips, then the burn of the alcohol that followed. The next time you were lucid you found yourself in the elevator of your building, thankfully having managed to get home alone and seemingly unharmed. The doors opened and the hallway swayed a bit as you made your way toward the door of yours and Kiba’s apartment. Or maybe that was you? No matter, it wasn’t like there was anyone around to see you stumbling home at this hour anyway. You managed to reach the end of the hall without falling and leaned against the door for support as you groped around in your purse for your keys, retrieving them with an audible “ah ha!” and a delighted giggle that turned into a hiccup. After a moment of fumbling with the lock, your fingers, all nimbleness lost to the effects of the alcohol, managed to turn the key and enter the dark apartment.

You flicked on the light and threw your purse down beside the door, moving immediately to the couch where you flopped down and melted into the cushions. Your stomach flipped with the sudden movement but only lasted a second before the floaty, elated feeling was back. When the ceiling stopped spinning you exhaled a long sigh and lifted your legs one at a time to toss off your heels and let them fall to the floor carelessly just like your purse, your squished toes practically crying out in thanks for their release from their six inch prisons.

It was kind of ironic, you thought with another inebriated chuckle, how much it irked you when Kiba threw his shit around and didn’t clean up after himself, and here you were doing the same thing. You wondered if it would piss him off, you kind of hoped it did.

Then you lost a few minutes again, waking up and looking around to find yourself still fully dressed in your bed. Even in your stupor you’d dropped on to your side of the bed, leaving the space where your lover would usually lie open out of instinct. The king size the two of you had picked out to accommodate Akamaru now seemed far too big, far too empty without Kiba and his fluffy companion. The blissfully numb phase of your high was weaning, giving way to the sadness you’d been trying so furiously to keep at bay and you remembered the stranger at the bar. A sickly feeling crept it’s way across your skin in all the places his hands had touched and suddenly you felt the urge to get up and shower.

Your head spun as you sat up and you practically fell out of bed onto the hard floor. It was sad really, shameful how you reacted to all this, but it only confirmed all your fears. You couldn’t be alone. You didn’t know how without self-destructing like you had over the past couple days. And you missed him so much, no matter how many times you tried to tell yourself you didn’t. Even the screaming would be preferable to this silence that made your thoughts seem so loud.

They were loud enough to mask the click of the door opening and closing, and the soft footsteps as they approached. You only looked up when you noticed the outline of familiar black sandals in front of you in the dark. Attached of course to the man who had left you in such a state, but still the only one you wanted to see. You struggled to your feet and he pulled you into a crushing embrace, the intensity of his grip giving away that he’d been just as torn up about the situation as you were. He smelled like a distillery, apparently having taken the same route as you to distract himself from the obvious issues in your relationship, but you couldn’t even find the energy to be upset that he’d stopped to get drunk before coming home to you. He was here now.

“Missed you,” he slurred between messy kisses on your neck, one of his hands moving to grip at the base of your neck and the other planted firmly on your waist. “Made the team bust their asses to get home early… couldn’t spend another night without you.”

The feeling of his strong hands on your body, so familiar and worn in felt good enough to distract you from the nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you that he could evidently wait long enough to get completely shit-faced before finding his way back to you. You were too drunk, too lonely to be a hypocrite about his coping methods.

“Kiba,” you sighed, voice cracking almost imperceptibly, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

Without another word you tumbled into the bed together, a mess of limbs and wandering hands. Clothes half-discarded, the two of you made a desperate, sad sort of love that was more rough than intimate. His fangs digging into the skin of your collarbone as he rutted into you with an intensity that felt partly like an apology but mostly like a punishment. His head nestled in the crook of your neck, his hot breath growing ragged as the two of you reached your peaks, he didn’t notice the quiet tears falling down your cheeks or the way your pleasured gasps just barely masked the sound of your sniffling. Thankfully.

When it was over and the two of you were panting from the effort, he rolled over and collapsed in his spot beside you. You shuffled up next to him and resting your head on his toned chest, still covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He wrapped an arm around you and just like the night before he left he was out in a matter of minutes. A defeated sigh blew over your lips and you closed your eyes in an attempt to join him.

Maybe you weren’t right for each other, maybe this wasn’t love, but it was the closest thing to it you’d ever known. How could you give that up?

#kiba x reader #kiba inuzuka x reader #kiba x y/n #kiba x you #kiba imagine #kiba oneshot #naruto x reader #naruto oneshot #naruto imagines #kiba angst #naruto angst #ebn; fics

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amjustagirl · 4 years

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Summary: She wonders if Akaashi Keiji could be her forever, (but then in the silence, her heart breaks).

Pairing: Akaashi x reader, Yaku x reader

Sequel here

AO3 Link here

She meets Akaashi at an office mixer for magazine staff – he, an up and coming editor in the manga department, she, a translator for two languages.

Their paths meet when she spills a drink on his shoes (honestly, large crowds were never her forte) and her interest is immediately piqued when he smiles at her calmly and tells her he never liked that pair of shoes anyway. Then they start bumping into each other at work. She learns he drinks a prodigious amount of coffee – always black, from the number of times she catches him bent over the vending machine in the pantry. He saves her from the wrath of the printing machine when she forgets to remove the staples from her papers again.

‘We should go out for dinner’, she tells him, because she’s been taught to get out there and chase what she wants (and she rather likes the broadness of his shoulders and the patience in his eyes), and while he’s mildly taken aback, he agrees. She takes him for dumplings in a greasy diner, practically a hole in the wall, and is gratified when he doesn’t seem to mind that she eats almost as much as he. He doesn’t agree to let her pay for him – she tries to insist because she’s the one who asked, after all – but he does agree to split the bill.

He brings her to his favourite bookstore the following week, and they sit in a nook with their respective books and share a pot of tea. She discovers his dry sense of humour through long conversations about any and everything. He admires the contours of her mind when she rambles about work in three languages to him.

Months pass – and by the year’s end, he asks her to move in with him.

They find a flat a few stops from work. It’s small, but he manages to squeeze in a sprawling bookshelf groaning with the weight of his books, and she stuffs it full of knick knacks she stole from her parents’ home. They walk to work and leave for home together.

They spend nights on the couch sharing pots of tea, he - buried in his work, she - immersed in music, and on weekends they explore parks and bookstores and restaurants and museums. They discuss heatedly whether to adopt a cat or dog (she prefers the former, he prefers the latter) and talk about the possibility of buying a house in a year or two.

She begins to think that this could be her forever, and wonders if he feels the same.

‘Are you really dating Akaashi-san?’, Hana-chan from accounting asks curiously over lunch one day.

‘Yes’, she answers with a slight frown. ‘Why?’

‘You two seem so formal with each other’, Hana titters. ‘If he didn’t send you flowers ever Friday, any one watching you both would assume you’re just friends.’

‘Keiji is just reserved’, she defends him heatedly, ‘He’s affectionate enough in private with me.’

Hana laughs at her frown - ‘I’m sure, I’m sure - it’s just strange to find someone so shy about their love in this day and age’.

Hana isn’t wrong per se - she remembers an incident in their early days of dating when she tried to hold his hand and steal a kiss from him, but Keiji avoided her grasp and muttered a firm ‘not in public, dear’. Still, she tells herself she doesn’t mind that, her heart is warm enough from the gentle kisses he presses to her face in the comfort of their little home.

‘Busy, busy Keiji’, she says, a teasing lilt in her tone. ‘It’s time to go home’.

‘I still have work to do tonight’, he frowns down at the page in his hand. ‘I’ll meet you at home?’

‘Sure’, she chirps. ‘I’ll have a cup of tea waiting for you when you get home’.

‘I actually prefer coffee’, he replies, an embarrassed flush on his face. ‘I can’t keep awake with just tea’.

‘You’re going to continue working at home?’ She tilts her head to look at him confusedly, because yes - deadlines are tight in the publishing industry, but Keiji’s just powered through a major submission and is up for a promotion because of it - so it doesn’t make sense that he’s still so busy. ‘Rest is important, Keiji’.

‘I know but I asked for extra assignments - I thought I should challenge myself’.

It’s her turn to frown. ‘Oh’, she says, and her disappointment must be evident in her face because he turns to catch her arm. ‘Work is important, darling. Surely you understand.’ He gives her a slight smile. ‘I promise I’ll make it up to you when all of this ends’. ‘

Alright’, she says, trying to smooth her frown from her face. ‘I shan’t be mad since you promised so nicely’, she jokes half-heartedly and heads off alone.

The flat is cold and empty. She hums to herself to fill the silence as she fixes herself a cup of tea.

‘Working late again?’ she asks.

He’s crouched over his desk in the office, multiple cups of coffee and stacks of paper marked in red strewn everywhere. The smudges beneath his eyes are a darker purple than she remembers, the skin of his hands almost translucent beneath the harsh office light and scarlet ink stains.

‘Mm’, he nods. His eyes do not leave the page.

‘I’ll see you later?’ she offers, and leaves when he offers no reply.

She leans her forehead on the sofa (ignoring how it’s too big for her alone) and plays the songs her mother used to sing until she feels like she’s home.

‘You’re working yourself too hard’, she tells him on another late night.

‘I’ve got work to do’ he responds, blinking owlishly up at her as if he can’t believe she doesn’t understand. She does – really, but it’s raining and she doesn’t want to walk home alone.

‘Work can wait’, she tries again, running her hand along his arm, frowning as he shrugs her off.

‘Not here’, he tells her firmly. ‘Not anywhere’, she can’t help but think to herself.

A car splashes her with rainwater as it drives by. She stands under the scalding hot shower for far too long, telling herself it’s because she’s trying to scrub the dirt marks off her legs (and definitely not because she’s hiding the tears sliding down her face). There’s an ache beneath her ribs that she can’t acknowledge (because if she does, it means the crack in her heart is real), so she sings her favourite songs to herself until she can pretend she’s ok.

‘I’m home’, he calls to her, his voice echoing in the flat.

‘Keiji!’ she bounces into the hallway to greet him, but the thick stack of paper he draws out of his briefcase makes her heart sink. ‘Oh well’, she thinks to herself, and does what she always does when she’s alone - puttering around the kitchen, humming songs with a cheerful melody. But when she fetches him a cup of tea, she notices a furrow in his brow, traces the downward slant of his mouth, hears the harsh tap of his slim fingers against his desk.

‘Is everything ok?’ She approaches him cautiously, placing her hand on his shoulder. ‘You seem a little tense.’

‘Everything's fine, I just can’t focus when you’re making so much noise’, he says curtly.

‘I’m sorry’, she offers contritely, flinching inwardly at the lines of irritation appearing on his face. ‘But it’s the weekend, Keiji. Surely you can take some time off work?’

‘No, I can't. You wouldn’t understand’, he responds, waving her off dismissively.

‘We haven’t spent much time together in a while. Maybe we can go for dinner tonight?’, she persists, ignoring the pain sharpening in her chest.

‘I said I can’t, I have work’, he snaps at her, not noticing when she takes an involuntary step back. ‘You obviously don’t understand.’

‘I do understand’, she tells him quietly, because she does - she’s not some flunky working in a dead-end job – for heaven’s sake they’re professionals in the same industry. She wouldn’t be in line for promotion at the end of the year if she weren’t herself adept at managing the stress of impending deadlines and an overwhelming workload - but he does not respond.

So she stays silent. And in the absence of sound, she can hear her heart break.

She has vacation days to spare, so she packs her bags and moves out into her sister’s place.

It’s a little sad how easy it is to avoid Keiji’s notice since he’s never at home. He must notice when she’s gone though because he tries calling her the day after – once, twice, and by the third time she sends a single text – ‘it’s over. Please don’t contact me again’, and promptly blocks his number. But he’s persistent, waiting by her desk with a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers when she heads back to work.

‘Talk to me’, he begs, and she suppresses the urge to tell him that she tried, goddamnit - but she’s done, please go away and leave her alone, but his face is drawn and his eyes are bloodshot, and she reminds herself – this is Keiji, the man she fell in love with over plates of dumplings and shared pots of tea, the man she once believed could be her forever, and agrees to meet him for lunch on the weekend.

‘But not now’, she says, unable to resist a parting shot – ‘work is very important to you after all’.

She regrets it immediately when she sees his shoulders stiffen and something in his eyes break.

They arrange to meet at the café in his favourite bookstore. She turns up five minutes early but finds he’s already there waiting. He orders coffee – black, without sugar, and she gets tea with a slice of cake.

‘Come home to me. Please. I miss you’, he blurts out, looking at her with pleading eyes.

‘I can’t do that’, she says, shaking her head because their flat hasn’t felt like home for so long – no, not in the absence of sound, the silence so still she heard her heart break.

‘I can fix this’, he promises desperately. ‘I’ll stop working so hard, I’ll come home for dinner with you - it’ll be just like what we used to do, and we’ll be happy again’.

