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brailsthesmolgurl · 27 days

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Remember me?

Preview: You had gotten into a terrible accident. What happens when your memory of him had faded? What would he do to regain your love for him?

Warnings: Angst with comfort. Suggestive as well ;)

P.S: Xavier girlies really be getting a treat because I made sure to make his part a little longer than usual as i always struggled with writing Xavier :,)

ZAYNE

Rushing into the ER, Zayne’s footsteps came to a sudden halt when he watched you getting pushed into a room on a stretcher, a crash cart finding its way next to your side. He had received a call from your colleague Tara, crying on the phone explaining that your heroic actions had been a disastrous one as your were outnumbered by a sudden influx of wanderers. You managed to kill most of them, but in return, you too sustained some severe injuries.

Prior to Tara's call, you had tried to call Zayne, or in fact, just trying to reach out to anyone possible as you knew that you were not going to pull through the next hit. But as you were about to press the green dial button, a wanderer charged towards you from behind and successfully knocked you down. You would have easily avoided that collision if you were not in such a weakened and drained state. When your back hit the ground, your vision immediately turned black like a television that got turned off.

“Dr. Zayne, you have to leave.” The attending instructed the nurses to push him back but Zayne turned, knowing the Hippocratic oath he had taken had to be respected as the other doctors would serve you within your best interest. The man returned to his office, his mind a blank slate as he did not know nor expected to see you in such a condition. You were knocked out cold, blood painting your face as it flowed down from the top of your scalp. Your clothes were torn and roughed up, showing lacerations that calls for infections. Doctors and nurses in the ER swarmed you, tugging off the covers to reveal a gaping hole on the side of your hip.

He could not bring his feet to leave, stagnant at his current spot as he watched nurses intubated you, doctors drawing cultures from your body so it could be tested in the lab. It did not fazed him when this is a norm for him on a daily basis, yet he could not help but to be bothered at the fact he could not do anything as he watched you from the point of a bystander. The memories of you laying in the scarlet tainted bed would never be out of his mind ever again.

The next day, Zayne stopped by your room during his lunch break, a paper cup in his hand, filled with hot chocolate. His lunch break would usually be spent in his room, with one of the nurses stopping by to hand him his meal and he shall eat in peace in his office while going through patient files or simply read a book for his own entertainment. But it is different this time, he had abandoned his lunch break routine just to stand at the window that views directly into your room.

He mentally counted the amount of tubes that were attached to your limbs. Two IV poles stood on each side of your bed, like guards on duty, holding up packs of liquid substances that works to provide nutrients for your injured body. Your face had a couple of plasters on them, mimicking patches of your skin, while protecting your wounds from getting contaminated. Zayne had to constantly remind himself that you were just taking a nap but his logical mind would not let him succumb to those imaginary thoughts. You are in fact, in a concussed state.

It took two days for Zayne to receive a notification from his pager informing him about you regaining consciousness and the cardiologist was quick to dismiss his current patient, jotting a quick prescription and handing it to them. When he was asked why was he in a hurry, he came up with a banal excuse that has something to do with a toilet break and he rushed out of his room with hasty footsteps. Taking the stairs straight to the second floor instead of riding the elevator as he has no time to waste. When he arrived at your room, he waltzed right in. Your attending stood next to you, going through the charts, chatting with one of her cohorts, fingers pointing on the chart from one end to another, perhaps discussing about another possible upcoming diagnosis.

“Y/n.” His voice was surprisingly calm as he approached you but the attending doctor of yours held him by his arm and a shake of her head indicated a warning sign. Zayne looked at the two doctors and back towards you, eyes of hazel-green meeting yours. “What is the diagnostic?”

“She had just woken up from her concussion, head trauma might suggest short-term amnesia. But it was unsure how long it would take for her to recover her memories. So, if she does not remember you, I would suggest taking things slow.” The doctor informed Zayne, her tone professional but certainly held hints of wariness. It was rare to see Zayne being emotional over a patient, let alone this patient who is not even within his care. She surely is a special one to Zayne, the attending assumed and together with her colleague, they both left the room to give Zayne and y/n some space.

You watched the guy doctor approached, his face held no emotions. You caught the black name tag on his coat, ZAYNE. He looked surprisingly young to be a doctor, it made you wonder what department he works in. His raven hair was neatly styled, framing his chiseled features well. For a moment, you had a sense of deja vu, as if you remembered him from somewhere. But the memories vaporised as soon as you tried to recall it, making this man in front of you a total mystery.

“Hi.” You smiled, cheery as ever but with a nasally voice. You figured he must care for you if he were to come and visit you during his working hours right? Zayne’s eyes lit up as he took a seat right next to your bedside. “Thanks for visiting me, although…I am not quite sure who you are. But still, thank you.” The doctor’s emerging smile dropped, realising that your amnesia would have been more serious than what was estimated.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Weeks had passed by, then came along with months but even till now, your memories remained black. You do not recall Zayne at all, his face provided not even a bit of a vague memory of both of your shared past, his voice sounded still as stoic and foreign, but you always had this bubbling feel within your belly, and it only ever comes around when you are with him. This applies for the moments when he would come to your office to pick you up, suddenly stopping by your house to hand you some of desserts that he managed to discover, and spending what you thought was unnecessary effort for someone that he 'barely knew'.

Pushing the glass door open, you stepped into a coffee shop, the waft of coffee beans and freshly baked pastries enveloped your nose. This place looked familiar to you with cosy warm lightings on all corners, booth seatings made out of plush velvet cushions and wooden tables that have carvings on it that surely cost the coffee shop a pretty penny. Your eyes scanned the occupied seats and rested upon a figure in a man in a white button up. His posture was straight, head tilted just low enough to capture the phone's screen.

Once you got close enough, the doctor reacted naturally when he spotted the outline of your shadow. He did chose to sit in an obscure corner, so if someone were to approach, he would automatically assume its you. With a tap of a button, the screen on his phone turned dark and he looked up, adjusting his spectacles that was perched on his nose bridge. “You are late.” He stated as he quietly studied your outfit for today. A white turtle neck with a pair of black jeans, put together with a black leather jacket that compliments your jet black boots. Simple but stylish. “I had already ordered for you, the usual of course.” He held up the ceramic cup and drank from it, feeling the warm coffee hitting the back of his throat, leaving a bitter trail for his taste buds.

“I’m sorry, I just got delayed by traffic but thank you for ordering for me, it was nice of you to do so.” Too nice. Ever since you had regained full range of motion and slowly got back onto your feet, you had became too nice that it was a strange phenomenon for Zayne. Low-key, he missed your borderline witty retorts and occasional petty remarks. That was a part of you that he longed for. “So, why are we here again?”

The young man swirled the coffee in his cup, watching the liquid sloshed around. “I just figured you might remember this coffee shop.” His attempt to make you remember him is still very much present and ongoing. “As this was where we had our first date.”

“Well, it does look familiar.” You looked around, taking in the view of the amazing cafe. “But, still nothing comes to my mind. I am sorry Zayne.” Another failed attempt which was already expected by Zayne the moment you had entered the doors to this cafe. Hearing you addressing his name every time was a comfort and yet a curse because you calling his name did not mean anything anymore.

The doctor sat in front of you provided both you and himself a smile of solace. “It’s alright. You do not have to apologise every time if you do not recall the memories we once had. I will just keep on trying.” The waitress then approached the both of you, laying down the desserts and pastries that Zayne had ordered. “Here, have it as much as you want. It shall be on my tab.”

Staring at the array of desserts, your vision paused at the strawberry roll. The cylindrical delicacy doused in a layer of butter and decorated heavily with fresh whipped cream and strawberries. Before you could manage to taste a piece, your daydream beckoned you, flashes of memories came along, showing visions of you eating desserts with Zayne. The both of you standing side by side, debating on which coffee would match which dessert better and finally deciding on the strawberry roll. The same strawberry roll that earned him a toothache and you eventually accompanied him to the dentist, your nags could be heard through the playback in your head. “Are you alright y/n?” Zayne’s voice interrupted your vision.

“I…I need the washroom.” You pushed your chair back and hurried off into the bathroom. Jamming yourself into one of the stalls, you sat yourself down onto the toilet cover and held your head in your palms. The throbbing pain on your frontal lob causing you to feel waves of nausea. Your breaths started quickening as you felt like you were strapped down to a roller coaster of emotions involuntarily, going through tunnels at light speeds, replaying all of your memories along the way. Then it stopped. You just sat on the toilet cover now, tears stinging your eyes as you take in your surroundings.

The day before you went onto a mission, Zayne and you had a fallout, arguing over the fact he was too busy with his schedule and constantly cancelling his meet ups with you just to attend to his patients. You knew he had an important role to play within the hospital, but his last minute cancellations was the main reason you got riled up when you confronted him about it. Not to mention his indifference further fuelled your anger. The argument that night was inconclusive, the both of you agreed to have your own time, only to result in solemn sighs and quiet cries. The next day, the fight between the both of you partially held the blame when you were in the middle of the battlefield, too drained from your lack of sleep. Then, your inability to focus while fighting Berserk Wanderers made you pay the price.

But when Zayne caught sight of you for the very first time in the stretcher, the fight never mattered anymore. If apologising would bring you back, he would have done it without hesitation. He took the blame too, silently cursing himself, questioning himself if things would have taken a better turn if he chose to hold you close and apologise for that night, to promise you that he would spend more time with you. The promise was only played out when you regained consciousness. How he wished you could have remembered, seeing that he had made time for you just the way you would have wanted him to.

He would always accompany you to your physiology appointments, visiting you often after he is done with his shifts, forgiving you every time you do not remember scenarios or locations that had played a significant part in both of your relationship. It must have been an aching journey for him. From the throbbing pain, your head started feeling heavy and you collapsed in the stall.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Waking up, your hands pushed down against satin sheets in an attempt to sit yourself up. The room you are in is definitely not yours, the pristine white walls with darkish blue accents belong to Zayne’s. Just as you thought of him, he appeared through the doorway, wooden tray in hand as he walked over to you. A cup of water with pills in a transparent plastic cup, and two pieces of bread sat on the tray. “You passed out when you were in the washroom earlier on, but I do not sense anything serious so I brought you home and figured Ibuprofen would settle your issue for now.”

“Zayne.” The way you called him made him perked his ears up as he laid the tray down. “I am sorry for everything.” He looked at you, the lights in his room casting a glow on his face, showcasing the creases in between his brows as he was confused over your apology. “I am sorry I don’t remember you.” The tears of yours got released and they flowed down your face. Your sincerity broke his guard and he leaned forward hugging you, pulling you tautly against his torso. Nobody could explain nor understand the amount of relief that was rushing through his system now, shooting endorphins and dopamines straight through the roof of his head.

He nuzzled into your neck, breaths taken in long and slow drags as he tried to calm himself down. He was never used to showing emotions but just for this one time, he could let himself loose. “You don’t have to be.” He rubbed his palms on the side of your arms, consoling you from sobbing.

“I missed you so much.” Your arms wrapped around him in return, smiling at his overwhelming response. “I really missed you. You did so much just for me.”

He pulled back, hands cupping your face immediately, sighing in relief. “I only did what was deemed necessary to bring you back to me. No matter how long it takes, I will keep on trying.” Lurching forward, your lips caught his in heated passion, thanking him for his efforts through your actions. You had missed his kisses, lips overlapping over one another then parting, allowing tongues to dance for dominance. His arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you to sit onto his lap, a tent evidently pressing against you. His other hand went to the back of your neck and he pulled back, searching your expressions for a confirmation to his further actions. “Would you like me to continue?”

“Yes.” Your one-worded answer approved of his arousal and the both of you continued kissing fervently. This time with your hands exploring the expanse of his upper torso, feeling his muscles with every touch. “I love you.”

Getting to hear those words coming from your mouth again, he picked you up by your thighs and laid you onto his bed, climbing over on top of you as he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, eyes raking through your body, desperately wanting to reveal what was underneath your conservative clothing and wanting to revel himself in pleasing you. “I love you too.” Your hands reached up to cup his cheeks this time, smiling. “Allow me to take this slow, all night. Till you remember me fully.”

XAVIER

“You take the two on your right and I will take on the big one.” Summoning your guns out of thin air, you gripped it familiarly within your palms, the metal grips on your guns cold to your touch. You looked at the wanderer in front of you. The size of it outweighed the wanderers that Xavier was tasked to deal with. The wanderer is shaped like a dragon, floating above the ground, with metallic scales all over its body that forms a shield as part of its defence mechanism. Talons sharp and hard as a diamond came slashing at the speed that could only be counted in milliseconds and you dodged it at the perfect timing, a few strands of your hair suffered the damage of its talons. “Tsk, you are certainly feisty.”

“Are you hurt?” Xavier is already dashing over to you, him dealing with the two wanderers barely took 5 seconds. It was a simple slash and dash for him. You regained your stability, standing up straight and getting into a combative stance, the blond man joining you by your side, sword raised and aimed at the foul wanderer. “Let’s take it down together.”

The both of you moved in sync like a dance is taking place in the middle of battlefield. The wanderer utilised its talons and tail to its best attempt to attack the both of you but the bigger they are, they tend to be slower in motion. That added an advantage to both Xavier and you. The man hollered at you as he jumped up, distracting the dragon and you denoted his instructions, charging in at full speed. The talons of the dragon then came towards you. Yet, everything seems to happen in slow-motion as you kicked yourself off of the ground and did a somersault, counteracting against the movement of the talons and safely avoiding it. Xavier appeared beneath you, his teleportation abilities an extremely useful tactic for displacement.

Dropping on one knee, he reached his hand out and you used the platform on his palm to provide a leverage for you to gain momentum for height, springing yourself up into the air, rotating in circles before angling yourself face-first towards the dragon like creature. The dragon roared as it spotted you, talons now flying upwards to stop your strike. You waved your hand and the guns switched to a blade similar to Xavier’s but with a silver hilt and a red tip. Fast as a bullet, you avoided the attack of the dragon yet again and this time jammed the blade right onto the top of its head. The dragon screeched before fading into dust particles and the Protocore that it carried fell to the floor with a clink. “How was that move just now?” You smirked, awaiting a compliment as you landed onto the ground steadily.

“It can use some work.” Xavier spoke nonchalantly, bending down to pick up the Protocore before crushing it in his hands, not wanting anyone else to get their hands on it, especially those who are not associated with your organisation. You placed a hand onto your chest and gasped dramatically, feigning being insulted. “You deserve that for letting me deal with the weaker ones and with you dealing with the dragon all by yourself. You could easily get hurt.” His display of puppy eyes might fool everyone else other than you. You can see the smirk right through him.

“Well you’re always the show off, it is time for me to grab that spotlight by now.” You huffed, arms crossing over your chest in disappointment and he laughed, walking over to you and pulling your arms away from your torso, his smile genuine this time.

“I can never win an argument against you, so I give up okay?” He raised his hand up and brushed what seemed to be left of the dragon ashes off of your head. The sudden interaction of his got you speechless. “Nothing to say? Cat got your tongue?” He teased and you sent a light punch towards his way, aiming right at his torso. “Ouch.”

At this point, both of you could not hide your feelings for one another. It was so obvious to the point Tara would always mock that the both of you ‘are a force so great that gravity could not even pull you both apart’. Tara’s point was widely agreed by everyone else within the same department and even reaching towards the data mining department and the HR department. Well, looking onto the bright side, at least you guys have more support than rejection. Captain Jenna however, presented her disapproval towards their relationship as ‘business and personal matters are not a good concoction’ as quoted by the superior of theirs. Still, majority decision matters and Xavier have strong beliefs that the both of you would be able to still keep things professional while pursuing a relationship.

“Let’s grab some ramen, I am hungry.” The usual routine ensues. It is not a routine if there are no food gatherings after a mission, or specifically, one that involves you. “This time, it will be on me.”

𓆩⟡𓆪

Xavier’s superbike engine increased in volume as the acceleration increases. Wind hitting the both of your faces like some form of karmic payback for going so fast on the streets. Clouds were being shoved in the skies, eating up the sun light that once provided warmth and exchanging it for clouds of storms. The rain then poured rampantly, wetting everything in its path and coating the tar roads in a sheen of wax-like surface. Xavier twisted the handle further and that pushed the bike faster, you holding on tighter to his waist as he registered himself to be in a race with the rainstorm. Something about Xavier riding his bike like a wild man does something to me :,)

They are almost at their destination, the marker point for the restaurant could be seen on Xavier’s phone screen that had the GPS system running. “We are almost there.” He called out from his helmet, the indicator of his speedometer showing that he is nearly achieving the top speed on his superbike. The good thing about modern technology nowadays is that there are no struggles to speak in a normal tone when there is a built in microphone within the helmet. Back in the days, talking on a motorbike in motion would involve a lot of yelling as the deaden wind noises would act like giant ear plugs in one’s ears, making it difficult to communicate.

Turning a corner, his tyre screeched in rejection, a normal phenomenon for him using wet tyres that provides a better grip on slippery roads during such rainy seasons. What was unexpected however, was the lorry that appeared right in front of them, blaring its horns as the driver was seen stepping onto the brakes, inertia taking over when his body was jerked back, praying for his brakes to take control of the vehicle. “Xavier!” You screamed out as Xavier turned the bike’s head over to the other side to prevent colliding into the lorry but it was too late. A loud bang came through and you just remembered falling harshly onto the ground, landing on back first and darkness took you right away.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Beep. Beep. Beep. Machines were heard, your body struggled to move as if chained down by restraints. Your head felt like it just went through a lobotomy, aching in deep throbbing pain. You slowly opened your eyelids, welcoming the sun light that had invited itself into your room. Your surroundings are clean, smelling like iodine and sterile alcohol. You looked down and realised you are in a loose blue hospital gown. You are in a hospital. For what reason though?

Your mind emitted a high pitched ringing as you tried to recall your last moments that had landed you into the hospital. All you managed to recall was you coming in contact with a wanderer alone, and after you had defeated it, everything else is a mystery. Hearing the door sliding open, you looked over, spotting a man walking in through the entrance. He is wearing a white oversized hoodie, layered over a baby blue T-shirt and matched with a pair of black jeans. This man looked like a model, with blond hair that could easily blend in with the sunlight and with eyes that is twinning with his T-shirt. “How are you doing?” His voice was not as deep as what you had predicted, but it does give it a distinct personality of its own.

“I’m fine, I guess.” You tried to sit up but the pain that jabbed your chest made you winced. The man took a seat next to you and with the press of a button, your bed slowly moved upwards. “Thanks.”

