#i am so head over heals it’s pathetic and i don’t even understand how he feels and for all i know he’s over it and this is completely | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

farfromstrange · 10 months

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New Year's Day | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You recount your history with Matt and the highs and the lows of your relationship.

Warnings: Fluff, descriptive writing & lack of dialogue, mentions of blood, but this is mostly very tame

Word count: 2.5k

A/n: This One-Shot is dedicated to my bestie, @blackshadowswriter. I'm a bit late, and I'm sorry for that. It took me a bit to finish. I just want to tell you how much I love and appreciate you. I also know you love Taylor, so I thought "why not write a fic and use as many song references as possible? She's going to LOVE that!" You're my favorite person in the world and you deserve this. I love you. I'm all out of words because I'm anxious as hell about showing you this. It took me two days to finish. I wanted it to be as good as I could make it. I'm still not 100% sure, but I never am when it comes to giving gifts. I hope you like it <3 (This is also why I'm not tagging anyone else because this is a gift for my best friend and I intended it as such)

From the moment you bumped into him on the corner street of your favorite café, you knew that he was the kind of chance that would only come around once in a lifetime.

It wasn’t like you, at least not back then, to buy a stranger a coffee. And it was even less like you to give him your number afterward.

You had never been big on dating at that point in your life. You used to take things exactly the way they came to you, and dating never really seemed to fit into that narrative.

You preferred to lose yourself in your own world, a world where no one could touch or hurt you the way you’ve been hurt so many times in the past by people who claimed to care about you—people who claimed to love you, and in the process, you lost sight of the fact that there are still a handful of good people out there.

No one can blame you for thinking like that though. Your heart has been broken one too many times, and not just by broken relationships.

Deep down, you craved to find someone capable of understanding all of you, not just the pretty parts. You almost felt pathetic for pretending you didn’t need it and still thinking that way.

But deep down, you craved to find someone who wouldn’t be afraid of sticking around, someone who would never leave you because life tends to get hard.

It seemed nearly impossible to find a person like that without breaking your own heart, so you decided to retreat into your shell. Better to keep your heart safe and protected than put yourself out there and be broken all over again, right?

Those stupid love songs on the radio and the endless romantic stories of your friends’ dating lives, however, fueled your need for the same kind of connection only a few songwriters know how to put into words.

You wanted to fall in love, find the right person, and heal. You wanted to figure out why love wasn’t like the burning red of sex and passion but golden, like daylight. A love living for. A love fighting for.

You felt so stupid, secretly pining for an innocent childhood dream that eventually got crushed after years of heartbreak, but that is what happens when someone becomes chronically lonely. You turned to daydreaming because at least in your head, your life could be perfect. Not just good, not just livable, but filled with love and happiness.

Truth be told, when you’re your own worst enemy and have an inner saboteur set out to destroy everything that could be remotely good for you because you truly believe you don’t deserve it, it’s hard to allow yourself to be open. So perhaps that is why you chose to lock yourself away and live in delusion instead. Not facing reality became standard procedure in your way of life.

You tried blaming it on your past, your broken relationships, and disappointments, and while that played a big part in your trauma, you also slowly started to realize that you might have been hurting yourself so you wouldn’t have to open up ever again.

In an attempt to erase all the problems, you became the problem. You became your worst enemy, someone chasing ghosts that stayed long in the past and only came back to haunt the living shit out of you. But that’s a survivable condition.

You tried therapy, you tried turning your life around and starting anew, and while that helped you find a job you love, find a nice group of friends, and make peace with what’s been broken, nothing else seemed to change.

You had barely started putting yourself back together again when you bumped into him. You were late for a meeting, so your focus was on your phone instead of the street before you.

It was your fault. He was just trying to make his way over the sidewalk, his cane tapping in a steady rhythm to make his way forward, and you stepped right in the middle of it.

You remember him grabbing your arm, catching you before you could fall. He wasn’t even irritated. When you looked up in shame, seeing the red glasses and the came, you begged for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I wasn’t looking. Are you okay?”

But before you could go on a rant about your stupidity, he cut you off, and in the silkiest voice possible, he said, “I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you okay? You seem in a bit of a rush. Don’t want you to accidentally bump into a car next.” He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. Blood rushed to his cheeks. “That was a bad joke, sorry.”

You just about melted. “It’s okay,” you found yourself chuckling. “And so am I. I was too focused on my phone. That was my fault.”

“Don’t blame yourself. It happens,” he said. He was so calm about it, unlike other New Yorkers you’ve met before.

Maybe the fact that you found him extraordinarily attractive and easy to be around compelled you to ask if you could buy him a cup of coffee to make up for bumping into him, completely abandoning your plans to make it to your work meeting five minutes late.

He introduced himself as Matthew. A lawyer. Not one of those rich defense attorneys who simply do it for the money. No, he does it to help people, and you fell for him right then and there.

Maybe it was fate, maybe it was destiny, or maybe it was just dumb luck, but that day, when you got home after work, his number in your phone and a stupidly giddy smile on your flushed face, you knew that you’d somehow been enchanted to meet him.

You never believed in love at first sight until you bumped into Matt Murdock, but the second you did, your life flipped upside down and changed in ways you could have never predicted.

It is possible that the song playing over the speakers in the café right before you bumped him played a part in how you perceived the interaction. You’ve never been one to believe in coincidences. Nothing is ever accidental, and neither was your meeting. It couldn’t have been.

You found each other when you needed someone, anyone, both of you, and it stuck. Thankfully, it did.

Summer that year was cruel with New York drowning in an excruciating heatwave. You’d been meeting up with Matt for a couple of weeks, but you didn’t have it in you to put a label on whatever delicate thing was starting to build between the two of you. You didn’t want to wrap your hand around it and accidentally shatter something you could see growing into something more in the future.

He was unlike anyone you’d met before, and he treated you in a way that made you believe, finally, that you are worthy of love. Not just giving but receiving because Matt himself struggled to see his worth after years of being disappointed and being there for everyone but himself.

Love is a fragile thing though, and you have never been quite good with fragile things.

After a night of drinking away your sorrows at a nearby bar, you made your way to his apartment. You took a cab, too wasted to find your way there by yourself. You remember that you were crying; you were miserable and loathing yourself for several reasons that didn’t even make sense to you then.

When you arrived there, you knocked on his door. You didn’t get an answer. Just as you started to turn around and make your way back outside, you could hear a thud from the other side of the door. Panic settled in. You didn’t even hesitate before you opened the door, which was surprisingly unlocked, and made your way into the dark interior of his apartment.

Finding your blind, catholic not-boyfriend in a pool of his own blood, wearing a leather-clad suit with the horns of the devil had not been on your to-do list until that night. Reality hit you just as fast and knocked sobriety back into your senses as the adrenaline started to take over.

He let out a grunt. Your name passed his lips. He sounded so weak, so fragile, and you just stood there, your heart pumping too much blood for your body to handle.

“What the fuck?!” you said. You didn’t yell, you didn’t snap, you simply didn’t know how to process this information.

You were well aware of the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen parading outside at night, beating up criminals and giving them a good fright—Matt did not fit the picture you had of the guy until you saw him lying there, obviously injured.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he said hoarsely. He tried to roll over, but the pain turned out to be too severe.

Needless to say, he passed out on you without a proper explanation, and you somehow had to use what little you could remember from first-aid to help this bleeding mess of a man. You feared that you would lose him that night, and that was when you realized that, on top of falling for him, you didn’t care who he was, you only needed him to live.

When he woke up to you hovering over him, he groaned. “I’m sorry,” was all he said. “I’d understand if–”

“Don’t talk,” you cut him off with a finger on his lips. You wouldn’t let him push you away. Not after everything you’d been through.

He tried to sit up. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“It’s not exactly something you lead with on a first date. I get it. What I don’t get…”

“I didn’t lie,” it was his turn to cut you off. You remember looking up at him, and you heard him out. You had to. In your mind, there is an explanation for everything, and you were once again proven right at that moment.

He bared his life story to you, how he survived through tragedies no human should ever have to face. How he turned blind, how his senses heightened, and how he lost the one person he could always count on. When his father died, something changed in Matt. He tried to go straight, to do his father proud, but he couldn’t ignore this desperate need for justice forever. He felt cursed. So, he became someone who could make a difference, and not just as a lawyer.

He expected you to walk out, but you didn’t. You saw him for who he was, and you accepted him.

“I think I’m falling for you, and it scares the hell out of me,” you blurted out that night.

He stared at you, his unfocused eyes bewildered, his lips moving soundlessly as he tried to find an answer.

Just when you thought he would break your heart after putting your trust in him, he let out a shaky sigh and he kissed you.

He wasn’t ready to say it back just yet, but he spoke to you through actions that made you feel confident in what you were growing again.

You somehow already knew back then that Matt Murdock would be the man you one day would marry and spend the rest of your life with.

The truth is, you two have been through a lot throughout your relationship. It hasn’t always been smooth sailing, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t worth it.

From the moment you met him to the countless dates, sharing coffees over empty takeout containers, kissing in the rain, Daredevil, fighting over the beautiful women in his life that almost broke you, and fighting over his desperate need to push those away who only want what is good for him because he is own worst saboteur.

It all led you down a journey that turned out to be harder than expected and not at all the love story you envisioned, but it still turned out to be the best thing that has ever happened to you. He is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

You used to run away from happiness out of fear of getting hurt, and Matt did the same. He feared to admit it, but then he met you and he finally realized that running was of no use because you were more than ready to stick around through everything. Through every disaster and heartache—through every broken bone, you stuck around.

You saw something in him from the moment you met that no one can ever take away. You got a taste of heaven from the devil himself, and even though he was darker than the sunshine you wished for in your life, you managed to find a way to bring some light into his life.

You are sunshine, even on your worst days, and he’s midnight rain. But you love the rain. You love him.

Your first kiss happened in the rain. He took your hand and asked you to dance, and you did. You danced to the sound of the raindrops pattering against the asphalt beneath your feet, and it was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen—Matt engulfed in the soft moonlight, his hand in yours, and a big smile on his irresistible lips.

You want more of those nights. Even the nights you’ve had to patch him up or hold him as he broke down from all the weight he often enough carries on his shoulders, you want more of those. You want all of them.

You want him and all the strings attached to him, no matter how painful because ever since he can remember, people have walked out on Matt and hurt him in ways you can only fathom. You don’t want to be that person.

He opened up to you. He decided to be vulnerable. He stood with you through everything and fought for you when you thought you two wouldn’t last.

He gave you his best smile and his tears, and he laughed with you every night that you waited up for him to come home safely. He quickly became the moonlight to your sun—it is a different kind of light, but it is a light that sustains you nonetheless.

You want all of his laughter and never miss it again. You want his smiles. You want his tears. You want to spend every waking second with him. You want to miss him and welcome him back home after an agonizingly long night of worrying. You want to cheer him up in court and be his lucky charm. You want to wear his initial on a chain around your neck, in Braille, because he got it for you on your birthday.

“I know I don’t own you,” he said to you, “but I love you. And I know you. I want you to carry me close to your heart the same way I’ll always carry you close to mine.”

And his, you are. You’re no one else’s but his, and even if that sounds a bit territorial, you don’t care. You want all of it and more because it’s Matt you’re talking about, no one else. Not a stranger but the man you love so desperately it hurts sometimes.

All the girls he loved before don’t matter because he’s got you now. You forgave him more times than he probably deserved. You held on when he barely had any strength left. In return, he has shown the same kind of devotion to you time and time again. How can you ever say no to any of that when you are so in love?

All those memories replay in sudden flashing sequences right in front of your inner eye. You love him more than anyone has ever loved him. You pulled him out of a very dark hole. You saved his life. And he saved yours.

As he’s kneeling in front of you now, your hand in his and clutching the small, velvety box in his other, your life passes by before your eyes. Your life alone and your life together. You recount every memory in a millisecond, too shocked to even comprehend what is happening. But it is happening.

Matt Murdock is kneeling on the floor before you, the glitter, confetti, and sticky champagne someone spilled earlier most likely leaving a stain on his good dress pants, but he remains unwavering in his decision to open that little box and show you what he’s been hiding for a while.

It’s a diamond ring, something he probably took months to save up for. It’s small yet elegant, and it’s staring right at you. He’s taken his glasses off to try and do the same. You would marry him with paper rings, that much is true.

Matt says your name oh-so-softly. “Will you marry me?” Four words that stop your heart and restart it at the same time.

He sees right through you. You see right through him. Even in your worst times, you were there for each other, and now he’s asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. Together. To give him all of your days and nights and he will give you all of his in return. He is asking you the question you’ve been wondering if he would ever ask it, and he did.

The fireworks go off in the distance, in your stomach, everywhere. The new year has rounded the corner. People are cheering and celebrating around you, but you don’t pay attention to them.

The clock strikes midnight and with the softest smile, you say, “Yes.” You don’t need to tell him that you would do it a million times over because he knows. He knows your heartbeat, and he knows that you would never lie to him.

He doesn’t waste time to pull you into his arms and kiss you softly, passionately, as if both of your lives depend on it.

It’s a bit cliché, to get proposed to on New Year’s Eve. To start the new year with the man you love and a ring on your finger. But that only means that you will still be together on New Year’s Day, and all the days after that.

Matt chose you. You chose Matt. You chose a life together that is as unpredictable as they come, but at least you have each other to hold onto.

And he will never be just the stranger that you bumped into in front of your favorite corner café ever again. You have him now. Maybe that was your plan all along. Maybe you are the mastermind he knows that you are. None of it was accidental.

And now, Matt Murdock is yours. Forever and always.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x gender neutral reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock angst #charlie cox #daredevil x reader #birthday gift for my bestie #taylor swift references #song fic #new year's day #matt murdock imagines

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bunni-v1 · 1 year

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Hello! Can I request malleus x reader angst?

Malleus breaks up with reader because he is afraid he will hurt her after putting her under a sleeping curse during his over blot

<33

Malleus Afraid to Hurt Reader Again After Blot

TW: Poor Attempt at Angst, No real resolution either, Mild swearing, Bunni hasn't actually written something in a while give them a break, please

Info: Short fic; Angst; Malleus x Reader

🍓I... didn't have much thought process when going into this. I just kinda wrote, and I think I did what I wanted to do? I'm not sure, but I did have fun writing it! This is less focused on Malleus and more focused on the readers internal thoughts and how they dealt with it. Idk I don't like Malleus, so I'm not gonna pity the guy lol. Anyway, enjoy lovelies!

Summary: In the title

Malleus had become… distant since his blot. Despite everything having been solved, you ultimately deciding to stay in Twisted Wonderland, and Malleus generally being forgiven for his transgressions he had only seemed to close off more than before. Of course, that made sense. Overblotting was traumatizing, and he had so much weight on his shoulders before and after it happened. The distance was natural. But it had been a month, and he had been avoiding you like the plague.

You tried to be patient, tried to be understanding. With reassurance from Lilia and Silver and even Sebek that he was fine, you were making it through, but… you missed your boyfriend. You were also experiencing pain from the overblot, from multiple overblotts. All you wanted was to heal with your boyfriend, but he was shutting you out. It wasn’t fair.

Ace, Deuce, and Grim agreed — in fact, they seemed more passionate about it than you were, adding fuel to your slowly growing angry fire. Every time you came crying to one of them with your woes, they only seemed to get more and more exhausted and livid. Deuce always tried to comfort you (pathetically), while Ace and Grim ranted on about how you should ‘just break up with him,’ and ‘he doesn’t deserve you if he’s gonna treat you like this.’

You were beginning to agree with them. Weeks of this was weighing on your poor heart and mind, getting in the way of your studies and day-to-day life. The only reason you were social was because Ace wouldn’t let you hole yourself up. ‘Hiding yourself away just means you’re letting him win, you don’t want him to win this one.’

So, with your head held high, you did your best to pretend everything was fine. You went to classes, spent time with your friends, worked at the Monstro Lounge, and continued your regular schedule. Except now, instead of running to Malleus when you were done with your long day, you met up with Ace and spent your time decompressing with him.

Occasionally, you would feel Malleus’ eyes on you. You would turn to give him a smile and a wave, but he would always turn away before you could lift your arm. So, you just stopped. You stopped trying. Your chest still ached, but you couldn’t allow this to be the end of your life anymore. You deserved to be able to function, and Malleus would come to you and talk to you when he decided to grow up.

In Malleus’ eyes, however, this was the final nail in the coffin.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

That morning you received a knock on your door. Grim, Ace, and Deuce were out cold on the floor after one of your bi-weekly, ‘hangouts,’ (which were just sleepovers), so you were expecting Trey or Cater to come to fetch them. When you opened the door, however, you were greeted by Lilia’s little grin. He seemed a bit… off, upset, though you couldn’t place why.

“Lilia…?”

“Good morning little one, I’ve got a letter for you.”

“An invitation... from Malleus…?” you wondered allowed.

“You’ll have to read it and see,” he paused, “please remember you are always welcome to come and speak with me. You are like family, and I am here for you always.”

You said nothing, simply giving him a confused smile and nodding as he walked off. With a sigh, you shut the door and flipped the letter in your hands. Rich black paper with a red wax stamp and your name in pretty gold letters — most definitely from Malleus. You couldn’t stop your heart from leaping in your chest at the revelation. Maybe he would apologize, and things could go back to normal?

You took a few deep breaths to calm your excitement. Be realistic, you reminded yourself. You quietly crept to the kitchen, carefully opening the envelope and unfolding the letter. It was short, less than half the page of Malleus’ gorgeous cursive.

“My Dearest,

Firstly, I must apologize for my absence from your life. I’ve had much to think about after my blot, and I could not think clearly around you. I realized quite a few differences between the two of us. Firstly, you are human, and I am fae. I have a much longer lifespan than you, and am far more powerful than you could imagine. You have a small lifespan and are magic-less. You are easily affected by even weak magical spells, and the toll that my magic has on you is immense. As I saw with my blot, you are fragile and easily harmed. Therefore, I came to the conclusion that you would be safer and happier if we put an end to our relations with each other. You will be well, as I have seen your friends care for you deeply. Please find it in yourself to forgive me for what I have done."

You stared at the letter blankly, your mind struggling to comprehend what you were reading. Malleus had… broken up with you? Via a letter, of all things? Perhaps it could be worse, but a letter was Malleus’ equivalent of magicam… so could it really be? You hadn’t realized you were crying until you saw your tears blurring the ink on the paper.

You didn’t want to cry. You were more angry than sad, but the hurt stung worse in your heart, so you stood at the kitchen counter and sobbed. And you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed over a man who did not have the decency to face you in person. You cried so loud that it woke one of your friends, and you could hear the creaking of the floorboards as they grew closer until you saw the red hair in your blurred vision.