‘Keiji’, she says, a sad smile on her face. ‘There’s nothing left to fix. Can you honestly promise you won’t end up resenting me - resenting us - when exciting assignments and promotions pass you by, because you feel obliged to split your time between work and me?’

‘I could never resent you’, he tells her brokenly. ‘Never.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Keiji’, she replies tiredly. ‘You and I both know you love your work more than you love me’.

He shakes his head in denial, eyes red and glassy and she stops him with a finger to his trembling lips before she continues, the words bitter in her mouth - 'It’s ok to admit that you fell out of love with me. I should have realised that a long time ago. You deserve to find someone you love more than your work, and I deserve to find someone who’ll put me first’.

At this, he lets out a quiet cry, and she can hear her heart crack open again. But the sad truth is she knows it’s over – has been over ever since she’s allowed her heart to be burnt slowly by his neglect, the ashes building up in her chest.

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’, she turns to leave, a bittersweet smile twisting her lips. ‘It's time to let each other go’.

To his credit, he doesn’t pester her at work, though he sends her flowers every Friday – pink camellias for longing, violets for devotion, forget-me-nots for obvious reasons, and she draws the line when he starts to send her red roses (for love), sending him a strongly worded note to let her go. He finally stops, and she’s relieved when he takes her advice and asks out a girl from the publishing department – a peach blossom girl, thoroughly gentle and sweet and soft spoken. She tells herself she’s happy for him.

Still – there’s a dull ache in her chest when she sees them share an umbrella together when they leave work, a poisoned whisper in her mind wondering why she wasn’t quite enough for him, and an awkwardness when she bumps into either of them - especially that awful time she got stuck in the lift with said peach blossom girl, neither woman quite knowing where to look. It's enough to push her to resign right after she collects her bonus.

She’s always dreamed of joining the diplomatic corps, and luckily, since she’s fluent in Russian, it’s easy enough for her to land a posting with the Japanese embassy in Moscow. So she chops her hair (she hears that’s what break-ups make girls do), packs her bags and gets on a flight to her next adventure.

Moscow is as colourless and dreary as she imagined, so she wouldn’t have thought a quiet shade of brown might catch her eye as it does when the Japanese embassy hosts a party during New Year’s Day and she meets one Yaku Morisuke, a libero playing in the Russian Volleyball Super League, and from what she hears, a vital member of the Japanese National team.

She can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu when she bumps into him and spills her drink all over his shoes, but it’s eased when he shoots her a wide grin and tells her not to worry even though it’s his favourite pair of shoes.

‘You can teach me Russian over dinner as payment instead’, he tells her cheekily, and he takes her for Russian dumplings, full of beef and pork and potatoes. ‘It’s a little strange but it’s the closest thing I can find to home’, he says, eyes bright. He lets her pay the bill, but insists she let him pay when they go out again.

‘Are we going out again?’ She teases, and feels her heart skip a beat when he pouts at her with puppy-dog eyes. To no one’s surprise, they meet for a second date, then a third, and their days together soon blends into happy memories of ice skating and dumplings and steaming cups of tea.

‘Why don’t you move in with me’, Yaku asks her matter of factly through a mouthful of rice, at the end of her tirade about her awful landlord who just tried to double her rent in less than a year.

Her mouth opens and closes as she processes the thought and her mind moves into overdrive, worrying she’s moving too fast, falling too fast (the spectre of the trainwreck that was her and Keiji buzzing at the back of her mind) - but then she realises she’s being unfair to him.

Because Yaku - or Mori as she now calls him, is nothing like him. He’s short (though she’d never admit it), whereas Keiji is tall. Quick tempered to Keiji’s calm temperament. But more importantly, he delights in spending time with her even after a long, hard day at work, humming contentedly to the songs she sings, and he never shies away from affection - relishes it, rather, pulling her close with the edges of her woollen scarf to kiss her openly on the street.

‘Come on’, he wheedles. ‘We could even adopt a kitten so you won’t be lonely when I’m away for work’, and he laughs fondly when her face lights up.

You drive a hard bargain, but alright’, she pretends to grouse, heart in throat, but echoes his laughter when he triumphantly leans over to press his lips to her cheek.

She - with their cat in tow - returns back to Japan when Mori’s drafted to play for the Japanese team in the Olympics.

‘Akaashi!’ she exclaims, spotting a familiar mop of dark hair in the VIP stand. ‘What are you doing here?’

He waves a friendly hello. ‘I never told you I played volleyball in high school?’ he asks and when she shakes her head, he points to a tall man with grey and white streaks in his dark hair. ‘I used to be Bokuto-san’s setter’, he tells her, pride evident in his calm voice.

‘That’s so cool’, she says cheerfully, checking back to the court to see if Mori’s playing yet. Then she glances at him once over, noticing lines under his eyes that weren’t there before. ‘Keiji’, she says, the once familiar name now foreign on her tongue. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good’, he replies with a small smile. ‘Surviving. Alright, I guess.’

‘Not married yet?’ she asks playfully.

‘No, we broke up’, he tells her plainly, waving away her apologies. ‘And you?’

‘Nope, not married yet’, she says with a distracted smile.

He wonders if he should seize the moment to tell her what he’s wanted to say when their relationship ended in flames (starting with ‘I’m sorry for everything’, and ending with a hopeful ‘maybe we can try again’) but he stops short when she shouts ‘Mori! Mori!’, as a short, brown haired man steps onto the court.

‘You know Yaku?’ Akaashi asks curiously. Nekoma libero, often overlooked but extremely dangerous - he remembers.

‘He’s my boyfriend’, she chirps, eyes glued to the court. ‘Do you know him too?’

‘We used to play each other in school’, he answers faintly, watching her cheer and wave her hands wildly. She’s happy, he thinks, she’s really moved on - and that thought selfishly makes his stomach sink.

‘He’s a good man’, he finally finds himself telling her.

‘The best’, she agrees, the sparkle in her eyes so bright he’s forced to look away.

He thinks he must be a masochist when he watches her throw herself headfirst into Yaku’s arms at the end of the match, the regretful ‘what ifs’ and ‘that could’ve been me’ thundering in his ears. Still, he knows she deserves someone who’ll always put her first, and with that thought ringing in his mind, he waits until she’s distracted with Bokuto-san’s antics before he steps forward, hand outstretched to Yaku.

‘Take care of her’, Akaashi says with a bittersweet smile. ‘You’re a lucky man’.

Yaku gives him an assessing look. ‘Always’, he promises firmly, taking his hand.

She returns home first, and he follows a few weeks later, after a whirlwind of awards and press interviews.

He breaks into a run when he sees her, swinging her into his arms at the arrival gate, and when they get home she cooks dumplings for him. ‘In case you miss home already’, she tells him teasingly, but flushes when he answers ‘but with you, I am home’, and blushes bright red when he carries her off to bed.

‘I want this to be my forever’, Mori tells her as he lays his head in her lap.

‘So do I’, she replies, her heart humming quietly, finally in safe hands. ‘So do I’.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fic rec #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi imagine #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi headcanons #akaashi angst #yaku morisuke

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ckneal · 3 years

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So, there’s this one angel story in the back of my head that I know I wont write. I wont write it, because it’s utter nonsense, with very little regard for the canonical timeline of Supernatural, and a willfully blurry view on what is and is not “in character.” It’s fluff. It’s all fluff, in the form of a bunch of smaller stories that gradually weave together, following the Love, Actually style of storytelling, but instead of problematic love stories, it’s all about angels playing hooky from Heaven after the Fall.

(Seriously, there is no substance here, I swear.)

Stories include Abner, living out the first half of the movie Family Man, struggling to figure out how to be a good father and house husband after he steps into the life of the raging alcoholic who agreed to be his vessel. There’s also a very minor story about Esther (not to be confused with Hester, who is not in this story because she never deserted her post in Heaven) learning to play the part of a little girl and navigating schoolyard politics, but kids can be mean and Esther learns the hard way that Michael’s approach to asserting dominance in Heaven does not translate well. There’s also Daniel and Adina, who both settle into vessels in the same movie theater where a romantic comedy is playing, and fall into a very innocent, play-acting sort of love after they leave the theatre—like little kids pretending to be in love, recreating the scenes from the movie, but at the same time not really understanding it. Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael each trying to roll with the luxurious high roller life style, and awkwardly running into each other at VIP poker games, exclusive spas and clubs, and the occasional orgy that they promptly leave IMMEDATELY after running into a sibling (don’t give me weird looks, Balthazar and Gabriel canonically include that sort of thing in their definition of luxury, and the whole thing of their story is their siblings keep cramping their style). Tyrus is in there bowling, somewhere. Benjamin’s playing arcade games with his wife. And then there’s Thaddeus, my pet favorite minor angel character, realizing what’s happening as he’s falling with all the other faithful angels during the Fall and seizing the opportunity to abandon his life as a guard and torturer, settling into a pop star for his vessel—initially for the sake of the cushy lifestyle, but then gradually looking back, before the garden and Lucifer, before everyone was assigned a job in Heaven, like it or not, and the options were to adapt or to be smote, and remembering that back then, he could sing.

And of course, Michael and Adam get a story too—in which Michael lowkey gets into a pissing contest with death, as he and Adam travel the world, hitting up hospital after hospital to heal people. Because the first thing Adam wanted to do after getting out of the cage (okay, second thing—burgers came first) was go to the nearest medical center and start healing people left and right. And at first, they’re having a great time. Adam steals a white jacket he finds in the breakroom somewhere, and anytime someone says he looks a little young to be a doctor (Adam still looking nineteen years old, because I say so), Michael wipes the poor sap’s mind. But eventually—sometime after they’ve cleared out the children’s ward, the cancer ward, the cardiac ward—Billie shows up, sniping at them that they can’t just go around healing people who are destined to die, because there is an order to life and death that cannot be shoved aside. And Billie tries to make a show of it, as Terra did with Dean, by having several people who Adam had healed over the course of the day inadvertently cause several massive accidents. The news suddenly comes pouring out of the television, channels flipping as newscasters talk about tragedies occurring in several different parts of the city they’re currently in. The sound of approaching ambulance sirens fills the air, as in the hospital hallway, doctors and nurses begin hurrying to receive a rush of ER patients.

Adam’s horrified.

Michael does not take kindly to this. He snaps his fingers and makes it so that the carnage has never happened. Because he is the archangel Michael, only two steps away from being a god, and if he says that all of these people are going to live, then they are going to live, and he WILL NOT be intimidated, especially by an amateur reaper whose only qualification for her position was dying at the right time.

Billie in turn lands Michael with a cold stare, and points out that the order to life and death is beyond even God’s authority, let alone daddy’s blunt, sniveling instrument.

As Michael’s eyes start to glow, Adam steps in and says, “So, to be clear, you want us to stop healing people on the verge of death? We can do that.”

After Billie leaves, Michael is outraged, but Adam says, “No, Michael, THINK about it.”

We then cut to other stories, where newscasts in the background reveal that ailments that are not IMMIEDATELY fatal (AIDs, diabetes, Alzheimer’s, etc.) are mysteriously disappearing overnight, worldwide.

Billie is not amused, and tells her reapers to be on the lookout for an archangel at every major hospital in the world.

Cut to Michael throwing open the door of the bunker, muttering aloud to Adam that he’s going to do it, he’s going to bind Death, just like Lucifer did—how hard can it be? Sam and Dean see him as he goes stomping off toward the cabinet where they keep all of their magical dry goods, but Michael snaps his fingers and the two of them are abruptly half drunk in Dean’s man cave, sitting in front of Dean’s flat screen TV, watching some campy monster movie, because that’s lowkey what Michael and Adam assume they do all day.

As they’re raiding Sam and Dean’s supplies though, Adam says, “Wait, I have an idea.”

Cut to Abner looking up while pushing his vessel’s daughter in a park swing, and literally seeing Michael and Adam chasing an ambulance, so they can technically heal the person inside before reaching the hospital.

Yes, I’m aware that Abner was dead by the time Michael and Adam got out of the cage. But see, this story? This story is like when someone gifts you a goldfish unexpectedly, and you put it in a bowl, checking in to feed it a couple times a day, lowkey expecting it to die. But it doesn’t die, it gets bigger. And you’re not a cruel person, so you put it in a bigger tank, but it just gets bigger again, and you don’t really know what’s going on, but you know, you just kind of keep checking in, meeting the minimum requirements but not really getting in there as a guiding force because it’s a goldfish and it’s surely going to die any minute now—but then you look over and there’s giant tank taking up your living room, and you’re thawing out bloodworms twice a day, and looking into tankmates to keep Charles company, and realize that “Oh wow, I guess this is a thing now.”

In short, the story says we’re ignoring the timeline, and it’s calling the shots. I’m just keeping the tank clean.