He watched you, eyes holding a glimmer of hope that you could not pinpoint on what he was hoping for. His hand reached out towards your face and you instinctively moved back, eyes widened in shock. He looked at you, face turning pale as he realised the reality of the situation. “Do you know who I am?”

“No.” Your quick response made him blinked twice, not knowing what to say at all. “Are you someone I know?” He could have heard his own heart cracked at that question of yours.

The nurses who were in charge of you had already acknowledged Xavier to be your sole caretaker. The lack of parents and caretakers within your family history indicated that you had nobody to rely on, other than this blond bloke that had constantly been bugging the nurses about your condition. They had informed him about the side effects of a concussion, including a period of amnesia. Xavier had seen this coming but it still hurts, given that he is the one to be held accountable for this outcome.

After that day at the hospital, Xavier no longer rode his bike, the damage inflicted upon the metal piece of garbage was so great that it now sat in the garage of his condo. Other than that, he was also traumatised by his accident that nearly costed the both of your lives. His self-recrimination got to him so much that it had affected his working attitude and causing him to be more closed off than ever.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Having the day all to yourself, you decided to explore the city on your own and hopefully you get to go to an arcade and catch one of those plushies that you have been eyeing for the past few days. The lack of Xavier in your life did not affect you as much. Since you had been discharged he would drop by your house every once in a while and you came to learn that he stays within the same building as you. But what you found interesting was the fact he would always buy you food that you crave for, and seemingly had always presented a liking for. It got you wondering if the both of you actually had a history together but since he did not say anything, you did not find the need to pry either.

The store stood proudly in between a coffee shop and a convenience store, its neon lights and floating holograms of this season's featured plushies made it a fanfare, inviting everyone that catches sight upon the store and kidnapping all of the families who are spending time for an outing. Couples are seemingly reeled in as well, leaving the singletons sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the cramped space. Just like y/n, sliding smoothly in between couples and families to arrive at the back of the store, where the plushies hailing from an older season would be secreted. Crowds would not clump at the back here given that the need to keep up with the latest plushies is a cool trend nowadays. But y/n’s decision to settle for an ‘out-of-the-season’ plushie characterises her to be a sentimental and loyal individual.

You exchanged for a couple of tokens, enough to fill a small bowl and you walked over to the machine of your choice, eyeing the bunny plushie in the middle of the pool of plushies. “Here I come.” You inserted a token into the coin slot and the machine jerked awake, lights flashed in front of you and a fast-paced nursery rhymed filled the silence. You looked into the mirror stationed at the back of the cubicle of the claw machine and a bright light pierced through it, swallowing you entirely. Then you were stood right next to the same machine, but you were focused on the couple manoeuvring the machine you had paid for. You were about to stop them till you realised that it was you and Xavier, standing next to one another, chatting and laughing as you guys watched the claw machine worked its magic.

You could not bring yourself to snap out of your own reverie, not when the presented scenario is full of warmth and …love. Your guts has been right all this while, the fuzzy confusion you get whenever he is near you, the sense of heightened self-awareness when he leans in to study your expressions, a slither of unknown jealousy coursing through you when you realised the nurses were asking for his contact information. It finally placed your brain back into your head. When you are brought back to reality, you blinked away your tears that stung at the back of your pupil and you recollected yourself, walking away from the machine and towards the exit. You are going to look for Xavier.

You knocked onto his door multiple times, series of knocks, pause, series of knocks, pause. Took him a good seven minutes to open the door. His hair is messy, eyes half lidded and yawns so dragged out that he could easily break the world record for being the best yawner. “Is everything alright?” The man in the pyjamas asked, looking concerned. But you dashed through his door and attached yourself into his embrace, the young man awoken in an instant. His arms now beside his torso, halfway upwards into the air when he tried to process what is happening at the start of his day.

“It’s not your fault Xavier.” You mumbled through his shirt, still loud enough to reach his ears. “I don’t want you to blame yourself.” You remembered the day you were deep in your dreamland till you were woken up by muffled sobs, your hands feeling wet to the touch. When you opened your eyes, you saw Xavier’s face was plopped in your hands and his body was jerking to every heave and pants he took. He was crying within your palms, blaming himself for the amount of pain he had inflicted upon you while he gets to walk off unharmed. Just the thought of seeing him cry again pains you.

He gets to reap faster than what he had initially sowed, with a mere expectation that you might get your memories back after a couple of months, but to get your memory back within two months time, he would have kissed heavens if he was allowed to. You felt his weight pressed into you and you stumbled backwards, back hitting against the closed door as a response. His arm now around your waist, steadying you before he pulled you closer, sandwiching you between the door and also his torso. “I wanted to do this for a long time.” His breath fanned your bangs, heating your cheeks up. “Would you mind if I do things to you that nobody else gets to?”

You gained just a tad bit of courage to look up at him and you gulped, seeing his orbs darkened, gleaming lustful desires behind it. He is not the only one with such dirty thoughts in his mind, for you bear the same thoughts as him. You want him just as much as he wants you, but there was just a gap between the both of you the whole time, the hesitant, the doubt and the fear of a mistake that was holding the both of you back. But as of now, perhaps not anymore.

Responding to your eager lust, you pressed your lips against his and he reciprocated it. Your lips parted and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in, caressing the insides of your mouth. His hand traced to your bum and he smoothed his palms over it, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "Did I ever told you how sorry I was about your accident?" He whispered against your plump lips, a passionate emblem brewed behind his cerulean orbs. Gasping, he lifted you up by swiftly hooking his arms under your thighs and pinning you harder against the door. "Tonight, let me apologise sincerely, and allow me to make it up to you." The night then gets darker but younger.

RAFAYEL

Seated on a wooden chair tucked behind a huge desk, the young artist crossed his legs under the table, eyeing the cue cards that he was given so he could get an idea on what answers he could opt for. But as what Thomas has predicted, Rafayel's fish brain would not even appreciate the aid of a script. Rafayel positioned the cue card at the very edge of the table and awaited for the curtains to be withdrawn.

Jazzy tunes started playing and the host of the interview roared out Rafayel's name belatedly. Heavy maroon drapes slowly drew back, revealing a standing ovation from the crowd and a grumpy Rafayel behind the desk. "Welcome Rafayel!" The young woman introduced herself to be Miss Kony. Everyone, Miss Kony even, are in awe with his effiminate features. Men hate his feminine looking features but women dig it. Rafayel on the other hand, knows that he owns the stage the moment he was revealed.

Almost at the end of the interview, MIss Kony was asking some handpicked fan-favourite questions towards Rafayel. "So what if, just what if you found out that someone you love someday had lost their memory about you?" The woman asked, hands smoothed over her yellow chiffon blouse and placing the cue card onto her lap, leaning in to catch his answer.

The young artist shrugged. "I don't know really. I think I would just get disappointed and leave." He was known for his impatience to everything except for his own artwork. "As I do have time for other things other than tending towards someone who barely remembers me. I might just take the time to continue doing what I do."

His answer received praises and whistles, earning admiration from his fanbase for someone being true to himself and also having to think of the 'bigger picture'. The interview that had took place ended on a particularly neutral note but the end of the night seemingly turned sour. Not only was he tailed by paparazzis all the way to his car and that he was late for a movie. The one movie that you would never shut up about, featuring some sappy drama with a very predictable ending. Rafayel wanted to express his distaste towards your movie choices but seeing you getting so excited over something so minute, his heart could not help but to be wrapped around your fingers. Sliding himself into the bucket seat of his hyper car, the artist held up a hand, signifying a blatant goodbye and to cease further questions. Starting the ignition, the car roared to life and he stepped onto the gas pedal and steered out of the parking lot.

You stood at the front of the cinema, eyes darting everywhere to search for a sign of a 6’ tall man with purple hair, good sense of fashion and dashingly good looks, but he was nowhere to be seen. You picked up your phone, squinting your eyes when you checked the time. He is late. Which is unusual of him. Before you could even control yourself, your mind had already started stirring up different scenarios of what could have happened to Rafayel and you got increasingly worried over him. Your fingers hovered over the green dial button, Rafayel’s name on your screen before you were interrupted by the screams of the general public.

Rafayel's phone vibrated for a few times before he picked it up, hearing your voice on the other end through the speakers of his car. "Rafayel, I think there is a bombing happening near—” A huge whirring could be heard and a high pitched ringing sent the call directly to an end note. The line emitting a no-signal dial tone caused Rafayel's heart to plunge. He looked at the phone, your name and profile picture the only thing that filled the screen before it turned off and the young man stepped pedal to the metal, the car’s turbine sound cutting through the quiet night.

His car screeched to a halt when he was greeted with barricades in the middle of the road, fire ablaze on multiple buildings and rubbles filled the once bustling streets. Security and medical forces are already at the scene, scavenging for survivors and treating victims of the unfortunate circumstance. “Tara!” He called out when he spotted a familiar outline of a female similar to your height but with a bob. The girl turned at the call of her name and her eyes widened, probably not expecting your boyfriend to be at the scene. “What happened here? Did you saw y/n?”

Tara looked like she had gagged onto the smoke but minus the coughing and actual physical struggle. Words are not pouring out of her mouth despite she is a proud extrovert. “There was a bombing.” She managed to mutter after a while of silence and intense staring. “We have yet to find her. We don’t know where she is.” She hesitantly looked down to check her hunter’s watch to avoid his gaze. She could tell that he is not taking the answer well.

“She was last seen at the cinema. Have you searched there yet?” He asked and watching Tara being hesitant again, he did not bother asking and he walked right in, getting a clearance from the authorities issued by Tara. He walked past rubbles, hearing for anything that could get him to locate you easier. Then, he stopped at the sight of a hand peeking out from under one of the cement rubble. The promise ring of his laid dormant on your ring finger, the ashen skin nearly similar to the rubble you are laid underneath.

“Y/N!” He shouted, sinking to his knees and started to dig through the rubble, his sudden movement caught the eyes of a few of the fire marshalls stationed at the site. They rushed over with their gear. “Please help, my lover is underneath the rubble!” He called out, still digging through the rubble.

“Sir, we are gonna need you to step back.” One of the man pushed him back, the young man indicated signs of reluctance but he knew that he does not have any tools that could lift up the huge piece of rubble anyways. “Once we get her out, you can be on the ambulance with her.” Another marshall placed a hand on his back, his voice and gaze reassuring enough to get Rafayel to back off to let them do their work. He stood aside, peering over their shoulders every once in a while, wanting to catch a glimpse of what they could manage to find. It didn’t take them long to lift your body out of the piles of rocks. Your body was limp, eyes closed and scarlet red painted a few streaks of colours on your beautiful yet pale face. “Y/n!” He called out to you but there were no responses, his legs matched the pace of the marshalls lifting your injured body towards the ambulance.

He got in right after the stretcher and sat down next to you, grabbing hold of your hand in his. He kept mumbling your name, peppering kisses over the back of your hand as if he was praying to a god. Ironic. The ambulance’s sirens wailed as the paramedics strapped themselves into the driver seats. “Hang on tight.” The driver’s voice could be heard through the plastic pane separating the patient’s mobile room. With the rev of an engine, the force of inertia caused Rafayel to jerk backwards as the ambulance sped through the traffic.

𓆩⟡𓆪

Batting your eyelashes a couple of times, you invited the sunlight into your vision after who-knows-for-how-long it has been. Your body felt sore as if you had been lifting weights too heavy for you, your head felt groggy like your nap had been too good, your hearing sense prickled whenever someone made too loud of a noise. By that, you meant the man in front of you who would not stop calling out your name when he opened the door to see your opened eyes. This man, his lilac-pinkish hued orbs widened with what you may describe as excitement. His smile is nothing less than dashing, he seemed like he is made for the television shows. Everything on him, from his head to his toe, a simple black formal button up, a pair of black slacks, and a pair of normal sneakers looked expensive on him. Maybe he does adorn those branded items, but you could not possibly tell at this moment.

“Do you remember me, my love?” His smile had reduced a little bit, perhaps due to your unresponsiveness when you initially woke up from your days of deep slumber. “Y/n?”

“I don’t know you.” You frowned, gaze avoiding his. You could hear slight shuffling, squeaks caused by the friction between the waxed tiled floor and the soles of his sneakers. “Do I happen to know you beforehand?” You tilted your head up and you watched the young man took a seat next to you, a face of disbelief tattooed onto his features. “Would you like to—”

“I’m Rafayel.” The man in front of you beamed, his sappy look somewhat disappeared into thin air. Although he knew that it would hurt for you to not remember him, but he felt like slapping himself in the face now. Saying something along the lines of not giving two shits to someone he loves if they were to forget him is just plain ignorant when he sits in front of you now, watching the love of his life not remembering him and yet he could not go forth with what was mentioned at the interview a couple of days back.

You still had one of your eyebrows quirked up, looking at him as if he is an alien. Still does not deny the fact that he is handsome according to your standards. "Do you at least remember your name and your job?" He crossed his arms in front of his chest. His shirt was tight enough for you to get a good peek at his taut chest.

"My name is y/n and I am a deepspace hunter. Yeah I guess I remember that bit." Judging at the way Rafayel barely spared a blink your way, you bit your lip and started to stir your memory. A little bit goes a long way when you caught hold of your other responsibility. "I am a bodyguard for someone I think."

Rafayel's lips curled into a smirk, nodding. He relaxed his arms and leaned back against the chair. "Good, we can work with this."

𓆩⟡𓆪

Slamming the oak doors, you gasped in shock when you spotted Rafayel laying motionless on the floor. "Rafayel!" You shouted, grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him like a cocktail shaker. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

The man's eyes suddenly widened and you dropped him, his head colliding with the hard floor with a thud. "OUCH!" He wailed in pain, rubbing the back of his head immediately. "Why would you do that?"

"You left me 13 calls when I was out at the field, I thought it was an emergency!" You fished your phone out of your pockets, revealing his name highlighted in red with a big number 13 next to his name. "Then I rushed here to see you lying on the floor like a dead fish!"

"It is an emergency." His pout emerged. "I am having a painter's block, I needed your input on my painting." He slowly sat up, dusting imaginary dust off of his shoulders.

Sighing, you stood up from your kneeling position. "Can't that wait till after I am done with work? I took half day off just for your so-called emergency." The annoyance in your tone was not as aggravating as what he had to endure before you had lost your memory. You held your hand out to him still, a frown fell upon your face.

He took your hand and stood up, his height easily towered over you. "I will make it up to you by bringing you out for dinner at any restaurant you want okay?" He placed both of his hands on your shoulders and he slowly guided you towards the corner that he always brainstorms for his pieces. His suggestion made you huffed in objection, but then, you are not entirely rejecting his idea.

Standing in front of the artwork, you analysed it, strokes in wavelike pattern covered most of the canvas, with a sketch of what seem to look like a jetty etched out on the bottom of the canvas. The artwork presents a setting held during twilight, the sunset and night sky bleeding into his art. A sudden high pitched ringing made you winced and you fell to the floor, clutching your head in agony. "Y/N!" You could hear him calling out to you but his voice slowly got muffled, like he was drowning in the waters drawn on his painting.

𓆩⟡𓆪

You woke up to the day you first met Rafayel, at the fair where he did this little trick to catch a small fish for you from the small pool. Your flashbacks then went on, projecting all of the moments you had spent with Rafayel and coming to the day he asked you to be his girlfriend while presenting the promise ring to you and to the moment the bombing happened before you could watch the movie at the cinema.

This time, you actually sat up, gasping for air as you felt cold sweat trickling down your forehead. Your memories of Rafayel had been revived and you could not hold back the tears that came. "Y/n, are you---" Rafayel's voice caught your gaze and you pushed yourself off of the bed and sprinted towards him, ambushing him with a hug so tight the artist nearly fell backwards. "Hey, hey what's wrong?"

"Raf...Rafe..." You sobbed, head buried into his cleavage. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The artist ran his hands through your hair, feeling the smooth and soft strands to his touch. "I'm sorry I don't remember you."

Rafayel at this moment, with you in his arms, felt nothing but relief crashing over him. One might think that he would be excited, and to pull her into a rib crushing hug to express his excitement. But, he did the exact opposite. His breath was calm, hands still working their way through your hair before he caught your jaw and angled your face upwards. Your eyes looked right into his coloured irises, adoration radiating through his gaze. "I missed you, do you know that?"

Your hands snaked up his forearms and you cupped your hands over his. "I am sorry for making you so worried, Rafayel." His thumbs brushed over your cheeks in sync, wiping off the tears that are coming to a near stop. He did not allow you anymore space to apologise by leaning down and kissing you. He eventually pried your lips opened by darting his tongue out to caress your soft lips for the opening.

His hands heaved you up by your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist, the fervent kiss providing a headstart for the long night ahead. Your back hit against the plush beddings and he ran his fingers teasingly up the inside of your thighs, making you hiss in pleasure. He pulled back, pupils dilated and breath ragged, rubicund dusted over his cheeks and ears. "You have to pay for making me so worried over you, yeah?" He danced his fingertips to the fly of your pants, but stopped right at the zipper. "If you do not want me to, tell me to stop."

Now it is your turn to run your finger teasingly down his neck, your nail drag leaving a hot trail on his skin. "I would actually ask you to stop if I do not remember you." You bit down onto your lip, eyeing him as he slowly started to unzip your pants with his skilled digits.

"If it's so, I will take my time all night to prove to you how much I love you until I am satisfied." He smirked and dived his head down to catch your lips once again, allowing his fingers to travel south, already planning to make you cry only his name for the rest of the night.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #lads x reader

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cherryredcheol · 2 months

Text

just...suck?

tldr: you need him to what? mentions: dad!jeonghan, breastfeeding, nipple sucking (but not sexy(?)), reader can breastfeed but no gendered terms used. a/n: i have never been pregnant/breastfed. sorry if this is inaccurate. i have no idea where this came from this is not smut but DNI if you're under 18

“okay lovie, she’s down for a nap. which means we have about an hour before she wakes up again. what do you want to do? need a shower? want to watch tv? hungry?” jeonghan spoke softly, coming down the stairs into the living room, not looking up at you as he fiddled with the baby monitor in his hands.

hana was just about 3 months old and although jeonghan had done everything he could to help, you were still your baby’s main source of nutrition and you were tired. and to top it all off you were pretty sure you had a clogged milk duct and it hurt.

jeonghan looked up from the monitor when you didn’t answer and rushed to your side when he saw the tears in your eyes. “lovie, what’s going on? are you okay? what can i do?” he settled gently next to you on the couch, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him.