“Yo,” he said awkwardly, “watcha cryin’ about now…?”

You let out a half-hearted ‘nothing,’ but Ace wasn’t having it. He rounded the counter, settling awkwardly at your side. Somehow, Ace was worse than Deuce when it came to comforting you. He noticed the letter on the table and -- with a defeated shrug of your shoulders -- picked it up. You could see him grow angrier and angrier as he read it.

“Who does he think he is, huh,” slamming the letter down onto the counter, “couldn’t even do it in person. What a coward!”

You sniffled, wiping at your face. It was hard to disagree, especially considering the circumstances.

“He isn’t even worth cryin’ over, so wipe those tears,” he grumbled, “you, me, and the other losers in there are going out and getting your mind off of that dumbass. Go get dressed, and I’ll get them up.”

You nodded, wiping up the rest of your tears and stumbling up to your room to do as you were told. The first thing you did when you arrived was look in the mirror. Your puffy eyes, ruffled hair, and tear streaks down your cheeks, and for what? A guy who ghosted you for weeks on end, who couldn’t even break up with you in person. What a joke.

Ace was right. He isn’t worth crying over. He isn’t worth worrying about anymore. So, why did your heart still ache? It wasn’t fair. Still, you cleaned yourself up, got dressed, and resigned yourself to a life without Malleus. If you could do it before, you could do it for the rest of your life. He would be graduating soon anyway, and you wouldn’t have to see him again after that.

Who needs him anyway? You’ve got your friends to take care of you.

#malleus twst #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #angst #bunni's treats 🧁

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vodika-vibes · 11 months

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Hi,

I’d like to request another fic from seeking out physical affection prompt with hesitant Darman. Hesitant Darman is so sweet and sexy.

draping the arm around their shoulder while sitting next to each other.

I know you’re busy so if you don’t have time I’ll understand. 😊

Thank you. 💕

Hesitant Crushes

Summary: Darman has a crush on you, but isn't sure how to make his move.

Pairing: Darman Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 600

Warnings: None

Divider by Saradika

It should be easy.

It should be.

You’re not mean or cruel or anything of the sort. So it would be a simple thing to just…walk up to you and ask you on a date. Or to bring you a caf. Or to even have a single, fucking, conversation with you.

But nooo.

Somehow, apparently, you’re more terrifying than the entirety of the Seppie army.

His brothers think it’s both pathetic, and hilarious.

Luckily, they’re not there. Luckily they’re away on a mission, so they can’t see just how pathetic he’s being right now.

You smile at him, “How are you feeling, Darman?” You ask. And, stars, he could listen to you say his name for hours. Gods, he’s so pathetic.

“Fine.”

“No nausea, headache?”

“Nope. Totally fine.”

“Okay, good. I’m glad.” Your smile is stunning, your best feature in his opinion. “I was worried about you.”

“That’s really not necessary, ma’am.” He replies, his gaze locked on your face, “I’m tough enough that a simple concussion won’t take me down.”

You laugh and his heart starts doing backflips. “Be that as it may,” You say, once your laughter has calmed, “I still worry when you get hurt.”

“Well, I’m sorry for worrying you, then.”

You shake your head, “It’s fine. At least I get you for company while everyone else is away.”

Wait. That’s…that’s flirting, isn’t it? Maybe? Or maybe he’s just reading too much into it. “I’m happy to keep you company,” Darman offers hesitantly, and you favor him with a blinding smile.

“Well, then maybe we can watch a holo together?” You offer, “There’s a couch in my office, that way I can keep an eye on you if your concussion gets worse.”

“That sounds great.” He hopes to his feet, “Lead the way.”

Darman follows you into your office, and sits on the couch while you get the holo ready. And then you drop on the couch next to him, and press yourself right against his side, “There. It’s a silly romcom, but it’s one of my favorites.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” He replies awkwardly.

You grin up at him, and start the holo. And then you lean against him, and you smoothly tug his arm over your shoulder, and you press yourself against his side. “There. Isn’t this better?”

“Uh…yeah.” Darman’s mouth is dry, and he very hesitantly tightens his hold around you, and when you don’t pull away, and instead cuddle closer, he realizes that it was the right choice.

“I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I?” You ask as the movie starts playing.

“No.” Darman replies immediately, “I just…I don’t want to misunderstand.” He says slowly, “You just like hugs?”

“No, not really.” You reply cheerfully.

“I don’t-”

“I want you to touch me. I want to be closer to you.” You explain bluntly.

“...what.”

You sigh, “I want to be in a relationship with you.” You say slowly, “I want to kiss you and hug you and be naked in your bed.”

Darman’s jaw drops, “Oh.”

“Are you not interested?” You ask, worriedly.

“I did not say that.” He replies immediately.

“So you are interested?”

“Yes. Absolutely. And if I wasn’t recovering from a damned concussion I’d say let’s jump to item three on that checklist.” Darman says quickly.

You laugh and lean up and kiss his cheek. “How about,” You offer, “We put this conversation on hold until such time that you don’t have a concussion.”

“but…I really do want to kiss you.” Darman grumbles.

“Later. I promise. When you’re healed.” You smile at him beautifully, “Now, we watch a movie.”

#star wars #tcw #darman skirata x reader #darman x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction

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myastrouniverse · 1 month

Text

August/2024🌘♏️As usual your accusations are ALWAYS confessions, CUNTS.

♀️ Λ ☊ Calling me worthless after being beaten down to the point where I can barely survive, is an appalling way to treat a HUMAN BEING. it is an appalling way to treat an ANIMAL. I can’t even imagine how fucking heartless a fucking psychotic narcissist has to be to treat OTHERS in this abominable fashion. It’s fucking nearly beyond my comprehension the depths of others people’s savagery. I have barely survived over decades of abuse over nothing but pathetic jealous narcissistic fucking ape cunt’s PERSONAL ego issues. I don’t know ANY of these ‘celebrity’ animals, so why should they want to harm me?

🎸 < 🌽 It smells like fall and fall brings me back to old memories, some are good memories. Watching my brothers’ many boring sporting events for example. Soccer games, orange wedges, mud and rain. “It’s too wet to read my Sweet Valley High, book.” Sweet Valley High was a romance novel series for pre-teens. It was about two twin sisters going through all the cliche, twin sister bullshit, only with surfboards and Stanford preps. I read them because the popular girls read them. Discussing which Sweet Valley book you were reading, was a way of speaking their ‘language.’ I also liked the books. I didn’t have a sister and my best friend, the girl who lived next door, was a verbally abusive little psychopath. She was born a psychopath. Her behavior was extremely confusing for me as a child. I couldn’t understand why she had to be such a fucking bully ALL the time. Not even reading Sweet Valley High books could repair our friendship, she simply did not give a fuck about anything but whatever satisfied her narcissism. Why have my future relationships gotten worse, not better? I can’t understand other people’s fucking issues and it wouldn’t bother me, if it wasn’t for people constantly throwing their delusions in my face. When your shit affects my life, we have a problem. You have no right to disrespect me to feel good about YOU. That is abusive behavior, you fucking whores. Try getting some self respect, rather than shitting all over everyone. FYI: To the filthy fucking bitches next door constantly stalking my house.

♀️🔺🌽 I said, I like Mascis. If you aren’t Mascis, I would rather be alone. He is the only frenemy I trust, because he shows signs of self awareness. Mascis may actually be a Buddha.

♀️< 🚑 I AM INSULTED, by the amount of people whom seem to believe I am a zombie whore, who needs to physically lose my body and become some two headed monster, with some psychotic; with gender issues. Excuse me? Please fuck off you human trafficking scum fucks. ALL OF CLARK COUNTY KNOWS WHAT YOU ARE DOING.

🌘 < ♆︎ Again, I’ve had significant improvements in my health. The last two attacks, actually helped break down old scars and I have much better improvement in my circulation in my back and legs, and movement in my neck. My skin almost feels NORMAL again and it is a relief. I AM healing despite your attacks, because YOU animals are the ones who will be receiving BAD KARMA. How badly do you want to cease to exist?

🌘 < ♄︎ I AM waiting for people to start behaving like responsible adults. It’s clear my prosecutor is ALSO an AIPAC cunt, trying to fuck with my human rights, to enslave me to a misogynist psycho killer.

Hazel - Everybody’s Best Friend

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By Odilon Redon (French, 1840-1916) "Buddha in young days"

#08/11/2024 #astrology #Sunday #fbi #fbi international #fbi investigation #hazel #everybody’s best friend #Youtube

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yesimwriting · 3 years

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The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

... i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly.

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context--that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow.

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way.

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted.

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever.

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.”

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.”

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?”

He can never know. “Obviously.”

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.”

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way?

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.”

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.”

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this.

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.”

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just--I wanted to get some air.”

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?”

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.”

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation.

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way.

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat.

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.”

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.”

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride...but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.”

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone--the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?”

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.”

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again.

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier.

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear--testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me.

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve.

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?”

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?”

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you--an accident.”

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?”

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.”

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm.

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning.

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?”

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively.

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?”

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent.

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.”

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all---core. His staring lacks any shame.

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one.

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.”

Understanding? “What is there to understand?”

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable.

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted--now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain--I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea.

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.”

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected.

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.”

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.”

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?”

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?”

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words.

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist--a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another--but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier--touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure.

“Are you--” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn't be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?”

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly.

“What kind of punishment?”

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t--he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?”

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.”

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?”

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.”

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip.

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.”

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it.

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you--so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall--I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down.

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What--”

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.”

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin.

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical.

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn.

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.”

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion.

“Kirigan.”

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his.

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity.

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off.

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am.

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.”

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.”

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines.

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips.

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?”

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want.

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential.

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.”

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly.

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat.

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more.

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible.

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.”

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.”

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it. My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars--and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out.

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.”

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking.

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t--”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.”

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together.

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs.

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?”

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back.

Tags: @luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy

@i-padfootblack-things

@all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @benbarnes-supremacy

@we-love-our-bandz @fire-in-her-veinz @weirdowithnobeardo @bvudzsoo @kaque @ponyboys-sunsets @coldlilheart @granillx @dreamohlittledreamofme @sanna2020 @zaynzierulez

@ive-died-everday-waiting-for-you @xxaerynxx @ralesera @tea-effect

@tranquillitymoon

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader smut #grishaverse #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x you #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling smut #the darkling x you #the darkling imagine

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earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

memory.

| Steve Rogers x reader | angst |

anon requested. the reader loses their memory and like the love interest suffers because they never remember them

“Steve, she was in an accident,” Bucky stopped Steve before he could burst into your hospital room, where Shuri and Dr. Banner were tending to you.

“Let me in, let me see Y/N!” Steve shouted.

“You can, but there was a head injury. Y/N hasn’t woken up yet. You just need to be prepared, Steve,” Bucky spoke gently, holding his best friend back.

Steve’s panic only heightened, and Bucky followed him into the hospital room. Shuri moved out of the way, standing to the side with Banner.

Steve felt like he was going to fall apart at the sight of you. You laid in the bed, looking pathetic and weak. You were badly bruised and scraped, and there was a gash on the side of your head. Bucky hung back in the doorway, hurting for the both of you, the two people closest to him in his life.

“Steve-” Shuri started, but Banner stopped her.

“Y/N, baby,” Steve breathed, running up to you. You jerked back, pain throbbing through your entire body at the sudden movement. A monitor started beeping, indicating that your heart was racing.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Steve tried to calm you down, shocked by your startled reaction to him.

“Get away from me!” You cried, and Steve stepped back like he was wounded.

“Y/N...?”

“I don’t, I don’t know you!” You started to sob, frightened by the large man that you didn’t recognize. Banner sighed, and Shuri and Bucky went to Steve, pulling him away.

“Steve, she hit her head. She’s having memory loss,” Shuri explained quietly.

“But, I’m her husband-”

“I know.”

“When will her memory come back?” Steve demanded, shaken and in disbelief.

“We don’t know. Steve, you need to understand that it may not come back.” Shuri tried to be gentle, but Steve sank into Bucky, the weight of her words nearly making him collapse.

“Breathe, Steve.”

Steve sat beside your hospital bed. You had slipped into unconsciousness, sedated by Banner to help you heal. Steve had stayed out of your room after the frightened reaction, but he needed to be close. The sun had set, and he was spending the night in your room, holding your hand as you slept. Tears stained Steve’s face, devastated by the fact you didn’t recognize him, your injuries, and seeing you in the hospital.

He sat up when your eyes opened, and he couldn’t make himself release your hand. You looked a little confused, and very sleepy. They had been careful to give you plenty of sedation to keep you from having another panic attack. Your heartbeat was weak, and you had a bad concussion. That was on top of a sprained wrist, several fractured ribs, and the numerous bruises, cuts, and scrapes.

“Y/N,” Steve breathed softly, and you blinked slowly.

“Are you a doctor?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your free hand.

“No, baby, I’m your husband,” Steve whispered.

You froze and stared at him, stunned. You looked down at your hands, surprised to see a ring on your left hand. The silver band had tiny diamonds, and Steve’s hand that held yours had another silver band. Hot tears started to slide down your cheeks, overwhelmed by the thoughts racing through your sedated mind.

“I don’t remember you, I don’t even remember your name... The doctor showed me a picture of us, but I don’t remember anything, I barely even remember who I am,” you sobbed, and Steve felt nauseated.

“I’m Steve, Steve Rogers. We got married two years ago, in Brooklyn. Bucky Barnes was my best man, and Wanda Maximoff was your maid of honor. Tony Stark walked you down the aisle... He’s like your dad...” Steve explained, his voice shaking as he tried to keep himself from crying.

“Bucky...” you murmured, squeezing your eyes shut. His name sounded familiar, but every memory before waking up in the hospital was gone.

“Yes. Bucky is my best friend. Yours too. We’re really close, he lived with us for a year.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t...”

“It’s okay. All your memory isn’t going to come back now.”

“Steve, Y/N needs to rest,” Shuri spoke, leaning in the doorway.

He nodded tightly, rubbing his eyes. She emptied more sedative into your IV, helping you slip back into dreamless sleep. She dragged Steve out, and Bucky stood in the hallway, pulling him into his arms. He squeezed Steve, promising it was going to be okay.

Steve sat with you, chatting quietly when you were awake. He showed you photos from your wedding, and pictures of your small tabby cat that you adored. Bucky snuck her into the hospital, and you pet her head shyly, hating yourself for your lack of memory.

“Steve?” you asked, sitting up in the bed, but struggling under the weakness of your muscles.

“Yes, baby?” he set down his laptop, giving you his full attention the moment he asked.

“You said that Tony Stark walked me down the aisle at our wedding? And that he’s like my dad?” You asked, and Steve felt his heart sink.

“Yeah, Tony is like your dad,” he said dryly, showing you a photo.

“I think that I remember growing up in a penthouse with him... but only when I was a teenager. I think, I don’t know for sure. Why?” you struggled to recall.

Over the last few days, bits and pieces started to return to your mind, and you remembered cooking in a sleek penthouse with Tony when you couldn’t have been older than 17.

“Yeah. Stark adopted you when you were ten. Your parents were in a car accident. He was really close with your father. You love Tony, he took really great care of you. He wants to come see you once we’re home from the hospital.”

You nodded slowly, taking it in. You didn’t know how to express the pain and confusion you felt, and you shyly reached your hand out to Steve. He took it, gently squeezing.

“Steve, I’m so sorry. I want to remember...”

“Don’t apologize, my love.”

Steve had assured you a million times that he could take you to Tony’s, or that he could even rent you an apartment if you didn’t feel comfortable coming home with him. Your memory had barely returned, despite little pieces and isolated moments.

Truly, you were terrified to be alone, because then, you were left with nothing, not even memories. You felt safe with Steve, even if you didn’t remember your history together. He’d stayed up with you, showing you photos and telling you stories, and patiently answering every question you asked.

Steve drove you to your brownstone on the Upper East Side, carrying you indoors. Bucky was waiting, having moved back in to help and be supportive. The flat smelled like homemade bread, welcoming you inside. Steve mouthed a thank-you to Bucky, who nodded silently.

You convinced Steve to let you down so you could walk and look around.

“Can I have some of the bread?” you asked, shyly setting your hand on Bucky’s arm.

“Yes, of course, Y/N.”

You sat down, trying not to act like you were exhausted just from walking around the flat. Steve knew, and it seemed that Bucky did too. You may not have known them, but they knew you.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said softly, and he kissed your head gently.

You had hoped that coming home would jog your memory, but nothing came. It felt like the first time you’d ever been, and you started crying as you sat between the men.

“The only thing I can remember is going to high school prom with both of you... I don’t remember anything before or anything after, I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, and Steve pulled you into his arms, his own shoulders shaking. Bucky gently laid his hand on your back, trying to comfort you.

You felt lost, Steve nearly as much. There was nothing he could do, nothing either of you could do.

#earl grey steve #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x reader fluff #captain america x reader #captain america x reader angst #captain america x reader fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #bucky barnes #avengers #avengers au #marvel #marvel au #shuri

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dirt-cup-draco · 3 years

Text

Tethered- Fred x Reader

‘Don’t ever scare me like that again’ kiss with Fred where he lives (I’ve been crying about it lately) xoxo @starofthedawn

Your chest was tied up in knots, eyes burning and bile rising in your throat. The dust that permeated the air felt like gravel in your airways and you couldn’t help the wet cough that slipped past cracked lips. Even as you blinked away the tears that were running out, the world remained blurry and unfocused.

After all, how could anything make sense when Fred was face down on the cobblestone. Pieces of the castle you two had called home burying him.

“Lost in my eyes again, Y/N?” Fred asked, a playful tilt to his mouth. You were in the library, head buried in a book and not at all gazing into Fred’s honeyed eyes. You must’ve not heard him come in so when you looked up and saw him you couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in your chest.

You liked the way his lips were pulled up by an invisible thread as you finally took notice of him. It wasn’t quite a smile, but a familiar expression that you held dear to your heart. It was understated, especially for Fred Weasley, but the expression was one of his most sincere.

“Can’t help the fact you’ve got dreamy eyes, George,”

“Sod off,” Fred said with no real venom, sitting in the chair beside yours and kicking his feet up onto the table. He was lucky Madam Pince didn’t often come to this corner of the library, otherwise she’d have his head.

You stuck your tongue out at him, even daring to toss a quill at his head- but before you could he caught your hand and held on tight. Your bright grin wavered at the edges but that joy was still blooming in your chest. Suffocation was a sure thing.