The angels all eventually wind up running into each other. Abner and Esther happen upon one another in a park, where Esther is morosely realizing that she is terrible at being a human child but she does not want to go home to Heaven, and it just happens to be the same park where Abner goes with his “little nibblet” once a day to let her toddle around the playground while he chats with nannies and other house parents. Anael, Adina, and Daniel meet up when the latter two’s game has reached the point where they’ve decided to get married, and they apparently need to buy something new—preferably blue—as per this very important rhyme someone told them about. Esther and Gabriel run into each other in an ice cream parlor. Thaddeus gets recognized while doing an interview on TV that everyone sees. And, while out joyriding in a Lamborghini, on their way to meet up with the growing community of angels who decided to opt out of their responsibility to Heaven and their father’s legacy, Balthazar, Gabriel, and Anael are all startled to see Michael land on an ambulance stopped next to them at a red light.

Balthazar and Anael are both terrified, as if they’ve just been busted by a parent, because Michael, of course, is the guy who enforces the rules, and isn’t he supposed to be in Hell? They both shoot Gabriel looks as if to say ‘what the hell are you doing’ when Gabriel, watching as Michael climbs down and matter-of-factly wrenches the ambulance doors open, calls out, “Hey, Mike! Is that you?”

Michael looks over, freezes for a second—not prepared to be suddenly thrust into a social situation in the middle of his self-imposed mission to spite death—then his eyes flash and Adam takes over. “Oh hey, you’re Michael’s family? What a small world! I’m Adam, I’ve heard so much about you. Wait, hang on—”

The light starts to turn green, but Adam snaps his fingers and it promptly reverts to red.

Three jaws drop in the luxury car, and they don’t even hear Adam politely explain that he and Michael are in the middle of something, as he ducks into the ambulance, because Michael’s evidently letting a tiny human use his powers like it’s nothing, and what does that mean?

“Sweet dad in the unknown, Michael’s shagging a human. . .”

“Nooo!”

“HOW?”

“Hey, kid, you like weddings?”

At some point in the story, all the MIA angels are together, and Benjamin or someone comes running in saying, “Quick, they’re coming! Everyone hide!”

And everyone scatters, except for Michael, who stands in place, saying, “Gabriel, we’re archangels, two of the most powerful beings in existence. Why would we—”

And then Gabriel picks Adam up like a sack of potatoes and sprints off, calling back, “Trust me, you do NOT want to get involved with them!”

Being a projection, Michael is obligated to follow.

Team Free Will then walks by, looking constipated from whatever Big Awful Thing is currently threatening to destroy the world.

The story, of course, culminates in the wedding of Adina and Daniel, who still don’t quite understand what marriage is beyond promising to love each forever, which of course they will, after all, they are the very best of friends—which is about the same concept that most of the other angels present have. Adam is the first one to actually approach the big awkward question, upon finding out who the bride and groom are.

“Wait, aren’t they brother and sister?”

To which Serafina’s Adam, (who is of course there since Serafina was the original angel to play hooky) whose sons married his daughters, and all the angels, who do not understand what that has to do with anything, all cock their heads in unison and respond with, “So?”

Adam struggles to find words, looking into so many innocent faces. Then Benjamin’s wife puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering, “Shhh, let them have their fun.”

Benjamin’s wife and the two Adams wind up sitting at the venue’s bar, where they order nachos from a very confused bar tender, and watch as the angels go about setting up a wedding. But given that most angels haven’t been on earth regularly in roughly two thousand years, none of them have a clear grasp of what a human wedding entails.

“I heard it’s traditional for the father to give away the bride.”

“I think they’re supposed to kiss over bread.”

“Do humans still slaughter cows at these things?”

“I’m pretty sure someone is supposed to break a glass—”

Several angels promptly throw glassware on the floor.

At no point do the angels ask the humans for advice.

Occasionally, Gabriel knowingly throws out obscure details to keep the confusion going.

“You know, the groom needs to stand with the right arm to the aisle in case a sword fight breaks out.”

“Right! . . .How do we know which one’s the groom?”

At the bar, Adam open’s his mouth to say something, but the original Adam shushes him.

“No no, son, let them get there.”

The angels agree that being the better fighter, Adina should be the groom.

They’re nearly ready to start when Michael suddenly doubles over with his hand over his mouth. It coincides with the sound of Adam pounding the bar top, having just eaten a Carolina Reaper pepper on dare. Michael’s eyes quickly flash silver-blue as he straightens, and both he and Adam are abruptly fine—even if their eyes are still watering somewhat. But a different sort of damage has already been done, as Anael, Balthazar, and Gabriel all abruptly turn toward the triad of humans, having been reminded that the Michael walking around with them is actually a projection. In actuality, Michael is anchored to the human ex-college student sitting at the bar.

All three of them rush toward Adam, but Serafina gets there first, asking Adam if he’s ever tried mushroom tea.

Balthazar gets there next.

“Adam, was it? We didn’t get to talk in the car, let’s fix that. Are you over twenty-one? You know what, this is a family affair, don’t worry—CAN I GET TWO SHOTS OF DON JULIO OVER HERE?”

From that point on, any time Adam turns around, there’s one of Michael’s siblings, wanting to get to know him—by consuming some sort of beverage. Because Adam and Michael are sharing body—and that means they share a liver too. A bet ensues as to how much it will take to get God’s alleged favorite wasted.

Gabriel’s actually one of the first out, having been convinced that Michael would be a lightweight. Little does he suspect that Benjamin and his wife caught onto what was happening soon after Adam was fed his third long island iced tea and second jager bomb, and began quietly cleansing the alcohol from his system through casual shoulder pats and high fives.

Adam does not know what to make of any of this, but it’s Michael’s family and he wants to make a good impression, so he just goes with it.

Thaddeus, of course, is in charge of music, Gabriel and Esther consume the majority of the cake, and Michael catches the bouquet (he may have cheated after finding out what the bouquet toss is for).

#my thoughts #lowkey might be putting this idea out so it'll leave me alone #midam #supernatural angels #the divine shurley family

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cowboymirio · 3 years

Text

They Want To Get A Pet - Headcanons

Summary: Your S/O wants a pet and adorable antics ensue~

Characters: Hizashi Yamada, Taishiro Toyomitsu, Aizawa Shouta, Eijiro Kirishima, Tenya Iida, Hanta Sero, Takami Keigo

Contains: Gender neutral reader, lotsa fluff, Reader has arachnophobia in Sero’s part! Crackheadery in Aizawa’s part

Hizashi Yamada - Cockatoo

📣 You guys totally didn’t plan on getting a cockatoo, or any pet for that matter. Y’all just moved into your new place for christ’s sake!

📣 But after a visit to a lil exotic pet store downtown, your plans changed. And now you’re stuck with a bird with the intelligence of a toddler

📣 According to Yama, the bird just ‘called to him’ and by that, he means the bird literally screamed at him

📣 They’ve got the most bougie cage ever like MTV cribs hit them up.

📣But he doesn’t spend too much time in there as you guys let him roam around the house all day until it’s time for bed or if you leave for a while

📣 If they’re not attached to Yama’s shoulder, you often find them waddling around the house, picking things up off of the floor and throwing them, and squawking at you when they want attention

📣 Sounds like someone else you know huh…

📣 Yama and the bird dance together so much omg. They do the lil head bobs together, he’ll blast some music for them and they go to town he even chirps along to the lyrics omg-

📣 He doesn’t even have to teach them words, they just pick them up on their own… and then never stop saying them… ever

📣 ‘YEAHHHHH’ then from the other side of your home you hear another ‘YEAAHHHHH’

📣 Make it stop

📣 You taught them cuss words for the shits and giggles though

📣 Yama finds it funny too though because he’s got that 8-year-old sense of humor… you all do to be honest

📣 But when the bird chooses to sit on your shoulder you bet your ass Yamada’s gonna fawn over the two of you for the next hour :’)

Taishiro Toyomitsu - Pyrenean Mastiff

🍢 Really wants a pet

🍢 But also really scared of crushing them so…

🍢 You guys settle for a big ‘ol Pyrenean mastiff!

🍢 And when I say they’re big they are big like… I mean knock you over if you’re not careful big

🍢 They’re literally perfect for each other

🍢 They’re both massive units, insanely adorable, and they for sure share the same appetite

🍢 Speaking of food, he makes sure he’s feeding them the best of the best foods even if that means y’all are making it yourselves

🍢 Not as afraid to roughhouse with them as he thought he’d be

🍢 Lots of fetching, frisbee throwing, ‘wrestling’ even?? They’re so rowdy and for what? My heart, that’s what <3

🍢 The dog definitely sleeps on top of him I don’t make the rules

🍢 Mf just hops on up, curls up and they’re ready to go like--- Is that- is that not y’know,,, HEAVY??

🍢 I mean,,, you sleep on top of him too so I honestly don’t think Tai cares too much

Aizawa Shota - Cat

💤 You guys already know…

💤 If he were to get any kind of pet it’d be a cat.

💤 They’re chill, independent, and sometimes want attention. Just how he likes it.

💤 Well… that’s how he thought that things should be but-

💤 BOY was he wrong

💤 After living together for quite a while, stalking animal shelter websites for the perfect cat, and finding the right one, you bring them home!

💤 When you met them at the shelter, they were a sweet lil baby with an aloof attitude that you both fell in love with

💤 But when you brought them home… They became an absolute crackhead.

💤 Forget having ANYTHING on the tables or countertops. It’s on the floor now thanks to them. Fuck your water glass, fuck those papers you were helping Aizawa grade, they’re gone! Shredded! Positively destroyed :)

💤 Forget having free hands, they’re literally attached to his side and won’t stop rubbing against his hands while he’s grading papers and such

💤 If you’re not watching his little dude/ette will try and eat food WHILE YOU’RE COOKING oh my fuckingf god

💤 Heaven forbid this dude tries to leave the room. They’ll ‘cry’ until he comes back.

💤 ‘Go to your other parent, they’ll give you attention.’ ‘mEEEOWWW’ ‘Oh my god fine come here.’

💤 Honestly though he really appreciates when they’re down to sleep. Their purrs and their cuddles are very appreciated

💤 And literally just imagine seeing them curled up on his chest while they sleep on the couch ;; im so somft

Eijiro Kirishima - Bearded Dragon

🏮 This man wants to get THE manliest pet of all,,, a bearded dragon

🏮 He probably saw one on a movie or something and immediately came to you like

🏮 ‘Okay but we neeeeed one just look at their lil beards!! And their tongues!!!’

🏮 You tell him to put it off for a bit, do some research, and see if he still wants one later

🏮 Homeboy is DEDICATED so he puts in the time and ofc he still wants one after the fact

🏮 After a good amount of time, he comes back with a books worth of reasons as to why you guys should get one and you’re honestly shocked

🏮 You just can’t say no to those eyes </33 so you oblige and go out and get one from an owner who’s surrendering it (Because we don’t support chain pet stores in this household)

🏮 You guys can’t pick a name for them so for the longest time they’re just called ‘the lizard’ or ‘little fella’ or whatever else you guys come up with

🏮 Anyways- he’s infatuated with them it’s so funny. He spends all of his freetime watching them get used to their new habitat like,,,, all of it. It’s 1am and he’s just watching it hang out and you’re like ‘Kiri if you love it so much then why don’t you sleep with it’ (not in that way ya nasty)

🏮 HE TAKES IT SERIOUSLY

🏮 Next thing you know he hops out of bed, brings them back and puts them between your pillows.

🏮 Lil homie’s just vibin there.

🏮 You’re done tbh but if Kiri’s happy then you’re happy <33

🏮 Absolutely lets it sit on his shoulders when he’s walking around the house

🏮 He has a leash for them and he takes them out during the warmer months

🏮 Dedicates a good portion of his day to clean out their habitat when need be

🏮 Their relationship is just so cute you can’t help but melt every time you see them together

Tenya Iida - Tropical Fish

🌟 After a particularly rough finals season, you figure that Iida needs to have some sort of hobby that can help him chill out, but also has some sort of brainwork in there because that’s your boyfriend for ya

🌟 You suggest getting some fish!

🌟 He rly said ‘I’ll think about it’ then proceeded to do a shit ton of research on it because he literally does that every time you express interest in something. King behavior!!

🌟 You guys settle on getting a few tropical fish and a super nice fish tank for ‘em

🌟 He lets you name all of them and of course you have to name one ‘Iida junior’ like how could you not-

🌟 But seriously though he finds it so endearing and sweet ;;

🌟 You can’t tell me he doesn’t buy all of the nicest shit he can for their tank too.