“hannie,” your words were choked, voice thick with emotion, “i need you to do me a favor.”

jeonghan nodded, “anything, lovie. name it and i’ll make it happen.” he waited for you to collect your thoughts, rubbing your back softly.

you sat up a few moments later, wiping at your eyes to catch the couple tears that fell, and let out a big sigh, “it’s quite possibly the least sexy thing ever, so please don’t laugh. i really need you.”

“lovie, anything you need, i’m here for.” he was looking at you so softly, all the love in the world held in his eyes.

your face flushed before you even got the first word out, but you were brave and asked with your whole chest, “i have a clogged milk duct and it fucking hurts. can you please try to suck the clog out?”

if your chest didn’t feel like it was being stabbed every time you took a breath, you would’ve laughed at the look on jeonghan’s face.

“um, yeah. sure.” jeonghan shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. he’s not sure what he was expecting your favor to be but this certainly wasn’t it. he gestured vaguely to your chest, “you want me to just…suck?” he could feel the heat crawling up his neck.

he’s not sure why he was so embarrassed. he’s done worse things to you than suck your nipple. hell, that was barely foreplay. but this was the first time since hana had been born that the two of you would have any kind of intimate touch beyond kisses. suddenly he felt like that young man he was when you two first met. back in his first apartment, his small room with beige walls that he paid way too much in rent for.

you were a vision on his bed. usually silver-tongued, jeonghan was rendered speechless at the sight of you topless. he couldn’t believe his luck. he likes you so much. you get all his jokes and make even better ones, you’re so smart, and not to mention pretty. he’s pretty sure you were straight out of his dreams and here you were on his bed, in his room. his roommates had actually listened and made themselves scarce this evening so he could be alone with you. you’d only been on a few dates but he knew he was in it for the long haul with you. he could just tell.

his eyes flashed back up to yours, shy smile on his face, “can i just…suck?”

you were positively pink, also shy suddenly, “if you don’t want to, it’s okay. i read online it’ll probably go away on its own.”

jeonghan took a deep breath and met your embarrassed eyes, “i’ll do anything for you, lovie.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #svt #svt x reader #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan #jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan

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winterrrnight · 22 days

Text

there’d better be a mirrorball

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: you couldn’t attend senior prom, so your boyfriend bought the prom to you.

WARNINGS: mentions of puking and food poisoning, sweetheart rafe, usage of nicknames, intentional use of lower case

EDITH SPEAKS: huge huge thank you to miss @zyafics who had to see my poorly edited photo of a terrace and helped me figure out that it’s called a ‘gazebo’, except that picture didn’t actually have a gazebo in it (I’m sorry I’m so bad at explaining shit 😭) but yeah zya you’re a real one ilysm 💙🌟

if you liked reading this please consider reblogging! feedback is always appreciated 🪩

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it was the saddest day of your life.

you went to sleep all excited, your dress laid out, your shoes right next to the dress, your jewelry picked out, a clear image of your make up look in your head; just for you to wake up and do the last thing you’d expect for that day: puke.

your puke was unceremoniously cleaned up by your mom, who when touched her hand to your forehead, claimed that you were burning up. when you tried to speak, your voice barely came out – it was hoarse and heavy. and it was even worse when you couldn’t stand on your own two feet for a few moments before starting to feel an intense body ache that had you flopping back onto your bed.

“I’m sorry darling, but I don’t think you should go to prom today–”

“no!” came out your rough voice, tears starting to blur your vision as you took a look at your perfectly arranged dress and accessories for the coming night. your mom couldn’t bear to see the sight but she had to exercise her never expiring mom card and made you miss the prom.

you were laying in your bed, your curtains drawn and the lights turned off to not let any harsh lighting pulsate your already throbbing headache even more than before. you had called your boyfriend rafe and had given him the unbearing news of you not being able to attend prom because of your horrible health – which was concluded as food poisoning by your mother – and he felt his heart shatter with the news.

rafe, who was never interested in prom before, was looking forward to that night because you were his date. you made his decision regarding proms flip to a total 180 and convinced him on how fun it would actually be, and now what? now, you can’t go, you: the light to the dark side of his moon.

“then that’s simple, I’m not going either,” came his voice through your microphone. you groaned for what felt like the millionth time, and shook your head.

“you are going rafe,” you said, your voice clearing up just a bit thanks to those sharp tasting lozenges your mother dumped into your mouth. “okay? you are going. the rest of our friends are going to be there, and it’s the senior prom! you are going, and that’s final.”

damn. even when you’re lying sick in your bed, you still have your control over him.

rafe reluctantly agreed to go to the prom, but before he went there, he stopped by at your place to check up on you. he brought you some fresh flowers and put them in a vase to sit in your room.

“when I come back, I’m coming straight to you, okay?” he murmured softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead gently, not listening to your whines on how he shouldn’t kiss you because you were sick.

the hours passed, and you made a quick scroll through your social media – something which you knew you shouldn’t. there were already a gazillion pictures and short videos from the evening, everyone dressed up in fancy fabrics from head to toe, jewelry gleaming on their ears and necks, and familiar pop music played in the background. you sighed, feeling yourself getting more and more sad and left out as you practically threw your phone aside, and decided to just nap to get your mind off of it.

you were woken up by your name spoken by an all too familiar melodious voice, and a soft nudge to your shoulder.

“wake up baby…” you heard in your ear. you opened your eyes and were met with rafe’s bright blue ones. his blazer had come off and was hanging on his shoulder, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“yeah?” you muttered as you rubbed your eyes and sat up.

“come on, I want to take you somewhere,” he said in a hushed tone as he watched you awaken.

“take me where?” you asked and without any questions, you followed rafe’s lead, who helped you to your feet and helped you put on your shoes. he draped his blazer over your shoulders and took your hand, leading you out of your room.

“just come with me, you’ll love it,” he said softly, grinning from ear to ear as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and led you out. you lived only a few doors down from tannyhill, and rafe kept you well tucked under his arm as he kept up with your slower pace of walking than usual and led you to his place.

he led you inside the huge mansion, and when he saw how tired your body had gotten from the walking, he carefully picked you up bridal style and carried you up the stairs, all the way up to the terrace.

“now…” he hummed as he set you down, both of you standing right outside the closed door of the terrace. “i’m going to cover your eyes, okay?” he said softly, and when he saw you didn’t interject, he covered your eyes with his fingers. he opened the door and carefully led you out to the terrace.

“i’ll lift my hands in 3… 2… 1…”

at 1, his hands came off and you were greeted with a sight that made you gasp.

multiple strings of golden fairy lights hung all around the terrace, a record player spun in a corner, a table was covered with drinks, chocolates and other little treats, and to your right, right under the wooden gazebo, was a mirrorball.

a mirrorball hung right from the center of the gazebo, spinning slowly and slowly as it reflected silver light in different directions, producing a complex display. you gasped at the sight, the spherical object rotating and momentarily reflecting across you, the reflections mere spheres that appeared and disappeared on your body at different parts each time.

“rafe…” you muttered, and you felt his arms wrap around your waist from the back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“this is our prom baby,” you whispered in your ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck.

“when… when did you even do this?” you whispered, still in awe from the entire decoration.

“I came back from prom early, it was extremely boring without you,” he murmured. “couldn’t stand being there without my pretty girl,”

you turned around in rafe’s hold to face him. “this… this is so beautiful…” you whispered, looking in his twinkling eyes. you wanted to say more, you really did, but you were falling short of words because you were still trying to recover from the surprise.

“not as beautiful as you baby,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to your forehead and you broke into a smile. he can be so cheesy.

“now come on, I believe you owe me a dance,” he grinned as he walked up to the record player. he changed the vinyl spinning and you watched him curiously, but all curiosity washed away when you heard the gentle instrumentals of there’d better be a mirrorball fill the space around you.

he walked back to you with a cheeky grin and took your hand in his, leading you to the gazebo where you both stood right under the mirrorball. he took your hands in his and brought you closer to him, placing your arms around his neck and placing his around your waist, and starting to sway you gently to the music.

you rested your head in the crook of his neck and he kept you close in your arms, both of your eyes fluttered shut as you gently swayed to the music, taking in the moment.

“I love you,” you heard the faint sound of rafe’s voice in your ear. you felt your heart thump at his words, a soft smile forming on your face.

“I love you just as much,” you whispered back, burying your face in his neck. he smiled softly at your words, pressing a kiss to your temple as he continued to sway you both.

by the end of the night, you had completely forgotten you had to miss prom.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @sage-burrow @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @fals3-g0d @personalfavsthatarerandom @b1mb0slvt

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7ndipity · 10 months

Text

On your period

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Yoongi looks after you on your period

Warnings: mentions of menstrual cycles, reader feeling sick, not proofread

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! I based it off my own experiences, so I'm sorry if it doesn't quite work for everyone. It's not the best, but I hope you like it anyway!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

As soon as he walked into your apartment and saw the duvet from the bed in a giant y/n-shaped ball on the sofa in front of the tv, he knew what was up.

Moving quietly, in case you were asleep, he crept over, smiling when he was finally able to spot your face barely peeking out of the nest of blankets, tiredly returning his grin as he came into your line of vision.

"Hi." You croaked, voice horse from lack of use.

"Hi." He replied, leaning down and touching your cheek gently, both as a greeting and to check your temperature, knowing you sometimes ran a low fever on days like this.

"When's the last time you took any meds?"

"About noon."

Without a word, he made his way to the kitchen, returning in less than a minute with a couple pills and a bottle of water, helping you untangle from the blankets before joining you on the couch and passing you the items, which you accepted gratefully.

"Why didn't you text me earlier that you weren't feeling well?" He asked.

"Didn't wanna bother you." You mumbled.

"You're not a bother." He said, frowning as he noticed you wince uncomfortably.

It was only the first day, but that was usually when your symptoms would hit the hardest. Cramps, chills, body aches, it honestly felt like you had the flu, your only comfort was knowing that things would start to level out in a few more hours.

Well, maybe not your only comfort.

"What can I do?" Yoongi asked, quietly insistent. He hated seeing you hurting and not being able to do anything about it.

"I'll be okay, don't worry." You tried to reassure him.

"That's not what I asked." He said, giving you pointed look.

You swallowed nervously, feeling shy for some reason. "Could you maybe hold me?" You asked hesitantly.

Wordlessly once again, he climbed into your makeshift nest, shifting you both around until you were draped across his lap with your head pressed to his chest.

It still felt strangely foreign to have someone look after you like this, with such gentle, determined devotion, but you were starting to get used to it. In the past, you'd just dealt on your own, not wanting to be a burden to those around you. But as soon as you met Yoongi, all that went out the door. Anytime you felt the least bit unwell, he was at your beck and call. If you needed anything at all, be it food, meds, or just a bed warmer/nap partner, he was there for you.

You still remembered his genuine offense at your first attempts to dissuade him from coming to look after you.

"Why? It's not contagious."

"No, but-"

"Then why are you rejecting my love?!"

He'd promptly come over, armed with your favorite foods, candy and heat packs. You'd been so overwhelmed and emotional, you ended up crying and telling him you loved him for the first time that night.

Now, all these months later, he was still looking after you the same as he had then.

"You want me to stay over?" He asked after a minute.

"You don't have to do that." You sighed, already start doze against his shoulder.

"But I want to. Besides, I know you sleep better with me here." He teased.

"If you keep this up, I gonna turn into a spoiled baby." You warned.

"Will you just let me take care you, dammit." How he managed to make that sound stern and soft at the same time was a skill only Yoongi could master, making you grin.

"Fine." You relented, snuggling closer to him and pressing a small kiss to underside of his jaw. "I love you."

"I love you too, spoiled baby."

"Hey!"

#yoongi imagine #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenarios #yoongi comfort #yoongi drabble #yoongi oneshot #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #bts one shot #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts comfort #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #7ndipity

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sunflowersandsapphires · 5 months

Text

Lifeline

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

summary: When Matt starts to shut down, your stubbornness saves him.

warnings: swearing, angst, panic attack description, pining buffoons, pre-relationship, Matt's mental illness and fear of abandonment

a/n: This is a short birthday fic for the wonderful @abucketofweird who wanted a fic similar to Renegade with Best Friends to Lovers. I hope you enjoy, my dear! 🥳🥰❤️

I know it's short and pre-relationship but there is plenty of angsty Matt! (Also, yes she calls him a million nicknames, but they're not ~explicitly~ together in this). Please let me know if y'all are tired of seeing me write crying!angsty!Matt because I know I write that a lot.

w/c: ~4k

Matt could still remember the day that the Devil had first emerged. It was before his accident, after witnessing a group of teens bully his elementary school classmate on her way home from school. Years of seeing his dad throw hits and his own unwavering moral compass had forged a new being within his own; his rage overtaking his consciousness, forming shaky fists and a flower across his face.

At the time, he hadn’t known how to fight properly and had gotten his ass kicked. A few decades had passed and, though his ability had grown, his rage had stayed the same.

Fury was a useful tool, most of the time. Allowing him to push through discomfort and injury until he’d taken down whatever evildoer he’d gone after that day. It was his wrath that kept him going, but it was also his biggest inhibition.

The desire to beat powerful criminals bloody was overpowering. His gut boiled with anger anytime he heard someone crying for help, knowing that, more than likely, the only thing sparing them from that cruel fate was him—a blind Catholic with a chip on his shoulder and lacking self preservation skills.

It was his rage that caused tunnel vision. Which in turn caused sleep deprivation, which led to more injuries. The cycle didn’t end there though, at least not recently. His tendency to prioritize his alter ego over his own health wasn’t something that could be solved by a simple nap these days. Not when he had people worrying about him, and when his efforts to meditate or find another outlet for his emotions remained futile.

More injuries meant it was more difficult to hide them. A bullet wound in his stomach, a sprained ankle, these were more noticeable to his coworkers, to you. While you were eternally patient and understanding about his double life, his business partners were not. He tried his best to ignore Karen’s gasps and Foggy’s pointed stares every time he limped into the office or winced while pouring his coffee. Despite his efforts, it always aggravated him, fueling his rage and thus perpetuating the cycle further.

This week, Foggy had snapped. Yelling at Matt for putting himself in danger, for jeopardizing their recent case—they’d had to postpone a meeting with the prosecution given the state of Matt’s face—and their firm. In return, Matt had lashed out. Screaming about the greater good and Foggy not trusting him. It quickly became an all out brawl, both men hurling insults at the other despite Karen warning them that they were going too far. But her intervention came too late.

“You claim to be so worried about people leaving but I don’t see how that’s fucking possible when you try so hard to scare us off, Murdock. Guess what!? It’s working!” Foggy snapped, throwing his hands in the air with a huff.

Logically, Matt knew Foggy didn’t mean that—at least not in the way Matt heard it—but his throat felt swollen anyway. His heart pounded, the argument sitting on his tongue dissolving as his mouth grew increasingly dry. Loosening his tie, Matt stalked to his office to gather his things.

“You know what, I think I’ll work at home for a few days.” He spoke stiffly, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder.

“Matt,” Karen took a step towards him but he refuses to acknowledge her placating tone.

“I’ll see you in court next week. I’ll drop off my opening argument tomorrow night.” Without waiting for their responses, he retreated to his apartment.

With every step along the damp Manhattan sidewalk, his irritation grew. His brain was flickering back and forth between despair and indignation, his hands itching to hit something. Tonight would be productive, that much was clear.

Though he usually waited until the late hours of the evening to go out as Daredevil, his argument with Foggy had ignited an impatient buzzing beneath his skin—his muscles clenching and anger bubbling until he caved to the Devil. It was risky, dashing from roof to roof in his suit at dusk, but his patience had worn out hours ago.

The night felt endless, yet it was over far too soon. He raced through the streets, taking down thug after thug, until a serrated blade caught him off guard. With a jagged rip across his thigh, he made for his apartment—planning to crudely stitch the wound before finishing what he’d started.

As he approached his loft, his ears locked on to a familiar heartbeat, its pattering mulling about his place as he grew closer. Foggy had sent in reinforcements, he supposed, though he wasn’t thrilled about it.

Opening the rooftop door, Matt stomped down the stairs, hurling pieces of his suit across the space as he ripped them from his overheated body. Pretending not to care about the spike in your heartbeat, courtesy of his pounding steps, he tore the mask from his face, setting it beside the sink before filling a glass with water.

Fidgeting with your sleeve, you approached him slowly, saying nothing as he downed a glass of lukewarm water before jutting his chin at you.

“Say what you’re going to say, then leave.” His voice was harsh and deep, the Devil still fully in control.

You inhaled slowly, not scared of his current state, but clearly unhappy all the same. “What makes you think I have something to say?”

Matt bit back a scoff. “Foggy sent you, which means you’re on his side and are here to tell me off.”

“On his side…Christ, Murdock.” You were a few paces in front of him, just behind the counter, your clothes rustling as you crossed your arms in frustration.

“Why else would you be here?” Matt stormed around you and into his bathroom, unbuckling the bottom half to sew himself up. If anyone else had been here, he might have been more worried about modesty, but you’d seen him in more compromising positions than this over the years.

Gritting your teeth as you trudged after him, your arms remained folded against your chest. “Because I care about you, asshole. Karen told me what Foggy said. I was worried.”

Your heart thumped steadily with your honest admission, eliciting a pang of guilt deep in Matt’s subconscious. He remained silent, rubbing a damp cloth over his wound to clean it up before he attempted suturing it. At his lack of response, you scoffed, “Don’t know why I was so worried. You’re clearly taking it very well.”

Spinning to face you, his lips curled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what you think it means, Matt.” You snapped back at him, regretting it when his jaw twitched in response. Sighing, your voice softened. “You are so strong, and I know that Foggy and Karen give you a hard time but they’re not entirely wrong. It’s ok to ask for help.”

“I don’t need their help.” Matt muttered, leaning against the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“No one is saying that you’re not.” You tried to reason, but he refused to listen.

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Foggy was saying, actually. How would you even know? It’s not like you were there.” He bit out, resentment prickling through his words.

Ouch. He was right. You weren’t there. Because you’d taken a new job across the city. And he clearly was still not ok with that fact.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You spoke gravely, brushing away a smudge of dirt on his cheek with your thumb. He tensed under your touch, but didn’t flinch away. “But you know that I don’t agree with what Fog said, right? Regardless of whether he meant it, it was wrong for him to imply—“

Shoving your hand from his face, his lips formed a scowl once again. “What? That it’s my fault? That people leave because I make them? Maybe he’s right.”