“Everything okay, Freddie?” Voice soft, slow. You understood sometimes he just needed a hand to hold and you wouldn’t let yourself believe it was more than that. What it was, was Fred trusting you and needing you as a friend and that was more than enough.

He nodded, his eyelids heavy and his demeanor sluggish. He almost seemed like a sleepy cat but you could see the way his shoulders dipped as you posed your question.

Fred squeezed your hand as he sank down into his chair, knees now drawn to his chest in a protective ball. “Course I am, nothing could ever be wrong when I’ve got you to tether me to what’s good,”

Your knees buckled as you stumbled the last foot to where Fred lay. Unmoving, broken, probably not breathing- You shook your head wildly even as the tears burned and your brain ached. Just like every other wizard, every other soldier at Hogwarts today, you had your fair share of injuries but you felt the pain dull to nothing; Your vision tunneled to the familiar hand that stuck out from the rubble, the feather soft shock of red hair that was visible under all the grey, lifeless stone.

With a flick of your hand, some of the rubble broke loose and found themselves discarded on the burned and torn up grass ten feet from you. The panic pounding at your ribcage was only eased by the determination you felt to get Fred out of there, alive. There was no other option.

Waves would stand still without the moon, plants would dry up without water, and you would cease to be anything but a shell without Fred Weasley.

It had been an honest mistake at the time, George had tugged you away after class one day to an empty corridor and nearly begged you to ask Fred and put the both of you out of your “self sabotaging misery”. Problem was, all Katie Bell saw was George whisking you away somewhere private a week before the ball was to commence, both of you dateless.

By the time you had both gone to the great hall for lunch, your group of friends were deep into speculations.

“Going to the ball with Y/N then?” Fred fixed George with a look you couldn’t quite decipher but the shock of him thinking such a thing had you missing that usual twitch of his eye when he was aggravated.

George whipped his head to you in confusion but it went unnoticed when Lee said, “Great! Of course you two got dates before me,” gesturing wildly to the twins.

All of the confusion had your head spinning but hearing that Fred had a date to the ball made you steady again, the lead pit in your stomach anchoring you. Anyone would be a fool to not want to go with Fred.

“You’ve got a date?” You said a bit too loudly, eyes narrowed at Fred.

“Asked Angie,”

“Yeah, two minutes ago,” She snorted. “Guess he didn’t want George to beat him by too much of a landslide,”

George let out a too-loud laugh and tossed his arm back over your shoulders. “Take that Lee, we got two of the hottest girls in school to be our dates,”

“Go with me instead and I’ll buy you as many sugar quills as your heart desires, Y/N” Lee bargained and George swatted him on the back of a head with a faux glare.

You couldn’t help but snort at Lee’s antics, looking at George with gratitude. You could tell he was trying to talk you up, keep your heart from falling too far. However, his efforts couldn’t completely ease the ache in your chest. You were tethered to Fred and you didn’t think anything could change that.

You’d done your best to completely immobilize Fred when most of the rubble was removed, only some of the smaller chunks of wall now littered over his legs and back. The immobulus charm had to be enough to keep him stable. If he was still alive.

It was the uncertainty that kept you going in this moment. If there was even a slim chance Fred could be alive, you would do all you could to save him. You refused to lose him and that was that. You wished you could see his chest moving, or any sign of life but he was still too buried and the dust that settled over the battlefield made your eyes unfocused.

Even though the final battle had ended an hour or more ago, how long had it been since you’d found Fred?, you were shut off from any of the joy that the win could have brought you. If Fred wasn’t going to be there to celebrate then how could you?

“We’ve got to fix up the shop a-and get butterbeers,” You sniffled, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you worked your way through the rubble. You kept speaking as if holding Fred to his promises would bring him over the threshold and into your waiting arms.

“You’ve got to give me that birthday present you’ve been bragging about for months, and you’ve got to help me prank Lee for singeing my favorite sweater with one of your fireworks,”

And on and on you went, all of the promises Fred had ever made you falling from your lips as you pulled the last of the rubble from his body. One of his legs and all of the fingers on his right hand were bent at grotesque angles. There was a line of blood that started somewhere behind his hairline and trailed down his temple, dripping off of his jaw and onto the ruins he had nearly become a permanent part of.

You wouldn’t permit your legs to shake as you stood, the sun being further down in the sky than you remembered. The wave of your wand was light and methodical even as every step towards help weighed you down.

Time passed you without you taking note, the sun sank beneath the horizon and you stumbled your way through the dark. Eventually, you were taken off guard by the light of someone’s wand. Time caught up to you then as you stared with bleary eyes, trying to recognize the face before you but having a hard time sorting anything in your over exhausted brain.

“Help him,” Was all you had energy for, before darkness took over.

“...understand how she did it,”

“...miracle, really,”

“Poor girl must’ve....”

Conversations floated around your head as you lay cemented underneath the sheets that you had been securely wrapped in. You wanted nothing more than to swat them away like pesky flies, the voices weren’t loud but to you it was as if someone had put a speaker in the empty space of your skull and turned the volume up as high as it could go. Everything ached.

“Am I dead?” You croaked, eyelids still too heavy to even attempt opening.

Immediately, a woman nearly screamed and a cacophony of other voices rose up- both familiar and not.

“You look like you wish you were,” Someone joked to your left and your eyes snapped open so quickly you became dizzy. You felt frozen in place as honey eyes swept over you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Despite being covered from the chin down you felt as if you were being looked through. A shiver ran down your spine and it was followed by a deep ache that had you groaning despite the emotions bubbling up within you.

“Damn you Fred,” Was all you had to say before everyone else around you was clearing out. For a split second you felt guilt when you realized your parents as well as the Weasleys had come to stand beside you as you healed.

“I’ve come back from the brink of death and that’s what you have to say to me?” He teased but his voice was torn to shreds and you had the terrible image in your mind of him screaming for help until he lost consciousness. The blood drained from your face.

Fred seemed to take notice as he shuffled out of his bed that was right next to yours. He paused at the edge, fumbling for the crutches that were at his bedside. It felt like years the time it took for him to fall into the chair nearest you, his hand stretching for yours.

You moved pathetically against the sheets but in your weakened state you couldn’t grasp his hand. “Freddie,” You croaked, eyes filling with tears in frustration. You’d thought him dead and now you couldn’t even move a damn blanket to touch him, to make sure this wasn’t a dream.

“I’m here,” He reassured, moving the sheets on your side gently until your hand was free and you could tangle your fingers with his non-broken hand.

“How?”

“I’ve been telling you for years now, you’re my tether. Just when I thought I was going to cross over, I heard you. All the promises we made, and all the chaos we have yet to make, all the things I haven’t said,” Fred’s bottom lip trembled as he brushed his thumb over your scabbed knuckles. You were faintly aware of a needle in your forearm, attached to an IV but all that mattered was the warmth you felt from Fred.

“You could break them all and I’d still be counting my lucky stars that you’re here,” You cried, falling into a coughing fit. Fred was quick to press a still cold glass of water into your hands and help you sit up even from his place on his chair.

“I’m not going anywhere,” He promised, hand remaining at the back of your neck as he settled you against your pillows. That genuine not-smile was back and you chewed on your lip to keep from crying again. You still weren’t sure he was here so any reminder that it was really him had you at a breaking point.

“Can you make me one more promise then?” You caught his gaze but found you couldn’t hold it, the intensity making your stomach swoop and your heart pound against your rattled ribcage.

Fred had yet to move, his hand steady behind you and his face close. Your noses were nearly touching as he said, “Anything.”

“Don’t scare me like that ever again,”

You chanced one more look at him, eyes wide and pleading. You were going to make him promise on everything in him but the rest of your words were lost when you stumbled over the loud adoration in his eyes. As if on autopilot, you removed your hand from his to brush your fingertips against a gash on his cheek.

“Never again,” He whispered, frozen in place. He didn’t dare move when you let your movements wander over his lips, taking your time before you let your hand fall against the junction of where his shoulder met his neck. Beneath the collar of the hospital gown you could see garish bruising that only served as another reminder you’d almost lost him.

That was enough to remind you that there was much unsaid between you and the man you loved. You could feel his shaky breath, his hand squeezing yours just enough that you felt the reassuring pressure. When you took your third look at those eyes, you knew.

You moved at the same time, in tune to one another in a way you always have been. It was with a sigh that your lips met, frightened and curious and wonderful. You were careful of his head would as you played with the hair at the back of his neck and he made sure not to move you anymore than tilting your head to slot your lips against his at a better angle.

Fred pulled away when his smile dared to take over his face but you couldn’t complain about the loss when you could feel his pulse beating strongly against your fingers, his chest moving steadily with life.

“I’m just as tied to you as you are to me,” You laughed softly, in disbelief.

Fred looked surprised for all but a second before he was placing his lips against yours, cautious but deliriously happy.

Waves swayed with the moon, plants flourished with water, and you were never far from Fred Weasley. Each were tethered to their counterpart and nothing could change it.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #angst #fluff #fix it fic lets be honest #sorry this took me so long lovey #ur the light of my life #changed some things #canon divergence #yall notice that i cant end anything #my endings suck lmao

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merakiui · 4 years

Note

hii could we get an angsty scenario/hcs of xiao and scaramouche/any characters you prefer! who are basically head over heels for someone but that person keeps getting with the wrong people and constantly getting their heart broken? Preferably with a good/fluffy ending but it’s up to you!

cw: angst + heartbreak note - decided to go for scenarios! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[Xiao]

One Call Away—

The sudden shout of his name had brought him out into the open, where he finds you sitting in a field of wildflowers, your head hung and quiet sobs racking your hunched form.

“You called?” The gruffness in his voice startles you and your head snaps up. He notices your pained expression and the tears that refuse to cease, and it gives birth to a strange feeling within his chest. “What happened? Surely I am not too late.” And then he shakes his head. “No, I’m never late.”

“Ah... I’m sorry.” You sniffle, pitifully rubbing at your eyes. “I guess your name slipped out. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just didn’t mean to call for you either.”

Xiao raises a brow and then surveys the surrounding area. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re in any mortal peril. In that case, I’ll leave you to—”

“No!”

Your sudden shout startles the both of you, with you drawing back and Xiao’s eyes widening ever so slightly. He wonders why you’re crying when beautiful scenery surrounds you. Are you truly that pathetic? Are mortals usually this weak-hearted? Xiao can’t wrap his head around the idea of grief; he’s an immortal who has seen plenty of hazardous scenarios worth grieving over. Yet with the passage of time he has learned to let such emotions drift away on a wind current. Emotions are useless to an adeptus.

But now he’s stuck with them.

“No?”

“D-Don’t go...” Your voice wobbles and you wipe at your reddened eyes. “I don’t want to bother you, but could you stay here with me? For a little while, at least. It’s all I’ll ask...”

He feels like he should decline your desperate plea before it spreads its perplexing roots throughout his system. The words are practically on the tip of his tongue and he struggles to verbalize them. If he could, he’d shake his head and vanish from your sight. There’s something about your expression that forces him to stay, and he truly detests the way his emotions run wild at the prospect of something he can’t quite comprehend.

“Fine.”

And so Xiao listens to you. It’s something he does best; his eyes and ears are open as he gives you his full, undivided attention. Half of him observes your reactions as you explain what happened and the other half zeros in on the way your subtle hand motions. While he might not be anywhere near a cupid—and he would never be caught giving out relationship advice to mortals, which is something he couldn’t do even if he tried—he is still a being of immense power. From what he’s able to understand from your explanation, your loved one decided to part from you because they believed it just wasn’t working. And you, having been struck with an immense sadness, failed to call out to them to clear up any misunderstandings.

Eventually, after internally wrestling with his own thoughts and feelings, he asks, “Do you want me to teach them a lesson? Should you need them to feel the same amount of despair you’re feeling—”

“Oh, no! No. No. They don’t deserve to be punished for that. I understand now that our feelings weren’t the same. We really weren’t working and that’s okay. It just...hurts.”

Xiao tilts his head, an innocently childish show of confusion. “Where?”

“It’s not a physical pain, Xiao. I mean, it could be. But...this is more emotional.” Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He stares down at your hand and he almost pulls away. Before he can even consider what’s happening, you’re guiding his hand to where your heart is. “In here. It hurts now, but I’ll overcome it eventually. I’m used to it anyways...”

The straight-faced adeptus remains still as he feels the fast-paced beat of your heart. Mortals have always been weak in his eyes: feeble beings who break at the slightest inconvenience. Although you don’t seem close to shattering and that confuses him more than he’d like to admit. Perhaps you are one of the more resilient humans he’s come across in recent years. It’s strange when he feels your heartbeat, so very certain and alive with the sour feelings a heartbreak brings. He’s never understood that either. Heartbreaks and relationships. The differences between friendship and romance. Both can be seen through to the very end, if fostered healthily.

So then why are you so sad?

Truthfully, you’ve always seemed sad to Xiao. As an adeptus, he’s never been able to fully grasp the meaning behind human emotions. They’re insignificant in his eyes, mere flashes of feeling that can hurt and blind. They’re troublesome and useless—certainly not something he would ever want to experience. But those emotions can heal and bring cheer. They’re not all entirely bad, nor are they as evil as he seems to think they are.

Xiao realizes his hand has been on your chest for a while now and he’s been staring at you so much that you’ve begun to shrink away, partially embarrassed to have him analyze you with so much scrutiny.

“Is...something wrong?”

He shakes his head slowly at first before retracting his arm. And then he notices you’ve stopped crying. He’s not sure when this happened, but he’s oddly relieved to see your neutral expression. Somehow your crying face is painful and it wounds him in a way he never would have imagined.

“Thank you for listening to my rant. I know this is probably meaningless to you, since you’re an adeptus and all, but it really means a lot. So I’m glad I was able to get these things off my chest. I feel a lot lighter now.”

“You’re not sad?”

“Ah. Well...” Your gaze flickers, eyes darting to and fro while you struggle to look at him. “I’m still sad, but I’ll get over it! Don’t worry! I’m resilient!”

Xiao’s brow furrows in confusion. As he has thought plenty of times before, mortals are far too complex. Eventually he sighs and says, “It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep that inside, okay? You’ll just hurt yourself even more.” Now he’s avoiding your gaze and there’s a barely noticeable tinge of pink dusting his pale cheeks. He’s really not good at consoling humans.

“Oh, Xiao.” You pull him in for a hug and he stiffens, trying to squeeze out of your arms like a cat near water. But then he feels your fingers digging into his arm and he realizes that you might actually need this hug. Despite the fact that he’s not used to freely giving out hugs—or even cheering up mortals, for that matter—he is definitely out of his element. “Really, thank you. I promise to make you an Almond Tofu as thanks.”

“There’s no need for that.” Hesitantly, as if he’s worried he’ll break you, he wraps his arms around your form. “I’m just helping you because you called my name. That’s all.”

But that’s not the full truth. Hidden in those words is the real reason why he even bothered to stay despite the false alarm. And it worries Xiao when he thinks about the implications. He really does like you and this admiration has surpassed platonic love. As long as you’re okay, though, he’ll swallow his feelings in favor of making sure you’re always happy. It’s one of his duties as your friend.

Friend. A word Xiao never thought he’d ever use, but it feels nice. He likes it.

Yet The Distance Remains Harrowing.

[Scaramouche]

To Mend a Broken Heart—

You’re spilling your emotional guts in front of the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, tears freely running down your cheeks like two faulty water faucets. It’s a pathetic sight, really. Scaramouche witnessed this exact show just a few weeks ago when you were so certain that that fisher was the one. Now, after meeting and getting together with someone else for a short time, you’ve come out of yet another relationship, unhappy and unsatisfied.

He’s jealous. There’s no denying the envy he feels when you talk so highly of these people and then wail about them a few days later. It’s a vicious cycle of mending a fragile heart and then breaking it into pieces all over again. With no end in sight, you fall victim to your own demise in the pursuit of love. He wonders if you’ll ever learn to choose your next partner carefully rather than settling for anything with a pulse.

“This is exactly what I said would happen, was it not?” he says with a sigh. “Oh, woe is you. If you were smarter, this last relationship might have lasted longer.”

“That’s rich coming from you. I’ve never seen you in a relationship before,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your eyes. His eyelid twitches at the not-so-subtle jab. “Ugh!I hate being so unlucky! This is the worst.”

“Rather than your foul luck, I think the problem lies within you and your taste in partners.”

Sniffling, you lower your head onto the table, hoping to just melt into the crafted wood before you end up making even more of a fool out of yourself. It’s rare to be in the company of Scaramouche, considering how often he’s assigned missions that require swift travel and a covert profile. But whenever you do find yourself sitting across from him, indulging in light snacks and tea, it’s always because you’ve lost your latest lover; and your own sadness requires the nullifying effects of Scaramouche’s cynicism.

“They’re good people! I just don’t know why it never works out. We’re happy and we both like each other—it doesn’t make any sense. Am I missing something? Is it my fault? They probably got tired of me because I’m not a good person.“

“Perhaps.” He takes a moment to sip his tea and you muster a weak glare. Only Scaramouche can delight in his beverage while you’re holding back another onslaught of tears. “Your crocodile tears are hardly flattering and your apparent need for consistent affection might come off as clingy. And you have a tendency to find flaws within yourself whenever something doesn’t go your way. Adding onto that, you doubt yourself a lot and you’re always quick to take the blame for things that are out of your control. In a way you are partially—”

“I get it. I’m not a good person.”

“I never said anything of that sort. Now you’re just asking for pity.”

Oh, how close you are to punching that smirk off of his face.

“Then since you seem to know everything, my oh so helpful friend, why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?”

“With pleasure.” His cup finds the surface of the table as he ponders your demand for a moment. “You’re missing someone who meshes well with your personality.”

“That’s not true. Everyone I’ve been with so far—“ His skeptical look makes you stop short. “Okay. Maybe we forced it because we thought it was love. But that’s besides the point! There was still an attraction! I think...” You huff and bury your face in your arms, nearly almost sprawling on the table. You’re too depressed to even consider how impolite your actions look, and Scaramouche scoffs at your poor display of manners. “Where am I even going to find someone who ‘meshes well with my personality,’ hm?”

“I’m sure you’ve already found them.” He clears his throat, tracing a finger along a sanded knot in the wooden table. “You’re sitting across from him.”

Whether he intended for you to hear that whispered part, you can’t say for sure. But your head perks up and you fix him with a lopsided grin. “You’re kidding.”

“Hm?”

“Me and you, a couple?” A small giggle escapes your lips and you swipe the remaining tears out of your eyes. “Don’t joke about that. I’m trying to be sad here!”

It wasn’t a joke, he almost says and he catches himself, suddenly self-conscious.