🌟 Fresh aquatic plants, huge rocks for them to swim through, a nice ass heater, the WORKS

🌟 He’s gotta treat yall’s babies right like what did you expect

🌟 Constantly checking their water to see if it’s alright for them

🌟 He’s usually the one to feed them so whenever he comes up to the tank, they all crowd up by the top like doggies when their owner comes home omg

🌟 He finds the noises from the tank to be really good background noise when he’s reading or studying

🌟 Iida’s honestly glad that you suggested to get fish ‘cause taking care of them is such a relaxing hobby and lord knows he needs some of those

Hanta Sero - Rose Haired Tarantula

🧵 So he wants a Rose Hair Tarantula...

🧵 ‘Absolutely not’ - You, 2021 (sorry if you actually like spiders lol, if a singular person wants hcs where y’all both like spiders please @ me)

🧵 Lots and lots of begging and promises

🧵 ‘You won’t even have to clean the cage, I’ll do it!!’ ‘We can keep them in the spare room’ ‘c’mooon pretty please???’

🧵 He had to bust out the puppy eyes for you to say yes

🧵 And with that, you’re now the proud parents of a demon rose hair tarantula!

🧵 ‘We can keep them in the spare room’ your ass. He lets it climb all over him while he’s walking around the house!!

🧵 Not you actively avoiding him when you see them coming down towards you

🧵 ‘But I wanna kiss!!’ ‘Kiss your tarantula smh’

🧵 After he realizes he’s not gonna get any with his lil buddy (yes, that’s what he calls them) he tries his best to help you familiarize with em

🧵 I’m sorry but he’s trying so hard not to laugh as you freak out when they crawl up your arm

🧵 He takes things more seriously after that though. He’ll give you lil words of encouragement, back pats and such

🧵 He’s so happy that you become… tolerable after a while of you guys just hangin’ out that you can’t help but feel proud too.

🧵 You still can’t stand spiders though.

Keigo Tamaki - Bunnies

🐤 Just like Aizawa, he wants something that’s quiet and can be independent since his schedule is a bit busy but he still wants to have a lil buddy to love on

🐤 You’re actually the one to bring up the idea to get a bunny, it’s part of a long list of ideas you had come up with, but for whatever reason, the bunny idea just stuck with him

🐤 You two hop (im a comedic genius hi <33) on over to the nearest rescue you can find, and browse through the enclosures looking for the perfect bunny for you guys

🐤 Ok so like- here’s the thing,,,

🐤 You totally didn’t plan on getting two bunnies… But you guys found a pair that were literally inseparable and y’all had to have them

🐤 He’s already calling them ‘Our children’ straight off the bat like- y’all JUST got home and he’s already giving you baby fever UGH

🐤 He bunny-proofs the FUCK out of the house so they can roam freely ‘cause he didn’t just get these babies to stick them in a cage smh

🐤 Will lay on the floor and just watch them romp around cus he finds it relaxing and funny

🐤 Also please get on the floor and watch them with him. Prime cuddling hours

🐤 They burrow under his wings… I repeat- THEY BURROW UNDER HIS WINGS

🐤 They WILL flop together don’t @ me

🐤 They (and by they I mean all three of them) flop on you when they want attention can I jst--- *cries*

🐤 Have fun trying to get up, this is your life now.

🐤 But are you really complaining? You shouldn’t be smh

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jilyss · 3 years

Note

“we’ve been nothing but friends for our whole lives but then we played seven minutes in heaven on a dare and now i think i might actually be in love with you” prompt :))

hi! thanks for the fun prompt!!

It’s was childish, really how Lily Evans had ended up in a closet. Childish because they were in uni for heaven’s sake, and didn’t they have more entertaining games to be playing?

But here she stood, locked in a closet with James Potter, staring up at him.

They’d played two rounds of some version of flip cup, and whoever lost each round would have to play seven minutes in heaven with the other loser. Lily reasoned it could have been anyone that had also lost, but when she had agreed to it, she was sure she would win - or at least, not lose. But Marlene had practically forced a drink down her right before she started playing, and Lily hadn’t exactly been in her right mind.

James had one hand in his hair, a constant for him, and the other hand shoved in his pocket. He had lost first, and he had hardly said anything after Lily had lost the second game. Lily had tried to protest, claiming that she would even do a dare from Sirius if it meant she could skip it. James was just too good of a friend for her to do it.

But eventually, they’d been forced in the closet, and now stood facing each other.

Lily folded her arms. “I can’t believe they would think we would do something like this.”

James folded his arms, smirking. “You lost on purpose, didn’t you?”

Lily leaned against the wall. “Bloody hell, of course not. We’ve been friends for what, two years?”

“Something like that.”

They fell quiet, and Lily looked down at the floor. She was shaky, and not because of her drinking that night. Being alone, with him? It was scarier than she had even thought. But he made no moves towards her, and for that, Lily was grateful. It was James, you know? They were good friends, and she valued him too much to ruin it by playing a stupid game.

James checked his phone. “We’ve got like three minutes left. I don’t think they’re listening. We could watch some tiktoks?”

Lily grinned and slide over to his side, leaning over his arm to watch as he scrolled. It was definitely a more comfortable option than actually participating in the game. But Lily had to wonder what would happen if she just reached up and -

No. James was her friend, and he would not appreciate that. Especially after she’d strongly protested playing this game.

They watched for a few minutes. Lily insisted on watching a long video from Hank Green, and James tried to convince her to learn a new dance they’d found. When the seven minutes were up, Sirius swung the door open wide to find them decidedly not playing seven minutes in heaven.

There was a chorus of groans from outside, and even Remus let out a long “Booo”. Lily flipped them off, then tried to step outside. Instead, Marlene stood in front of her. James put a hand on Lily’s shoulder, then tried to step past Sirius. He didn’t budge either.

Sirius pointed back to the closet. “In. You guys both clearly want to fuck, and the rest of us are tired of waiting for you to do it, so would you just get on with it?”

“Marly,” Lily tried. But Marlene pointed back into the closet, laughing.

“You guys lost. Play the game or you can’t come out.” She winked and prodded at Lily’s shoulder. Lily gave up, walking back into the closet, and pulling James with her. Sirius slammed the door closed, and the lock clicked behind them.

Lily turned around to face James, expecting him to pull out his phone again, but instead, he stood only a few inches away from her. She sighed, pressing her hands to her sides to calm her nerves and taking a small step back. She paused for a few seconds, but it was dark and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“It’s ok, I know you don’t like me,” James finally said.

“What?”

“Out there, it’s pretty clear you don’t like me.”

“James, of course I like you, you’re one of my best friends.”

He snorted. “Well out there, you made it pretty clear that you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“You acted like coming in here would just about kill you.”

“Oh, don’t get your ego in a twist because I’m not another girl fawning all over you.”

“Is this about Sophie Hunt? You never liked her, and -”

“- No this isn’t about - I don’t give two rips about who you’ve dated. It’s your choice, I just thought you could do better than her.” Lily folded her arms again. “I’m just saying, every girl practically worships you, and you’re just mad that I don’t do the same.”

“They do not worship me, and if you even knew me, then you would know that I’m that kind of guy.”

Lily opened her mouth, retort ready. Sirius flung open the door, expecting to see the two of them in a much different position. They both had their arms folded, feet wide, and Lily knew her frustration was clear on her face. Sirius had seen them fight often enough to know exactly what was happening.

Sirius slammed the door shut.

As the lock clicked, Lily turned back to James, sighing. “I’m sorry it came across like I didn’t like you. I do like you, I just - I just don’t want things to be weird between us.”

He blew out his breath. “Yeah, I know. Neither do I.” Through the darkness, she could see his slight smirk. “And for the record, girls do not worship me.”

“Uh, yes they do.” Lily poked at his chest. “Are you blind? You are literally the best person I know, James. You are incredibly attractive, are way too smart, and you know football like the back of your hand. All the girls want you.”

James was quiet, shifting quietly in the dark. Lily worried she had overstepped until - “incredibly attractive, huh?”

She snorted. “You know what I forgot to mention? An ego the size of England. Who wouldn’t want that?”

He took a step closer to her. “You.”

“What?”

“You don’t want that. You don’t want me.”

Lily’s heart suddenly started racing. She had not expected that and was suddenly very conscious of the fact that they were only a few inches apart now. “We’re friends,” she whispered.

James took a step back, one hand fisting his hair. Lily felt like she had said something wrong, and she felt a pit settle in her stomach. She wanted to say something - anything - to get rid of this weird feeling between them. There was a loud bang on the door from the party outside, and Lily jumped.

“They aren’t going to let us out until we play out our seven minutes in heaven,” he said hoarsely. Lily nodded. Sirius would likely reappear any minute and Lily wanted to get out of the tiny closet. This was all too confusing, and she just wanted to go home now.

She took a step closer, placing one hand on his chest and sliding her other up around his neck. He leaned down, pressing his lips to hers gently. Lily faltered for a second, but suddenly she just needed more. She deepened the kiss, stepping closer to him and pressing her body against his. His back hit the wall and Lily smiled as he let out a soft grunt.

One of his hands moved to her back, his fingers dancing along the edge of her cropped shirt. Lily’s fingers played with James’ hair, weaving her fingers in and out of the messy tangles. She’d always wondered if it really was as soft as it looked, and it did not disappoint.

The door flew open, and Lily jumped back, her back hitting the opposite wall. Sirius let out a piercing whistle. James didn’t even glance at her as he left the closet, and Lily put a hand in her hair, letting out a ragged breath. The seven minutes were up.

And then something became very clear to her.

Their friends were all crowding around the closet, teasing a blushing James. Sirius had one arm over James’ shoulders, throwing his head back in laughter at something Remus had said. Lily didn’t even hesitate. She crossed the short distance to James, grabbing his wrist and tugging him away from Sirius.

He resisted at first, but when Lily gave him a warning look, he dropped it and followed her. She pulled him back into the closet, slamming the door behind her. Outside, she could hear her friends yelling something, but she drowned them out.

“I want you,” she said angrily. She stabbed at his chest. “Those things I said about you? They’re true and I-” she faltered slightly, suddenly realizing what she had just done. If he didn’t feel the same way, it was all over. “I want you.”

James stared at her, mouth open in shock. His eyes were wide and dark, and Lily had never seen him like this. She realized she was still holding his wrist and dropped it. She was shaking and red and he wasn’t talking - oh god he wasn’t talking - and if he didn’t say anything in the next few seconds -

And then before Lily knew what was happening, James had grabbed her face, pulling her in a rough kiss. Lily responded instantly, going on her tiptoes to get better access to him. He backed her into the wall, placing one hand on the wall by her head. One of Lily’s hands fisted in his shirt, her knees sagging slightly as the warmth of his kiss filled her.

Later, they would go emerge from the closet to cheers from their friends. Lily’s lipstick would be smudged and her hair in more tangles than it was before, and James’ shirt wouldn’t be buttoned properly. They would leave the party, hand in hand, wave goodbye to their friends, and just barely make it out the door before one of them would kiss the other again.

But for now, Lily was intent on exploring as much of James as she could.

#jily fic #my writing #writing prompt #thanks for the prompt!!

194 notes · View notes

panda-noosh · 3 years

Text

lost in translation {draco malfoy x reader}

words: 11.8k

summary: draco finds a notebook filled with beautiful, painful words. he keeps it for himself. he promises he’ll give it back to the rightful owner when he eventually finds them.

genre: angst

notes: support my writing or ask about commissions! - masterlist - i literally don’t know what plot is any more okay. also i listened to i love you by billie eilish on loop whilst writing this so feel free to put that on if you want.

---

draco sees the words every time he closes his eyes.

repeated stanzas, never leaving him alone. a mouthful of words no mind should ever be able to conjure. a haunting imagination capable of driving even the sanest people out of sanity.

he found the book on a winters day at hogwarts. christmas time was just round the corner, meaning most of his friends had already fled the castle in favour of homes, somewhere out in the muggle world, where they could spend the holidays with families who cared for them as families often cared for each other.

draco decided to stay at hogwarts.

he didn’t want to - not really. his father was just being difficult, and he wanted to face the man even less than he wanted to spend the holidays with people like potter and teachers who didn’t like him because of his family name.

he is entirely on his own this holiday season, and it depresses him more than he would ever be willing to let on.

because, you see, the thing with draco malfoy is, weakness has been a taboo subject amongst his family for as long as he can remember. his father drilled into his conscience that malfoys always have their heads held high, that they must be able to cope entirely on their own in any circumstance, because that’s what strength is. needing no one. fending only for yourself. living life to get what you want without worrying about anybody else.

this is why draco doesn’t sit with the other students during the christmas feast. instead, he finds himself traipsing through the library, poking at spines of books so old the writing has been smudged and worn, the contents made up of words once spoken in england, now lost to time.

the place smells dusty. it makes him sneeze, and he grimaces when he pulls his finger away from a shelf to see it coated in a thick layer of dust which he hastily wipes on his already gravy-stained robes. his stomach grumbles with the reminder of the christmas feast waiting downstairs for him - all he needs to do is pull a chair up and dig in. none of the teachers will mind. the students might be a bit iffy, but when has draco ever cared about what they think?

instead, he slumps against the wall, pulls a book into his lap and starts to read.

he’s so engrossed in the old text that he doesn’t hear the library door opening. he doesn’t hear peeve’s taunting cackles until they’re right over his head, peeves pointed toes very nearly scraping his slicked back hair.

draco’s head snaps up. above him, the poltergeist laughs, throwing his head back.