“Matt, that’s not true. You know—“

“Don’t tell me what I know!” He roared pressing into your personal space, eyes blazing with fury.

Breathing evenly, you shifted your weight away from him. Not flinching out of fear, just a natural reaction to his behavior, yet the movement still stung. Retreating from you, he picked up the cloth and refocused on the gash across his thigh.

“Go home,” He spoke your name coldly. This wasn’t a question, it was an order.

“Matt—“ You started but he glared at you.

“Go.”

You nodded, pacing back into the living room to grab your purse from the couch. “Call me if you need anything, Matty. I’ll be around.” You spoke softly, your soft footsteps fading as you left his loft.

Biting back an irritated snarl, Matt tread into the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. Taking a full swig, he pushed his guilt and pain aside and picked up a needle.

Burying your face in the collar of your jacket, you scrunched your nose as a particularly fierce gust of wind smacked you. Soldiering forward, you sped down the street towards the dimly lit building you were aiming for.

It might be a mistake to return to Matt’s loft, but you couldn’t leave him there alone when he was so distraught. At least, not in good conscience.

You respected his request for space, absolutely—taking time to return to your own apartment and retrieve his worn Columbia sweater, which you’d stolen a few weeks ago and simply not given back. It was soft and oversized, for you at least, making it ridiculously comfortable. But it was clear Matt needed that comfort more than you did right now.

After tucking the garment in your bag carefully, you headed back out into the blustery evening to pick up a large order of food from Matt’s favorite Italian place.

If he still didn’t want you there upon your return, so be it. But the man wouldn’t go cold or hungry on your watch, dammit.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him to take care of himself, you just recognized that self-preservation wasn’t a priority for him when he was…like this. Brooding. Angry.

In the decade and a half you’d known him, you had started to piece together Matt’s various moods and this was a common one. His heightened senses igniting something inside him that pulled him into fights all around the city. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt hearing innocent civilians in trouble constantly. But eventually, he’d stop restraining himself. Sleep less. Eat less. Go to work, go out as Daredevil, and do it all again the next day—even when he was a jumble of exhaustion and bruises.

In these moments, he was no longer your beloved Matthew Murdock. He was a candle, with a burning wick and a torch at his base. The wax slowly melting away, until his sanity was nothing but a distant memory.

This was something you’d seen a handful of times when working with him and Foggy, even back when you three were just interns at Landman and Zack. It was the thing about Matt that you and Foggy argued about most these days.

See, Foggy believed the solution to these episodes was to remove Daredevil from the equation altogether. You couldn’t necessarily blame the blond for thinking that, given how Matt’s vigilante antics impacted his work and his ability to be a good friend.

Despite understanding Foggy’s concerns, your faith in Matt didn’t hinge on his nighttime activities. These periods of great stress were a sign that Matt needed support. Not an indication that he was no longer able to lead a double life.

While the average person might snap or cry when they were overwhelmed, Matt would force himself to take more on. You assumed this was a symptom of the manipulation he’d endured during his youth.

Matt hadn’t disclosed much about his childhood mentor, but you knew that he’d been encouraged to work through periods of distress, simply bottling up his feelings in order to ensure productivity. Given that he’d never had those beliefs challenged until well into adulthood, it was second nature for him to add more to his plate until he couldn’t anymore—whether that was because someone forced him to rest, or he was literally comatose.

He’d confessed to you once—on another night like tonight when he was so tired of fighting everyone that he caved to your questioning—that rest wasn’t something that came easily to him. It was almost an enemy, in his mind, preventing him from helping as many people as he could. Resting meant he was a failure, and failing meant people would leave.

This conversation lived in the back of your mind every time the dark haired man frustrated you. Every sleepless night spent pulling your hair out while you waited for him to text you that he was alive, every morning spent patching him up in the conference room because the walk to work had pulled his stitches out. Each and every time Matt’s other identity impacted your life, you reminded yourself that, in his mind, he didn’t have a choice.

This time was no different.

Though it probably didn’t help that Foggy had insinuated that he was thinking of leaving Matt. Not when Matt’s subconscious was desperately trying to pretend his life was balanced to keep everyone happy. Which is why you allowed yourself to be more stubborn than usual this dreadful evening, worming your way back into Matt’s home so he knew that he wasn’t in danger of being alone.

Removing one ungloved hand from the safety of your fleece lined pocket, you yanked open the door to the restaurant, smiling softly at the hostess as her eyes met yours.

“I have an order for pick up?” Giving her your name, you curled both hands back into your pockets, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited, somewhat impatiently, for your food.

After what felt like an hour, the hostess handed you two bags stacked with containers, grimacing apologetically. “Sorry about the wait!”

“Not a problem!” You shrugged, grabbing the bags. “Thank you!!”

Dashing around the crowd forming behind you, your feet carried you the few remaining blocks to Matt’s building. Treading up the stairs slowly, you panted, taking a moment to breathe before making it to his door.

Here goes nothing.

You bypassed waiting for Matt to open the door, instead choosing to knock gingerly and use your spare key to unlock the door.

“Matty?” You called softly, receiving no answer.

Inhaling deeply, hoping you weren’t about to irreparably damage your relationship with Matt, you stepped over the threshold and into his space. Shuffling around the corner at the end of the hallway, you peeked into the loft, scanning it for any indication of your overworked friend—but there was no sign of him. No obvious one, at least.

As you blocked out the muffled sounds of the city that had managed to penetrate the walls of the loft, your ears picked up a hushed sound from somewhere in the kitchen. A rapid whooshing—like panting, or choking.

Rushing around the counter, your eyes widened in shock as you found Matt curled against the dark wooden cabinets. He was seated, but hunched over his knees, his hands tightly wrapped around his shins to keep his body in the position as he rocked back and forth. There was a jaggedly stitched line along his thigh, surrounded by mottled skin and goosebumps. Given his lack of clothing—he was only wearing his boxers—and the frigid temperature in the room, the poor man was shaking violently. A combination of his harsh breathing and his low body temperature, you assumed.

As your presence became more noticeable, Matt tilted his head up, chin wobbling, eyes frantic and shining. Calling your name shakily, his weak plea almost made your own eyes well up.

Crouching before him, you set the bags in your grasp aside, opening your palms to him. “It’s me, sweetheart. I’m right here. What happened?”

“D-don’t know. Can’t breathe.” Matt choked around the words, leaning towards you as you scrambled closer.

“Can I touch—“ You asked, hesitant to take any major steps without explicit permission.

“Yes. Please,” He sobbed, collapsing against your chest as your arms opened.

“It’s ok. You’re ok, sweet boy.” You rubbed a hand over his back in a circular motion, using your free hand to guide one of his palms to your chest. “Feel my breathing?”

Matt nodded against your chest, nails digging into your shoulder blade as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“That’s my guy. Doing so good for me, handsome.” You praised softly, tracing your hand up his back and into his hair in the way you knew he loved. “That’s it, nice even breaths.”

Unwinding your body from its squatted position, you sat on the cold floor, spreading your legs to allow Matt to fall into your lap. Perched across your thighs, Matt’s slowly stopped heaving. He was still covered in goosebumps and bruises, but his probable panic attack had been avoided for now.

“There we go. Good job, honey. Feel a bit better?” You scratched diligently at Matt’s scalp, his skull knocking against your fingers with a nod.

“Yes. Thank you.” He murmured, hot breath hitting your collar bone, a contrast to his icy skin.

“Ok, sweets. Are you cold?”

Another nod, making your lips twitch with a tiny smile. “Yah, stupid question. Here, put this on.”

Pulling your bag over to you, you yanked out the sweater and handed it to him, mourning the loss of contact as he sat up to slip it on. After his chest was covered, his brow furrowed, a hand coming up to trace the text on the front of the hoodie. “My sweatshirt?”

Cupping his stubbled cheek, you stroked a thumb over his jaw. “I brought it back. Thought you might need it tonight. C’mon honey, why don’t we go lay down, hm?”

Allowing Matt to crawl off your lap, you drew him from the floor as you stood, laying your arm around his waist and holding him upright as he hobbled to his room. Tumbling onto the mattress, he haphazardly threw his sheets over his bare legs, curling into fetal position. His body was stiff, as if he was clenching every muscle to prevent writhing in pain. Sitting next to his waist, you fussed with the covers, drawing them more tightly around his rigid form.

“There, that’s better. Just close your eyes and—“ you attempted to encourage the weary man to rest but his small voice interrupted.

“You came back.” Matt spoke lowly, blinking back a new wave of tears. “You came back when I told you to leave.”

“Do you need me to go? That’s fine, Matty, I’ll just—“

“No!” His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. “Please don’t.”

“Ok, sweet boy. I’ll stay here. As long as you want me to.”

Matt nodded once, tears trailing down his face again. “You came back.” No longer talking to you, it seemed that he was trying to make himself believe that he was no longer alone.

Sliding down to face him, you ran a hand over his arm, letting him murmur silently to himself until he spoke to you again.

“I don’t think they’ll ever be happy.”

“Who won’t be happy, handsome?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up on an elbow to study his face as he answered.

“Foggy and Karen. Maybe you too, I’m not sure.” His voice cracked, tears pouring down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, hey,” You shushed, drawing him back into your chest. “Oh, Matty—“

“What am I supposed to do?” His hazel eyes reopened, revealing a hopelessness you were shocked to see. “I hear people screaming for help and I…I can’t just lay here doing nothing. I don’t know how. And I try to explain but no one understands. I don’t know what to do,” When he uttered your name this time, it was a desperate request—to confirm that you understood, that you wouldn’t hold his actions against him.

“Oh, Matt, honey, I’m so sorry.” You rested your chin atop his head as he sobbed into your collarbone. “Sweetheart, you are so good at what you do. You’re a fucking hero. No one is mad about you choosing to use every ability you have to help people, we just worry about you, sweets, that’s all. And, I can’t speak for the others, but you shouldn’t have to worry about making me happy, ok? As long as you’re alive—“

“He’s going to leave me.” Ah. That’s where his mind was getting stuck. The words were broken, Matt’s voice strained beyond recognition as he voiced his fear. “He’s going to leave me like you did.”

A lump of emotion clogged your throat, tears wavering against your waterline. “Matt, you know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”

He shrugged against you, body still trembling as he cried.

“Matty, I adore you. I loved working with you and seeing you every day, sweets. I just couldn’t live on pies and hand-knit gloves in one of the most expensive cities in the country. I needed income, not an escape. I’m still here. I’m still yours.”

Heaving out a shaky breath, Matt nodded. Caressing his cheek, you asked. “What did my heartbeat tell you?”

“Truth.” He whispered. The two of you sat in silence, your hand absentmindedly running through his mussed hair as his body stopped shaking. Just when you thought the fear of abandonment had been swayed for the night, he piped up one last time.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“About Foggy?” You clarified, biting your lip when Matt nodded. With a sigh, you brought your fingers to his silky hair once again. “Matt, I am not psychic, I don’t know what the future will look like for the two of you, but I know that Foggy loves you. So does Karen, and so do I. And you don’t leave the people you love. You talk it out, you forgive them for their mistakes.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Matt whimpered.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. But I’ll be right here with you through it all, ok?” Pressing your lips to his forehead, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “I don’t want to scare you, sweet boy, but I have to go into your kitchen for a moment. I brought some food with me that I’m going to put in your fridge for later. I’ll get you some water too. Anything else you need?”

“Aspirin.” He murmured, blank eyes glossy with tears.

“Of course, sweets. I’ll be right back.” With another brush of fingers over his scalp, you wriggled out from under him and hurried to the kitchen—shoving the food into his bare fridge while grabbing water and pills.

He took the medicine you handed him diligently, his expression uncharacteristically blank. Draining the glass of water, he handed the empty cup to you without a word. You could see him slipping away into the recesses of his mind, trying to shove everything down once again, to handle it all himself.

Sliding under the covers next to him, you wrapped him in a tight embrace as he buried his damp face in your neck.

“Talk to me, sweets. What do you need?”

“Just you.” Matt choked out, fisting your shirt in his hands as if worried you were imaginary. “Please.”

“I’m right here. Always.” Kissing his crown, you ran a hand along his spine, humming softly as his breathing evened out.

He wasn’t through the rough patch yet, but that was ok. You were going to be here regardless. And you’d tell him that every day until he believed you.

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dokifluffs · 6 months

Text

Early Birds | Akaashi Keiji

Pairing: Akaashi X Reader (female)

Genre: Cute high school fluff

Author's Note: I am beyond rusty; forgive me ;-; edit for after writing: IM SO BAD KAJSHD🧎‍♀️

The streets were empty except for the occasional elderly person taking a morning stroll

Your body was warm but the crisp air crept through your jacket and the tights under your skirt

the cold chill woke you up a bit more on your morning commute to school - always early when the sun was just barely peeking over the horizon in the distance

it was peaceful and quiet

it was the only time you could think and be in your own little bubble

home was cozy but too rambunctious with your three younger brothers and your parents scrambling to get them up and to school

so you always left right when the chaos was beginning

and you were always early before most of the student body

winters were always brutal, especially for you

it felt no matter how much you layered on, the coldness still found a way in

the school came into view and grew bigger and bigger as you got closer and closer

snow crunched under your steps

the wind howled, blowing some loose snow from all around the campus into the school entrance as the door closed behind you

you changed your shoes and took off your coats and winter outerwear you wouldn't need in class

but you kept your pocket warmer knowing your hands would probably freeze off without them

school always felt like a whole different world before the rest of the students came in

it made you feel like a ghost roaming or haunting the schools

you slid the door open to your class, a faint warmth greeting you as you stepped in and closed it behind you

it was always warm around the center of the classroom but your seat was right by the window where the cold always crept in, right in the back too

in the springtime, the view was always breathtaking

but the view in winter was... still somewhat warm

the seats in class were sat in pairs and with the luck of the gods, you were sat beside akaashi, your boyfriend

you folded your arms, one hand holding your pocket warmer

your sweater sleeve was fuzzy against your face but comfy

it was either you laid on your arms or the cold wooden table

there was still quite some time before the rest of the school came

this was always your favorite time to take a quick little nap before the school chaos started

You watched the class, your eyes wandering all over the place, seeing all the things you've seen already every morning, but there was always at least one little thing you noticed was new

the classroom slowly began disappearing in your vision until it was completely gone

Akaashi stifled a yawn as he walked down the hall, waking a little too early this morning from having fallen asleep earlier than usual last night

but at least now he could sit in class and read and study ahead for the finals

he slid open the door, letting out yet another yawn, the cool metal on his hand and a warm little gust welcoming him in

He walked in and made his way over to his seat in a few strides

your hair was sprawled out over your desk and a little over his too

"y/n?" he was quiet as he carefully pulled out his seat from beside you, and took his seat

you stirred just a little, pulling your hand closer to your face but stayed asleep

"What's that?" he peeked at your hand, loosely holding onto a pocket warmer

he carefully placed his finger on it but as he suspected, just as he felt it coming from the windows, it was cold

He knew you always had pocket warmers, bringing one on a daily but it was at least warm when class started

you were always cold and shivering yet the teacher never did anything or moved any seats around

Akaashi took off his blazer and draped it around you to keep you warm

he knew you were always pretty timid so it would be rare for you to confront the teacher sternly

you mainly kept to yourself, you weren't the best at speaking but you always seemed comfortable around him and only him in class

you two even slid little notes back and forth every now and then

but it was true

you were so cute to him

you weren't the biggest fan of speaking or asking for help when you needed it but akaashi was nice enough to care and always noticed when you were struggling

he always helped you whenever and wherever you were on schoolwork

over some time, you slowly began to wake up but somehow, you weren't entirely freezing, mostly your legs

"You awake?" Akaashi tilted his head to see your slow blinking eyes, your head lifting up with a subtle confused look on your face

you felt something hanging on you but most importantly

Akaashi was already here - much earlier than normal

"Mmhm.." you rubbed your eyes

you realized the hanging thing on you was his blazer. You began to take it off of you when he stopped you

"you can keep wearing it. I know you're cold."

"Are you sure? Aren't you cold?" you hugged it closer, letting the warmth and subtle smell waft over you

"I'm okay, you need it more than I do." He patted your head but not messing up your hair

he knew you came early but was it really this early?

"Do you always come so early?"

"mhm," you nuzzled into his hand more. "I like how quiet it is.."

You rest your head back down, now wearing your arms through his blazer sleeves

"Well, I'll start coming early too." He mirrored you, leaning forward to rest his head onto his folded arms

"Why?" you brought his sleeve up to your mouth

"Because you're here. And I need to keep you warm." he leaned in close, pressing his warm forehead to yours.

"See? Even your forehead is cold. What'll I do if you get sick?" He put his hand on your forehead and you melted

he was so warm

"You feel so nice~"

He leaned close as you took in the nice feeling of his warm hand and went for it

he gave you a kiss on your lips, catching you off guard

as different as he seemed while playing or with Bokuto, you were the only one to see Akaashi's heart

he was the warmest view every winter

"I love you," he smiled, pressing another little kiss to your warm, rosy cheek

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

#dokifluffs #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x reader #akaashi imagines #akaashi scenarios #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu akaashi #haikyuu akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji headcanon

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biblical-sense-and-sensibility · 8 months

Text

Whispers on the Water

A lesbian faefucker adventure

It had been nearly a year since she had moved in with her grandmother to care for her in her old age, taking over what once was the spare bedroom in the woman’s almost cottage-like dwelling on the edge of the swamp. She had always found her grandmother’s home to be a very cosy space, all tucked away from the main road with vines of jasmine overtaking the outer walls and the gentle sounds of nature always playing in the background. It was peaceful out here by the swamp, and all the fond memories of childhood visits came back to the forefront of her mind as she settled in. Her grandmother’s warning was the same thing it had always been: don’t go into the swamp. Why not, she refused to say, but her granddaughter had always heeded the warning.

Except, the older she got, the harder it became to resist the call.