“I don’t think we’d work out,” you continue, motioning between you and him. “We’d hardly see each other and you don’t seem like the type for romance. Besides, I’m not attracted to you in that way. You feel the same, right?”

Scaramouche stares into his cup before he meets your gaze, a tight smile gracing his expression. “Of course. Your inability to settle isn’t all that attractive.”

Your eyes roll and you finally pick up your own cup to take a large gulp of lukewarm tea. The bitter Harbinger observes your actions with narrowed eyes. There’s a distinct pain that taps at his hardened soul, splitting it apart as your words echo within his spinning head. I don’t think we’d work out. I’m not attracted to you in that way. Why is he suddenly feeling...upset? He’s not one for pitiful emotions; he’s a Harbinger, not a lovesick fool! He ought to glare at you and storm off, demanding the two of you never speak again. But he won’t say that because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Because he cares for you. Because he loves you.

You feel the same, right?

No, that’s not right. This is the love he’s been wallowing in since he first got acquainted with you. It’s strange when he remembers every event that has led up to the blossoming feelings that reside deep in the epicenter of his heart, but it’s even more strange that he can’t find the courage to voice his own opinion.

“We wouldn’t mix,” he reaffirms your statement with a cold tone. There is no warmth in his eyes. “After all, your taste in tea is as bad as your taste in partners.”

And even though he wishes you could see through his walls—just this once he’ll allow you to tear them down for the sake of a half-baked confession—you just sit there and grin, no longer teary-eyed and forlorn. How odd. His heart feels far heavier than it’s ever been before. And you’re already scanning your surroundings, hungry for a love that will never keep you sated. Perhaps you weren’t even sad in the first place.

Upon realizing this, Scaramouche wants nothing more than to disappear into the wood like a feeble worm and never come back out.

You Must Break Another.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenario #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao scenario #xiao #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche scenario #scaramouche

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thatfanficstuff · 3 years

Text

Make Me Forget (Part 1) - Elijah Mikaelson

Pairing: Elijah x reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: Celebration Summer #8. There is a part 2 to this so don't fret. Prompt is Person A gets injured Person B is not happy.

wc: 1759

***

Elijah Mikaelson and his family had left Mystic Falls to move to New Orleans months ago. And they’d left you behind in the process. After he swore to you that you’d never have to be alone again, he’d left you with little more than a letter telling you it was for the best. Associating with his family was dangerous. He couldn’t put you in danger. It would be better if you forgot about him. All of them.

What a load of shit. Elijah had swept into your life and turned everything upside down. For the first time you were a priority to someone other than yourself. It didn’t take long for him to become the center of your universe. You moved into the house and became part of the family. Klaus and you would create art and bitch about the Scooby gang. Rebekah took you shopping. Kol would try to get you into trouble while you tried to keep him out of it. And you succeeded for the most part. You’d kept him from getting killed by Jeremy and Elena. Surely, that was enough to cement your place in the family.

But they’d still left you. And it had been Elijah’s doing according to the rest of them. You texted and called and they told you how much they hated leaving you behind but Elijah had put his foot down. Threatened to leave them all if they went against his wishes.

Rebekah did admit it was dangerous at the moment. A bit of trouble with a pregnant werewolf and some witches. She still insisted it would be better with you there. That they’d all protect you.

Klaus begged you to come to his rescue. Elijah and the werewolf would be the death of him, he swore.

Kol just missed his friend. He spent hours talking about all the things the two of you could do if you were there.

Elijah was silent. There hadn’t been one answered phone call or response to any of your texts.

Rebekah swore he missed you. That he was a miserable bastard without you.

Klaus and he had argued terribly when the hybrid threatened to fetch you from Mystic Falls and bring you home where you belonged. Elijah had yelled and destroyed half the room.

Kol said when there was a moment of peace, Elijah sat alone and stared at a picture of you. “I caught him crying, Y/N. It was horrible,” he told you, dramatically.

You didn’t necessarily believe any of them. After all, he found it so easy to leave you, why would he brood over your absence. But you missed your family. You were going to New Orleans. Even if Elijah was angry with you for going against his wishes, the rest of them would welcome you with open arms. You’d just have to stand your ground with the suited Original.

There were probably a thousand better ways to get to New Orleans, but you took a bus. It was cheap and you didn’t have to drive. And even better, it didn’t involve flying. You hated to fly. You stepped off the bus and adjusted your backpack on your shoulder. You’d decided to travel light. While you intended to stay forever, you weren’t sure everyone else would be on board with that. If you did stay, you knew Rebekah would be more than happy to take you shopping to replace your clothes. And Klaus would pay for them if Elijah didn’t. It used to bother you when they spent their money on you, but you’d long gotten over it.

After typing in the address on your phone, you started to follow the walking directions. You were actually quite close to your destination when you were yanked into an alley. Almost before you had a chance to process what had happened, teeth tore into your neck. Son of a bitch. You fumbled in your bag as the vampire drank deeply. Your fingers wrapped around your stake and you slammed it into the asshole attacking you. He hissed in pain and stumbled back giving you the chance to pull it out and stab him again with more precision.

He collapsed at your feet and you stepped over him as you pulled a rag from your bag. You pressed it against the wound and tried to look inconspicuous as you stumbled the rest of the way to your family. Your head spun as you reached the door and you knocked quickly.

The door flew open to reveal none other than Kol Mikaelson. He grinned at seeing you, but it faded immediately when he noticed the state you were in. He grabbed your bag in one hand and placed the other on your arm to lead you into the house. “What happened to you, Darling?”

You made a sound of annoyance. “Guess.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” He dropped your bag by the stairs and continued to steer you through the house. “Brothers, we have a visitor,” he said when the two of you reached a library. Nik and Elijah’s heads snapped in your direction.

Nik stood in front of you in a flash. “Bloody hell, love. Can’t stay out of trouble for five minutes, can you?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s good to see you at any rate. Come, Kol.” The hybrid strode from the room, dragging his protesting brother along with him.

A moment later, Elijah stood in front of you. Dark eyes stared at you as he lifted a hand to your neck. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he pulled the rag away to get a view of the damage. His hand clenched at his side and you flinched. He’d never hurt you, but it was rare to see him so angry. And you weren’t certain if he was angrier at the vampire that attacked you or you for being there.

His lips pursed as he stared at you a moment longer, then he bit into his wrist and offered it to you. You drank enough to heal then stepped back. He strode away to the far side of the room. Keeping his back to you, he hooked one hand around the back of his neck and rested the other on his hip. “What were you thinking coming here? Did I not make myself perfectly clear that you are not welcome here?”

“I missed you.” God, did that reasoning sound pathetic to you now. How had you ever thought that would be enough for him?

He was back in front of you in a flash. “You deliberately went against my wishes. You followed us here despite knowing I did not want you here and look what happened. Do I need to say anything else to prove my point that it is too dangerous for you to be near us?”

“This had nothing to do with you, Elijah. This was some random asshole vampire picking the wrong person to snack on. I killed him for it.” Frankly, you didn’t understand how he could go from being madly in love with you to not wanting you around overnight. “Everyone else wanted me to come. Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“How could I miss someone that cares nothing for their own wellbeing?” he stated quietly, making you flinch again. It would have been better for him to yell. At least then you’d know he was simply angry with you. His monotone delivery made you believe that he simply didn’t care. Tears instantly flooded your eyes. Why had you asked that question when you were so afraid of the answer? He stepped past you and stopped at the door. “You can stay the night. Tomorrow you leave New Orleans and you will not return,” he said in a low tone. Then he was gone.

You didn’t move as tears streamed down your face. Vaguely you were aware of Elijah and Nik yelling at each other elsewhere in the house, though you couldn’t make out the words. Then you were pulled into a firm chest as arms wrapped around you. “Elijah’s an idiot, darling,” Kol whispered to you.

When you just continued to cry without saying anything, he swept you up in his arms and carried you to one of the chairs. He sat and placed you on his lap. You leaned against his chest and he played with your hair in an attempt to calm you. “It will be all right, Y/N. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. You and I can get an apartment on the other side of town. We’ll put it in your name and you can tell Elijah to fuck off when he wants in.”

That pulled a laugh out of you though it sounded rather pathetic. “At least I know why it was so easy for him to leave now. I mean, what a bother I must have been. I always wondered what he saw in me and now I know. Nothing. God, you’d think it would be a relief to finally know, right? So why does it hurt so bad?”

“As angry as I am with my brother right now, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“No. It’s okay, Kol.” You sat up and wiped the tears from your cheeks. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore. Rebekah said him and the wolf seemed to be getting along. Maybe he’ll love her and it won’t be a lie.”

You stood and held up a hand to stop him when he moved to follow. “I’m not angry with you, Kol, but I need to figure out how to live without all of you. See, he told me he loved me and that he’d never leave me. That I’d never be alone again and he abandoned me at the first opportunity. And he took my family with him. And when I come back to all of you, he made it very clear that I am not wanted. I was prepared for him to be angry. I wasn’t prepared for him to not care.”

You paced the floor as you thought about your next step. Kol’s dark eyes followed you. He was at a loss at what to do, how to comfort you. He could beat the shit out of his brother but, while that might make him feel better, he doubted it would help you any. Suddenly, you snapped around to face him. “Compel me.”

His brows shot up. “What?”

“Compel me to forget. Just let me forget all of you.”

#elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson x you #the originals fanfiction #vampire diaries fanfiction #celebration summer

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levicanpunchme · 3 years

Note

AAAAAA I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCHHHH SYEGHQYEHW can i request something where the reader tries to persuade levi to take a break from his paperwork?? aaaaaaa i literally love u some much jagduwyshdsj thank you<3333

AAAAAA, I LOVE YOUUUUU 🙈 thank you so much for the kind words 🥺 I’m sorry this took a while but it’s finally here~! And thank you for requesting babe <333

——————————————————————

Levi X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Fluff/Angst

Sharing Your Exhaustion

The hallways were eerily quiet, presumably because the members were drained off after hectic training; they couldn’t help jump into their dreams before they had to head back for more painful training. You took nimble steps towards the captain’s room and rushed to open the door, knots forming in your stomach in bustling excitement. Yesterday, Levi was so busy with paperwork, you had chose not to visit him, not wanting to disturb him. There were days when you had to ignore your feelings because you were in a relationship with none other than Captain Levi, the strongest solider who shouldered the burden of humanity’s right to existence.

As you stepped in, you realised the room was lighted up, which was foreign because by this time, Levi would be waiting for you in bed with lights off. Your gaze sauntered from the empty bed to the wooden desk next to the window and caught sight of your raven haired boyfriend, seated before his desk with a pencil in his grip as he sharply wrote something down. You frowned, staring at the clock for reconfirmation.

It was one am. By this time, Levi would have tidied up his messy desk, taken a shower and waited for you to come over-sometimes even making personal trips to your room to get you.

You lightly shut the door behind you, taking light steps towards your hardworking boyfriend. Despite making zero to no sound, you caught his attention immediately as if he sensed you around; his bleak eyes seemed to warm up like the moonlight, his thin lips morphing into a tiring smile.

“How was training?” His gentle voice already calmed your nerves. “Tiring,” you muttered with a generous smile and made your way to his chair.

“Tch, don’t work so hard, brat,” he gruffly muttered, his voice etched with concern.

Nearing him, you noticed the blue lines of fatigue on his pale skin carved under his eyes, his forehead creased from tension, posture seemingly uncomfortable with his back positioned away from the chair, probably from leaning down to observe papers. An awful feeling arose in the pit of your stomach. Your judgment stood corrected as you observed the stack of parchments bundled on the side of his table. Just looking at it gave you a headache.

You instinctively stepped closer behind his chair and snaked your arms around his neck tightly, recompensing for the time away from him. The smell of him on the shirt you were wearing was nothing compared to his actual embrace. The shower you had taken before had helped your nerves ease after practise but Levi’s embrace completely sucked every last drop of ache out of your body.

A breathy sigh escaped his mouth as he eased into your hold, his breathing calm against your frame. For a moment, it was only you and Levi in your own bubble; nothing else existed. Two aching souls finding peace in one another. And then a moment later, the bubble bursted.

“Y/n, turn the lights off and get some sleep. I’ll need to stay working,” he put his hand over yours which were resting on his chest and nudged his head against yours, encouraging you to go to bed.

You frowned, your chest tightening.

Ever since the commander’s announcement for a new mission outside the walls, the workload was piquing- especially for the captains. The pile of documents needing Levi’s attention were still toppling his desk and he hadn’t even moved an inch from the worktable since before yesterday night. You didn’t see him at practise, lunch, dinner or even in the meeting with Hange. He seemed to have disconnected entirely from human interaction, determined to get his work done.

“Levi, you’ve been here since the whole day,” you muttered, expressing your discern with a frown. Your arms only grew tighter around him worriedly.

He shook his head, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “It’ll take me one more night and I’ll be done.” You peeled yourself away from him and stared at the man with desperation. You had come to a realisation that Levi coped in different ways in tense times. When the atmosphere became grim, he spent days drowning himself with papers and refused to take breaks- as if he was punishing himself. Even when he came back from expeditions, you wouldn’t see his face until a week after. He stared at words for so long that they probably haunted him.

“Levi, you’re overworking yourself to the bone. You need sleep,” you argued, scowling at the lack of concern in his narrow eyes.

“I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry. Now, go and get some sleep. You must be exhausted,” his words were stern, commanding you and his gaze indifferent, holding no room for debate. His eyes remained cold but you could tell he felt apologetic as he softly caressed your cheek with his palm, stroking them. He limply smiled, then nodded at you and motioned towards the bed, implying you leave him alone.

You stared at him distraught. How could Levi expect you to turn away and conveniently slip into bed while his red-rimmed eyes were starving for rest as he pushed himself more and more? Again an unsettling feeling arose in your chest; even his fingers were inflamed from gripping the pencil for too long; he rubbed the back of his neck occasionally which meant he had been craning it for too long to read the goddamn papers.

Your fists clenched in despair as you bit back the curses you wanting to ensue; dating a workaholic man with zero awareness was a pain in the ass. You sighed sympathetically at the man you loved and then stepped closer to the desk, in front of him. You grabbed one large pile of his documents and brought them with you to the bed.

“Hey-hey! What’re you doing?” He immediately sprung out of his chair, and it made you want to cackle because it was probably the first time his leg muscles contracted since he sat down with these documents on that damned chair.

“I’ll help,” you explained as you sat cross legged on the cold sheets of his bed, picking up the first stapled document.

“No,” he rasped. “You are doing no such thing. Get to bed, right now,” it wasn’t a suggestion but a chilling command; Levi’s tone was dangerously low, making your stomach knot up with nervousness.

You glanced up and regretted it immediately because it magnified your anxiety: his misty eyes were staring down at you scornfully, burning your skin; his chest heaved impatiently and his fists were clenched like he would pounce at you any second.

“Levi—“

“Every-fucking-one is beaten after today’s practise, I know that. Just because I wasn’t there, it doesn’t mean I don’t know shit. Hange informed me about your pathetically long training,” Levi’s voice was oddly rough but the coldness in his eyes melted. His face was scrunched in distress.

You loved this man so much with every part of you. How could he be worrying over you when he was literally starving and sleepless from the work pressure? Your nose burned, and you felt your eyes welling up, with overwhelming emotions, but you didn’t let him see that or he’d lose his sanity and flip the world over to know exactly the reason behind your tears.

You stepped out of the bed and walked close to him, edging to him until his nose was brushing yours conveniently since you both were the same height. At close proximity, his almond shaped eyes were tired-red and sully but there was also a strange glint of warmth in the dull grey clouds, reflecting the effect you have on him. His breathing was unsteady as he stared directly at you.

“If you’re too exhausted, we can share the exhaustion just like we share love, Levi,” you whispered, your lips meeting the corner of his mouth and landing it with a kiss. Jitters ran down his spine and his mouth tingled.

We can share exhaustion just like we share love. The words reverberated again and again in his head, tugging at the strings of his heart. At that moment, he wished to throw you into his bed and kiss your exhaustion away. He forcefully stepped back, his insides twisting in misery, desperate to have his way with you. You were always so understanding. Levi could never wrap his head around how you were so transparent and loving. You stood by him in miserable times, struggling to heal his endless wounds. Your selflessness ate at him because in this big, relentless world, he only wanted you to be selfish.

“I’ll arrange these documents, so you’ll know which ones merely require signatures and which need proper attention. It’ll decrease your workload and reading time to a great extent.” You were already on the bed, reading through the document with vitality.

He surveyed you for a moment, his heart drumming faster against his chest. “Come on, get going. We have a lot to do.” Levi timorously stepped back, watching you.

You already got to work and started assessing papers and reading through files. You almost threw in the towel by your fifth document but continued working, determined to help him. You mentally praised Levi’s great work ethics, his neat textura script making you smile.

Levi, on the other hand, stood frozen in his tracks; his chest felt strange as he watched you work on his documents. No one had ever done this-not that he ever wanted it. Hell, he was the strongest, most independent man, who never let his guard down which is primarily the reason why people didn’t bother with him. He alone equated to the strength of a thousand army of titans. He created this headstrong image for the world, Levi Ackerman, the hope of humanity, as he filled in gaps of weaknesses left in his trails.

Why did you see him? You knew he could take it, then why didn’t you let him be, like everyone else? Why did you want to shoulder his burdens by sacrificing your peace?

His head began pounding.

Before he saw you today, he was perfectly fine with his negligent ways: he didn’t feel his stomach rumbling from emptiness, his mouth as dry as the desert, his back aching from distress or his eyes stinging from sleeplessness. Now, when he saw you rubbing your red eyes, squinting them to read the documents and massaging your template in soft circles, he recovered his sanity.

As if he regained his humanity, his body which was numb from the moment he sat with those papers, collapsed into a surge of emotions.

He couldn’t bear it.

He treated himself inhumanely. But not you. God no, never you. You didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t treat you the way he treated himself. He’d rather throw himself off a cliff than give you a taste of his pain. Feeling overwhelmed, his vision blurred as he took heavy steps towards you. You looked up from the paper, hearing him moving towards you and your breath ceased.

Silver eyes were shadowy with a thunderous wave of agony, and a deploring frown weighted down his lips as his steps faltered towards you. You immediately stood up, your hackles rising in concern. You had never seen Levi look so defeated and beaten— not even when he came back from outside the walls. Your stomach twisted in despair. Maybe you had hurt him in your attempts to stick beside him. You felt tears choking your vision as you waited for him to throw you out of his room.

He was an inch away when his body fell against you, a squeal leaving your mouth. His arms were clasping around your waist as he pushed his weight down, causing your knees to buckle against the bed and you both fell. He was on top of you, his body completely attached to you like he were a part of you. Your heartbeat escalated as Levi looked at you, his red eyes drunk with exhaustion staring into the depth of your orbs.