“peeves!” draco scrambles to his feet, swatting at the poltergeist. “oh, for christ’s sake, do you ever give it a rest?”

“all alone for christmas, are you, malfoy?” the poltergeist taunts. “surely daddy can afford you a way home with all that money the dark lord’s been shovelling into his pockets!”

draco’s face burns. “go away, you annoying little roach, before i get the hoover!”

peeves only laughs harder. “what a threat that was! wait till i tell the headmaster about that one.” and before draco can say anything else, peeves has grabbed a single, tiny book from the edge of a bookshelf and dropped it on draco’s head.

it crashes against the crown of his skull and bounces to the floor unceremoniously, flipping open upon the carpet. draco makes to yell, his fury bubbling over, but his voice is lost to the sudden emptiness of the room as peeves does what peeves does best and disappears.

draco groans through gritted teeth, rubbing the spot the book bounced from. it aches a little bit, which is surprising considering the size of the book. not a textbook. not really anything any of his teachers would ask him to check out of the library. instead, it’s spiral bound, the words not typed, but handwritten in sloppy scrawl, like the author was in a rush when transferring their thoughts onto paper.

draco frowns; why should a book such as this be in the schools library?

he picks it up by the corner, as if afraid the book might bite him - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. the book, however, makes no strange movements. draco feels no strange, magical pull coming from the pages. in fact, if he were to use his common sense, he would believe the book to be straight from the muggle world.

that alone should have been enough to deter him, but his father isn’t here, so he opens it and starts reading.

the first few pages are awkward poetry. awkward essays, a person’s thoughts and opinions filtered with the fear of someone reading over their shoulder, perhaps. draco can tell the author was holding back, but the further he flips, the looser said author seems to become. they start using words. just words, so beautiful and magical and heartfelt that draco finds himself enraptured with every one. he struggles to put the book down, curling into his tiny corner in the library, enamoured by such language. he wonders for the brief moment he is able to take his eyes off the page if perhaps the book has been cast under a spell, if perhaps there is a spell in this world that puts heaven and hell into words and has transferred it to the very book he holds in his hands.

draco has spent so long getting lost in the talents of wizards that he sometimes forgets muggles have talents and hobbies, too. there are creatives in the world who can create emotions from such small things. there are people outside the world of magic and wizardry who can do magical things, too.

he has the evidence in his hand.

---

he keeps the evidence in his hand all throughout the year.

he comes back to it after particularly stressful classes to remind himself that not all is bad; that’s the magic these poems and essays have on him. he could probably recite each one word for word, but he never does, because they belong to him now. he’s claimed them as a comfort blanket, something he needs to get through the day. he’s found an addiction within these words that he can’t let go of, not just yet, not until he figures out who wrote them.

and that’s really all it boils down to - he wants to put a face to the mind that created the world he so desperately wants to share.

it’s a tuesday afternoon in feburary when blaise asks him about the book.

“are you ever gonna share what’s in that notebook you keep carrying around?”

the question startles draco. he thought he was being so subtle. he hardly ever brings the notebook out to face the light of day, only ever reading it behind the curtains of his poster bed in the dorms.

nonetheless, he doesn’t deny it’s existence. he doesn’t want to sound stupid.

he pokes at the vegetables on his plate and, without looking up, mumbles, “not really any of your business, is it?”

blaise scoffs. “alright, be like that then. you carry that thing around like a little girl and her secret diary.”

“are you trying to tease me, blaise? because you just sound stupid.”

blaise rolls his eyes; he’s one of the few people that don’t get properly offended when malfoy fails to bite his tongue.

“and anyway,” draco continues, “i don’t carry it around. it stays in my bed.”

“oh, really?”

“yes, and that’s where it’s staying.”

“so is it yours, or did you take it from someone?”

draco pauses. “it’s mine.”

“i’ve never seen you write in a notebook before. not even in class.”

draco shrugs; he hasn’t got a very good answer to that, because the statement is true. he tends to get others to write his notes for him when he can get away with it.

blaise sighs. he leans back in his seat, folding his skinny arms across his chest. “so are you a poet now? some kind of shakespeare?”

draco raises a brow. “some kind of what?”

blaise waves a dismissive hand. “it’s a muggle thing. just answer the part you understood.”

“i’m not a poet,” draco grumbles. “the poems in the book aren’t even mine. i found it when i was in the library a few months back, and thought it was interesting.” he shrugs like it’s no big deal, like this notebook has always just been a background prop in his everyday life. “it’s stupid, really. muggle stuff.”

“so why are you so obsessed with it?”

“i’m not obsessed!” draco’s grip tightens on the edge of his chair; he’s tired after a long day of quidditch practice, and honestly, he doesn’t want to deal with his friends bullshit any longer than he has to. “now, blaise, can you start minding your own business before we have some issues?”

that shuts blaise right up. together, they eat the remainders of their dinners before draco excuses himself and leaves the table. his mind is reeling, heart thumping both with embarrassment and annoyance; he knows he’s popular amongst the slytherins. in a way, he asked to be centre of attention when he started mouthing off about the importance of the malfoy household all those years back, but it’s frustrating that he can’t even do a bit of light reading without getting asked about it. he thought he was being so subtle, keeping the curtains closed every time he read, never taking the notebook from the confines of the dorms, never uttering a word about it to-

his shoulder crashes into yours.

“shit.”

draco stumbles back, catching himself on the wall. he’s too dazed to say anything, but his anger is rising, and he’s prepared to start yelling-

but then he opens his eyes and sees you there, fumbling with a pile of posters that have spilled across the glossy corridor floor. draco blinks, glancing from you to the posters and back again.

“i’m so sorry,” you mumble. “so sorry. i knew the pile was too high, but hermione had to go to-”

“why don’t you just-” draco flicks his wand. immediately, the posters gather in a whirlwind and fly into his outstretched arms, a neat little stack, good as new.

you look up, dazed. your eyes are gorgeous, plagued with evidence of exhaustion, but riveting nonetheless. draco recognises you only vaguely, and the few memories he has of these quick glimpses have never left him dissatisfied.

“oh,” you say after a moment. “right. spells. magic. i forgot about that.”

draco narrows his eyes.

you stumble to your feet, wiping trembling hands on your robes. it leaves a streak of dirt against the black, and that’s when draco sees the red and gold lining of house gryffindor.

“sorry,” you repeat. “i mean, thank you, for - like - helping me. i completely forgot i could just-” you swish your hands in a mock gesture of wand-movement before laughing awkwardly. “weird, right? that i would - uh - forget that in a school of magic. when i’m a wizard. ha ha.”

draco nods, because he really has nothing to say. he can’t keep his eyes off you, your awkward movements, the way you don’t even flinch at the sight of him. most gryffindor’s would be hurling insults at him by now - hell, he would be hurling insults at the gryffindor’s, too, but his words are caught in his throat and he can’t even properly function.

so he looks down at the pile of posters in his arms.

“CREATIVE WRITING 101!”

you snatch the first poster off the pile as if that will stop draco from reading it. “it’s nothing. something stupid, really.”

he looks at you again. “you like creative writing?”

you shrug.

“that’s such a muggle hobby to have. where’s the fun in it?”

and for the first time this entire meeting, you scowl. you hastily snatch the posters out of draco’s arms, struggling to keep them neat and tidy in your own, but when draco raises his wand to help you out a second time, you swat his hand away and say, “i don’t need your help.”

“you’re going to drop them again-”

you’re already backing away. “you don’t need to come, you know. me dropping these in front of you wasn’t a bloody invite.”

draco blinks. “i didn’t mean it like-”

you run a hand through your hair, nearly stumbling over your own shoes yet again. draco lunges forward in his attempts to catch you, but you yell something incoherent in his direction, apologise profusely to a first year you nearly elbow in the nose before you turn on your heel and head back the way you came.

draco stares at your retreating form, unable to fully comprehend what he did wrong. he doesn’t think he said anything offensive, let alone anything that would prompt you to nearly wipe yourself out in your attempts to get away.

but then again, he isn’t really sure why he cares.

----

it’s weird how - after one brief meeting - you suddenly appear at every corner draco takes.

he never noticed you in his potion’s class before, but now he can’t avoid you. you sit at the back, a pen lodged between your teeth, brows furrowed together; despite your eventful meeting with draco only a few days prior, you don’t seem to have nearly as much interest in his sudden presence as he has with yours. he keeps glancing at you, not-so-subtly turning in his chair every now and then just to make sure you’re not some kind of illusion. nobody in the classroom is acting like anything is out of place, so maybe you have been his classmate for a while, and he just never noticed.

he finds that a little hard to believe, but he has to take reality as it comes to him, or else he’ll go insane.

he doesn’t talk to you for nearly a week, because he’s a little afraid of what you’ll have to say. he’s a little afraid you’ll say nothing at all, that you might have forgotten who he is entirely.

it’s you who makes the first move.

it startles draco nearly out of his skin. he’s packing up his stuff, ignoring goyle’s ramblings to his left, when you slip your hand in his robe pocket. he jumps, spinning around just enough to dislodge your grappling fingers, and he’s seconds away from whipping out his wand to hex you when he freezes, eyes meeting your own, heart immediately plummeting into his stomach.

you smile, wide and polite. “hello, old friend.”

“can you get out of my pockets?” draco hisses, swatting your hand away when you make another attempt to dive into his robes. “what do you want?”

“a pen,” you reply. “i broke mine.”

“i don’t have a pen.” he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his quill. “i have a quill.”

“aaaah, my bad.” you snatch the instrument from him before grabbing his hand. he yelps, stumbling a little bit. he beams bright red when the noise he just made actually registers in his head, and he makes a mental note to scold goyle for snickering behind him.

“what are you doing?” draco demands. he tries not to get too flustered at the height difference between you - your head could very easily rest in the crook of his neck, and he hates that he kind of wants to experience what that feels like.

you scribble words into his palm. “this is the time and place for the creative writing clubs first meeting.”

draco blinks. “what?”

“time and place for the-”

“why do you want me to go?”

you scowl, not once looking up from the jagged lines of draco’s palm. “i don’t, but hermione’s asked me to gather as many people as i can find, and i think you kind of owe me one after being so rude the other day in the hallway.”

draco falters; so you remember.

“i wasn’t being rude at all,” he grumbles. “you’re just sensitive.”

“maybe.” you drop his palm and shove his quill back in his pocket. “if you want to come, be my guest; it’s going to be a lot of fun. lots of - uh - writing and stuff, i can assure you.”

draco scowls. “i won’t be going.”

“okay.”

“so this entire conversation was pointless.”

you fold your arms over your chest, as if challenging him. “okay, draco. i’m not forcing you to come if you don’t want to, but - you know - i’ll save you a seat or whatever.”

and draco doesn’t understand why that is the promise that tears him down, why that is the thing that makes his mind up for him. even as he gives you no solid answer, he knows he now has plans automatically built into his schedule to see you again, no matter how much he dreads the thought of it.

he looks down at the writing on his palm, and his heart stops.

just for a second. a brief moment of death, before life is pushed back into him when his brain kicks into overdrive and he’s certain he’s going to pass away for real with how fast his heart is suddenly beating.

he blinks rapidly. goyle is saying something, and the students are filtering out, but draco is lost, lost, spiralling as he recognises the messy scrawl, smudged even though it shouldn’t be, messy but coherent, familiar and amazing.

he’s read heaven written in this exact same handwriting. he’s read heaven, and hell, and earth, and space, and the moon, and the stars, and he’s experienced an entire new existence written in this very handwriting. it’s the same handwriting that covers every single page of his sacred notebook, hidden in his pillow case back at the dorms. it’s the same handwriting that gives a form to the aches and pains and anxieties of the person who has just walked away from him, the person who’s brain draco has lived in since christmas.

----

“you’re actually going?”

“it’s the least i can do.” draco fixes the collar of his robes, ruffles his hair a little bit. “i did nearly wipe them out in the hallway a few days ago.”

“that was an accident.” pansy throws herself across draco’s bed, as she often does when she wants the attention he has never given her. he simply glares at her reflection through the mirror, silently willing her to get up and leave so he can set off for the history of magic classroom in which the creative writing club is meeting tonight.

pansy, however, doesn’t take the hint.