She hadn’t told anyone about the call, although her grandmother definitely knew something she wasn’t sharing with the rest of the class, so to speak. From the first visit she ever remembered all throughout her childhood, every time she had been to her grandmother’s house she felt the swamp calling to her, beckoning her closer, trying its best to lure her in. It wanted her to get her feet wet, let the water wash over her like an embrace and caress her, to touch her hands to the bark of the great cypress trees. When she was a teenager she started having dreams of the swamp, and even sometimes back home in the city the swamp would call to her in her sleep across all that distance, and whenever she awoke from one of these dreams it left her for the rest of the day with a strange sort of melancholic nostalgia, an almost physical longing for the lazy blink of the lightning bugs reflected in the murky water, unable to stop thinking about the feeling the swampy air left on her skin, the phantom smell of azaleas in her hair every time she turned her head, haunting her with a bone-deep ache, a bone-deep need for the gentle curtains of Spanish moss framing the fringes of her vision and the gentle lap of liquid against her bare skin. The dreams, and the pull to the swamp that accompanied them in her waking hours, left such vivid impressions in her psyche - she could practically feel the sensations of that peacefully eerie scene as if she actually stood at the edge of the water, even all the way back in her air-conditioned bedroom in the city.

She had had the dream every single night since she moved in with her grandmother, and finally the pull toward the swamp grew too strong to ignore. The serene, lethargic pool invited her closer, closer, let me touch you, let me caress you, let me envelop you. Finally one day she lost the battle, unable to resist any longer, and went and rented a canoe to take out on the water while her grandmother laid down for a nap. Tremblingly she put one foot in then the other, the boat rocking slightly as she shifted her weight, and then she took off, not entirely certain of any purpose or goal but to explore, to weave in and out of the cypress trees and listen to the insistent buzz of the cicadas. Some of the Spanish moss hung so low that it tickled the top of her head as she made her way through the trees, her oar making gentle swishing sounds as she dipped it in the water, and the further in she got, the greater grew the sense of peace that descended upon her. Being in the swamp felt so right.

She felt like maybe she should have been concerned when the sounds of cicadas buzzing and wind ruffling the leaves and other little noises stopped altogether, leaving her ears ringing in the silence, but she couldn’t find it in her to be all that worried about the lack of activity; she was content, almost sleepy, and the quiet did not bother her.

Her boat bumped upon land - a little island in the middle of the swamp. Intrigued, she pulled herself all the way onto the shore and disembarked, exploring the place. An alligator sat on a rock, pure black, and when it saw her approaching it stood up and began to walk away; she could have sworn it beckoned with its head for her to follow.

So she did.

It disappeared behind a fallen tree, and when she walked around the whole length of the thing and to the other side a woman-like being of some sort sat atop the trunk, a soft smile on its face.

“You’re late,” it said in a croaking voice, and when it opened its mouth it revealed crooked white alligator teeth. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to keep people waiting?”

It took a while for the spirit’s words to register; she was too busy taking the sight of it in - pitch-black eyes, hair of Spanish moss, skin a rich brown like the soil beneath their feet with arms and legs that became rough and dark with alligator scales, its hands clawed and its feet more reptilian than human, with a thick tail sprouting from its lower back. It was naked, one hand playing idly with the Spanish moss between its legs, muscular arm crushed against a full breast with a dark, erect nipple. She roused herself. “Umm. What?”

“Oh, my darling,” the creature stood and walked with outstretched arms over to her, caressing her cheek with the back of a scaly hand. “Why did it take you so long to answer my call?”

“Y-your call?”

It smiled again, “I know you heard it. I know you received the dreams I sent you. And yet you did not come.”

“That was you?” Her brows furrowed, and she put her own hand atop the one the creature had rested on her cheek.

“It was, my darling,” the spirit confirmed, stroking her cheek with its thumb and bringing its other hand up to her shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.”

The spirit’s grip was strong, but not necessarily painful, and she swallowed, “Why were you calling me?”

“You never guessed?” It sighed. “Oh, my love . . . ” and it kissed her. Short, sweet, a pause, then again, with its tongue this time, and she groaned into its mouth, entwining her arms around its neck. Its hair was soft and fluffy, claws sending pleasant shivers up her spine as they raked lightly up and down her back, eventually dipping underneath her blouse to avoid snagging the fabric. The soft black scales of its palms were cool and smooth against her skin, dry and silky and gliding so easily down her stomach, down her ribs, pushing down the waistband of her skirt. She gasped for air as the creature took its lips from hers and trailed them, feather-light and teasing, down her jaw and throat, nuzzling its face into the dip of her shoulder, squeezing a nipple between sharpened teeth ever so delicately, the careful pressure sending shivers down her spine and a trembling sigh from her parted lips. Adrenaline burst through her system deliciously, and she tightened her fingers in a fistful of hair in response, almost involuntarily arching up into its mouth. It trailed its claws down her back, ass, thighs, threading through her pubic hair; the pad of one satiny thumb pressed directly on her clit, and she gasped, tears springing to her eyes from the intensity and suddenness of the sensation - she felt the spirit smile on her chest.

“Darling,” it crooned against her sternum, stroking her ass gently as it continued to rub circles into her clit, grinning into her skin as she writhed underneath its ministrations, hands raking through soft strands of Spanish moss. Its other thumb found its way to her suddenly very wet opening, and it laid her down against the fallen tree as it slid in, biting her other tit to her almost whimper-like moan as her eyes fluttered shut. It massaged her entrance for a bit, then jammed two fingers in up to the knuckle, pressing right against her G-spot, and she choked out an even louder moan, chest heaving. She had never blushed this hard - she had never felt this good. Her cheeks throbbed with the rush of blood from her pounding heart as the creature kissed her nipple again softly and relaxed its hand, sliding its fingers in and out of her more slowly, more gently, pressing lazy strokes with the other hand across her lips, over the clitoral hood, through her pubic hair, then back down, back and forth. She swallowed and closed her eyes, writhing against the trunk of the tree, pinned in place by the spirit’s hands, not literally, necessarily, but with the sheer pleasure of it, the overwhelmingly sweet sensation. Its hair was so soft as she ran her fingers through the curly strands of Spanish moss, guiding its head across her throat and breasts trembling and pliant as the rest of her was, wracked by sluggishly moving waves of euphoria, washing in and out, in and out, like the lazy shore of the swamp, like the languid thrusts into her throbbing cunt. It built slowly this time, the creature being more careful and deliberate in its movements, until finally it spilled over like one drop too many dripping into a glass, and she gave a loud cry, arching up off of the tree as she clenched around scaly fingers before her whole body relaxed, come dripping down her leg and the back of the spirit’s hand. It let her catch her breath as the aftershocks washed over her, kissing her breasts and stomach gently as it stroked her thighs, and she slid onto the cool earth with a sigh, running trembling hands down its back as she looked into the sky, fading with the first hint of orange sunset.

“My love,” it sighed again, and she pulled it in for another kiss, stroking the base of its tail as she did so. It groaned into the touch, vibrating against her swollen lips, and before she knew what she was doing she had pushed it onto the ground and spread its legs, diving between them with a little half-growl.

The noises it made were delicious.

She stuck her tongue as deep up its slit as she could get it, scooping up its slick without a care in the world; it tasted like citrus and grass with a kick that made her whole mouth tingle and sent a spark shooting down her throat straight to her clit, making her clench her fingers tighter into smooth dark flesh, and the claws in her hair tightened in response. The little bush of Spanish moss tickled her forehead ever so slightly as she ran her mouth up and down every fold and crease she could get her tongue into, to delightful little croaks and bellows that rumbled down the creature’s torso almost like a purr. Its powerful alligator tail flicked like a twitching nerve, whipping the backs of her legs in a strangely pleasant way as it thrashed back and forth, thumping against the earth with every little whimper that came out of its mouth in between the more beastly sounds it made. When it finished, they sat back in the earth together, her face resting between its breasts, and closed their eyes.

When she awoke, it was morning.

She sat up with a gasp, calling out, “Grandma!”

The spirit sat up to see what was the matter, watching her search frantically for her clothes. “What is it, darling?”

“I only meant to be gone an hour or two, I left my grandmother alone all night!”

It simply watched her as she dressed herself.

The spirit escorted her, hand-in-hand, to where she had left the rented canoe, and as she got in it said, “You must come back soon, my darling.”

“How will I find this place again?” she asked.

“Trust in the water,” the spirit smiled. “My magic will guide you. I will see you soon, my love.”

“Goodbye,” she smiled back, and it kissed her one last time before pushing her boat into the water.

She thought, occasionally, that she saw a black alligator surface alongside the boat.

When she got home, her grandmother was at the table drinking coffee, a shawl pulled around her shoulders. “There you are!” she said as she caught sight of her granddaughter. “Where in the world have you been, young lady? You were gone when I woke up from my nap, and you didn’t come home for dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Grandma,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to be out that long.”

“You didn’t go into the swamp, did you?”

Silence.

“Did you?”

A very quiet, “Yes.”

Her grandmother sighed through her nose, a long sigh, and took a sip of coffee.

“What do you know about the swamp, Grandma? Why don’t you want me to go near it?”

“Sit down,” the old woman gestured, and her granddaughter obeyed. She gathered her thoughts, then began, “I suppose it’s about time I tell you this. You see, when I was a girl, my older sister had a friend who was fascinated by the swamp. She told us she felt as if the swamp was calling to her. We all told her not to go in the swamp, our parents told her not to go in the swamp, it was dangerous, she could get lost, she could drown, she could get eaten by an alligator, she could get her boat caught on something and get stuck and be unable to call for help. But she didn’t listen. She went often into the swamp; at first it was only for an hour or two at a time, but then she started disappearing for longer stretches of time, even a few days, and eventually one day she went into the swamp and just . . . never came back. People went out searching for her, but they never found her, no living girl, no body, not even her boat. Eventually they pronounced her dead, although we never came to a satisfactory conclusion on what had happened to her; it was like she had ceased to exist altogether. My sister was convinced that the call she heard came from the spirit of the swamp, and that her friend had been killed by this swamp fairy. But we’ll never know. But what I do know is that the swamp is dangerous, and I don’t want to lose you like we lost that girl.”

It was silent for a bit.

“What did you see in the swamp?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged, her heart beating faster at the lie. “Water and trees and Spanish moss.”

“No swamp fairies?”

She laughed. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“All right, dearie.”

So she did.

The very next day, she left to go take a walk while her grandmother was visiting with a friend and wandered back to where she had left the canoe, bringing it again to the water’s edge. Trust in the water, the spirit had said. So she let the boat go with the languid current, and she found her way again to the island, and there the creature was, waiting for her.

“My darling,” it smiled with open arms, greeting her with a gratuitous kiss. She began to speak, but it shushed her, taking her by the hands and leading her to a bed of soft moss, laying her down to a peal of sweet kisses, unbuttoning her shirt as it went. Its sharp-toothed grin at the discovery that she wore nothing underneath sent her heart aflutter, and she sighed at is ran its fangs teasingly along her tit, swirling its tongue around her nipple and hiking her skirt up to her stomach to reveal her bare pussy ready and waiting; it flicked her clit eagerly, and she sighed again, bringing a hand up to tug softly at the creature’s nipple as her eyes fluttered closed.

It bit her breast, clenching its jaws just barely not tight enough to break the skin, but tight enough to sting deliciously and push a little whimpering moan past her lips as it swung one leg over her hip, smooth reptile armour sliding sensually across her bare flesh. It did the same to her other tit, then licked into her mouth with a fury that made her groan in earnest as it rocked softly against her, causing a delightful friction between their legs, and they bounced softly in the springy moss. She threaded her fingers through the spirit’s hair and hooked one leg around its back, on top of its tail, teasing its scaly ass with her foot as it crushed her breasts against its palms. They were both dripping with pleasure at this point, their slick making everything slide together so deliciously as the creature’s tail went thump, thump against the ground, those same croaking bellows rumbling pleasantly in its throat and chest, almost soothing, especially paired with the way they rocked back and forth. It refused to take its mouth from hers, not that she would have let it go, her hands tangled tightly in the Spanish moss of its hair, and everything turned slow and warm.

They came at the same time, then the creature relaxed on top of her, its head on her heaving breasts, and she reached a trembling hand up to stroke its hair as they caught their breaths together, the creature’s tail still softly twitching against her legs.

Eventually she piped up, “Do you have a name?”

“I have many names and no name,” the spirit shrugged, sitting up and getting off of her to allow her to do the same. “I am simply the swamp,”

“Well, that’s fancy,” she laughed, hugging her knees to her chest. “What does that mean?”

The spirit shrugged again. “You could call me after the swamp, I suppose, but the essence that is this being you see was never given a name.”

“Could I give you a name?”

“If you like,” it smiled, pulling her in for a kiss, smooth scales sliding around her waist. “But do we need names?”

“Hmm,” it had successfully distracted her with those claws trailing lightly across her ribs - but not entirely. “My grandmother knew a girl who disappeared into the swamp,” she said. “Do you know what happened to her?” and she told the story.

The creature sighed through its nose, stroking its own thigh as it thought.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I do,” it smiled. “She is me.”

“What?”

“A part of me, at least.”

“What do you mean she’s a part of you?”

The creature pulled her into its lap, threading its reptilian fingers through her hair as she relaxed into it. “Every hundred years or so, I must renew my powers, or the swamp may falter.”

“How do you renew your powers?”

“I must absorb a willing life into my own.”

“Like . . . you kill them?”

“No,” it shook its head. “We merge our essences into one, and she becomes one with the swamp, another piece of the composite being that I am. The girl your grandmother knew, she lives on, in a way. Her legacy of preserving this magic is her survival, even if she no longer exists in a form recognisable as her. When you look at me, my darling, you look into the eyes of the swamp itself, shining with the light of thousands of women who loved it enough to dedicate their lives to it.”

She pondered for a beat, indeed studying the spirit’s pitch-black eyes. “Will you do that to me?”

“If you like,” it winked. “But it won’t be necessary for me to do so for another few years; your grandmother’s friend will sustain the swamp for a little while longer.”

“Okay,” she reached up to push its hair out of its face. “So, why did you call me, then?”

It chuckled softly “Why do you think, my love?” and it pulled her in for a kiss.

It felt so nice, the slide of its scales against her bare skin, the keen drag of alligator teeth along her throat, the tail thumping against her legs as it pushed her down on her back again and dove between her thighs like a prayer, that guttural growl vibrating directly against her clit and making her moan, unabashed, unashamed, uninhibited, just pure pleasure in the moment and not another care in the world. They made such pretty music together, the two of them, little wet sounds of its tongue slipping in and out of her cunt and her soft moans set against the backing track of its rumbling bellows. It pinned her in place with scaly hands, claws digging lightly into the flesh of her stomach, and she hiked one leg up over the creature’s shoulder, rocking up into its impossibly soft lips, her own dull fingers grasping for purchase on the spongy moss, eyes closed in bliss. Her cheeks felt so warm, next to the cool of its scales, her rapid heartbeat throbbing in her face, her bits, her tits, and before she knew what was happening she was clenching around its tongue with a loud cry, then she deflated, going limp like a wet rag, breasts trembling weakly as she caught her breath, reaching a shaky hand up to rest on the head of the spirit which migrated up her torso with a trail of sticky kisses, pinching one nipple delicately between its teeth.

Then suddenly its breasts were in her face, and she opened her mouth like an obedient toddler, sucking softly at woody flesh which tasted of salt and grass and something almost smoky, those claws running encouragingly down her cheeks and shoulders.

“Oh, my darling,” the spirit breathed, rocking gently as it straddled her hips.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. The whole world was just the two of them on this island in the middle of the swamp, embracing each other as the lightning bugs slowly began to blink to life against the setting sun.

#monsterfucker #faefucker #fae fucker #monster fucker #nsft #monster lover #lesbian

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beatleszeppelin · 1 month

Text

Kidnapped with Bucky

Chapter 1: Wet Hot Shower

Summary: You read the title, you know what this is about, this chapter however starts with a very frustrated Bucky, needing a shower.

Warnings/Includes: Crying, lots of Bucky crying in the shower, worries about self harm, (barely mentioned), mentions of burns. Tell me if you catch any more

Word count: 1300

A/N: This is only the first chapter, I've got more in the docs... Reader is female, relationship can be read as platonic or otherwise.

Steve droned on about his plan, his grand idea to stop the next evil. Everyone listened intently, sitting around the table, drinking and talking.

Bucky leaned all the way back in his chair, squeezing a stress ball in his human hand. “And what should I be doing while you “infiltrate from the air”?” He used air quotes with his unoccupied hand.

“Well, Buck, I was thinking you could take this one off, stay home and rest a bit.” Steve’s voice got high, “You’ve been looking a bit tired recently.”

He tipped his chair forward and leaned in close, “I am, but I can help.”

“Look, pal, I’m not saying you’re not an asset to this team, but…” he stopped himself.

“An asset?” Bucky scoffed, stood, and slammed his open metal palm into the chair. It smashed into the wall, leaving a dent in the shape of the chair’s corner. A hand came up and forked through his long hair. Everyone stared as he walked out of the room, shaking his head and flexing his jaw.

Stark was the first to speak, “I think baby’s gonna need a nap.”

Reader shot a look at Steve; he frowned and then dropped his head onto his folded arms.

“I think that’s a good place to call it,” Bruce got up and pushed in his chair.

The group dispersed into various floors and rooms of the tower; Steve put on his headphones and swayed his head to the music, still in his chair.

Reader went to her room to work on her project. She heard the water start through the next door. Bucky was the only other one with a room on this floor, so it was most likely him taking his scolding punishment shower.

She peeked out, steam clouded from the edges of the door, where Steve sat one ear out of his headphones listening.

“It bad?” She asked.

He nodded slowly.

“I don’t want him to get hurt…” Steve drew his eyes away from the ground and up to Reader, “I don’t want him to hurt himself.”

After Bucky left the meeting, he felt like punching something. Steve would be a good choice, but it would only serve as proof that he can’t do this. He walked down the hall, past the bathroom, into his room. Grabbing the navy pillow off his bed, with one solid fist, clenched so hard he shook. He silently screamed.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Bucky threw his pillow back to the head of his bed. His shoulders sank. He grabbed some clothes off the end of the bed and took them to the bathroom.

Bucky closed the bathroom door quietly. He stands with his hand on the light switch for a while before flicking them off. He pulls off his jacket, and drops it in front of the door, to cover any light coming in/ to protect him from people finding out he is in the dark.

He can barely see himself in the mirror, but he can see the outline of his face and the bruise across his cheek. His eyes feel hot, and tears sting themselves into vision. He silently screams, digging his nails into his legs.

“I can’t do anything,” he says in such a quiet whisper he thinks he just mouths it to himself in the mirror. Bucky prays no one can hear him, not Steve with his super hearing, or any of Tony’s little robot camera listening things. But it does almost hurt to be quiet.

He takes a deep breath with an open mouth and a clenched jaw, and tears slowly fall.