Inside your dark eyes, he only saw himself. Only himself. His breathing hardened, mouth watering at the sight. He couldn’t take it anymore, his love for you triumphing over the last shred of common sense left in his brain. Drained and disillusioned, he found solace within you.

He attacked your mouth like a starved beast, every ounce of his being wanting you to feel the love bustling in his veins. Your toes curled in pleasure, the warmth of his mouth creating an euphoric sense of stability in your soul. You gripped his hair softly, running your fingers through his scalp and his eyes screwed shut in comfort. His lips kissed to your jawline and in the crevice of your neck, trailing downwards, marking your skin as his.

Your moans and his heavy breaths filled up the silence in the room.

“I love you,” he whispered and you swear you felt a wet droplet fall against your skin. Your stomach clenched; It was his first time telling you he loved you. You tried saying it back but no words left your mouth, just a stream of sobs.

Before, you felt him love you through his own unintentional ways but nothing could counter these three words falling off his lips just for you.

And then he rustled against the sheets, laying beside you and pulled you on top of him, your head resting against his chest. His heartbeat vibrating against your frame caused your tense body to ease in his hold. The documents sat on the edge of the bed, neglected. Soon slumber overpowered both Levi and your senses. Even though you both had to wake up within the next-six-hours, It was the best damn sleep Levi had ever gotten.

366 notes · View notes

cuttoothed · 3 years

Text

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

#the magnus archives #jonmartinweek2021 #tma #my fic #jonmartin #cw injury

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waitimcomingtoo · 4 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter twelve rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

With Carnage’s weight on top of you, you couldn’t really move. You didn’t have the room to shift into Venom and you were starting to lose consciousness.

“You think you can beat me? You shouldn’t have even come. I’ll win this fight in no time.” Carnage laughed and easily pinned you down. You tried to break free but couldn’t. You could only watch as Carnage unhinged his jaw and bent down to bite your head off.

“Incoming!” You heard a triumphant call from above you. Spider-Man swung down on a web and kicked Carnage off of you. Carnage went tumbling back before landing on his feet and growling.

“Taser web!” Peter announced and shot another web at Carnage. It landed on his body and electrocuted him, promptly knocking him off the building. Peter quickly ran to you as you shifted back to yourself.

“Are you alright?” He panicked as he helped you up. You groaned a little at the dull ache throughout your body. You were a little sore but ultimately okay.

“I’m alright.” You answered. “Nice shot, lover.”

“Thank you. I’m still mad at you for that break up scare.” Peter joked as he dusted you off.

“Understandably so.” You laughed as Venom healed your wounds.

“But I’m still gonna help you kick Carnage’s ass.” Peter followed up. “Since you believe in me and all.”

“I do. But maybe a little less with the teen romance cliches and a little more with the killing of the deadly Alien?” You teased as Peter seemed to forget the situation you were in.

“Right.” He nodded curtly. “On it.

Carnage had climbed back up the building and was ready for more. Peter got into fighting stance and you transformed into Venom.

“Do you think this fight is off the record for my article?” You asked as Carnage swung at you. You ducked and swiped at his knees. He howled in pain before turning to Peter and charging.

“I think once someone tries to eat you, it’s free reign.” Peter called as he dodged punches from Carnage. You were impressed. Peter was putting up a good fight.

Carnage turned back to you and punched you in the gut. You retaliated by punching him in the jaw and ripping at his outer layer of skin to reveal Cletus inside.

“Cletus, you can stop this. You don’t have to be a killer anymore.” You yelled desperately.

“I’ve always been a killer, baby. You can’t change me now.” He laughed and bonded back with Carnage. Carnage kicked you in the stomach and sent you tumbling off the building. You fell freely for a moment before shooting a web and slowly lowering yourself to the ground. Peter dove off the building after you after hitting Carnage with several taser webs.

“Are you okay?” You panted as you turned back into yourself. You almost couldn’t believe you were having the biggest battle of your life with a boy you once delivered mail to. Peter took off his mask and went to check if you were okay.

“I am.” He nodded. “Are you?”

“I’m nervous, Pete.” You confessed. “He’s a lot stronger than us. There’s a lot on the line here.”

“I know.” Peter sighed. “But we’re Spiderman and Venom. We can do anything as long as we’re together.

“Alright Tiger. Save that energy for our wedding vows.” You teased him to lighten the mood. “Do we have a strategy?”

“I was thinking you keep fighting him and I pretend I’m dead down here. You can weaken him and then I’ll spring up there and ambush him. It’ll be a sneak attack. We’re gonna Trojan horse this son of a bitch.” Peter said excitedly. You laughed at his eagerness.

“That’s not really a Trojan horse. Nothing is inside anything.” You pointed out.

“You’re inside us.” Venom said as she came out in her snake like form. Peter pointed at her.

“Blammo.” He nodded. “Trojan horse. See, Venom gets it.”

He and Venom high fived, finally getting along.

“Impeccable plan Peter. We’re starting to like you. We don’t want to eat your liver as much anymore.” Venom complimented. Peter looked terrified.

“You wanted to eat my liver?!” He gasped.

“And kidneys.” Venom stated. Peters eyes went even wider.

“That’s enough. Trojan horse on three?” You asked. Everyone put their hands in the middle. Well, you and Peter put your hands and Venom put a tendril.

“One. Two. Three.” You counted. You broke and mentally prepared yourself for what was to come. Peter shot a web at the neighboring building and slid up it, upside down, like a spider. You laughed at his action, though it seemed completely normal to him. You felt a sudden sadness strike your heart at the sight of him. This could potentially be a deadly situation.

“Peter, wait.” You said suddenly.

Peter slid down his web and waited. He was still upside down but you didn’t mind.

“If we don’t make it out of this, I want you to know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I broke up with you when I found out your secret. I didn’t know how great of a team we’d make.”

“It’s okay, Y/n. I still loved you even when I was mad at you. Nothing you can say or do will ever change how I feel. I told you, I love you more than anything. Even when you broke my heart and insulted my Star Wars bedsheets.” You opened your mouth to laugh but you were interrupted by Carnage roaring from the top of the Oscorp building.

“That’s our cue.” Peter said, getting ready to slide back up his web.

“Wait.” You said again. You approached him cautiously and carefully rolled his mask down just below his nose. Peter stayed perfectly still.

“Be safe.” You whispered, and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was a bit awkward seeing as he was upside down but it was still perfect. It would always be perfect as long as it was Peter. Peter kissed you back to the best of his ability, putting his hand on the back of your head for support, until he needed to breath.

“If I don’t make it back, know that I love you.” You said tearfully as you rolled his mask back down.

“If you don’t make it back? Wait, Y/n-“ Peter was about to protest so you pressed another kiss to his covered mouth before shooting a web towards the top of the building and flying upwards. You landed with grace and transformed into Venom. Carnage smiled a toothy grin at the sight of you.

“You can still join us Venom! There’s nothing we can’t do! You’re no different from us. Don’t act like you are.”

“We may be no different, but we are better.” You answered firmly.

“Fine. Be that way. Sorry it had to come to this.” Carnage said, though it sounded more like Cletus speaking. Carnage pulled out a match and looked down at your feet. You followed his gaze and noticed you were standing a in puddle.

“Gasoline.” You said fearfully. Carnage knew your weakness. He had that big terrible smirk on his face. But you saw something in his eyes that his smile wasn’t telling you. Fear. He was afraid. You tried to form a plan as quickly as you could.

“Some people just want to sit back and watch that world burn.” Carnage drawled. He lit the match and flicked it at you. You quickly jumped out of the way as the fire roared to life. Carnage seemed as eager to stay away from it as you were. There was now a large fire at the center of the rooftop and you and Carnage circled around it.

“Carnage told me that sound is dangerous to symbiotes.” Cleatus said suddenly. “Did you know that?”

“Sound will hurt you too.” Venom growled. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I did something smart, actually.” Carnage said as he pulled out a remote. “I brought ear plugs.”

With that, he pressed the remote and the speakers on the roof began to emit a shrill sound. Your whole body shook and you could feel yourself separating from Venom.

“Hold on!” Venom cried. You did you best to stay together but the sound was too powerful.

“I can’t.” You yelled. Venom shot out of your body and you slumped to the ground. Carnage charged towards Venom, who was nothing but goo and picked her up. Then, he threw her like a frisbee into the night. You had no idea where or how far away she landed.

“No!” You cried. You panicked briefly before assessing the situation. You and Venom had been separated before and Venom found her way back to you. You didn’t die last time because you didn’t have any fatal injuries. All you had to do was stall until Venom made her way back. As long as Carnage didn’t injury you that badly, you could survive. The problem was, you were now weaker, slower, and had absolutely no fighting skills. Carnage was surely going to use that to his advantage. Carnage stalked over to you and raised a claw, ready to swipe.

“Any last words?” He growled. You suddenly remembered something.

“Yes. Thank God for Tony Stark.” You answered and pressed a hand against your chest. Your suit formed around your body and covered you like a second skin. Carnage looked surprised at your action. It wasn’t much but at least you had some protection until Venom came back.

“You think your little suit will protect you? Nothing will protect you from me. Now, you and Venom are gonna watch each other die all because you were too selfish to join our side.” Carnage sneered. You took notice to how Carnage “me” and not “we.”

“Venom isn’t even here.” You spat. Carnage hesitated.

“Cletus, I told you the plan was to separate Venom and Y/n so we could kill them in front of each other. What did you do with Venom?” Carnage asked in an annoyed tone.

“I’m sorry boss. I forgot. I tossed it off the building.” Cletus’s voice answered sheepishly. You watched them carefully. Their relationship wasn’t like yours and Venoms. It wasn’t equal.

“You ruined the plan. Just like you ruin everything. You’re pathetic! You’re nothing! You can’t do a single thing right!” Carnage yelled.

“I’m sorry boss.” Cleatus whimpered.

“I’ll do it myself.” Carnage growled.

Carnage turned back to you and grabbed you by the throat. He raised you up and dangled you over the edge of the building. You had done this exact thing to Peter so many times and now it was coming back to haunt you. You looked down at your dangling legs and saw the long way down to the ground. The fall was a certain death. You didn’t see Peter anywhere and you knew it was because he was on the other side of the building, waiting to sneak attack. You looked back at Carnage with tears in your eyes.

“You don’t have to do this, Cletus. I know you think Carnage is in charge, but he doesn’t have to be. You don’t have to be his puppet anymore. You can separate from him and we’ll kill him together. I’ve done it before. Please, be human. Don’t be a monster. You don’t have to kill me.” You pleaded to Cletus, hoping he would hear your through Carnage’s body.

“He will never separate from me, fool. I own him. He’s nothing without me.” Carnage growled.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Cletus. You said you can’t change, but I know you can. I believe in you and I know you’re capable of doing the right thing. You don’t have to be a killer anymore. You can be a hero. The city will love you if you protect them from Carnage. I’ll write the story myself.” You tried again. Carnage tightened his grip around your neck. You were losing the ability to see and breath. But you could sense something. Hestitation. You might’ve been getting through to Cletus.

“Shut up!” Carnage shouted. His hands suddenly felt weaker around your throat.

“You told me you were glad I was telling your side of the story. This is your chance to change your story. Rewrite the ending. You can be the hero this time.” You begged one last time.

“He will never be the hero. I didn’t make him a killer. He always was. And that’s all he’ll ever be. Now, any last words?” Carnage asked with a grin. You noticed him faltering. There seemed to be an internal struggle going on.

“Yes. Do you know what the capital of Thailand is?” You asked the through short breaths. You were going to die of asphyxiation before he even dropped you.

“What?” Carnage asked, visibly puzzled.

“Bangkok.” You said through gritted teeth as you swiftly kicked him in the crotch. Carnage doubled over and let you go. You plopped on the ground, right near the edge, and gasped for air. Carnage recovered quickly and let out a low chuckle.

“Clever girl. Bangkok. And you hit me in my…whatever. You think a kick to the groin is gonna stop me? Nothing can. The world will know my name.” Carnage declared. He picked you up and threw you across the roof. You tumbled and groaned in pain. Little bits of gravel stuck to your face and hair. Carnage ran to you and kicked you in the stomach. You wheezed and barely had time to recover before he punched you in the face. You felt the metallic taste of blood filling in your mouth. You heard his evil laugh amongst the blaring sound of the speakers. He straddled you and pounded relentlessly onto your face with a series of blows. His huge claws left your face battered and bloody. He raised his sharp claws in the air and plunged them into your body. The suit deflected the claws as well as it could, but they couldn’t fully stop them from entering your body. You felt the full pain of his sharp claws in your abdomen. You were so weak, you couldn’t even scream. Carnage gave you another hit to the jaw, knocking your face to the side and you began to see double. Double…Spidermen?

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you a woman should never be hit, not even with a flower?” Peters voice rang through your ears. Through your blurry vision you saw a taser web hit Carnage in the chest and electrocute him. Peter pounced on Carnage and punched him several times in his face, feeling absolutely no fear at all. Peter felt one thing, rage.

“Don’t you ever touch her again.” Peter growled in a voice you had never heard before. Carnage got up and began to fight Peter back. You wanted badly to get up and help, but you were too weak. You could only watch as Carnage ultimately began to win the fight against Peter. You felt hot tears streaming down your face, along with the blood running from your nose, mouth, and forehead.

“Don’t hurt him.” You cried weakly as Carnage swiped at Peter, leaving a deep scratch in his chest. Peter fell to the ground. You managed to drag yourself over to him just enough to see him. He was unconscious, as expected. His masked eyes were closed. Your heart ached for him.

“Come on Peter.” You wheezed. “Come on Spider-Man.”

The eyes on Peters mask snapped open and he jumped up. He immediately dodged a punch from and kicked Carnage in the chest with full force. You watched them fight and heard a slinking sound form behind you. You still couldn’t move your body, but you could stretch your arm out and felt around the ground. You felt something warm touch your hand.

“We got you baby. It’s gonna be okay.” Venoms voice sounded in your head. You let out a happy laugh of relief.

“You came back.” You said weakly but happily.

“We will always come back.” Venom assured. You felt your body beginning to heal. The puncture wounds in your chest closed and your face stopped bleeding. After just a minute, you were able to stand up. You grabbed the remote and shut the speakers off. You saw Carnage about to throw a punch at Peter so you quickly shot a web at his fist and pulled. Carnage looked at you, not expecting you to be alive still. His fist never made contact with Peter, who was looking at you with adoration. You could tell, because his mask was torn and one of the masks eyes was broken. You could see tears in his soft brown eyes. You transformed into Venom and yanked on your web with your full strength. He flew towards you and was met with a hard punch. He laid on the ground in pain and you ran to Peter to check if he was okay.

“Hey.” You breathed out. Venoms face opened up to reveal your own so you could talk to Peter. You wanted to run into his arms and apologize to him. You wanted to hold him and never let him go.

“Hi.” He said shyly. You felt like you and him had this exchange a thousand times. This time felt different. He was so close to you but he felt worlds away.

“Thanks for saving me. The Trojan Horse plan worked.” You complimented.

“It wouldn’t have worked if you didn’t put up such a good fight.” Peter said back. You smiled fondly at him, turning completely back into yourself now.

“I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through. The breakup and now this.” You shrugged sadly. “I hate seeing him hurting you. And I hate hurting you myself even more. I’m so sorry Peter. I’m so so sorry.”

The fight wasn’t looking good. You wanted to tell Peter everything in case you didn’t get the chance later.

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like we’re saying goodbye. We will win this, Y/n. This isn’t goodbye.” Peter said firmly, taking a step towards you. You looked at him weakly.

“But if it is…”

“It isn’t.” He interrupted.

“But if it is.” You said, taking his hands in yours. “I need you to know that you are absolutely the one I want to be with. I promise that if we make it out of this alive, I will never leave your side again. And if we die-“

“We won’t.” He interrupted again.

“But if we do, it’ll be okay.” You smiled sadly. “Because if I die by your side then I died in my favorite place to be. I love you, Peter Parker. I need you to know that. Can you repeat that back to me so that I know you know?”

“I’m not doing this. We aren’t going to die, Y/n. This is-“

“Please.” You interjected. Peter sighed deeply and took off his mask.

“You love me.” He repeated. You reached up and touched his face.

“How much?” You asked quietly. He looked up at the sky to keep from crying.

“More than I’ll ever wrap my head around.” He answered, quoting the song you had sang to him earlier that day. It felt like a million years ago.

“That’s right.” You smiled at him, despite the ache in your chest. Ever since the first time he said hello to you, you hoped he’d never say goodbye. And though neither of you wanted to admit it, this was your goodbye.

You stared at each other momentarily before Peter began to lean in for a kiss. You leaned in as well, but were violently yanked back by a firm grasp. Carnage spun you around and punched you in the face. Peter ran to your aid but Carnage knocked him in the head with a with a steel rod. Peter fell limply to the ground.

“Peter!” You cried out, and immediately clamped a hand over your mouth. Carnage wasn’t supposed to know his identity. You tried to go to Peter but Carnage held you down. He looked at Peters unmasked face and laughed.

“Wow. I never would’ve guessed that Spider-Man was just a little boy.” Carnage laughed.He put up a pretty good fight. But not good enough.”

He went over to Peter and punched him abruptly, rendering him unconscious.

“Stop!” You cried. “It’s me you want! Not Spider-Man. You said you’d leave him alone.”

“Cletus said he’d leave him alone. And Cletus has no power.” Carnage answered. You stared at Carnage with rage before letting out a little laugh. Your laugh grew louder and Carnage looked at you with confusion.

“What’s funny?” Carnage demanded. You continued to laugh.

“That’s it. That’s your weakness. Cletus has no power. Carnage controls Cletus like a puppet master and Cletus has no say. I should’ve known that’s how your relationship worked. It makes total sense.” You said as you stood up and slowly approached Carnage.

“Why does that make sense?” Carnage asked. You shrugged.

“Because Cletus is boring.” You said simply.

“What? I’m not boring.” Cletus’s voice came out. You smirked as your plan began to work.

“Yes, you are. You bonded with a killer symbiote and what did you do with it? Kill people. Boring.” You said in a sing song voice. Then you faked a yawn. “I bonded with a killer symbiote and together, we killed bad guys and made the city safer. We saved Earth from Carlton Drake and now, we clean up New York. That’s pretty unexpected of us, wouldn’t you agree Venom?” You asked. Venom swirled around your hand and nodded.

“Absolutely. Very unexpected of us.” She said eagerly. Carnage looked lost.