“i just think this y/n person is trying to get in your head,” she continues. “your head, your bed, all of the above...”

draco’s face warms. “you can think whatever you want, pansy, but i’m going whether you like it or not. in case you’ve forgotten, you have absolutely no say in the way i live my life.”

pansy rolls onto her stomach, tugs on the back of draco’s robes. “oh, you’ve made that very clear, malfoy. don’t come running back to me when you show up to this stupid muggle club and get ostracised for being who you are.”

draco clenches his jaw, stepping out of pansy’s reach all without turning round. he knows she’s right, of course - there is no doubt in his mind that he is going to show up tonight, only to be met by the usual hostile glares he gets from everybody outside the slytherin house. he brought it upon himself, and he knows that - but he’s trying to fix it. he’s trying to prove himself as a good person to you.

to the world. not just you.

he swallows and turns. pansy stares up at him, hands curled beneath her chin, that sleezy little smile on her face. draco grimaces, points to the door and says, “the girls dorms are up the other staircase.”

pansy’s smile falls. she scowls, stands up and leaves without another word. draco doesn’t care that he’s pissed her off - pansy, in recent months, has become a little bit too much. he’s given her the most wiggle room he can provide, and she has done nothing but bombard him further.

he shakes the thought of his friend from his mind as he walks over to his bed and digs around in his pillow case. inside, he finds the poetry book he so desperately cares for, flicking to a page he has marked; he’s highlighted a few passages, and he reads them over as he steadies his breathing. this is such new territory for him. if his father finds out what he’s up to right now, he’ll be getting a very stern speaking to, possibly even a back-hand to the face if his father is in a particularly bad mood.

but then draco remembers your expression, your hand digging around in his pocket, your stumbled words that somehow manage to pull together so beautifully when you want to express yourself.

he has to see you tonight, whether it’s in a creative writing club or not. he’ll take just running into you in the hallway again, but to reach that point, he has to actually leave the dorms.

he stuffs the book back into his pillow case, flattens a particularly frustrating strand of hair, and walks out the door.

---

the history of magic classroom is dimly lit.

draco has seen pictures of muggle poetry readings before; they kind of remind him a little bit of exorcisms, and the set-up he’s currently walking into is no exception.

there’s candles lit upon every desk, the lights dimmed to create some kind of ambience that draco doesn’t understand. people are sat in a circle - people in every colour of robe, though draco is the only slytherin, it seems. this makes him a little nervous, and he hovers in the doorway, eyes tracing the scene in desperate search of you.

he spots you in a matter of seconds. you’re leaning over a candle, frowning into the flame like you can’t quite understand why it’s flickering like that.

draco makes a b-line for you.

you look up only when he’s by your side, and immediately your expression brightens. those eyes of yours widen a little bit, a smile adorning your face. you straighten up, grab draco’s arm, and he’s certain he’s going to explode.

“you made it!” you exclaim. “i can’t believe you actually came, mate; full of surprises, you are.”

draco frowns, feigning frustration, like this is something he went out of his way to attend. “why are you staring at the flame so intensely?”

“i’m staring at the flame so intensely-” you put on a pompous british accent, just to tease him, and draco doesn’t mind, “-because apparently you can turn the flames a different colour with the right spell, but it’s not working for me. watch.”

you elbow draco in the side, prompting him to shuffle over and give you more room. draco folds his arms over his chest, watching as you kneel down until your cheek is very nearly pressed against the desk. you point your wand at the flames and wave it, just once, but nothing happens. the flames barely even flicker.

you blow it out in frustration. “fuck that.”

draco laughs. he doesn’t know where it comes from, but it’s bursting out of him at the sight of your furrowed brows, and your pouting lips. you scowl at him, and it startles him how unsurprised you are to hear such a noise escape a man like draco malfoy.

draco shakes his head and nudges you to the side. “watch.”

you grab his wrist. “no. nope. absolutely not.”

“what? i’m gonna-”

“you’re gonna show me up, is what you’re gonna do, and i didn’t ask for it.” you pluck his wand from his fingers and stuff it back in his robes. draco has to fight the urge to shudder, your fingertips tracing across his ribcage as you fumble for his inside pocket.

you pull away then, shaking your head. “it doesn’t even matter, anyway; you show me up in every other class we have together.”

draco scoffs. “and i can assume you’re going to show me up tonight, so we’re even.”

you grin, because draco is right, and you both know he is right.

you make a bit more idle chat before the final people make an appearance, and you’re finally asked to sit down. draco is confused to see hermione granger being the leader of this group of creatives, as he’s almost certain he’s never read anything more beautiful than your work; surely you should be up at the front, guiding people through the craft of writing, a craft you have so brilliantly perfected.

draco sits beside you and says nothing. he fiddles with his fingers, coughing into his fist, rolling his eyes anytime someone makes a stupid suggestion. honestly, granger can talk forever, and draco is starting to get bored within the first ten minutes. all he wants is to hear you recite something, or for you to just. . . say anything about any of your pieces; draco could probably do it for you if that didn’t look creepy and uncalled for. he could stand at the front of this group and recite whatever piece of poetry he wanted from the notebook he took so long ago, and then maybe you’d get the recognition you deserve. maybe then you’d be able to share your potential instead of just sitting by draco’s side in a circle of poet-wanna-be’s.

finally, hermione turns her attention on you, however.

“y/n,” granger chirps. you jump, fumble with your wand, let it drop on the floor to roll beneath draco’s chair. he rolls his eyes and picks it up for you as you struggle to respond to hermione’s summons.

“uh, y-yeah? yes? did you ask me something?”

hermione’s brows furrow. “do you ever pay attention to anything i’m saying?”

“sometimes,” you reply, sheepishly. “definitely sometimes.”

hermione rolls her eyes. “anyway - i was just wondering if you’ve done any writing recently that you’d like to share.”

draco tenses. he flicks his eyes to his left to see you awkwardly ringing your hands in your lap, biting your lower lip.

“uh....”

“none?” hermione demands, eyes popping. “but i thought-”

“i’ve been a bit busy,” you grumble. “it’s not that big of a bloody deal, hermione, goodness me.”

“well, yes, i - i know that, but-” hermione gestures vaguely. “this is a creative writing club. i asked all of you to bring something with you. do you not even have an old piece of writing you could share with us?”

“nope.”

draco’s heart leaps. “what?”

and suddenly, all eyes are on him.

he slouches in his seat, but keeps his gaze on you. you stare back at him, eyes wide, clearly shocked at his contribution.

“you’ve got nothing?” he prompts.

you can’t even reply. you just stare, and draco knows he’s being confusing, is aware that maybe he should just shut his mouth. or, better yet, do everyone a favour and walk out before he says any more stupid things that will do nothing but embarrass both you and him.

“okay,” he grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. “okay, fine. that’s fine.” he looks up, meets hermione’s eyes. “you know what, granger, i don’t think this little club is my cup of tea. i’m going to head back to bed.”

hermione blinks. no one says anything when draco stands and walks out, but he expected nothing less. he wasn’t welcome there in the first place. he should never have even made an appearance. he should have stayed in bed and let his feelings fester until he fell asleep.

feelings are stupid anyway.

----

he ignores you.

in fact, he starts treating you how he treats everybody else - like they’re beneath him. a habit he once wanted to escape from has yet again become his comfort blanket, the thing shielding him from talking to you. every time you try making conversation, he sneers and walks off, barely even giving you the time of day.

in truth, he knows what happened is no big deal. everyone probably forgot about it as soon as he left the room, getting absorbed in their own works of poetry. however, draco knows you want to discuss it, that you probably want answers he is far too afraid to give you. if he starts explaining why he said what he said, he’ll have to talk about the notebook, and then you might ask for it back, and draco is selfish because he doesn’t think he can give it back just yet. it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

and so, he just ignores you.

he sits in potions and pretends you don’t exist. he walks past you at lunch and doesn’t even give you a smile. he looks over your head every time you stand to wave at him. he doesn’t want to risk any inkling of conversation trickling in between you.

pansy notices this, of course, but draco isn’t surprised. with how closely pansy has taken to watching over you and him, it would be more surprising to think she hadn’t caught on to the situation.

she sits beside him at lunch, slamming her tray of greens down just loud enough that a few heads turn - including your own. draco quickly snaps his eyes down to his plate, trying to pretend he wasn’t just staring at the back of your head.

“so,” pansy begins.

draco licks the stuffing from his fork.

pansy leans in, elbow hitting against his. “so. how did it go?”

“how did what go?”

“your little date with y/n! you never updated me on it!”

draco scowls. “that was days ago, pansy.”

“exactly. so now that i’ve got you trapped, you can fill me in on all the details.” she leans even closer, if that is possible. draco can smell the old woman’s perfume wafting from her robes and has to take a glass of water to quell the itch it summons to his throat. “y/n doesn’t look too happy with you, i’ll say that much. i sit behind them in care of magical creatures, and they’ve been awfully quiet since the club meeting; care to explain?”

“why is it any of your business?”

pansy grins. “because i told you someone like y/n wasn’t worth the trouble; a gryffindor, draco, really? were the robes not a big enough red flag for you?”

draco scowls. “first of all, pansy, y/n and i are just friends, and have always been just friends. i’m not doing anything to impress them.”

pansy scoffs, finally moving away to start spearing at her dinner with her fork. “how stupid do you think i am? how stupid do you think we all are? goyle doesn’t keep your little infatuation a secret, you know. he told us all about how close you and y/n get in potions together.”

draco’s grip tightens on his fork. “close isn’t really the right word.”

“the bickering? the way they make you laugh? the way you help them with their potions when they’re struggling so snape won’t tell them off? that sounds awful close to me, draco.”

he has no answer to that. his chest aches, memories of such delightful times flooding his mind and making him crave it all again. he remembers those times when he would glance over his shoulder to see you running your hands through your hair, struggling to comprehend what on earth snape has just ordered you to do; if it was anyone else, draco wouldn’t have given them the light of day, but seeing the fear in your eyes every time snape gave you even the briefest flicker of attention saw draco abandoning goyle to come save the day at your desk.

“so what went wrong?” pansy continues. “a lovers tiff?”

draco closes his eyes. “it was nothing, pansy; just me being an idiot again.”

pansy gasps, eyebrows shooting up her forehead. “you? being an idiot? and you’re openly admitting to it! goodness me, y/n must be a lot more skilled at magic than they let on, huh?”

“i don’t know what to do.”

it’s a plea. draco knows it’s a plea. in his heart, the cracks are beginning to form, and he can’t pretend any longer. he watches the back of your head - has been watching the back of your head since the meeting, because that’s the only glimpse of you he will let himself have. it hurts to see you laughing, smiling, slapping ron weasley on the arm. it shows you’re healing, moving on from your attempts to get draco to listen.

he’s ruined everything.

�� pansy leans forward. her voice is softer now, surprisingly kind. “draco, are you serious about this? i know i’ve been teasing, but do you actually like y/n in that way?”

draco bites the inside of his cheek. he remembers the times he had with you, how he used to laugh so freely with little care as to who heard. you teased him and made him feel normal, and he isn’t sure when his appreciation for you went past the poetry you wrote and emerged into you as a human being, but it’s happened, and he’s nodding to pansy’s question before he can think better of it.

pansy draws back, letting out a shaky breath. “wow, okay. . . this is definitely new territory for me. for you. i’m not sure how to go about it.”

“i took their notebook from them,” he mumbles.

pansy raises a brow. “their - their notebook?”

“y/n writes,” he explains. “beautiful things. addictive things, and i found their notebook in the library over christmas and i kept it for myself. i only found out it was theirs a few days ago, but. . . i never told them i have it. i got scared to.”

pansy pauses. draco’s never used that word in a sentence before. it sounds fake, like he’s made it up and just thrown it at the end of his sentence for the fun of it.

“well, that would be a good place to start, i think.”

his eyes snap up. “what?”

“give them their notebook back.” she says this like it’s obvious, raising her brows. “it’s a good way to start a conversation, and once the conversation’s been breached, you can go on to explain everything else - it’s pretty simple when you get your head around it, draco.”

he blinks. it does make sense, but again, there comes that burning protectiveness he can’t seem to shake.

selfish, selfish, selfish.

he glances over at the gryffindor table. you’ve got your head thrown back again, laughing so loudly and so carefree that draco’s heart trembles because he isn’t the one making you laugh like that. it’s ron. it’s harry. it’s everyone who thinks he’s an awful human being, bringing joy to the one person who’s ever seen him as decent. they’ve probably told you a joke about how draco’s scum, how he’ll never amount of anything, how he claimed his spot at the top purely because of his father.

fury pools in the pit of draco’s stomach. he spears his food with his fork, pushes away from the table and walks out of the dining hall before giving pansy an answer as to whether he simple plan is one he’ll actually take into consideration.

but now that he’s storming through the halls towards the slytherin common room, he knows it’s not something he can just consider. he can never move on with you with your notebook stuffed in his pillow case. he needs to be honest, and he needs to apologise, and these are all things he struggles with greatly, but all things he needs to learn before he loses you for good.