He turns on the shower to the hottest he can touch. Hydra used to do this, burn him. The showers here don’t get nearly as hot; it only makes his skin numb, but doesn’t sting like it used to.

His pants dropped, belt still weaved in. Then his shirt gets pulled off over his head. Bucky holds his shirt in his hands for a beat before shoving his face into it and screaming. The splashing of the water and the muffling of the shirt contained the broken scream. He drops the shirt and gets into the shower.

He cries. His chest turns red from the water, and his face is wet and sticky. His long hair clings to his face and jaw and sticks up in different directions, frizzy from the steam that slowly fills the dark room.

His eyes squint shut, and he uncontrollably sobs. Muscles flex in the hot water, and all his fresh cuts burn.

He doesn’t notice a slight moving glow of light from the hall outside refract off of the steam, showing how heavy the air has become. Glistening drips run down the mirror’s face.

A knock on the door startles him sober from his crying.

Steve leaned his head back against the wall, “he’s crying, I can hear it.”

“He’s allowed to…” Reader defended, “If you put your headphones on you, won’t be able to hear it.”

“I need to make sure he’s okay, like he’s always done for me.”

They hear the muffled scream, and Steve’s lip quivers. He looks at Reader with big doe eyes, full of anguish.

“Okay, give him a minute to cool down. If he’s in there, crying, then you can hear he’s alright. Yeah?” He nods.

They sit outside the door; minutes pass, and Reader and Steve play jacks. Steve has won twice, but Reader snagged the last win because he got too cocky. He listens to his headphones, rocking back and forth to the music.

After three or four more games, Steve starts listening again. “It’s been a while, right?” He asks.

“I guess, but I take long showers too.” Reader says, bouncing the ball against the opposing wall in the hallway.

“You’re right, but you don’t sound like this.”

“Like what?”

He took his headphones off, and leaned his head back, “He hasn’t stopped yet.” Steve checked the time, “38 minutes straight.”

“Yeah, okay, that’s too long.” She cleaned up the pieces, “Get in my room.”

“You’re not my mom,” he cocked his head.

“Here,” she shoved the jacks into his hand, “take these with you.”

He listened and took the game with him.

She knocked at the door.

“Hey, Buck,” Reader yells through the door with only a slight infliction of panic.

“What?” his voice cracks, weak as he tries to talk. He clears his throat softly.

“I just… uhh… I needed to pee and I just wanted to see when you’d be out.” She would never let him know the real reason was because she was worried about him.

“Sorry, I’ll be like another minute.” He spoke clearly.

Bucky wiped his nose with the back of his hand as water dripped down his face. Snot covered his hands, and everything was wet and hard to clean. He blew his nose into his hands and ran his face under the water. It was too hot for a face and made him wince at the contact.

He didn’t know how long he had been crying, or how long he had been in there. And he can’t imagine how long it was before she noticed.

So, he rubbed himself clean with his unscented soap. (Any scents were just too much for him after the serum). He hugged his body for a minute while he rinsed off before shutting off the water and getting out.

He flipped the light on, wrapped the towel around himself, and stared in the mirror. He looked fucked.

Bucky opened the door and saw Reader waiting outside, leaning against the wall in the hall. He rubbed his eyes, trying to hide his face.

“You okay?” She asked.

“I just washed my face,” he wiped his eyes to prove it, “soap, it got in my eye.”

His face was sticky and dry, his body naked, and his chest was bright red and splotchy from where the water scalded him, and she saw it all.

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes fanfic #winter soldier #Steve Rogers #captain america

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2knightt · 11 months

Note

I saw that your requests are open and this idea came to me after a little ✨️incident ✨️

if you dont feel like writing this i completely understand, but how do you think the gang would react if you came to them upset because of an arguement/disagreement with your sibling or relative? I'm just looking for some comfort rn cause I overheard my family insulting me behind my back last night and I've been bothered ever since

it can be platonic or romantic idrc 😭

↳maybe it’s a cruel joke on me.₊˚✧

—IN WHICH, the gang comforts reader.

||✰ — the gang, separately

Johnny Cade ;

you rush out of the house after your sibling raised their voice at you—not bothering to stick around just to see the situation grow.

you felt tears trickle in the corners of your eyes as you walk to the lot, praying that your boyfriend would be there.

you knew he would be, he always was.

you finally reached the lot, your feet feeling like 1000 pounds after each step you take.

you stand there for a moment, your fists stuffed inside your pockets, looking around.

you see johnny sitting down with his head leaning against a wall.

you had stopped crying earlier, but seeing him made you wanna cry more.

you ran over to him, kneeling down beside him—throwing your arms around his neck.

you pull him into a hug, hiding your face in his neck.

you feel him wrap his arms around your waist. he stutters a few words before whispering in a soft voice, talking to you like you’re a baby.

“hey, hey. y/n, what happened?”

you sniffle, the grasp you have around him tightening.

“n-not to tight, love.”

you realize you’d been squeezing him like it was the last thing you were ever gonna do.

“sorry. i didn’t mean to.”

johnny’s thumb began to flutter—up and down on your back, trying to comfort you.

“it’s fine, y/n.”

the both of you are silent for a minute, neither of you wanting to speak.

“it’s okay. you’ll be okay, y/n.”

he didn’t even know what happened and yet, he’s still trying to help.

“my sibling man. the-they think they’re so much better than me.”

his grip on you tightens for a moment, trying to let you know that he’s there for you.

“it’s alright. you’re alright. they ain’t mean it.”

“but they did, johnny. you weren’t there, man. shouted at me, made me feel so stupid!”

you complain, your voice straining the more you speak.

“you ain’t stupid. not even close. smarter than i’ll ever be, shoot.”

johnny goes silent. thinking of the right words, how to put what he’s thinking into a way you’d understand.

“what they said don’t matter. as long as you’re okay—everyone will be okay. your sibling loves you still, i know they do. stuff like this happens all the time.”

johnny kisses the crown of your head before he continues with his rant.

“you still care about them, right? even if it’s one sided, you’ll be alright. any sort of relationship with your sibling—you’ll be alright. everything is gonna be just fine.”

Dallas Winston ;

you scoffed, listening to your siblings rant.

the more they talked, the less sense they made.

they jumped from topic to topic—criticizing you for things you did years ago.

you just couldn’t take it anymore. you walked out of the house, hearing them shout your name as you got into your car.

you drove and drove until you couldn’t see your house anymore. you pulled into an empty parking lot and sat in silence.

suddenly, your whole world came crashing down—realization hitting you so suddenly.

tears stream down your face, your body shaking with every passing second.

you needed someone to just be with you.

you needed dallas.

you took a few minutes to calm down before driving, taking deep breaths in and out.

you drive off to bucks. you knew he was having a party, should be easy to sneak in.

you park the car and rush out, swinging the door open.

a few people turn to look at you, but quickly focus back on drinking or their friends. you run upstairs, tunnel visioned in on the room dally’s usually in.

the door’s closed, which normally means he’s napping. you knock on the door.

you hear groaning, followed by bed springs squeaking. the door opens slightly, dallas peaking out into the hallway—suspicious of whoever was knocking.

but as soon as his eyes met yours, the door opened fully and he carefully rushed you into the room.

you figure your eyes must still be red from crying because he looks at you with both worry and anger.

he gently lays his palm on your cheek, bringing your eyes to meet his.

“what happened? did anyone do this?”

you glance down at your feet, not wanting to answer.

dallas exhales with obvious frustration.

“c’mon doll. you can tell me.”

you lean your head against his chest, silent until this moment.

“my siblin’. they never listen—no matter how much i try to change, no matter how much i do. i’m always some stupid kid.”

you mumble, your voice cracking mid sentence.

dallas sighs. he wraps an arm around your waist, the other one going to your head, gently holding it.

“i mean. i can beat ‘em up if you want me to.”

you giggle—well, tried too. your voice was so strained, you were silent.

“dallas.”

“yeah yeah, i know. i’m, ‘better than that.’”

he mocks past you as he rests his chin on top of your head.

“you can stay ‘ere if you want.”

he suggests, with slight hope in his voice.

“stay far away from ‘em for awhile. i don’t want them to start on you again.”

you smile at his words—feeling a sense of comfort and relaxation washing over you.

“yeah. sounds nice, dal.”

Ponyboy Curtis ;

you couldn’t handle hearing their voice any longer.

the genuine anger in their voice made you wanna sob.

you rolled your eyes the longer your siblings rant went on.

you kissed your teeth, tears slowly forming in your eyes as you waved goodbye.

your sibling was beyond angry as you ran out the door, but they knew they couldn’t stop you.

you ran and ran, your legs feeling like they’d never get tired. adrenaline making you go faster than you ever had.

you were barely conscious as you ran, allowing your body to take you wherever.

but when the adrenaline ran out, you found yourself outside of the curtis house.

the waterworks started again as you stared at the window. the curtains were closed but you saw light inside.

you caught your breath before stepping up the front porch.

you stood infront of the door, hoping it was ponyboy who’d answer the door. you knocked quietly, glancing down at the mat.

the door opens and your head shoots up, meeting a pair of green eyes.

“y/n?”

“oh, pony.”

you whisper as your eyebrows contorted into a sad look as you threw your arms around his shoulders.

he was taken aback by your face and the sudden affection, pony stumbles back slightly.

he gently wrapped his arms around your neck, trying to bring comfort.

“what’s wrong? did something happen? are you alright?”

he asks, his words coming out faster and faster each second.

you’re silent for what seemed like minutes.

“my sibling, pony. they refuse to listen! they don’t bother to listen to anyone! it-it’s so annoying. can’t take it anymore, man.”

you whisper, taking a shaky breath after finishing your rant.

you thought pony of all people could understand, especially with darry and all.

you started to cry again—even you didn’t know why.

you sniffled as ponyboy rocked both of your bodies side to side.

“breath, y/n. please—i don’t want you to freak out to much.”

you hadn’t even realized you were hyperventilating.

ponyboy grabbed your shoulders and looked into your eyes with a concerned look. he looked like he was gonna cry himself.

“do what i’m doin’, alright?”

he asks of you as be started to breath in, hold it in for a moment, and exhale.

you did the same for a few minutes. your tears coming to an end, along with your hyperventilation.

“it’s gonna be okay, y/n. shoot—me and darry go through that almost daily and we still love each other. i-i bet that this’ll be over soon. you n them were the closest siblings if i’ve ever seen one.”

he said, grabbing ahold of your hand.

he smiled, hoping you’d follow his actions once more.

you tried to smile, but gave a lazy one in return.

he wrapped you into another hug, kissing your cheek before doing so.

“you’re gonna be alright.”

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

Sodapop Curtis ;

you heard your aunt mock you for being a grease.

she was always so materialistic. not even your mom liked her but—she always came over.

you heard her mock the way you dresses, talked, walked, everything.

you felt so low. like you were some tiny germ in her world.

you wanted comfort, but you knew you couldn’t go to your mom. you couldn’t go to any of your family.

then you thought of soda. sodapop shouldn’t be busy today.

you climbed out of your window, not wanting to even be in the same room as your aunt.

you walked to the curtis house, peeking into the window as you walk by—seeing darry sitting down on his chair.

you really don’t want to talk to him right now. you didn’t want to talk to anyone but sodapop.

you walk up to his window and knocked lightly.

his curtains swung open and he opened the window in a swift motion.

“babe! what’s up?”

“..can i come in?”

“uh, totally! you ain’t even gotta ask!”

he responds with a smile so wide that it couldn’t help but make you feel soft.

you plopped down on his bed, flat on your back as you sigh.

soda gets a confused look as he tilts his head.

“what’s wrong, y/n? you’re awfully quiet.”

“do you think i’m a lowlife, soda?”

you ask, staring up at the ceiling. tears slowly forming in your eyes, sliding down your cheeks onto the blanket.

soda goes silent before sitting down next to you.

he grabs your hand and kisses it, mumbling something you couldn’t hear.

“if you’re a lowlife then i gotta be satan himself, love.”

he responds with a chuckle as he lays down beside you.

“what makes you ask, anyhow?”

he asks, turning his head to face you, still holding your hand.

“my aunt jus—said some stuff ‘bout me. made me feel a lil stupid.”

he squeezes your hand and looks up at the ceiling along with you.

“don’t you ever think like that again. no matter what anyone says, kay? you’re the sweetest person i’ve ever known! shoot—i don’t think there’s ever been a grease as nice as you.”

he rambles, bringing both your hands up to the sky, as if a sign of victory.

you smile, sitting up as you stare down at soda.

he makes eye contact with you, shooting up to sit alongside you.

there are still tears in the corner of your eyes, but they refuse to fall. soda grabs your chin to bring you closer to him, kissing the tears off your face.

“can’t let those tears ruin your pretty little face now, can we?”

he asks, with a cat like grin on his face.

you giggle, throwing him into a hug.

Darry Curtis ;

your uncle had come ‘round for a visit, gonna catch up with the family he said.

but all he did with you was make snide remakes at you or behind your back.

calling you a nobody, someone who’d never make it far in life.

he doesn’t know what you’ve gone through. he just sees the aftermath, not the past, not the present. just the person you want to throw away—the future you don’t want.

he brought you down so much, you found yourself at the bottom of a bottle.

you were outside the curtis house on the porch, drinking.

you always sit out there, nobody even bats an eye at you when you’re out there anymore.

it was late at night when you were out there. darry wasn’t home, you said goodnight to pony and soda—even johnny who was staying the night.

you didn’t want any of them to know you’re back into alcohol for comfort. you waited until you were alone.

you grabbed a few bottles and sat out in the porch, drinking and drinking.

you thought you were gonna waste yourself until the morning—hoping you could act sober around darry.

headlights blinded your vision as darrys truck pulled into the driveway.

you had a bottle up to your lips as he parked the vehicle. you started to freak out as you heard him shout your name, trying to hide the bottles under the bench.

“y/n? you better not be doing what i think you are.”

you hear him shout as he makes his way up the stairs. you pray that the bottles don’t roll from under the bench.

you shake your head, trying to straighten out your posture.

“nah, dare. yo-you know i changed.”

you defend yourself, trying to act sober but accidentally slurring your words.

you hear darry sigh as he pinches his nose bridge.

he sits down, turning his body to face you.

“i’m not a idiot, y/n.”

he says, bending down, grabbing one of the bottles.

“are you serious? i thought you sobered up.”

he complains, his elbows resting on his knees as he looks down at the bottle.

“i did! it’s just…it got tough again.”

you mumble, looking down at your feet with shame.

darry places his hand on top of yours. you look at him, making eye contact with him.

“what happened then? what happened that would make you turn back to this?”

he asks quietly, his eyebrows furrowed.

you could hear the disappointment laced in his voice the more he spoke.

“i was called a drunkard, a nobody, someone who’d never make it far in life. do you know how draining it is to hear that?”

you ask, tears already gliding down your cheek. your head is thrown back, hands covering your eyes as you erupt into sobs.

darry grabs your wrists, bringing your hands down. he let go, and placed his hands on your temples. he brought you closer to him, kissing your forehead before whispering sweet nothings—trying to make you feel better.

“what anyone says shouldn’t bother you none, y/n. all that matters is that you are you and i love you for you. i love your laugh, i love how caring you are, i love how you try to change for the better.”

darry mumbles, kissing your forehead every now and then in between his words.

he brings you to his chest. the two of you sit in silence. you listen to his heartbeat as the moon shines directly upon you two.

Steve Randle ;

you’re sibling had called you an idiot, a stupid loser, and so much more right to your face.

right in front of you. not even trying to hide it.

you pretended not to care, you pretended like it didn’t hurt as you walked to the nearest pay phone, you lied to yourself as you pressed steves number into the pay phone.

but still—even with all that convincing, you still didn’t believe you.

the phone rung and rung until he finally answered.

“whatchu want? who is this?”

“steve? oh thank god!”

you sighed with relief, slightly chuckling at your own demise.

“y/n! what’s up?”

he asks, trying to see why you’re calling him through a pay phone rather than your own phone.

“can you come and pick me up? i’ll be at the gas station!”

“the DX?”

“no-no. not the DX, the other one.”

“oh, totally. sit tight, doll.”

he says before you hang up.

you walk to the gas station which wasn’t to far. you sit on the bench, watching the cars go by. it was quiet for a bright afternoon. maybe everyone was at the beach, or seeing a movie.

you think to yourself as you see steves beat up car pull up to the curb right in front of you.

he rolls down the window, shouting for you to get in.

you rush up to the passenger door and swing it open, sitting down.

steve begins to drive off. he always just drives ‘till he run outta gas or gets tired.

“so,”

“so?”

you asked. steve began to speak but stopped mid-way. you always hated when anyone did that.

“why’d you need me to pick you up there? you look…sad.”

and that was your cue to start crying.

you didn’t mean to. you didn’t even feel the tears until you noticed spots of your pants had tear droplets on them.

steve had noticed you crying and pulled over to the side of the road.

he started to freak out a little—he never knew how to handle anyone crying.

“woah—y/n, what’s wrong? did i say something?”

he asks, leaning over to get closer to you.

you wiped your tears with the back of your hand, shaking your head.

“then why’re you cryin’?”

“steve, do you think i’m stupid? be honest.”

his eyebrows furrowed at your question, he almost laughed at such an idiotic thing to ask.

“hell nah. i mean, you see shepard? he’s so dumb he can’t tell up from down!”

he shouts, trying to comfort you.

you laugh slightly, the grasp you have onto the loose fabric of your pants loosening.

“you think?”

“i know, y/n.”

he whispers, kissing your temple before leaning back onto the drivers seat.

steve puts his hand on your thigh, his thumb caressing it in a comforting manner.

“how ‘bout i treat you to some food, huh? try n take your mind off that absolute nonsense you were talkin’.”

you nod your head in agreement.

Two-bit Matthews ;

your sibling had shit on you for everything under the sun.

looks, grades, how you spoke, how you walked, friends, boyfriend, shoot—even the way you brush your teeth.

you started tearing up during their rant. thought it was stupid to criticize everything you do.

the second they were done, you walked out. made sure to slam the door on the way out to make it known that you left, that you left angry and sad.

you thought of two-bit the whole walk.

did he think of that about you? does he think he could do better? does he think you smell funny?

it was 9PM, so two-bit would probably be at some gas station trying to get some booze.

you walk to his normal gas station where he has the most luck and you were right. he was leaning on the counter, laughing while the worker had a stern look on his face with his arms crossed.

you walked in and tapped two-bit on the shoulder.

“wh-oh! hey, babe.”

he greeted you with a grin and a kiss on the cheek.