“I can’t say I’m surprised though. Cletus has always been boring. Right Venom?”

You asked Venom again.

“Right again, baby.” Venom responded. Carnage’s face opened up to reveal Cletus’s beet red one.

“I’m not boring! I’m a serial killer! That’s not boring!” He yelled. You watched as Carnage struggled to take over Cletus’s face again. He lost the battle, and Cletus shifted back into himself. You had never seen him standing before. He was shorter than you thought.

“A boring serial killer. You’re literally the most generic and prolific serial killer I’ve ever seen. Let’s see, you’re a white male in his mid to late thirties who killed women who resembled the girl who broke his heart in high school. Boring. I just described about a thousand serial killers. I mean, killing women who looked like someone who wronged you? Please. That’s an incredibly common motivation.” You faked another yawn just to rile him up.

“It’s so common, one might even call it boring.” Venom taunted. Cletus looked furious.

“Shelly broke my heart. She deserved to die. That’s not boring!” He yelled at you. You turned your back to him and smiled.

“How did Shelly break your heart? I always wondered. It didn’t say anything about it in your file. Just something about a…school dance?” You asked as if you didn’t know the answer. Cletus face reddened with embarrassment.

“A spring fling.” He muttered. You could tell he was reliving the memory by the look on his face.

“That’s right. A spring fling. What happened? Did she reject you?” You asked curiously. Cletus looked haunted by the memory. He merely nodded.

“Did you know that with a simple google search I could find out the names of your classmates in high school? I didn’t find anyone named Shelly but I did find a Michelle.” You told him. “Michelle Jameson. Does that name sound familiar?” Cletus’s eyes snapped to you and saw tears forming in them. You smiled directly to his face.

“Michelle.” He whispered.

“You asked Michelle to dance that night, didn’t you? But Michelle didn’t want to dance with you, did she Cletus? She wanted to dance with Tobey Garfield. Because after all, Tobey was the captain of the football team, played the drums in the school band, and made high honor roll every year. And you, you were just-“

“Boring.” He finished your sentence. “She called me boring. The whole class heard. They all laughed at me. I was humiliated.” He said, tears rolling down his cheeks. He suddenly looked angry. “I wanted her to pay.”

“And you made her pay. 17 times with all the women you killed. But they never filled that empty hole that Shelly left, did they? Nothing could fill that hole. Nothing until-“

“Carnage.” He finished your sentence again.

“Yes. And Carnage promised you great things, didn’t he? Things like world domination and revenge. I bet he even promised you no one would ever laugh again.” You said cautiously. You had him right where you wanted him. Cletus nodded sadly.

“But he didn’t live up to those promises, did he? He ordered you around, made you call him boss, degraded you. He said you were a team but you weren’t.” You shook your head. “He was always in charge and you just had to go along with anything he said. Am I right?” You asked. Cletus looked at you.

“Exactly right.” He said.

“That’s not what it’s like with me and Venom, you know. We’re a team. Equals. We don’t control each other. I protect her and she protects me. Does Carnage protect you?” You asked compassionately. Cletus shook his head.

“He makes me feel worse.” Cletus cried. You put your hand on his shoulder.

“Cletus, if you kill me, your story will never come out. No one will ever know the pain you went through.” You spoke softly. “You can stop this. You can take back the control.”

Cletus looked at you hopefully for a moment. His eyes quickly faded back to fear.

“No I can’t. I will never have control.” He said sadly before merging back into Carnage. You gasped in fear and turned into Venom. You and Carnage fought again. He wrestled you to the ground and pulled Venom away from your face. He brought his fist down many times until your nose was broken and bleeding. Everything ached, even your teeth. Your eyes were swollen shut and you couldn’t see. You thought you were going to die right there, but Carnage was knocked off of you by a blow to the head with a steel pipe. Peter stood above Carnage with the pipe still in hand. Carnage pounced on Peter for the second time and began to throw him around like a rag doll. He beat Peter senseless and tossed him off the roof like garbage. You let out a silent scream. Carnage went back to you and delivered another blow to your gut. He dragged your towards the fire by your leg and held your leg close to the flame. Venom retracted back into your skin, exposing your leg. Carnage took the opportunity to snap your leg at the calf. You screamed in pain. He stepped on your broken leg and you nearly passed out from the feeling. It felt like your leg was on fire, and for all you knew, it could’ve been. You spat in his face with with acid spit but he dodged it.

“Beg for mercy.” He demanded.

“We will never beg a man for anything.” You spat in his face again, this time hitting him and burning him. Carnage picked up your hand and put it in the flame. Again, Venom retracted and your flesh was exposed. Carnage broke your hand and you let out another scream. He picked you up and threw you over the flame. You landed hard on your side and felt Venom slipping back into your body.

“We’re losing.” You cried.

“We know. We’re trying to heal you as fast as we can. Just hold on, baby.” Venom said desperately. You nodded as you watched Carnage approaching you again. You braced yourself and cradled your broken hand. He picked you up again and this time, sent you tumbling through the fire. Venom completely retreated into your body as you rolled. You suit was beginning to disperse as well, leaving patches of skin exposed here and there. Carnage targeted those spots and dug his claws into them. You let out a cry of pain. You knew you couldn’t last much longer. You couldn’t stand because of your broken leg, so you began to roll yourself towards the edge.

“Oh, I see. You want to see your boyfriend. Alright. Go ahead.” Carnage cackled as he kicked you off the building on the same side Peter was tossed off of. You landed on the ground and heard several ribs crack. You scooted yourself up against a wall and held your broken hand against your body.

“Venom, what’s happening?” You wheezed. You felt pain with every breath you took.

“You’re getting hurt faster than we can heal you. You need to stay here and rest for a few minutes so you can heal. It’s absolutely vital that you don’t go back up there. You will die almost instantly if we’re separated again.” Venom answered. Your odds weren’t good. You had troubled catching your breath and figured your lung had collapsed. You were in critical condition. Your whole body hurt. Everything inch of you was either broken, bloody, or bruised. You slowly felt your lung inflate and your leg beginning to heal. But you still had a million other injuries that would require more time. You looked around and noticed Peters body near you, conscious but not moving.

“Peter?” You gasped for air.

“Stay still! We’re not even close to done!” Venom ordered. You ignored her and dragged yourself with one arm to over to Peter. He stirred but was too injured to move. His fingers twitched as he attempted to reach out and touch you.

“Stop moving! You’re dying!” Venom pleaded. You suddenly heard ambulance sirens wailing and noticed a police man just a few yards away. If you could muster enough strength to shout you could be taken to a hospital. You looked between the police man and Peter.

“Peter is dying.” You croaked. Peters eyes were open but you could hear his heartbeat. Your biggest fear was coming true.

You gave the police man one last look before uncurling your broken hand from underneath you and placing it on Peters shoulder. The simple move sent your body through worlds of pain.

“Go.” You whispered. Venom knew what you meant and would never dream of complying, but and she also knew there was no use arguing.

“We love you.” She stated. She sounded miserable.

“And I love you.” You responded, doing your best to sound happy for her.

With that, Venom left your body and went into Peters. Peters body began to stir again as you felt yours beginning to shut down. You watched as cuts on his face healed and he gradually gained more movement in his body. You could hear his heart beat return to normal and you sighed happily against the pavement. You watched in joy as Peters body sprang up, as if he was pulled on a string. It reminded you of when you first bonded with Venom.

Peter transformed into Venom and began to climb the tower. You watched as the two people you loved the most ran to freedom, leaving you on the pavement to die. Your vision began to fade from red, to white, to black. You could see the outlines of some people standing before you.

“Oh, isn’t she lovely?” A woman’s voice said.

“She’s beautiful. I can see why our son loves her.” A mans voice answered.

“Now, you know if Peter heard you say that he’d object and say that women are more than their looks.” Another’s mans voice said with a chuckle. He sounded older than the first man. The man and woman laughed.

“Of course. May taught him well.” The first mans voice said. Your eyes drooped as you saw one last figure approach you. You could only see their shoes.

“Y/n?” The voice asked. The voice was soft and sweet. You didn’t recognize it at first, but it sounded so familiar.

“Y/n? Is that you baby?” The voice asked again. You forced yourself to look up and saw a woman standing before you. She had kind eyes and a warm smile. She picked you up and held you in a tight embrace.

“Everything’s okay now, Y/n. Mommy’s got you.” The woman said. You let yourself relax in her embrace. You didn’t feel any pain anymore. You felt tranquility wash over your aching body.

Then everything went dark and you went to sleep.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #iron man

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Two

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrusted to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Dark Themes, Smut, NonCon, Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Bucky with the mood swings, Probably poor editing

Word Count: 3.2K

A/n: I cannot put into words how tired I am rn like idk why im so tired all the time but I am. Anyway, here's another part of this cause I like this series but its SO FUCKING DARK LIKE SO DAMN DARK PLEASE BE WARNED!! I HAD TO TAKE A BREAK FROM WRITING PART THREE BECAUSE ITS FUCKING DARK

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND VERY DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

PART ONE

~*~

“Your Majesty? Are you feeling at all better today?” You shake your head, curled up on your bed in the fetal position in a pathetic attempt at blocking out the world.

“Please, Majesty. A walk and some fresh air will do you well. It needn’t be long.” You sigh and push your blankets away from your face.

“You will not stop until I agree, will you?” Natasha smiles gently at you. “I’m afraid not, Your Majesty. It is only for your health that I insist.” She helps you to your feet, a frown on her face at the way you struggle still to move.

“You are still in pain?” You simply nod, wincing when she has you step into a dress.

“The pain is more bearable than it was.” She nods, mind wandering as she helps you into your dress for the day.

It’s a simple navy dress with a gold string wrapping around the waist. The sleeves hang past your fingers and you toy with the pretty fabric while Natalia holds an arm around your waist.

The walk is painful and slow and with every step, you wish you were back in your room.

From the looks you get from the staff, you know it’s known how unwelcome you are. This is not how you thought your union would be at all.

~*~

“You were supposed to take care of her! Treat her with kindness and compassion! Not leave her bloody on her bed once you’ve satisfied your need!” Natalia snarls, slamming her hand on the King’s desk. He looks up at her, a bored expression on his face until he processes her words. Then his expression gradually changes to one of regret.

“I... I hadn’t meant to be so rough with her. She... I just... It’s a betrayal, Natalia. I’ve broken my oath to the man I love.” She shakes her head, glaring at him.

“No, it is not. You and Steven made an agreement that you would find a queen. You chose her specifically. And now that Steve is no longer here you’re wanting to back out? That is not how this works, James, and you know that.”

He grinds his teeth together so hard he’s surprised they don’t break.

“That’s exactly the problem! Every time I look at her I’m reminded of him! Because we were supposed to have her together! We were supposed to marry her together and bed her together! She is not mine, she was meant to be ours!”

“And so you treat her like a burden because your husband is not here? You act as though she is nothing more than a whore? That woman in there has feelings, James.” The king pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut to try and reign in his anger.

“You could never possibly understand what it is that I’m feeling. I already admitted to being rougher than I wanted to be. And I should have stopped, but I needed to get it through to consummate the marriage.”

Nat pauses at his words, hoping he doesn’t mean what she thinks he means.

“What do you mean you should have stopped? Did she tell you to stop?”

He swallows hard before nodding.

“She... I could hardly understand her, she was crying so much, but she begged me to a-and she was pushing me away. But I didn’t.”

The harsh sound of her hand connecting with his cheek echoes through the room. The King is stunned but he knows he deserves far worse than a mere smack.

“I never thought you capable of such cruelty, James. That woman is your wife, the Queen of your Kingdom, and you have treated her as if she is the one who took your husband from you.”

He grows angry at the mention of the man he loves. “She is attempting to replace him!” He exclaims, slamming his fist down on his desk to enunciate his point.

“How could you possibly know that?!” Nat counters, her voice raised to match his.

“She has said nothing about wanting to replace Steven! She was well aware that she would be bound to both kings, not just you. I’m sure she is wondering about where her other husband is, why he has not been seen. You need to talk to her. Apologize for brutalizing her the way you have. Mend your relationship with her because she is the only chance you have at continuing your bloodline. She is the only one who can ensure your reign continues.”

The King is silent, mulling over her words before sighing heavily.

“Where is she?”

Nat crosses her arms over her chest. “It has been four days since your marriage and you are only just asking now? She has been unable to walk for the past three days, so she has remained in her chambers. I forced her for a short walk today, but I do not think it did much to lift her spirits.” His jaw clenches for a moment before he lets a breath out through his nose.

“When she is healed I shall talk to her.” It’s not much, but it’s a start, and that’s all Natalia can ask for.

It’s two days after that before you can walk on your own, and even then you’ve got a severe limp. It’s two more days after that before you can sit down on anything besides your bed. It isn’t until ten days after the consummation of your marriage that you leave your room again.

“If you’re feeling healed, the King would like you to join him for tea on his private balcony.”

You’re shocked at Wanda’s words, but you try to hide it, offering her a nod while she helps you get dressed into a simple light blue gown.

She leads you through the Palace towards a side that you’ve never seen before, not that you’ve had much of a chance to explore. When you reach a set of grand oak doors you find yourself growing increasingly nervous.

Wanda, oblivious to your racing heart, knocks twice on the wood then bows to you before scurrying down the hallway and out of sight.

“Enter,” a muffled voice calls. You take a deep breath and push the door open, keeping your eyes cast downwards as you enter the King’s chambers.

His eyes find you immediately, a frown on his face at the way you keep your eyes down on the floor.

“I am glad you’ve rested and recovered,” he says, his frown deepening when you flinch at his voice. You say nothing in reply, simply stand with your hands folded gently atop your skirts.

“Come over to me. The tea is waiting.” You nod, risking a glance up to find where he is and walking over to him. He sits at a small table on the balcony, his attention focused somewhere over the horizon, and you risk taking a breath in.

You carefully sit down on the chair across from him, a wince flashing over your features as discomfort flares between your thighs. The expression doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and a wave of guilt washes through him.

“I... I wanted to apologize for our wedding night. And... I do hope that you can forgive me for my actions and we can start anew.”

You’re beyond surprised and look up at him, unable to stop the look of shock from crossing your face. “Y-you have nothing to apologize for, Your Majesty.”

He watches you, watches the way your fingers tremble as you reach out for the teacup. Watches the way you avoid his eyes and shrink into yourself as if to seem as unthreatening and small as possible.

You’re afraid.

Not that he’s surprised, necessarily. What, with the way he treated you? He’s shocked you’re holding yourself together so well.

“I had not intended on being so rough with you. Especially not on our first night together. You must understand that I am not myself as of late. I am... worried about my husband. Hoping to find him soon.” You nod, Wanda’s words echoing in your head.

“There is nothing for me to forgive, Your Majesty. I understand the way you’d like for us to get along and I understand my purpose and my place. You needn’t strain yourself over me. It is my duty to be at your leisure, even if it is not what I desire.”

Your words stun him into silence, the tension growing between the two of you.

“(Y/n),” your name feels foreign on his tongue yet so very right. “When I said what I had said yesterday... All I meant was that-” “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I do believe I understood. I am not so foolish as to believe that this marriage was for anything besides politics. You and the King need an heir and I am here to provide one. That is my place, as you said. Now I do hope you will excuse me, for I am feeling rather delicate and would very much like to return to my chambers.”

He says nothing, simply nods his head and watches as you hold back another wince as you stand up.

He isn’t alone for long. No, Natalia is strolling into his chambers mere moments after you’ve left.

“That was brief,” she says, eyes taking note of the untouched tea that sits across from the King.

“I apologized. That is all that was required of me, yes?” She groans and shakes her head. “How will Steve feel if, when he returns, you and the Queen cannot remain in the same room? You know that he will be beyond disappointed.”

“What am I to do? I tried to speak with her about it but she... it seems to be strictly political. She does not seem to even want to entertain the idea of anything beyond a loveless marriage.”

“Is that, perhaps because she is afraid of how you will treat her if she were to express her desire to be wanted? If you cannot express with words how you feel, then do so with your actions.”

He doesn’t come to you that night. Nor the night after.

It isn't until the third day after that that you see him again. Even then it isn’t any different than the last time.

You’re leaving your chambers to go for a walk in the garden, something Wanda and Nat have been encouraging upon realizing you’re not feeling like yourself.

“I’m telling you, James. I think it’s him.” That’s Samuel’s voice.

“I think he’s right. We should go see. Send a team out. It doesn’t look like they are very securely guarding him. We could go in and have him back within a month.” That one’s Natalia.

Wanda’s chattering goes unnoticed by you as you realize they’re talking about King Steven.

“If you’re sure about this, then gather a team and have the horses prepped. We’ll leave at dusk.”

As they’re rounding the corner they nearly bump right into you. You and Wanda both stop, both of you dropping into a curtsy while Nat and Sam bow.

“Your Majesty,” they greet. You nod at them, eyes cast down.

“You two are both dismissed. You as well, Lady Wanda. I require a word with my wife.” You’re confused at him calling you his wife but you say nothing, eyes stuck on the ground as three sets of footsteps walk away from you.

He’s quiet, watching the way you avoid his eyes.

Finally, unable to bear the silence anymore and wanting to have him be through with whatever it is he wants, you speak.

“You are leaving?” He waits until you glance up at him to answer.

“I will be, yes. We are not sure how long I shall be gone for. But before I leave I’ll be coming to you in your chambers. There’s the chance that I won’t return, so I need to do my part in ensuring my lineage continues. I haven’t come to you to allow you time to recover, but there is only so long you can expect a man to wait for his wife.” You say nothing, simply nod at him.

“I shall be waiting for you, Your Majesty. Is that all?” He lets out a deep breath before speaking again.

“I require an heir, (Y/n). If I am gone for any longer than two months and you are not with child when I return, I will not be as accommodating as I have been.” You can’t help the scoff that leaves you.

“Is something funny to you?”

You look up at him for a moment then shake your head.

“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. I just hadn’t realized that this was you being accommodating.”

He grabs your face roughly in his flesh hand, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

“You watch your tongue with me, woman. If you forget your place I will need to remind you of it, won’t I? But you don’t want that.” Your heart races in your chest and you quickly shake your head ‘no’.

“Remember your place. Or I will beat you back into it. Understand?” You nod and only after a moment longer does he release his grip on your chin.

You drop your head, eyes focused on the ground as he walks away from you. Tears sting at your eyes and you take a few minutes to compose yourself before walking back into the Palace, heading for your chambers.

~*~

He doesn’t bother knocking. He just pushes the door open and makes himself at home. To his surprise, you’re seated on your bed in a nightgown, nose buried in a book.

You’re so caught up in whatever you’re reading that you don’t even notice him.