---

the notebook hasn’t seen the light of day past draco’s dorm since christmas.

it feels weird carrying it so freely now, slowly making his way through the halls with it pressed against his chest, the spirals digging into his lower arm. people look at him, but nobody bats an eye at the notebook, and why would they? it’s not suspicious. most of them probably think it’s nothing more than a school notebook, used for taking notes in classes.

still, his anxiety runs at a million miles per hour. he wants to yell at anyone who even glimpses the tiny square peeking from over his arms. he wants to tell them it’s none of their business.

but he doesn’t. he keeps walking until he’s reached the gryffindor common room.

it’s just his luck that ron weasley is the one stood outside. the ginger lad spots draco immediately, and it’s reflex when draco scowls and says, “got nothing better to do, weasley?”

ron glares. “what are you doing here, malfoy? the slytherin common room is back the way you came.”

“good thing i’m not going to the slytherin common room.” he nods towards the portrait hole. “is y/n in there?”

ron pauses. “what do you want with y/n?”

“i need to talk to them.” he swallows before gently unravelling the notebook from his arms. “i accidentally grabbed this in potions - i need to give it to them.”

“right, give it here then.” ron reaches for it, and draco stumbles back. he stumbles, not even bothering to swat ron’s hand away as pure panic seizes him. ron pulls back hastily, eyes widening at draco’s response.

draco, through gritted teeth, says, “just go get y/n for me, will you?”

ron stares at him a second longer before turning on his heel and walking back into the gryffindor common room. draco tries calming himself down in the minutes it takes for ron to reappear with you at his side.

the attempts are futile.

the minute he lays eyes on you, his heart starts thundering in a way that confuses him to no ends; he shouldn’t feel like this over someone so ordinary, and in truth, that’s what you are. you’re a student, just like him, struggling through school life, just like him. you go about your day in almost the exact same way as he does, and yet he’s never before felt so intrigued by another individual.

when your eyes meet his, you don’t smile. you don’t even look surprised. you grip the front of your night gown, glaring at him, not saying a word in greeting; draco’s mouth has gone dry, however, and saying anything is the absolute last thing on his mind when you’re standing in front of him, hair a mess, more beautiful and casual than he’s ever seen you.

ron is the one who has to break the silence. “he said he’s got a notebook for you.”

draco inhales sharply, suddenly remembering the artefact clutched in his hands. your eyes drift to it, and for a moment, you look puzzled. your eyebrows scrunch together, head tilting a little before you say, “that’s mine?”

draco thrusts it in your direction. “please take it.” he turns to ron. “and you - please leave.”

ron looks offended, looking at you for back-up, but your eyes are peeled on the notebook, not paying even the slightest bit of attention to ron. in the end, the weasley man rolls his eyes and stalks back into the gryffindor common room, leaving the corridor empty besides you and draco.

and draco feels every sliver of tension like it’s been injected into his bone marrow. flashes of his behaviour play on loop in his brain, the way he ignored you, the amount of times he scowled at you every time you tried speaking to him; he never meant any of it, of course, considering you’re the most fascinating person he’s ever come across, but he did it anyway, and that’s what he has to patch up.

somehow, he has to patch this up.

he looks to the floor, tucking the notebook back against his chest when you don’t take it from his hands. the silence is crushing, but draco has absolutely no idea what to say to fill it in - pansy made this all sound so easy; he would hand you the notebook, and a conversation would immediately stem from that.

but no. draco’s mind has gone completely blank, and you still look furious, and neither of you are doing anything to resolve the mess he has made.

finally, however, draco can’t take it any more. “i found your notebook.”

“yeah. ron said.” you pluck it out of his arms. “where did you even find this? it’s so old.”

“in the library.”

“the library? what was it doing there?”

draco shrugs. “how would i know that?”

“considering you’re the one who stole it-”

“i didn’t steal it. i just didn’t know who it belonged to.” a lie. he shouldn’t be lying. that’s a bad way to go about things. “i mean, i took it back to my dorm with me, kept it safe, but - like - i was of course going to give it back once i figured out who the owner was.”

you hum. “i’m sure you were.” you flick open the pages, immediately spotting a passage draco has highlighted in bright orange pen. “you tabbed it?”

he shrugs. “sometimes i read it when i got bored.”

“i should be angry at you for that, you know - that’s a big invasion of privacy.”

“yeah. you should be.” he looks up sheepishly. “are you?”

you pause, eyes continuing to drift over the pages of your own work, work you haven’t seen or reread since at least christmas time. you don’t look impressed, or angry, or anything at all, really. you just read the lines and nod, as if taking inventory.

then, you look up and say, “i’m more angry at the way you’ve been treating me this past week.”

draco wilts. he knew it was coming, that this was the main source of hostility for the both of you, but he really thought the presence of the notebook would somehow buy him some time, maybe make this conversation a bit easier.

you snap the notebook closed, shoving it into the pocket of your night gown. “you didn’t even tell me what i did wrong!”

“you didn’t do anything wrong!”

“then why were you acting like that? why couldn’t you just talk to me?”

draco squeezes his eyes closed, trails his hands through his hair, tries to calm down before he says something he’ll immediately regret. “you know, it’s a lot more complicated than you’re making it out to be.”

you pull back, puzzled. “how is it complicated? you’re nearly eighteen years old, draco! it shouldn’t be complicated to talk to someone when you’re mad at them!”

“ i wasn’t mad at you! i thought you were mad at me!”

you throw your head back and laugh, and this is the very noise draco has been craving for days, but he doesn’t want to hear it now, not here, not in this context. you’re not taking him seriously. you’re not listening.

“this is the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard,” you cackle. “is this about the fucking club meeting? you think i gave a shit about what you said?”

draco shakes his head. “again, love, it’s not as simple as that.”

“then explain it to me. explain to me what the hell was going through your head to make that switch flip so suddenly.”

something inside draco snaps, a string he didn’t even realise was being pulled so taut.

“do you wanna know what’s been going through my head recently?” his voice drops, your expression faltering. “it’s that fucking notebook of yours. it’s been all i can think about for weeks, because i can’t wrap my head around the idea of you being the author of those poems.”

you blink. “w-what?”

“you’re so carefree. you’re so. . . so you, y/n, and it seems impossible to me - unfathomable! - that you could be thinking such harrowing thoughts and not a single person has picked up on it besides me - and i’ve only done so by complete accident.” he inhales, runs a hand through his hair. “i’ve read your poems a thousand times over, and even though i know they came from you, i still can’t put your face to the words. i still can’t figure out how on earth you and that notebook are related in any way, and it’s been driving me insane. i want to help you, and it’s driving me insane.”

again, you blink. the corridor goes quiet. draco’s breathing slows, stabilises, and he has no idea what he’s just said, or if any of it makes sense, but there is a weight off his chest that provides such a great amount of relief he wants to cry.

finally, you swallow. your knuckles protrude from your hand with how tight your grip on the notebook is. your eyes stray to the ground, throat bobbing, mouth opening for just a second before you seem to think better of it and go silent again.

draco takes a step back. “look, you can have it back,” he says. “i don’t want it any more. i don’t - i don’t need it any more. but i just want you to know i’m sorry, and i never wanted to hurt your feelings. i was just. . . feeling things, and it wasn’t normal for me, and i got scared.” he raises his hands in mock surrender, taking another step back. “feel free to never talk to me again. i’ll understand.”

he waits for another second. hope springs to his chest, hope that you will tell him not to go, that you’ll forgive him on the spot and the two of you can live happily ever after, but it doesn’t work that way. you meet his eyes and nod, before turning on your heel and heading back into the gryffindor common room.

---

“how did you mess that up again?”

draco presses his knuckles into his eyes, as if pushing goyle’s words out of his brain. he should never have told the other slytherin about his encounter with you, but goyle was the first person on the scene, and malfoy just lost control; he needed to rant to someone. he needed to get it off his chest.

and it seems now goyle has suddenly developed a perfect memory, as two days after the meeting in the corridor, he has not let the subject drop.

the two sit together in defence against the dark arts; their teacher has long since left the classroom in search of some more work sheets for them to get cracking with, and the class has erupted into an expected chorus of conversations. draco wants nothing more than to put his head on the table and ignore the world, take this break as a chance to catch up on some of the sleep he has been robbed of these past few weeks, but goyle doesn’t let him go that easily.

the bigger boy leans over and taps draco on the back of the head. “come on, man, talk to me. there’s got to be something we can do.”

“there is nothing,” draco barks through gritted teeth. “and i’m sick of repeating myself, goyle, so shut your trap before i shut it for you.”

goyle sighs, leaning back in his seat. “so y/n just. . . didn’t even say anything? they just walked off without a word?”

“they did, which i took as a clear sign they never want to see me again.”

“do you not think you might be looking too deeply into that reaction?”

draco glares, eyes bloodshot, probably more terrifying than they have ever been. “tell me where on earth i could have looked too deeply.”

goyle shrugs. “well, you did admit to spilling this massive, emotional speech over them in the middle of the night - maybe they just didn’t know what to say at the time. i bet if you go up to them now and ask for a follow-up conversation, they’d be more than willing to sit down and discuss everything.”

“there’s nothing to discuss. i said everything i wanted to say, and y/n rejected me - i’m man enough to take it at face value and move on.”

a lie, of course, but draco just wants goyle to shut up. he wants to continue sulking on his own, because that’s what he does best. he doesn’t need friends patting him on the back, trying to cheer him up. he knows he’s messed up, and he’s willing to suffer in solitude for his stupidity.

“i’ve just never seen you act like this around anyone.”

draco’s head snaps up. “what do you mean?”

but he knows exactly what goyle means, because goyle is telling the truth. nobody has ever made draco this stupid. nobody has ever plagued his mind like this, and it’s driving him insane.

goyle folds his beefy arms across his chest. “i’m not saying it’s a bad thing, draco; sometimes it’s nice to see you unravel a little bit. god knows you’ve had a stick rammed up your ass for long enough.”

draco rolls his eyes. “well, there’s no point in dwelling on it; nothing is going to happen. whatever friendship y/n and i had is gone, and i’m just gonna have to accept it.”

goyle scowls, but draco pays him no attention. instead, he goes back to idly tapping his pen against his bottom lip, trying desperately to put his own words into play. he just needs to get over you. he needs to go back to the cold hearted, uncaring wizard he was raised to be, because that was the only version of himself that never got hurt. he never let himself get hurt. it’s strange how you walk into his life, and suddenly that entire side of him is being stripped away, replaced by this oversensitive, overthinking, annoying piece of shit who suddenly relies on someone else to get them through the day.

draco hates it, but he hates the idea of not having that even more.

----

“so are you going to tell me why y/n won’t talk about you?”

draco looks up, his scowl a reflex when he makes eye contact with ron weasley. he stands over him, arms folded over his chest, wearing a set of school robes with little burn marks pecked into the material; draco has half a mind to tease him for it, before finding he has absolutely no energy to do such a thing right now.

instead, he leans back against the tree he has been sat under, gazing at the sky as mountains of homework piles up in his dormitory - piles of homework he has yet to touch, because every time he tries focusing his mind on a single task, it veers off and he can’t do anything.

ron raises a brow at draco’s silence. “no? you’re both gonna keep your mouths shut?”

“i don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“no, of course you don’t.” and then, ron does the most surprising thing - he slumps down next to draco, their shoulders clicking. “i’m gonna take a wild guess and say you fucked things up again.”

draco swallows, closing his eyes. “again, none of your business, weasley.”

“good answer. it makes perfect sense now.” ron nudges his arm. “what happened?”

and draco knows it’s out of character. of all the people he could rant to, ron weasley should - and always has been - the absolute last on his list, but he looks at ron and he’s reminded that he is your friend, that ron makes you laugh, and he’s probably cheered you on during this uncomfortable time with draco. with that knowledge comes a sense of warmth, a gratefulness he’s never felt before, one he doesn’t completely understand.

but he leans into it, because he’s too tired to fight it off. with his cheek pressed against his knees, he tells ron the whole story, from start to finish. he goes back as far as christmas, that god-forsaken day in the library when he wanted nothing more than to enjoy a nice bit of light reading whilst he ignored the rest of the students downstairs, how peeves had dropped that notebook on his head, and he’d grown attached to it, rereading the poems every day until the day he had to surrender it back to you.

“sounds quite stalkerish,” ron comments.

draco scoffs. “it does, doesn’t it?”

ron sighs, shifting slightly. in the distance, a group of first years run screaming away from the whomping willow. a stone gargoyle shakes its winds atop the astronomy tower. such beautiful sights, and yet draco can’t feel a thing.

“okay, look,” ron says. “don’t get any of this twisted, alright? i still hate you. more than i thought humanly possible.”