“can i talk to you?”

two-bit got an awkward smile but nonetheless—agreed.

the two of you exited the store, but as soon as he stepped out of the door, you pulled him into a hug.

the sobs started again as you held him tightly.

two-bit was silent.

he was never good at comforting others, but he tried.

he always tried for you.

“shh, shh. it’s okay—i’m here. you’re just fine.”

he says, wrapping his arm around your waist, rocking the two of you left to right.

he kissed your temple, the crown of your head, to your forehead until you stopped crying.

“do you, do you ever think you can do better, two?”

you ask in a quiet voice, looking down at your shoes.

“what? never! infact, i think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

he says, picking you up and swinging you around some.

you gotta admit, you laughed a little with tears still streaming down your face.

“why do you ask? who i gotta beat, huh?”

he asks, putting you down.

“nothin’ it was stupid.”

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

he kisses your cheek, his arms still wrapped around your waist.

“how ‘bout we go n bother that worker together, huh? bet we can steal the whole store if we tried hard enough.”

two-bit says with a grin, finally letting go of your waist.

you get a smile on your face at the thought of it. you nod in excitement as two-bit drags you back into the store. the two of you leaning against the counter, grinning from ear to ear.

i know we dont know each other that well but just know, i’m always here for you. no matter the situation im here for you!

289 notes · View notes

thisblogisaboutabook · 3 months

Text

Cowboy Like Me - Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Reader and Elain are forced to spend a little one on one time together. Mor whisks reader out for a night on the town. Azriel loses his shit during an incident at Rita’s and comforts reader afterward. A new boundary is crossed between Azriel and reader.

A/n: We’re coming into the home stretch with this story! It will only have a couple more chapters.

Part 5

Warnings: Alcohol, Language, mild violence, seizure, poisoning, mention (kind of) of drugging via alcohol

Elain’s garden was lovely. A labor of love that only countless hours of tending and getting hands dirty could cultivate. Her tension eased slightly as she shared details of the various flora blooming throughout.

Truthfully, I had no interest in gardening and most of the plant names went in one of my ears and out the other but her passion was captivating. There was something about listening to someone speak of their interests that I couldn’t get enough of.

As if she were a demure flower that came into bloom when she entered her space, she went from uncomfortable with me to genuine. I could see why Azriel had interest in her.

As we finished her tour of the garden, nobody had come to collect us and the awkwardness once returned.

Finally Elain looked to her feet and then back to me. “You and Azriel are a lovely pair.”

I started. “Oh no, we’re not together. It’s just an assignment.”

Elain thought for a moment beginning to say something but holding herself back.

And because I was nothing if not incurably nosey I blurted out. “It’s okay. You can say whatever it is you’re holding back. It won’t hurt me, Elain.”

“It’s not like that.” She spoke softly. “Just be careful. Not with him, he is a good, honorable male. But I am a seer. It was one of the powers thrust upon me by the cauldron and I’ve seen something that I don’t understand. A mangled skeleton in a tunnel with you…. And threads of gold flowing from the opposite direction.”

I paled. What an ominous thing to say. “My visions are strange and I don’t understand how to decipher them just yet. I don’t want to alarm you. Please,” she took my hand earnestly, “just be careful.”

I squeezed her hand in return. Who was I to make the female before me feel uncomfortable for sharing something she clearly still struggled to speak about. She had no reason to be kind to me. I was a stranger, a spy, in close proximity to someone she had or perhaps still did have feelings for. And yet, I could feel she was being genuine. So I met her eyes sincerely, “Thank you, Elain. I’m happy to have met you.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, nothing of substance, just contented small talk.

Eventually Rhysand came to the garden, Azriel behind him looking uncomfortable. “Thank you for your patience, ladies. Amren can get rather cranky when she hasn’t had her nap. Please excuse her…. brazen ways. It makes her a great second, but an occasional pain in the ass at dinner.”

He gestured to the female beside me, “Thank you for showing our guest your garden, Elain.” before turning to me. “Y/N, please join Azriel, Cassian, and I in my office.”

Rhysand turned back toward the house, Azriel lingering behind to wait for me. I felt his gaze as we wandered through a corridor of the massive estate. I felt awkward after the earlier encounter, not quite sure what to say. It was Azriel who broke the silence as he slowed his pace. “Y/N…”

I looked up to the male towering over me. His wings were tucked in tightly behind him as his shadows whirled around our feet. “You look so much more than nice. You’re resplendent.”

My face heated in a blush and a flicker sparked in those hazel eyes. Oh, he knew that effected me and was proud of recovering from his earlier stumble.

“Thank you, Azriel.” I reached toward his tunic. “You clean up quite well yourself.”

It was his turn to blush now. I jerked my head toward the High Lord now several yards ahead of us. “We best catch up with him.”

“Yes, of course.” He extended his arm as I looped mine through it.

Rhysand’s office was less of an office and more of a library. In fact, I am pretty sure that I’ve seen smaller libraries in my travels to the Day Court. “What an impressive collection” I marveled at the grand room surrounding us that was both warm and elegant. A lovely painting of the High Lady hung behind his desk. I wondered if she painted it.

“She did.” Rhys spoke into my head. “Lovely, isn’t she?”

“The loveliest” I mused wistfully. She truly was. “Hey, now get out of my head.”

He held his hands up in a show of innocence before mentally replying “No mind reading here. It was easy enough to read on your face, little spy. Nice to know all I need to break a spy is my beautiful mate.”

I only giggled in return. I liked him. I had heard rumors that he was a much more benevolent ruler than he let the world see but hearing it versus experiencing were two totally different things.

Azriel’s low voice interrupted and brought me back to reality “I’d love to be included in whatever you two are going on about.”

Whoops. Busted.

“Yeah, guys.” Cassian’s booming voice came from the doorway. “Secrets don’t make friends.”

“They do keep my pockets lined though.” I replied without thinking. Probably not in my best interest to make such jokes after Amren’s display at dinner.

To both my surprise and lack of it, Cassian laughed. “Touché, little spy.”

Rhys placed his palms on the desk, eyes fixating on a letter before lifting his head back to us. “We have new information on the infiltrated shipments. A trace amount of the same poison that had laced the spices imported to the Summer Court were detected in one of Beron’s vaults. Not enough to damn him but enough to suggest we are looking in the right direction.”

“Who relayed this intel?” Azriel asked.

“Who do you think?” Cassian goaded, earning an eye roll from his brother.

I cut in “It was Eris, right? Are you sure he can be trusted?”

“I trust him far more than Beron and he hasn’t led us astray yet.” Rhys replied. “I see no reason not to believe him at this point in time.”

“Now,” Rhys continued. “Here’s where things get interesting. Beron will be attending the ball next week. Eris will be there as well and I’ve contacted Lucien. He was hesitant to show given his history with his father but with Elain in attendance he plans to join.”

Azriel gave no response, physical or verbal, to the mention of Elain. He only continued listening intently. “Lucien was concerned about Elain given Beron being there but she has made it abundantly clear to Feyre and I that it is her choice to go.”

“Is it necessary for her to attend?” Cassian asked.

“Once again, it is her choice. She had a vision leading me to believe Beron has something planned and that was before Eris confirmed that Beron is attending the ball and of the traces of poison he had discovered.”

“Shit.” Cassian muttered.

“Azriel, I need you and Y/N to stay here in the event that anything urgent comes up. Y/N, would you be comfortable staying in Velaris for the time being? You can stay at the House of Wind with Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel and train with Nesta in the mornings.”

As if I would be sad to stay in a gorgeous city and not in a giant palace in the middle of nowhere with only one grumpy Shadowsinger for company. Okay, the last part wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t that grumpy… and he was rather pleasant to look at it.

Rhys waited patiently for an answer. “I am at your disposal, High Lord.”

———————

Upon reentering the main living area, I was greeted by an eager Mor. “What would an evening together be without a little Amren drama?” She clung to my arm guiding me toward a liquor cart, pouring us each a glass of Cognac served neat. “Cheers to surviving your first family dinner!”

Azriel only huffed. “We should get to the House of Wind. It’s late and we have to train in the morning.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Mor gripped my arm tightly.

“Don’t even think about it, Mor.” Azriel warned.

“My gift is truth. And the truth is that Y/N has not experienced Velaris until she’s had a night out at Rita’s.”

Azriel kept his stance. “Well she’ll be here for at least a week longer. We’re going to stay at the House of Wind until the ball.”

Mor squealed. “Oh, we are going to have so much fun!”

“She’s still here for work, Mor.” He reprimanded

Her brows knit together “And? What does that have to do with anything? There’s plenty of time for work. Now, let’s play.”

I wasn’t about to get into this battle of wills between Mor and Az but the idea of a night out was appealing. I’ve never had a night out for just fun. It was always for work, always. I wanted to feel music and lose my myself for a bit, but… Azriel did have a point. It was getting late and we did have to train tomorrow.

The blonde waived a hand dismissively. “Azriel. You work too hard. You’ve been wound tight for months now. You need this just as much.”

He scoffed. “My idea of an enjoyable night out isn’t babysitting my belligerent best friend and one of my spies.”

“Excuse me?” I chimed in. “One: you don’t have to babysit me. Two: I’m a spy for hire, not one of your spies.”

And with that, I could have sworn hurt flickered across his stoic features before regaining his composure. “Do what you want then. I’m not going out.”

“Fine.” I stated. “I’m going with Mor.”

“For fucks sake.” He muttered under his breath.

Mor again squealed. “Come on! Let’s change.”

———————-

I wasn’t sure why Mor insisted on changing when the dress I had been wearing was perfectly suitable for a night out, but who was I to fight the determined female? I saw how far it got Azriel who had known her for 500 years. There was no way that I would win that battle with her.

So, I found myself at Rita’s a lively bar with even livelier music in a much too short, skin tight dress, high heels, and an obscene amount of cleavage.

Cassian and Nesta came along as Nesta loved the music though she did not drink.

And Az thought he would have to babysit when Nesta was right there?

I would obey any command the silver eyed female gave me. Any command. Cassian was a very lucky male.

Rita’s was far more lively than I anticipated, nothing like the taverns I had frequented where a sole piano collected dust until a passing bard came through to warm the keys for tips. No, this bar had a stage dedicated for instrumentals and singers with sultry voices. The drinks were far from the stale and shitty varieties of ale I was used to. While there were plenty of bottom shelf options, Mor ordered everything from the top, and I gladly indulged.

We did several rounds of shots before Mor pulled me onto the dance floor. Nesta following with Cassian in tow. Round of drinks were served to us in between sets and I completely lost myself to the music. I took turns writhing against Mor and Nesta, which Cassian did not mind ogling in the slightest. Nesta only gave him a sultry smirk before losing herself to the music again.

A few males tried getting close to us but Cassian’s big scary “Lord of Bloodshed” face drove them off. Fortunately for them.

I had a feeling that if they slipped past his harrowing gaze, Nesta would happily eat them alive. Just to reiterate, Cassian is a very lucky male.

The liquor continued flowing and my head felt light in the best of ways. A lightness I’d experienced so few times over the years. I knew I was a sight, we all were. Nesta’s curves were stunning in anything, and Mor and I… well we had enough on display for anyone to appreciate.

Eventually Rhys and Feyre came into the bar, seemingly having left Nyx with Elain for the rest of the night. They were a sight together, the moon and stars, so effortlessly captivating.

Feyre joined us out on the dance floor as tendrils of darkness swirled around the booth Rhysand sat at, his white teeth shining through as an amused grin crossed his face.

Maybe if I’d looked closer I would have noticed that those weren’t tendrils of darkness at all but shadow that surrounded the booth.

Mor was drawn into dance with a beautiful female as Cassian took reprieve to visit Rhys in his booth and Nesta and Feyre took to chatting with eachother in a corner. The perfect moment to sneak away and indulge in one more drink.

I approached the bar, fighting through a crowd of bystanders to place another order. After three attempts to catch the bartenders attention, a pretty male appeared next to me with that classic High Fae beauty and he was so, so tall. “What do you want?” He asked. “I’ve got you.” And in a normal circumstances would have insisted I am a strong, independent female perfectly calable to order my own drink but honestly…. My inhibitions were low enough that I was happy to accept the feat of a beautiful male buying me a drink.

I yelled my drink order to him over the crowd to which he raised an eyebrow then threw a long arm up in the air with two fingers and a gold mark. Ah, money, great attention getter. It was only a moment before the bartender made his way over to take his order. The bartender opened a new bottle of the liquor from the shelf. Not a high end liquor but not totally bottom of the barrel either. Something that said I’m a classy lady but also considerate of the fact that someone else is paying for my drink.

The bartender slid the drinks over to which the male handed me mine, gave a cheers, and invited me for a dance.

One dance wouldn’t hurt.

He stayed close to me but remained respectful. His hands not drifting anywhere above or below mid-waist and keeping a few centimeters of space between our bodies.

As I became more comfortable with the stranger and the music became a bit more seductive, I leaned back into his warm chest. It was nice, comfortable, but my eyes began to grow heavy and my limbs a bit more lucid. My motions became slower and I felt myself slumping a bit. The male noticed too because he peered around me. “Hey. Hey, are you-“ and suddenly shadows surrounded us and a low, gravely voice spoke. “Step away from my lady.”

I heard the male gasp beginning to speak, letting go of me as Azriel’s large, strong hands caught me, not letting go until I steadied. “Wait, I wasn’t-“ he didn’t finish the sentence before Azriel’s fist met the males face, hard.

“Fuck!” The male shouted as Azriel shoved him further away from me and it was then that I fell to the floor, darkness overtaking me.

——————

When I came to it, I was in an unfamiliar bed. A warm fire glowed in a large stone fireplace before me and a few stars still interés in the sky outside. Pain radiated through me shooting from my stomach and throughout the rest of my body. I tried to sit up but immediately needed to throw up.

Suddenly a scarred hand passed a bucket to me. “Here, here take this.” I gripped my hands onto it and heaved. A warm hand helped keep me sitting upright, thumb running soft strokes over my back as another held my hair back.

“Holy shit.” I gasped before heaving again. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Not a bad idea.” Azriel spoke, no hint of amusement in his voice. “But drinking wasn’t the sole factor.”

Pain radiated through my skull. “What do you mean?”

Then a flashback ran through my mind of shadow and Azriel’s fist meeting a males face.

Fuck, how could I have been so stupid! “That male. He…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “Did he-?”

Azriel looked down to his feet before taking the bucket back and handing me a cup of ginger tea.

“Look, I…” shame darkened his features. “My shadows sensed something was wrong. I saw you slumping in his arms and I acted before realizing.”

My brows furrowed, lips drawing into a straight line. “I still don’t understand. What do you mean, Azriel?”

“No, he didn’t do anything wrong. For what it’s worth, he seems like a decent male. But after you fell, I ran to you. I shouldn’t have stepped away from you in the first place. You began seizing, Y/N. It fucking terrified me. Cassian apprehended him before the same thing happened to the male. He lost his steadiness, fell to the ground, and began seizing as well.

I immediately took you to Madja who examined you, induced vomiting and provided tonics to counteract the symptoms. “What happened to me?”

Rage. Icy rage crossed his features. “You were poisoned. Mor came and stayed by your side while Madja worked on you. Rhys, Cassian, and I were able to question several people at Rita’s. It turns out that soon after you fell ill, a few others came down with the same symptoms. It was the liquor that had been poisoned. We spoke with the owner of Rita’s who checked their logs and the bottle of liquor you were last served from had been imported around the time that the rogue shipment landed in the summer court.”

“Fuuuck.” I whispered. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I overreacted. I thought he hurt you. And when i considered his intentions….”

His hands flexed and a light hint of silver lined his eyes. “Fuck, I just lost it.”

“Is he okay?” I asked. “Yes, once the tonic took effect for him. I was able to apologize and he was forgiving. Very decent of him given that if the roles were reversed… I didn’t deserve the forgiveness.”

“What about the other patrons who were poisoned?” I asked. “Is everyone okay?”

Azriel’s shadows whirred angrily. “Fortunately. Madja and her staff were quick and everyone will recover.”

His hazel eyes met mine sympathetically, “but it may take a full day for the effects to fully clear from your system. It won’t be a pleasant process.”

Given the pain and nausea within me, I was dreading the next several hours. Looking down, I saw that I’d been changed into an oversized t-shirt and men’s boxer briefs. I looked to Azriel with a raised eyebrow. “Your doing?”

The male blushed, blushed for the second time in less than twelve hours, and I couldn’t repress the small grin that came to my lips. “Nesta helped you into these. Your dress was covered in vomit. And Nesta may dress somewhat modestly in public but she has preferences in her nightly attire so it was either my clothes or a night gown that left very little to the imagination.

Mor is going to bring you some of the clothes you bought yesterday and some of hers after she gets a few hours of sleep. I’ll retrieve clothes from the Moonstone Palace once you’re better.”

Had he forgotten that I was only wearing clothes from the guest armoire there? “I know they aren’t yours but they suited you. Night Court attire suits you.”

I remembered the cobalt blue outfits I wore around the palace. Cobalt blue like…. Oh my gods, his siphons.

It was my turn to blush.

“You should get some more rest, Y/N.”

“Fine.” I sighed. A fevered chill running through me that even the warm bed and fire couldn’t suppress.

He started as he saw the shivers overtake me, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

“Azriel?”

“Yes?” He asked cautiously.

“Will you lay with me? I’m cold.”

And that was the first night I slept in the arms of the Shadowsinger.

———————

Azriel

He sat beside her bed for hours, heart lurching at any stir in her sleep. Had he just gone out with them in the first place, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe it would have been him holding her against his chest on the dance floor, maybe she wouldn’t have wandered off for that last drink.

When she seized on the floor, he felt his soul leave his body. He’d never known such panic in his life, not when his brothers held fire to his hands, not when he saw Mor in that field, not even when Elain had been captured by Hybern. He was always able to master himself in times of distress. But he knew that this time was different and if it weren’t for the adrenaline rush that overtook his senses in rushing her to Madja, he would have been hyperventilating on the floor next to her, he was certain of it.

So when she finally awoke and asked meekly if he’d sleep with her, there was no other option. She felt so right in his arms. As her breathing evened out, sleep once again overtaking her, he quietly whispered into the night, to himself, to her sleeping form, to the gods, anyone who would listen. “Never again.”

His shadows hummed in agreement.

Never again would he leave her when he knew she wanted his company. No, she didn’t say it out loud, but he felt it somewhere deep within his chest. Never again would he let someone bring harm to her, and if they did, he wouldn’t let them get away with it. Never again would his little spy feel alone in this world.