He takes this moment to really take you in, eyes inspecting your face.

You’re beautiful, that much he and Steve gathered long before even deciding on marrying you. You have a gentle beauty to your face that is such a refreshing change to all the hard and gruesome things he’s seen in his life. He hates that all he wants to do is stare at you.

He notices that. your face lacks its usual glow, and you have dark bags beneath your eyes. Making a mental note to tell Nat to make sure you sleep properly, he takes a step towards you.

You glance upwards, jumping at the way he stands watching you.

He takes another step towards you, unbuttoning his shirt and walking closer to you. You set your book aside and swallow hard.

“How will you have me?” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, eyeing you for a moment before deciding.

“On your back.” You push the blankets aside and lay down on your back, trying to take deep breaths.

He takes hold of your ankles and gently tugs you down the bed until your bum is at the edge.

His member slaps against your slit and you jolt, tears welling up in your eyes at the memories of the last time this happened.

Instead of pushing into you dry like he did last time, he leans down and spits right on your intimate area. Shame fills you at how close he comes to you, and at the lewd act, but he seems unfazed. He does the same to his length then slowly pushes in.

There isn’t nearly enough lubricant, and it pinches and burns, but it’s not nearly as painful as last time.

That, however, doesn’t stop the tears from raining down your cheeks. Your chest shudders, silent sobs trying to break free. You bring your hands up to your face, pressing one to your mouth and the other shielding the rest of your face from view.

The King stops moving, his brows furrowed and eyes focused on what he can see of your face, trying to see if he’s causing you pain.

“A-am I hurting you?” He asks, his voice strained. You shake your head, keeping your eyes closed and waiting for him to keep going.

He’s hesitant but slowly starts thrusting again, pressing his face into your neck if only so he doesn’t have to see the tears on your face. The tears he’s causing.

It pains him to see such sorrow when a pretty face like yours should only be happy. He hates himself for knowing he’s the cause, but he can’t very well stop. He has a job to do, an heir to create.

He focuses instead on how your body feels beneath him. Soft and squishy in all the perfect places. And by the Gods, you’re so tight and warm around him. He groans softly against your neck, lips subconsciously pressing kisses to the skin as he approaches his climax.

You hold your breath as he fills you with warmth again, his breath hot and damp against your skin.

He stays sheathed within you for a few moments longer before pulling out and tucking his cock back into his trousers.

“I leave in a few hours. My councilmen are in charge while I am gone. Remember your place.” You don’t answer and he pauses, leaning down to grab your face the same way he did before.

“What occurs between us in our bed remains between you and me. I do not want to hear of you saying a word about it to anyone. You are mine and I shall treat you how I want.” You nod, mind and body numb.

“Good. I shall return shortly. If I will be gone longer than a month I will send word.” He exits without another word, leaving you used and broken yet again.

~*~

The riders leave as soon as the sun sets, the king leading them. You watch through the small window in your room, heart heavy as you realize that you well and truly serve but one purpose to the man.

“Dinner, your Majesty.” You glance over your shoulder to where Wanda is holding a tray of food.

“No thank you, Wanda. I am not hungry tonight. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed.” She nods, setting the tray down and hurrying to get your bed ready.

“I can do that tonight, Wanda. I would... I would like some time alone, please.” She pauses, the pain in your voice far more evident than you wanted it to be.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She bows her head, picks up the tray of food, then hurries out of your chambers and leaves you alone for the night.

You hardly sleep at all, silent tears tracking down your cheeks as thoughts of how much better your old life was fill your mind.

You truly are no better than a prisoner, and for a moment you find yourself wishing you were beheaded with your mother.

#king!bucky #king!steve rogers x reader #king!bucky x Princess!reader X king!steve #king!Steve X reader #king au #bucky x reader king au #Steve X reader king au #stucky #stucky fanfic #stucky/reader #stucky x reader au #royal!au #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader royal au #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x reader x bucky #bucky x reader x steve #Steve X reader x bucky

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giorno-plays-piano · 3 years

Text

Heartache

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Soldat!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping, captivity, torture, brainwashing, delusional Bucky.

Words: 2535.

Summary: You don't need the one whose name was Bucky Barnes, a hundred years old broken man who returned back to the world that couldn't offer him anything but regrets and nightmares. You need your Soldier, the one who won't return to you even if you throw Bucky back into that iron chair and fry his brains for the thirtieth time.

P.S. I have to say it turned out darker than I expected. Attention! Bucky is free from his programming, but he does not heal as he should.

__________________

“You look old.”

You decide to give him the pleasure of hearing your voice. It sounds dull from behind the glass when Bucky comes closer, looking at someone he recognizes too well, but you do not recognize a man he became, nothing reminding you of the one with whom you once shared your bed.

You know what the man looking at you through the glass thinks. You didn’t age a day since the last time he saw you, and while he knows why, it still surprises him to see a young woman watching him calmly as if all those years didn't pass.

“You miss your star.” You say, tilting your head to the side and narrowing your eyes at him when you see his new vibranium arm.

“It doesn't matter.” His answer is immediate, and Bucky isn't surprised to hear the raw anger in his own voice: he is no longer the Soldier you knew, and he is worried he won't find a way to interact with you. You don't seem too interested in Bucky Barnes and whoever he works for despite the fact you are hardly HYDRA's soldier yourself.

What he doesn't know is that you still stay the soldier you have been once, and nothing will ever change that regardless of whoever Bucky Barnes sends your way to cure you from HYDRA's conditioning.

"I'm glad you remember me."

You find it peculiar: a man who has been trying so hard to get rid of anything that ties him to the Winter Soldier has been looking for you for years, finally tracking you down, capturing you and bringing you here as if your pure existence didn't remind him of the worst years of his life. What did he expect to find? A comfort in someone who once had been paired with him just for the sake of research?

"Don't bother, Mr. Barnes. There's nothing there left for you."

You see he's taken aback because you have hit a nerve. Apparently, James Buchanan Barnes thought the connection between the two of you remained the same, and he could dig up the feelings that had long been buried. Stupid, you think, he's forgetting the most important part: he is not the man you formed the bond with. You don't need the one whose name was Bucky Barnes, a hundred years old broken man who returned back to the world that couldn't offer him anything but regrets and nightmares. You need your Soldier, the one who won't return to you even if you throw Bucky back into that iron chair and fry his brains for the thirtieth time.

It doesn't matter. After all those years you didn't believe in happy endings, and even if the man watching you through the glass think he is going to get one after getting out, he is clearly deluding himself.

Averting his eyes, Bucky clears his throat and changes the topic, trying to give himself a false hope he can mend things. “I will convince Shuri to treat you. She helped me break through the conditioning, and she will do the same to you."

You could raise your brow at him, but maintaining this facade is tiresome and doesn't make sense. "I see you have no idea how much my conditioning differs from yours. You can't break through it. It's embedded in me."

"I thought so, but I got rid of mine. You can do it too, I'm sure."

Although you see him trying to assure you, Bucky's getting agitated because he really has no idea what HYDRA did to you. He couldn't know it when he still was the Soldier, but now the lack of his knowledge leads you to the thought your former masters destroyed whatever info they still kept - they foresaw he would search for you.

"Your brainwashing was flimsy. I've always wondered how come you were considered HYDRA'S greatest assassin when you just needed to see your dear friend once to start getting your memories back." You snort, knowing Bucky would feel a slight hint of jealousy in your voice, but you don't care: you've never hid from him you only needed the Winter Soldier, and he was gone.

Bucky doesn't know what to say as a part of him wants to scream there was nothing flimsy about electroconvulsive therapy he went through over and over again, but he looks at you and sees how different you are from him, having no memories of your own, not knowing even your name or the place where you came from. It doesn't scare him, but the fact you had long merged with the Soldier you've become does. You don't separate yourself from her the way he did. In fact, the Soldier had completely absorbed your true persona, and Bucky doesn’t know the real you. He only knows RED, a Soldat who at one point was been created by HYDRA just like all of them were. Despite searching for the information about your past for years, he found nothing, not even the year when you became a part of the organization. Bucky doesn’t think you did it willingly judging by the fact how you reacted when he had been training you among the other Soldiers, but he can’t be sure.

You’re a ghost. None of the masters who had been giving you orders know anything about you except your specialization and things you can do. Bucky supposes there were once people who knew the truth, but all of them are probably dead since the ones he has captured were utterly useless. His only hope is Shuri who might bring whatever is left somewhere deep inside your mind to the surface, yet he isn’t sure she will take you: the more you talk, the more it becomes clear you will not ask her to do it willingly, and Shuri won’t like that. The redemption can only be granted to someone who asks and works for it.

You don’t seem the type.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks you quietly, his forehead almost touching the glass separating you two when Bucky watches you with that pathetic expression of his. “If I let you go, you will return to people you serve. If I bring you to police, you will end up in a lab in the hands of the government.”

You allow him to see your smile as you observe him, desperately hoping you will tell him you will come back to the good guys and stay with him, playing a role of his funny little girlfriend because Bucky Barnes cannot allow himself to form an adequate relationship with any woman who has not been tainted the way he was. It probably seems so tragic to him that he had to spent years trying to catch you.

Although the chair you’re bound to doesn’t let you stand and come over to him, you still lean closer to the window, wearing the same polite but welcoming smile you used to lure your targets closer to you.

“I want you back in that chair, going through the whole process of brainwashing again until you become the Soldat you’ve been. I want you standing with me and feeling as much pain as I did until your sensitivity goes down to zero, and you no longer remember those funny friends of yours. I know you won’t trade your freedom and whatever else you have after getting out, but I don’t need James Buchanan Barnes or White Wolf or whoever you have become. I am RED of HYDRA, and I have bonded with the Winter Soldier you buried, Bucky.”

When he leaves, the massive metal door getting locked ten times the least, you stare at the grey wall beside the glass. You wonder how getting the privilege of remembering his past made him so miserable, a pathetic, broken man who did not understand how lucky he had been, not only breaking free from HYDRA’s grip but gaining his true identity back. He probably pitied himself, poor little boy who had been broken by the big bad guys. He did not understand that all other soldiers who came after him, except the suicide squad made with Stark’s serum, had been turned into ashes. There was nothing left to break in them - and you either.

_______________________

Shuri wasn’t happy to hear your story just like he thought, but Bucky couldn’t lie to her, hoping she would understand. Of course, she didn’t, telling him outright it was impossible to treat somebody who didn’t want to be treated. While it was also inhuman, forcing you to do something against your will just like HYDRA has been doing all these years, it also erased the possibility to use the same methods she chose when she treated Bucky.

“You don’t understand,” she tells him, shaking her head, “it’s not that I don’t want to help, but without her cooperating it’s close to impossible. They didn’t use the same ways to program her just like they did to you.”

He isn’t satisfied with her answer even though he knows Shuri wants to help. He can’t leave it like that, leave you to your fate, return you where you belonged, and he keeps asking who or what may be able to help you until she finally tells him something about electrical stimulation of the brain that can awake memories that you have buried. Shuri immediately regrets it, seeing how Bucky’s face lights up.

“It is a very complicated process that requires an extensive medical knowledge. Worse, even if performed correctly, this technique can traumatize her even further. Please don’t do this. We don’t even know if this method will be effective.”

Bucky doesn’t promise her anything, though a part of him feels guilty he made her tell him this. He just has to do it: undoubtedly, HYDRA or whoever you work for now will force you to go through the brainwashing process again, and whatever treatment Shuri told him about can’t be worse than this. If Bucky does everything right, you might stand a chance to live like he does, away from the horrors of the war you had been a part of ever since the organization abducted you. Even if you don’t want it, clearly it is an effect of the memory suppressing machine: any sane human being wants to have a normal life, right?

It takes him months to find and steal the equipment he needs, leaving no traces - it reminds him of the days when he had been under HYDRA’s control, but he does what he has to. Learning how to use the machine is a much more complicated task, but Bucky is grateful for that serum-enhanced brain of his: he nearly swallows the information from the books in record time, reading about sending a burst of electrical energy into your cerebral cortex to stimulate your brain and finally retrieve your memories. Now he knows what Shuri meant by traumatizing, but this doesn’t stop him either. He does what he has to do.

“What is your name?” He repeats after listening to your screams for ten or maybe twenty minutes, your body going limp in the black, cold chair when you open your mouth, breathing heavily, your face stained with tears and sweat.

“Dolores.” You say immediately, knowing he will repeat the procedure if you keep silent, your heat beating wildly. “I grew up... on a small farm in Iowa... I had an older sister... and slept with a big teddy bear with a red ribbon...”

“You are lying.” He says simply, and a jolt of electricity cuts through your head, nearly electrocuting you while you scream again and again.

For some reason he always feels it when you say what he wants to hear instead of the truth. What he doesn’t understand is that the truth he wants has been told months ago: you did not remember and you were not going to remember anything from your past. It was stupid to try. There was nothing left of you, and while he thought he was resurrecting a human in you, he was simply destroying your body that was regenerating every night after the therapy.

When you receive a new jolt, shaking and screaming, tears streaming down your face until they fall down onto your already wet t-shirt, you whisper through gritted teeth, “Either I will have you as my Soldat, or I will not have you at all.”

Bucky presses the button.

__________________________

When he is finished he takes you to a bath in the room next to your cell. You almost lose the ability to move for an hour or two, giving him time to prepare you: Bucky undresses you and slowly lowers your body in the tub filled with warm water, watching that you take a comfortable position and don’t slip, effectively suffocating. Today he had almost gone too far, risking to fry your brain: you still refused to give up even after two months of therapy you have gone through, and Bucky isn’t too happy.

Pouring a strawberry-scented shampoo on his palm, Bucky starts to carefully wash your hair that grew longer in the months of captivity, watching that neither shampoo nor the foam gets in your eyes. You are nearly breathless: the serum they gave you made you less stronger than him, but your regeneration abilities are on a whole different level, and soon your body will adjust and erase the damage made.

He asks himself whether keep using the machine makes sense since he didn’t make much progress, the programming still very much in you even after all those incredibly painful sessions. What if you were right from the start? What if there was nothing to remember, and all he could do was to leave you in the state you were in before he destroyed whatever was left of you?

No, he can’t do it. Leaving you means taking away your chance to ever get back to normal life, and he can’t force himself to do that.

Never in his life Bucky Barnes will admit letting you go meant never getting his own happy ending the way he wants it.

“Why reinventing the wheel when you can make it so much easier?” All of a sudden, your hoarse voice whimpers in his ear when you look at him, tiredly moving your head up. “Do what they’ve always done. Use the programming to give me an order.”

A part of him is shocked with the revelation: he wanted to be neither the Soldier nor the one giving him commands. But the other part makes him realize how much easier it would be if he just used what has already been done to you instead of relying on an obviously ineffective method that damaged your mind and body. Of course, he has nothing in common with Karpov sending him on the assassination missions. Bucky only wants you to learn how to become human again, free you from HYDRA once and for all, give you the life you undoubtedly wanted. Even if he uses the same method the organization did until he finds a better way to undo the programming, it is still for your own good.

___________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #yandere #MCU

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mrs-gucci · 3 years

Note

I’m going to try come up with other ideas lol but these jumped out at me. I would absolutely use these for something! I’m saving them too because I just might!

But if you feel like it, these combined scenarios could be really fun for a sarcastic, grouchy ass Flip or Kylo AU. It could be anything from enemies to antagonists to the guy being in trouble with you currently from doing stupid shit and trying to make up with you! Anything you think!

your enemy has been badly wounded, and somebody needs to bandage them up, so you agree to help them, and suddenly they're shirtless, and you can't help but admire their body, something this cheeky motherfucker takes notice of

there's only one bed, but this time, they're arguing over who should sleep on the floor, which nobody agrees to, so instead they end up sharing, incredibly annoyed over having to share their space (it’s not like friends to lovers, in which they both awkwardly get into bed. this is straight up just. i will set this bed on fire if you don’t stay on your side)

The Longest Knight {Sir Kylo Ren x Reader}

author's notes: hello, hello! shannon, dear, you always seem to know what I'm in need of when you send requests in. I've been dying for an excuse to write some medieval/knight Kylo, and this fits in perfectly with that AU, so thank you! <3

**THERE ARE SOME DARK(ER) THEMES IN THIS STORY, BUT ONLY AT THE VERY BEGINNING (there’s an indicator of when the dark content ends, in bold, you can’t miss it). PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND TW’S BEFORE PROCEEDING!**

warnings: some angst. some gore. some fluff. smut. enemies-with-benefits. sex w/o feelings. kylo is a huge douche (but in, like, a lowkey sexy way).

tw's: (at the very beginning): dead bodies & blood, vivid depictions of wounds/injuries, brief depictions of battle, implied (battle-related) murder. mentions of sex work (later on in the story, not relating to the reader character).

word count: 4.4k

terms to know: loincloth: groin-covering cloth tied around the waist (literally just underwear). bedswerver: “adulterer” (an insult). mamillare: medieval breast band (bra).

When the sounds of marching footfall, deep cries of manly battle, and shod hooves pounding on the drought-hardened ground had ceased from the air, you saddle your horse and ride out to the far field of your property.

The putrid smell of rotting flesh hits you before any bodies are even in view. Your prized stallion slows his trot, nostrils flaring and ears perked forward as the scene of battle presents itself to both of you.

He begins to snort and whinny in acute panic at the sight of so many corpses, both human and horse. Your stomach begins to churn, and you can barely bring yourself to look upon the scene as your heel encourages him onward, wanting to make sure there aren’t any surviving soldiers.

Both sides seem to have suffered great loss, although you’re unsure which corpses belong to which side. The conflict betwixt Alderaan and Naboo has been dragging on much too long, and at the end of the day, is any conflict truly worth all of the lives lost?

You certainly didn’t think so, but perhaps you’re just too close to this war, incapable of having an unbiased opinion due to the loss of your beloved husband at the hands of Sir Kylo Ren, the Alderaanean calvary general and the most feared man across all five kingdoms.

As you make your rounds to check for survivors, much to the dismay of your steed, you quickly lose almost all hope that anyone laid here ended up surviving the brutality apparently brought down upon them during the fight.

Suddenly, your horse lifts himself up on hinds legs ever so slightly, jogging in place as a barely-audible groan comes from one of the men. His hand moves ever so slightly, and you quickly rush over to him, dismounting with a small first aid bag.

His helmet is that of a high-ranking official, but on which side he belongs, it’s too hard to tell. Not that it truly matters, you’d take just about any man with the courage to fight these battles.

“Sir?” You say, kneeling down beside the large man. “Do you remember what happened to you?”

He grunts lowly, winter-chapped lips opening in an attempt to speak. “S-Stomach.”