“cheers.”

“but, i care about y/n. a whole lot. they’re like family to me. they’ve been miserable these past few days, and it’s starting to take a toll on me. so, i’m here to give you a bit of advice.” he turns, leans in, lowers his voice. “don’t give up so easily.”

draco jerks away. ron snickers, leaning back against the tree, gazing out at the green grass without a care in the world; draco, however, is stunned, heart racing though he doesn’t even know why. those words just hold so much hope, a hope he hasn’t let himself feel since it happened. he was slowly coming to terms with the idea of never talking to you again, and here ron weasley walks into the scene, ruining everything - like always.

draco splutters, swallows, pulls himself together. “w-why do you say that?”

“i thought it was obvious, mate,” ron replies. “y/n clearly has a soft spot for you. god only knows why, but that’s neither here nor there. all i care about right now is the fact they’ve been moping around for days, not even laughing at my jokes or anything. it’s getting exhausting when all you need to do is talk, and this entire thing could be resolved.”

“it’s not as easy as that.”

ron raises a brow. “oh? and why not?”

draco opens his mouth to respond, because he’s certain he has one. however, when he thinks about it, there really isn’t a decent answer to that question; he’s young, dumb, embarrassed. he stole your notebook, gave it back, confessed his feelings and then fled the scene - the only reason he hasn’t spoken to you since that fateful day is because he doesn’t want to bring up his own embarrassing gestures ever again. the quicker he buries them, the better.

but at the cost of you? maybe he should rethink it.

ron laughs. he stares at the side of draco’s face, pure amusement dancing across his features. draco scowls, because that’s what draco always does when he sees even the slightest flicker of joy on the weasley boys face; it’s become routine by now, even if he doesn’t feel the same contempt he’s so used to.

“it’s bizarre, isn’t it, that i’d be the one giving you relationship advice,” he says.

“it’s bizarre you’re helping me out at all, to be honest.”

“i’m not as heartless as you like to think i am, malfoy.” he stands, wiping his hands down his robes, smearing muck on the already dirty cloth. “if anyone asks, we were arguing and i won.”

draco blinks. “thank you, weasley. i mean it.”

ron rolls his eyes. “i’m sure you do. now never speak to me again.” he turns on his heel and strolls back down the hill without a second glance in draco’s direction.

----

draco’s heart is going to burst from his chest.

he’s been in this state far too often these past few weeks. he wants it to stop. he wants to go back to a life where he didn’t have a care in the world, where he owned this school, where he had the confidence that has carried his family name for decades.

the only way he’s going to reach that point again is by sorting things out with you.

or at least letting you know how he feels, because he can’t deny any of it any more. he can’t go around pretending you mean nothing to him. no, he still can’t explain where these feelings came from, if they started with the poetry and grew, or if they started that very day he laid eyes on you in first year and thought you were the prettiest one of his lousy classmates. he can’t explain any of it, but he doesn’t need to try. he doesn’t need to go as far back at that. all he needs to do is talk to you, let you know that you have changed him in very scary ways, and then he can move on. no matter your reaction, he can move on.

at least, that’s what he tells himself as he walks through the school corridors in search of you. it’s already getting dark, the january days lasting what seems like only a handful of minutes. students are flooding from their last classes of the day, and it’s only when draco spots a gryffindor bustling through the crowd does he stop.

he grabs the unsuspecting student by the arm, not even surprised nor offended by his look of pure disgust. draco simply grins, because that’s reflex for him, before saying, “have you seen y/n l/n anywhere?”

the boy furrows his brows. “i saw them talking to filch when i was walking to class. what do you want with them?”

draco raises a brow; talking to filch? what could you possibly want with argus filch of all people?

draco shoves the gryffindor away, thanking him with a nod before he turns and starts towards the caretakers office. he’s never been there before, mainly because he’s never wasted his time trying to hold a decent conversation with the caretaker, but he finds it in good enough time - an ordinary brown door, decorated only with the name ‘argus filch’ written across it in what looks like normal, muggle sharpie pen.

draco racks his knuckles against it, uncertain if he’s doing any of this right. in all his years at hogwarts, he’s seen filch in his office only a handful of times, and even if he just happens to be in his office now, what will draco even ask him? what he was talking to you about? if he somehow knows where you went after the conversation was over?

he waits there, however, because he has no other leads, and he needs to talk to you. he needs to get this over with, or else he won’t be able to sleep, and he can’t afford to be groggy during quiddith practice; he’s been performing bad enough these past few weeks, and if he can just get this off his chest-

the door swings open.

it isn’t filch.

“argus, i promise i’ll be done in-”

you pause. your eyes widen. your mouth snaps closed, grip tightening on the door frame, and draco is certain he’s going to explode at any moment.

“y/n.”

your name is a whisper, barely audible over the sound of his racing heartbeat. he doesn’t even know if he said it, or maybe it was just a thought. at this moment in time, the two things are interchangeable.

“draco.” you swallow, shuffle awkwardly, look to the floor in a rare look of timidity. “w-what are you doing here?”

“i was looking for you.” he speaks fast, like he’s running out of time, and maybe he is. maybe you’re only giving him a few seconds before the memories flood back and you slam the door on his face, ruining his chances once and for all. maybe you think his attempts are idiotic, embarrassing, and you’re only letting him talk out of pity.

but you don’t slam the door on his face. not at all. you stand there, looking more beautiful than draco has ever seen you, even though nothing has really changed.

draco swallows, curling his fingers into fists. “someone told me you - you were in here.”

your eyes snap up. “i didn’t tell anyone where i was. that was kind of the whole point.”

draco nods like he understands, because part of him kind of does - hiding away, pretending you are the only person to exist. it’s a comfort sometimes.

“what do you want, draco?”

and just like that, everything he wanted to say is swept from his brain.

you fold your arms over your chest, one foot tapping rapidly against the floor. “d-did you have anything to say to me?”

you almost sound hopeful.

“ron told me not to give up so easily.”

you pause.

draco rushes on, because he knows he hasn’t done this right. he’s gone so far off script, and he hasn’t even got to the main point of his argument.

“i don’t listen to weasley - ever. quite frankly, his advice is usually more detrimental than helpful, but - but he told me earlier to come find you. he told me you weren’t doing so good-”

“ron-”

“and i don’t know if that’s true on your end, but it’s true for me.”

you blink.

draco exhales shakily, running a ringed hand through his hair. “i’m not doing so good, y/n. i don’t like the way we left things. i don’t like the fact that we left things at all. i should have explained myself a bit better, or come to you sooner, but you know how i am. god, you know how i am better than anyone else in the world, so please, please understand that i’m trying so hard to put my dignity aside to let you know how much i care about you.”

there is a silence. a silence so heavy that draco feels crippled beneath it, unable to do anything but wait in anticipation for a response he might not even deserve. he’s done so many things wrong - not just with you, but with life in general. he is a bad person, and he knows this, and he’s trying to change, because you don’t deserve a bad person.

you swallow. he watches your throat bob.

“i don’t know if i believe you.”

your words are a whisper, but they shatter everything around him like they were screamed at the top of your lungs.

he shakes his head dumbly, like that is answer enough. he wants to say something to argue his case, but his tongue feels heavy and a cloud has passed over his brain.

“draco, i don’t know if i believe you,” you correct, sounding almost desperate. “y-you treated me like shit for no reason. you took my notebook and didn’t give it back. you’re a dick to my friends-”

“i know,” he bursts through gritted teeth, like he is in physical pain. “y/n, i know. i know, and i’ve been beating myself up over it for weeks. but that’s what i do - that’s what i’ve always done. i play the victim card and blame everybody else for my wrongdoings, and it’s childish. i’m trying to stop. i’m really, really trying.”

you open your mouth to respond, but draco takes one look at the tears in your eyes and barrels on, suddenly desperate to dig himself further into the dirt.

“you know what? i don’t even know why i’m here. i’m sorry. i should just - i should just leave you alone and let you get on with your life. you and i were never meant to be together, and i just need to accept that and move on.” he can’t stop talking. he can’t stop hating himself. “i’m sorry, though. for everything i did to upset you. for every stupid thing i said or did - know i didn’t mean it. from the bottom of my heart, y/n, i would never hurt you. never. so that’s why i’m gonna go. i’m gonna leave you alone. i’m g-gonna support you in whatever you want to do in the future. as long as you’re happy.”

he tries for a smile, because that’s the way you’re meant to end these things, isn’t it? you smile, and you shake their hand or something, but draco can’t bring himself to do that, so he turns on his heel instead. he turns away from you, knowing this will be the last time, that there is absolutely no going back, no matter what horrible advice ron weasley gives him. he needs to get over you. he needs to let you go once and-

“draco.”

you grab his wrist and he stumbles. he stumbles because of your grip, but he stumbles, too, because his name on your lips will never get old. it’s music to him, music he never listens to because his father always said it was a waste of time. he basks in it, spinning around to meet your eyes, and his heart crumbles at the tears now rolling down your cheeks.

his own eyes widen. “y/n-”

“you’re so stupid,” you sob. “so fucking stupid, do you know that?” you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a desperate hug. you sob into his shoulder, and draco is frozen, hands hovering over the small of your back, unsure how to take this reaction. “you’re literally the most idiotic person i’ve ever met in my life. how is it you? how is it always you?”

draco blinks. “how is what always me?”

“everything!” you wail, hugging him tighter. “it’s just always you, draco. always.”

and draco still has no idea what you mean, but he’s learning to understand that maybe he doesn’t need to know what you mean all the time. maybe he just needs to be there for you to yell and cry and make no sense, and that will be enough.

he wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. he’s never been any good at hugs, but he’s melting into this one.

“idiot,” you whisper into his neck. “thinking i’m just gonna let you leave like that. . . thinking i don’t like you back. . . thinking i’ve stopped thinking about you for even a second these past few days. . .”

draco holds you tighter.

you pull away after a moment, quickly swiping your hand beneath your eyes. they are puffy now, red-rimmed, and draco knows he will have to explain this to ron in some way or the other without giving ron the benefit of knowing his advice might have actually been beneficial for once.

“i think we both messed up a little bit,” you mumble through sniffles, wiping your nose on your sleeve. “my reaction wasn’t exactly very helpful, was it?”

“well. . . no, but-” draco exhales. “i meant what i said, y/n; i never meant to hurt you. i would never do that.”

your smile trembles. draco has only a second to smile back before you’re throwing your arms around him again, pulling him in for a hug that he is getting strangely fond of.

----

your pen scratches against the paper. draco can’t sleep; he doesn’t really want to sleep, despite the hours of classes and quiddith practice he has to endure in a few hours time.

you never sleep. not really. draco is convinced you live entirely off caffeine and words, staying up into the early hours of the morning with that notebook of yours, your muggle pen darting back and forth over the pages. he scolds you for it sometimes, but he’s always smiling, and you always roll your eyes in response.

now, however, he has one arm thrown over your shoulders, watching you work. it’s already three in the morning, but he’s too enamoured to bother falling asleep; he’d rather stay up and watch you work.

“bic,” he says out of nowhere, shattering the hours of silence the two of you had collected.

you pause, looking up. your eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. draco smiles.

“what?”

“bic.” he nods at the pen in your hand. “that’s the name of your fancy muggle quill, isn’t it?”

you frown, taking another second to catch onto what he means, despite the clear explanation he has just given. however, it eventually dawns on you, and you frown even more.

“oh, right. yeah. bic. that’s the brand name.” you place it in draco’s hand. he holds it close to his face, squinting to read the tiny letters written in the plastic. “the best pens in the world, i’d say; much more practical than those bloody quills we have to use in class.”

“nothing wrong with our quills,” draco says, tilting the pen back and forth, examining every inch of it. “mine cost me a good lot of money.”

you scoff, snatching the pen back. “i’m sure it did. waste of a good lot of money, too, when you could have just bought a pack of twelve bic pens for a fiver.”

draco furrows his brows. “a fiver? what’s that in real money?”

you roll your eyes, smiling fondly, and it’s that very smile that has draco leaning forward to peck you on the lips. it takes you out of your work, which he knows will frustrate you in the morning when you wake up to see you didn’t get as much done as you might have liked, but for now, he doesn’t really care. not when you’re melting against him, dropping your dumb bic pen into the crease of your notebook so you can cling to him with both hands.

there are some days when draco thinks you love him only out of pity. he was the boy who lost himself to his feelings for you. he was the boy who came crawling back, the boy who was lost when he didn’t have you by his side. some days, draco has to ask you if you really want to be part of this relationship.

but then you go and kiss him like this, and he is left with no doubt that you’ve meant every single “i love you.” then you go and hold his hand at the gryffindor table, smile fondly at him as he bickers with your friends, and he knows this relationship is not a chore for you. maybe, if he lets himself hope, he can convince himself that you love him as much as he loves you.

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