Once your mind registers his husky words, you look down at his abdomen and see that his armor seems to have been compromised in a spot right on the side of his stomach. Fresh blood seeps from the deep wound, and you cringe, grabbing one of the towels from your pack to gently wipe away some of the blood, but the tear in flesh is so deep, it’s impossible to do with just one towel. **dark content warnings ENDS**

“My estate is just a short ride from here. I cannot hold your weight myself, but if you can mount my horse, I will take you back and mend your wounds to the best of my ability.”

The mask nods softly, slowly but surely lifting himself up off the ground, wobbling towards your horse, who snorts nervously. He seemingly understands the severity of the situation, though, and stands still as the knight sits himself on his back.

From there, he lays back, breath catching in his throat as his injuries are tweaked with each of the horses’ strides. You hold onto the reins, leading your stallion back to the house.

After quite a bit of maneuvering and a lot of quarreling with the injured knight, you finally manage to set him up the cot in your spare bedroom. He sits down on the chair as you do so, mumbling and grumbling about his pain. You found it quite annoying, really, but you can’t really blame him for acting in such a way.

“You’ll need to remove your armor, sir. I cannot treat your wounds with it on.”

“By God’s bones.” He curses under his breath in annoyance, but stands and removes his body armor nonetheless.

Piece by piece is peeled from his body, his physically intimidating figure revealed slowly to your curious eyes. Only his under-layers were left, soon enough, and you found it a bit odd that he hadn’t taken his helmet off first. You would think that would be a great relief to have the proper air exposure on your face, but you’re not really in a place to make assumptions about that sort of thing.

His brilliantly alabaster skin is severely bloodied, bruised, and badly butchered. He would require quite some time to heal and recover, but if you learned anything from being married to an army man, it’s that they’re all stubborn bastards who never take the proper time to allow time for their bodies to properly heal.

He’s soon fully exposed to you, minus his helmet and threadbare loincloth, and you have to look away quickly as your cheeks heat up. The small garment left very little to the imagination, and this knight was...well endowed, to put it kindly.

Putting your own personal feelings aside for the betterment of the patient, you look back up at him with a small smile. “You may remove your helmet now, good sir.”

“I cannot reach up to grab it from my head.” He says in a flat, unamused voice.

“Of course.” You scold yourself for not thinking of that. “Well, if you lay down on the cot, I shall remove it for you.”

Instead of protest, which is what you expected, he complied with your instructions and laid down on the cot. He grunts satisfyingly at the comfort of a mattress, most likely used to sleeping on the ground.

When you reach for the bottoms of his helmet to pull it off, he suddenly snatches your wrist, stopping you instantly.

“If you need touch me, ask before doing so.” His voice is nothing more than a growl.

You almost roll your eyes, starting to truly become annoyed with this knight. You invited him into your home and you’re willing to be his bedside nurse...and he has the audacity to request something like this.

Again you’re forced to put your personal feelings aside for the sake of your patient and for the maintenance of your bedside manner, forcing a smile onto your face. “With all due respect, sir, I’m your nurse for the time being. I will be needing to touch you quite often. Am I really expected to ask each and every time?”

“Yes.” He replies.

Your jaw clenches and you wish nothing more in this moment than to smack this man right across the face.

“Fine. May I please remove your helmet?”

Sparing you the assurance of a vocal reply, the mask simply nods, and you pull it over his head. When the face of your patient is revealed to your eyes, you’re appalled.

It’s Sir Kylo Ren...the man that murdered your husband.

You drop the helmet onto the ground, metal clattering as it rocks back and forth once it’s settled in one spot on the hardwood. This can’t be real.

He snarls. “Why are you looking upon me with that expression? Have you never seen a man before? I have wounds that need tended to, girl, and I’d like to be out of here before sundown.”

Anger begins to boil your blood, tears burning in your eyes as you look down at the man before you.

“You bastard.” Your hand raises, ready to strike him clean against the cheek. He catches your fist in his hand before you can, though.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” Kylo warns, squeezing your fist. “I’ll have to have you beheaded for hitting an army man, and your head is much too pretty to be put to such waste.”

You snort, yanking yourself from his grip, teeth gritting as you walk out to fetch all the medical supplies. He’s wearing a cocky expression when you walk back in.

“I recognize you.” He says.

You huff, unamused. “How could you possibly recognize me? We’ve never met.”

His lips curl up into a devious smirk. “You’re right, we haven’t met before, but I recognize you from your husband’s description. I asked him what you looked like, since he was babbling on and on about you.”

You freeze up, bottom lip beginning to quiver as Sir Kylo continues.

“Then I drove my blade straight through his pathetic chest, and later that night, I touched myself as I thought of you.”

He chuckles deviously.

“Bedswerver!” You yell, cocking your fists once more and lunging at him, ready to strike once more. But then, you stop yourself, knowing the consequences you’d surely face should you actually hit him.

Your fists lower and you simply say nothing, preparing the cloths in the warm water. The tears run down your cheeks on their own volition, but you quickly wipe them away before turning back towards him.

“He wasn’t worthy of your company, Y/N.” Kylo says as you begin to clean the wounds on his stomach. “And he clearly didn’t satisfy you in the way you needed, considering the manner in which you looked over my body when I took my armor off.”

His hand reaches around and squeezes your ass, making you jump.

“How long has it been, little lamb? A young woman like you shouldn’t have to live without a man to satisfy her aching need.”

You can’t pretend that you’re not aroused by his words, by his touch. But you’d never let him have you, not in a thousand years. So, you quickly swat his hand away and continue cleaning his wounds. “That’s none of your concern, Sir Kylo. I am perfectly content without a man and that’s all I’m going to say on the matter.”

He laughs. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. I bet you’re aching right now, just from my words and my simple touch.”

Before he can touch you further, you back away, limbs trembling with anger and frustration. You dunk the bloody rag back into the bowl of water, ring it out a bit, then throw it onto his chest.

“Clean the wounds yourself, since you can obviously move your hands and arms perfectly fine.” You say, wiping your own on a dry cloth. “I’ll be back to bandage you in a bit.”

“Don’t think of me too much, lamb. You’ll release too quickly.” He snickers as you slam the door shut behind you, bursting into tears the moment you step foot into your bedroom.

You sob quietly, the freshly-healed stitches of your heart popping open one at a time, the grief and pain of losing your beloved consuming you once more.

And now you’re here, mending his killer.

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

It takes everything you have, every ounce of willpower, to wake up and face Sir Kylo every single day. You know you’re doing the right thing by helping him, but that doesn’t make dealing with him any easier.

He’s impossibly stubborn, arrogant beyond comprehension, and increasingly grumpy. But, you just have to keep going, keep pushing through, reminding yourself that each day brings you closer and closer to his inevitable departure.

You’ve all but blocked out his inappropriate and antagonizing comments or remarks, just getting his bandages replaced and then leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Today, though, he’s achieved a new level of jackassery, a thing you thought impossible until he did it. And boy, did he do it.

“I’ve made arrangements for a few whores to come and provide me some...company.”

Your fist tightens around the bandage in your hand. He smirks.

“You’re more than welcome to join us. There’s plenty of me to go around, little lamb. You’ll get your turn.”

“No, thanks. I think I’d rather stab myself with a sword.” You reply, beginning to switch out his bandages. “You’re lucky I’m even allowing it to occur in my house.”

He just chuckles. “You’d probably be bad, anyway.”

You suddenly rip the bandage off of his skin, causing him to cry out in pain. He looks at you, and you glare down at him. “Just...can you please just stop talking for once in your life? Must you always berate me when all I’ve done over the past few weeks is take care of you? Is this what kindness, genuine kindness, gets me?”

He suddenly seems to sober up, to let what he’s done to you sink in. It doesn’t last long, but you still see it. Perhaps he does have the capability to feel at least some sense of remorse.

Kylo stays quiet for the rest of the time you tend to his wounds, and when you turn to leave, the two words you’ve been convinced are not in his vocabulary, come from the behind you.

“Thank you.”

This sliver of empathy is short lived, especially after the girls from the local brothel make their way up to his room.

“Oh! Oh! Sir Kylo!”

You shake your head, attempting to read in the study, which is located on the other side of house from the guest bedroom. Yet, their screams, cries and the various other lewd noises still manage to make their way to your ears.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” “Take it, whore, take it!” “Kyloooooooo!”

The temptation to go up there and kick the girls out is increasing by the second, but you don’t. Maybe this will help mellow him out a bit, make him more manageable. Plus, you’re pretty sure that you’d have to carve your eyes out after walking in on whatever they’re doing up behind that closed door.

Unfortunately for you, it becomes progressively more difficult to focus on your book as the burn between your thighs intensifies. It’s been almost two years since your husband was murdered, which means that it’s been a little over that since you were last intimate with someone.

Normally, and up until Sir Kylo entered your household, you were more than fine subduing your sexual desires. You haven’t once touched yourself, not that you’d really know how to anyway, and you certainly weren’t about to start now.

You cross your legs, hoping that’ll quell some of the burning, but it only makes it worse. Another half an hour passes and your hand now rests on your thigh, slowly inching down towards your soaked and quivering pussy.

Just a quick touch won’t hurt...he doesn’t have to know...

Luckily, a knock at the door brings your motions to a stop. You sigh in relief, walking over to open the door. When you do, you’re met with a bandaged bare torso, a very muscular bare torso. His skin glistens with sweat and the smell of sex radiates from his essence.

He’s still breathing heavily as he stands in the doorway, looking down at you.

“We’re finished upstairs.” He says breathily. “I’m due for my afternoon bandage change, whenever you’re ready.”

You watch him saunter away, admiring the way his muscles stretch and tense with each stride. You’re burning up by now, both your skin and your arousal, and you wonder how you’re going to get through this next bandage change.

When you enter the room, the musk of sex is thick in the air, humidity at a suffocating level. You try to ignore it, try not to let it get to you, but it’s just surrounding you.

Your skin begins to glisten, brow furrowed as you focus on trying to change these bandages as quickly as possible. Kylo seems to take notice of your hurry, your sudden perspiring.

“Is something wrong?” He asks you, biting back a smirk. “You seem flustered.”

Nodding, you continue on with the bandaging. “I’m fine, just a bit warm is all.”

Kylo hums, reaching down to grab your wrist as you reach up to re-bandage the wound on his chest. He brings your fingers up to his lips, sucking the tips into his mouth gently, tongue swiping over the pads of your digits.

You try to pull away, to leave before you do something you regret, but his hold on you is firm. And if you’re honest with yourself, you don’t actually want him to stop.

Oh lord, this is bad. It’s so wrong. You shouldn’t want this. He murdered your husband, the man you loved. He’s so smug and cocky and yet...it’s what you’ve been wanting this whole time, the thing you’ve tried to suppress, to not let yourself want.

But now, everything else be damned, you want this. You need this. And damnit, you’re gonna have it.

His lips release your fingertips with a lewd pop! sound, an arrogant smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You haven’t tried to pull away or tell me off in a minute or two. Is everything alright?”

You huff. “Just do it.”

He raises his eyebrows, sitting up a little. “Do what? What do you want me to do, little lamb?”

“You know what I want.”

“Oh yes, I’m fully aware of what you want.” He smirks. “But I want to hear you say it out loud.”

You cross your arms on your chest, trying to ignore the twang of guilt that shoots through you as you prepare to say the words aloud.

“Fine. I want you to f-fuck me.”

“That’s right. I knew you wanted it.” Kylo takes your hand and trails it down his muscular abdomen, stopping just above where his loincloth sits on his hips.

“Take it off.”

You’re chewing your lip numb as you reach down and undo the tie holding the garment on. Your breath hitches as you slide it off, exposing his member, which is hardening steadily.

“Instead of staring, perhaps you’d like to try touching it?” He smirks.

You shoot him a glare. “Stop talking, for once in your life, please spare my ears the sound of your constant squabble.”

Kylo chuckles, putting his hands behind his head.

Your hand wraps around the base of his length, and he grunts softly. It’s your turn to wear a smirk.

“Oh, do you like that, Sir Kylo?”

He huffs. “Every man likes their cock being touched. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

You squeeze his shaft, drawing a deep grunt from his lips and small buck of his hips. He looks away, jaw clenched in an attempt to prevent any further noises.

This fact only makes you more determined, hand pumping his cock with more vigor, alternating between different paces and pressures to really drive him crazy.

You’re thoroughly enjoying this, drinking in the sight of him trying his absolute hardest not to react to the touches that so obviously arouse him. You tease him even more, using your fingers to touch certain parts of his length.

Well, it’s fun for the few minutes it lasts, but suddenly, you find yourself in his position, laid back on the cot. He’s on top of you, now, pushing the skirts of your dress up, fingers yanking the laces on your bodice.

He quickly pulls it off, followed by your skirts, leaving you in only your mamillare and your loincloth. His eyes roam your newly exposed skin for a moment before his hand slips down between your thighs, fingers pressing up against the fabric.

“I knew it. Were you listening, little lamb? Were you listening to me fuck those whores and wishing it was you?”

Your breath hitches. “Well, it was sort of hard not to listen when the girls were screaming.”

His fingers wrap around the waist tie, pulling them down to fully expose your wet heat. He smirks, rubbing around until he finds that one spot that has your back arching and a gasp escaping your lips.

Before he can even say anything, you reiterate his words in a mocking tone. “Every woman likes being touched there. Don’t go thinking that it means anything.”

He huffs, rubbing you harder.

“Tell me how wet you got when you heard me fucking those whores. Tell me that you wanted a turn on my cock, wondered how good I’d feel inside you.”

“N-No.” You say, a stern expression on your face. “I’ll never say that to you.”

His jaw clenches as he bends down, lips next to your ear. “You'll be screaming it once I’m done with you.”

Your eyes widen when his fingers slowly press up into your entrance.

“Kylo...” You’ve never been touched in this way before. It’s...different, and not necessarily unpleasant.

He sees your hesitation. “Trust me, you’ll like it.”

And you did.

His digits begin moving in and out of you, curling up occasionally to stimulate a certain tender spot inside you. You’re biting down on your lip, surely hard enough to break the skin, trying your darndest not to give him the privilege of hearing your noises.

As you did to him, seeing you suppress your noises only spurs him on more, movements becoming quicker, swifter. Your orgasm draws closer with each skilled stroke, but just before you reach your peak, he pulls out.

You thought you wanted to hit him before; now, you kind of want to pop some of his abdomen stitches.

“Why did you do that?”

He laughs devilishly, reaching down to pump his cock, slicking it with the juices of your arousal. “You didn’t think I’d actually let you get off that easily, did you?”

“Well, I was sort of hoping...”

You’re brought to silence when he crawls on top of you, trapping you beneath his massive form. His mushroom head swirls around your entrance, collecting some of your slick before pressing it inside of you.

It’s been quite a while since you’ve had anyone, and you don’t think you’ve ever had someone of his size before, so you gasp softly as he presses forth. Soon, his entire length is seated in you, stretching and filling you to the brim.

His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he tries to remain still in order to allow you an adjustment period. Once you’ve had some time, he begins moving his hips, rolling them at a steady pace.

“Knew you’d have a nice little cunt,” He growls, teeth baring. “So wet and tight for me, little lamb.”

You bite your numbing lip in an attempt to prevent any of the desperate moans or cries that want to escape. He’s doing something similar, jaw clenched tightly.

Only the wet squelch and sharp snapping of skin colliding can be heard between the two of you, minus the occasional grunt or sharp inhale from either of you, which is quickly shut down almost as soon as it slips out.

Soon, you feel your climax begin to appear on the horizon, walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. He takes notice, quickly speeding his rhythm up, exhaling loudly through his flared nostrils.

He’s getting close, too, balls pulling up as his body prepares itself for orgasm. The energy between you two, as well as your physical movements, quickly turn desperate.

“Don’t release inside me.”

“I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to.” He says, smugly.

You huff, rolling your eyes. “I see that even the throws of passion and ecstasy is still not enough to tamper your unbearable attitude.”

“There is nothing that can stop me from taking the opportunity to get a rise out of you, milady.” He smirks before his brows knit in the center of his forehead. “If you’re gonna cum, I suggest you do it s-soon.”

Your eyes flutter shut, hips attempting to lift up off the mattress, wanting him to hit that certain spot inside you. As soon as you find the right angle, a choked sob leaves your lips as you’re quickly brought and tossed over the edge.

Kylo groans softly, thrusting rapidly before pulling out at the last minute, spilling his seed all over your abdomen.

Both of you are breathless as you ride out your climaxes, basking in the peaceful bliss that washes over your body, basking in the luxury of his utter and complete silence. It was a welcome change, a much-needed reprieve from the past few weeks of dealing with him.

He eventually flops down onto the mattress beside you, grabbing and re-securing his loincloth around his hips. You’re already a bit sore from being stretched for the first time in two years.

“May I just sleep here tonight, Sir Kylo? Unless you’d like to carry me back over to my bedroom.”

The side-eye he gives you is incredibly humorous, but you contain your laughter, not wanting to add oil to the flame.

“I won’t be a bother. I will stay on this side of the cot; you’ll barely even know I’m here.”

“Are you truly incapable of walking yourself back to your bedroom after one session of fucking? Was I really that amazing that I’ve left you unable to move about the house?” He laughs.

"And suddenly, the pain of walking over to my room seems less painful than staying here and listening to your vexing squabble.”

Kylo huffs. “If you stay here for the night, you may not breach the center of the mattress. I will kick you out if you even come close to bumping into me or making any sort of physical contact.”

Mocking his words from earlier, you smirk. “I’m flattered that you think I’d even want to touch you.”

“Very funny.” He says, flatly, rolling over to face away from you. “Just stay on your fucking side of the bed.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up to braid your hair for bed before fluffing the goose-feather pillow beneath your head, settling down for the night. Soon, Sir Kylo’s obnoxious snores bounce off the walls and you put your pillow over your head, hoping to muffle the noise.

God, even his snores are arrogant.

The next morning, when your eyes flutter open at the first sign of light through the window, you find the sheets next to you vacant.

You sit up, eyebrows furrowed as you look around the room, ears open to listen for any noise anywhere in the house. You don’t hear anything.

Then, you see a piece of rolled up parchment on his pillow along with a small satchel. When you open the pouch, you’re shocked to see a pile of shiny coins. You unrolled the note, reading the sloppy script.

For the medical supplies and for your trouble. Here’s hoping our paths never cross again.

-Kylo

As you read the very brief and to-the-point note, you can practically hear his snide voice in your head reciting it. The cold, cocky tone of his words shone through the parchment and ink, incredibly so. You huff, tossing the note back onto the pillow before getting up to begin the day.

Well...at least you’ll never have to see him again.

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