With that he softly brushed his lips across her temple. A seal of a vow. A silent show of adoration.

And he could have sworn he felt a little flutter in his chest as her lip quirked upward in her dream state.

————————————————

Tags: @fxckmiup @saltedcoffeescotch @minnieoo @dr4g0ngirl @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife

Sorry for the delay with this chapter!

103 notes · View notes

rxmqnova · 7 months

Note

I don’t know if you’re taking requests, but if you are, can you write about when Nat kidnapped Wanda’s daughter when she was 4? Like what happened that day and Wanda’s reaction when she realized her daughter was gone?

I love your writing BTW!! <33

Kidnapped

Y/N: 4 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV "Sweet dreams, my little monkey" Wanda whispers to her little daughter and presses one last kiss to her forehead.

The witch just put Y/N down for a nap, so now it's time for her to get some work done. And by work I mean study the Darkhold.

Y/N only just turned 2 when the whole Thanos thing happened and Wanda's lover died. Vision isn't Y/N's dad, Wanda had her with someone else before her and Vision became a thing. However, things didn't work out really well and they decided to go separate ways, but raise their daughter together as the two were living in the same building.

That was the original plan, but Vision died and everything changed. Wanda took her daughter and left New York with no trace left behind. Then this hex thing happened which fell apart as well and Wanda didn't only lose her lover for the second time, but also her two other children.

That brings us to the Darkhold thing. Wanda's been studying the book whenever she can to bring her twin boys back. She has a library in the basement where Y/N is forbidden to enter as Wanda doesn't want her little one to get hurt. So usually the witch locks herself in there when Y/N's napping or after Y/N falls asleep in the evening and this is exactly what's Wanda about to do now…

Meanwhile Natasha's watching the witch from distance. Y/N's her daughter too after all and she really wants to be her mom, but she knows that Wanda won't let anyone near her daughter, not even her other parent.

She knows Wanda will be furious and most definitely will come for her daughter as soon as she finds out Y/N is gone, but the redhead talked to the other Avengers who agreed that Wanda needs to come back to reality.

"Clint, I'm going" Natasha announces through the earpiece.

"Be careful" Clint tells her back.

The plan is that Natasha takes Y/N while Clint's waiting in the Avengers jet. Then all three of them will fly to the compound and wait what'll happen next. Natasha believes that Wanda isn't completely corrupted by the Darkhold and will listen to her when she'll have Y/N.

Wanda's now deep down in the book, so she doesn't hear anything when Natasha manages to get into the house through a window. The redhead makes her way to Wanda's bedroom where Y/N's napping and carefully takes the little girl into her arms, smiling when she sees how much has her daughter changed over the time she hasn't seen her.

"You're so beautiful, детка" Natasha whispers as soon as she leaves the bedroom, knowing Wanda has a baby monitor there if Y/N needed something. She presses a kiss to her daughter's forehead and tears fill the redhead's eyes. (baby)

Natasha realizes she should probably get out though as Wanda might soon notice something. So she leaves through the same window she came in, quickly carrying Y/N to the jet.

As soon as Natasha gets to the jet, Clint closes the door and gets on the way back to the compound while Natasha holds her little girl tightly, smiling at how cute her sleeping daughter is.

It doesn't take long until Y/N starts waking up though. She rubs her eyes and looks around, wondering where she is.

"Mama?" Y/N calls, her eyes filling with tears when she doesn't see Wanda anywhere and finds herself in Natasha's arms. "Mama" Y/N cries out, trying to wiggle out from Natasha's arms.

"No, no, it's okay. Don't cry, sweetheart. I won't hurt you" Natasha panics, not knowing what to do. Deep down she was hoping that Y/N would remember her, but that's clearly not happening.

"Where's mama?" Y/N sobs, looking at Natasha and waiting for an answer.

"She's okay, sweetheart. She asked me to watch you, because she needed to… she needed to solve something. We'll have so much fun, you don't have to be scared" Natasha smiles warmly, hoping this will calm Y/N down.

"You're doing great" Clint says playfully, earning a glare from the redhead before she looks back at her baby and smiles.

"Have you ever been on a plane?" Natasha asks on which Y/N shakes her head. "No? You're on one now, do you want to look out of the window?" Natasha asks softly. Y/N hesitates a few seconds and then nods, so Natasha carefully lifts her daughter up, sitting her on her hip and walking to the window.

Y/N gasps, covering her mouth with her tiny hand when she looks outside.

"That's a cloud?" Y/N questions, pointing at the white clouds outside and wiping away her tears with her other hand.

"Yeah" Natasha smiles warmly, giving Y/N's tummy a little tickle before letting out a breath of relief.

———

Three hours later Wanda leaves the library confused as why hasn't Y/N called for her in the baby monitor yet. She walks upstairs to her bedroom to check up if Y/N's still asleep and eventually to wake her up.

"Y/N?" Wanda calls when she finds her bed empty. "Y/N, where are you?" She asks, her voice full of worry as she's looking around the room.

Wanda rushes around the entire house, calling Y/N's name, but gets no response. Tears fill the witch's eyes as her little monkey isn't anywhere.

She runs outside, calling her daughter's name over and over again, but suddenly stops, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She's learnt a lot from the Darkhold and if Y/N's near the house then locating her daughter shouldn't be much of a problem.

Little does she know that her daughter is already on the Avengers compound and right now eating a snack Natasha has prepared for her.

"This place is so cool! Why mama never takes me here?" Y/N pouts before shoving another piece of apple into her mouth. "When will mama come?"

"I have a feeling she'll be here very soon, honey. But who wants to play now?" Natasha smiles, booping Y/N's nose which makes the little girl giggle.

"Mee!" Y/N squeals with a smile, jumping off of the chair and lifting her arms up for Natasha.

"Slow down, детка. You still have some apples to eat" Natasha chuckles, sitting Y/N on her lap and handing her baby a bowl with the last few pieces of apple. (baby)

———

Wanda's eyes glow red as she lands in front of the compound, she's really mad. She slams the door open with her powers and makes her way straight to the living room where Y/N and Natasha are currently playing.

"Natasha, where is my daughter?!" Wanda's voice is full of anger as she's walking towards Natasha with a red magic ball in her hand.

"Wanda, calm down" Natasha says, standing up from the ground and keeping Y/N hidden behind her legs.

"Mama" Y/N sobs, hugging Natasha's legs tightly.

"Y/N/N" Wanda breathes out in relief that her daughter is okay, her magic disappears and she reaches her arms for her daughter, but Y/N only flinches away. "What have you done?" Wanda asks, looking at Natasha and tilting her head in anger.

"Nothing. You're scarying her, Wanda" Natasha says, lifting Y/N up and sitting her onto her hip.

"No, no, I… Y/N/N, it's mama" Wanda smiles at her daughter, tears in her eyes. "Please, my little monkey… Why did you do that? Why did you take her away? She was perfectly fine with me" Wanda blurts out, wiping away the tears that's escaped her eyes.

"No, she wasn't, Wanda. What you do is dangerous and Y/N's my daughter too. You don't have the right to just pack her stuff and leave without telling me" Natasha starts while Y/N's resting her head on Natasha's shoulder, now interested in playing with Natasha's arrow necklace and not listening to anything. "You have to stop, Wanda. That book is dangerous and you know it. You need to stop before it takes control of you"

"How do you know about the Darkhold?" Wanda asks confused.

"Strange… Wanda, I just want Y/N to be safe and I want to be her mom… And believe it or not I still care about you… You can't bring them back, Wanda… Look how beautiful our daughter is" Natasha smiles, tickling Y/N's tummy which makes Y/N giggle. "She needs you, Wanda. Don't let the power of the book control you or you might lose her" Natasha says, her speech bringing tears into Wanda's eyes.

Wanda let's out a sob on the thought of losing her daughter, the only family she has, and nods which makes Natasha smile.

"Can you give mama a hug, детка?" Natasha asks her daughter, poking her side which makes the girl squeal. (baby)

Y/N reaches her arms for Wanda which makes the witch smile. She takes her daughter from Natasha, hugging her tightly.

"I'm so sorry I scared you, my little monkey. Mama loves you so much" Wanda says, kissing her baby's cheek.

"I love you too, mama"

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

Came up with this reason of Y/N's kidnapping, hopefully it's not too chaotic…

Also, thank you so much for sending requests, I'm working on every single one I've received! I'm really happy you enjoy my writing!!

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whoistartaglia · 2 years

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how they ask you out.

including: scaramouche, childe, and xiao.

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff.

notes: probably going to make this a series.

scaramouche.

scaramouche didn’t technically ask you out. not really. he kind of just showed up at your doorstep, telling you to get ready, he’s going to take you out to dinner. meanwhile you stood there, having just been woken up from a nap, your mind slightly fogged because of it.

“you’re taking me out…” you repeated slowly, trying to understand. “…to dinner?”

you couldn’t tell if you were still sleeping, and this was some sort of dream or not. how else could you explain your crush of several months randomly asking you out on a date?

scaramouche raised an eyebrow. “yes, [you]. unless you don’t—“

“no! i mean…” you fumbled for the right words. “i mean, yes. i do want to go.”

“good,” scaramouche replied. “then go get ready.”

you both looked down at what you were wearing. although scaramouche could admit with some amount of pressure that you looked adorable in your oversized sweats, it wasn’t really the attire for a night out. especially not with the formal restaurant he had in mind.

when you returned moments later after having changed and freshened up, scaramouche offered you his arm, and you accepted. he was for all intents and purposes the picture of confidence, the perfect gentleman ready to take you to an expensive dinner, and maybe a show afterwards.

but if you looked closely, you could see the relief under his confident bravado. he just happy that you said yes.

childe.

in the midst of battle, the last thing you were thinking about was your longtime crush on childe.

you weren’t thinking about anything really, too focused on trying to stay alive. but apparently childe was better at mulitasking then you thought, because in the middle of the fight, he called over his shoulder and very casually asked you out on a date.

you didn’t hear him at first. you know, that whole focusing on staying alive thing. it kind of took priority over everything else.

“[you], do you want to go out after this?” childe tried again.

this time, you most certainly did hear him. you paused and just kind of stared at him. “what—“

distracted, your enemy took advantage of you, knocking you to the ground. before you could even begin to get back on your feet, there was a flash of a hydro vision, and your enemy was—

well, you didn’t exactly like looking at childe’s victims. let’s just say that you no longer had to worry about them.

childe peered down at you. “are you okay?”

you could only nod, still trying to comprehend and failing to understand what just happened, and why childe decided then was the best time to ask you out.

childe reached out a hand, and you took it. he pulled you to your feet, and with a satisfied smile, he asked you once more, “so… about that date?”

xiao.

xiao asked you in the spur of the moment. he didn’t even think about it. which was probably for the best, since he therefore couldn’t overthink it, either.

you were both casually hanging out together, just like friends do. except you were both in that strange stage of more than friends, yet less than lovers. there was undeniable tension growing between you two, and sometimes, it was the only thing xiao could think about.

but looking at you now, laughing at something xiao said mid conversation, xiao could only think about how beautiful you looked. there was only you, the idea of you, the idea of you and him.

“do you want to go to the movies with me?” the words rushed out of xiao’s mouth before he could stop them. but it came out so quickly that you didn’t think you heard him correctly.

“what?”

“it was nothing,” said xiao. but then he changed his mind. “actually… no, it wasn’t nothing.”

you waited, expectantly. xiao continued, “i… i asked you. if you wanted to go to the movies with me. it doesn’t have be the movies, if you don’t want to go there. we could go—“

you interrupted his nervous ramble when you grabbed his hand and laced it in yours. it wasn’t something a friend did, but you were always much, much more than that.

“i’m fine with the movies, but would it be… a date, this time?”

a question, cautious and hopeful.

xiao squeezed your hand. “it’s a date.”

#genshin fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche headcanons #childe x reader #childe headcanons #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia headcanons #xiao x reader #xiao headcanons

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ominous-corridors · 1 year

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Reunion // Ominis Gaunt

Warnings: NSFW. Dominis. Unprotected sex.

Ominis Gaunt x Reader

One shot

Word count: 4,744

Keep in mind I'm Dyslexic so there may be spelling/grammar/punctuation errors.

Summery: Ominis has been gone on Auror work and has been out of the country for years. He is finally home and comes around for a little reunion.

A/N: I'm so sorry you are all subjected to such a long rambling. My fingers ran and I followed. Hope you enjoy. Part of this was inspired by this image.

Ominis Gaunt. How to explain Ominis Gaunt?

He was kind. He was caring. He understood your problems. It was very interesting when she learned he was blind. It was many years ago, she had failed a Charms exam. Looking back on it now, that exam wasn't even that important. It was a silly thing to think about how hard she was crying as she walked through the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower. The echoing of shoes and sobs following her as she wandered aimlessly around the castle. All of her other friends had already gone to their other classes, leaving her alone with her emotions and thoughts.

"Excuse me?" A gentle voice said behind her.

Turning, she saw a boy. She had seen him before, with his blonde hair slicked back and his piercing blue eyes that never seemed to see her. He was in one of Her other classes, Herbology maybe?

She wiped her face on her robe sleeve, trying to rid the signs of her salty tears before he could get a good look and ask questions.

"Yes?" She said, maybe a little more cutting than she intended.

He didn't seem to notice, "I couldn't help but hear you crying. Are you alright?"

He knew.

"O-Oh. Yes.....I'm fine," She gave a weak smile in hopes of reassuring him.

"You don't sound fine," He took a few steps closer to her, his wand firmly held out in front of him.

Why did he have his wand out like he was ready for a fight?

She sniffled again, "I am. Promise."

A small chuckle escaped his lips, "Very interesting. Already making promises and braking them. And we haven't known each other more than five minutes."

What did he know?

He made his way across the marble floor to stand in front of her. It was interesting, the way he had come from only lead to a dead end, but she could have sworn he wasn't there when she originally passed that part of the corridor.

"Please, I know you don't know me very well, but I can be a very good listener. If you need to talk with someone."

And that that was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. Not only did he help her feel better that day, but he was always the constant comfort for her during the rest of her schooling days. It wasn't exactly either of their faults when things started to get in the way after graduation and neither of them had really seen each other in person for a few years. Always owls back and forth about where their career paths took them.

Ominis was actually a very good Auror, despite his lack of vision. He and Sebastian worked together, which made her happy that they could stay close with one another. It was a nasty thing that happened with them during their fifth year. It took a while for them to rekindle their friendship. That was really when Ominis and her got close. They were good friends before, but in those months after the incident, Ominis was the one who needed comfort. And that's where she came in. He had alway been there for her, and it was her turn to be there for him. And that's how she found out more about his family. What they did to people. To Him. And there was no way she were going to make him go back to them over the summer.

So she offered to let him stay with her. An offer he tried his hardest to refuse, but she wouldn't let him. The summer months spent with her family were an integral part of what made their bond so strong. The days spent out behind her home sitting in the grass under the old oak tree. The sound of her voice as she read him all of those stories she always talked about. He would often slip into a cat nap as she read to him. When she noticed she couldn't help but smile and continue on reading, lest he wake up again.

And now here she was, sitting at the table in her flat as an owl swooped in, dropping a letter in front of her. She had been expecting the small envelope for a few days. Details of when Ominis would be coming into the city again. He had been away somewhere in Eastern Europe on a case for a while. He had told her that she would not be able to refuse to see him, it had been far too long. She had offered him to come to her flat. She knew he wasn't one for crowded pubs, much preferring a quiet setting.

I'll be there on Friday.

7pm.

Ominis

It was an oddly short note, but he surely was getting things wrapped up and didn't have a lot of time to be sending out his normal pages of writing she had grown accustomed to.

She fiddled with her dress, smoothing the silk under her fingers. The motion was almost unconscious, a way for her to let out the small bit of anxiety that was bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. She poured herself a glass of wine and took a few sips, hoping to calm her nerves. She knew that Ominis couldn't see her, but she still felt the need to check her appearance in the mirror one more time, just to be sure she looked okay. She had always had a soft spot for the man--She even had a crush on him during their school years. She could feel the old emotions of that school girl crush coming back up to the surface as the clock inched closer to seven. She shook her head, trying to get rid of those thoughts. It had been years since she'd seen him, she was acting silly.

There was a knock at the door.

She set her glass down on the table before making her way down the hall and opening the door.

And there he was, in all of his glory. Time had been very kind to him. He still sported his hair style from school, slicked back and still just as blonde as it had always been. He still had the same smile on his face. She felt a shiver run down her spine as she took him in. He had a wonderful blue three piece suit that fit his chest and arms snuggly.

She took a deep breath, collecting herself, "Ominis!"

"Hello, dear," He held his arms out, inviting her in for a hug.

She didn't hesitate to walk right into them as she snaked her arms around his torso, burying her face into his chest. She felt his arms close around her in a tight hug. The feeling of being in his arms was just something so right. She could feel the butterflies of her old crush fluttering in her chest. She almost welcomed them as she took in his cologne. He smelled of mint and something she couldn't quite pinpoint. Perhaps a new aftershave? It had been a long time, he was bound to have something different about him. She wasn't complaining though, she welcomed the delicious aroma he put off.

"Miss me that much?" He chuckled, still holding onto her tightly.

She felt the rumble in his chest as he laughed, and she realized she could hear his heart beating as well, thrumming against his ribs. She looked up at him from her place in his arms and giggled lightly as his jest.

"Is that such a bad thing?" She questioned with a teasing tone to her voice.

She saw the small smile he had been wearing grow wider at her question and he shook his head, "I suppose not."

She smiled up at him and slowly pulled away from his arms, taking his hand and leading him into her home, "Tell me about Eastern Europe. You know I don't get to travel. I would love to hear about it."

They found seats at her small table in her kitchen and she poured him a glass of wine before sitting back where she had her own sitting from before.

"Well, I'm not sure how much I can tell you. Sebastian did do a wonderful job at painting me a picture of what it looked like, but I'm not sure I could really do it justice," He admitted as he took a sip of his wine.

"Well, tell me how you saw it. What opinions do you have in that brilliant head of yours."

He smiled again, "Well, how to describe it...."

He thought for a moment, swirling his wine in his hand as he sank back in his chair. He was starting to relax, lose all those silly 'proper' mannerisms. He knew he could really relax with her, not have to worry about the judgment he was so used to.

After a moment he spoke up, "Well, it could be loud. Walking the streets with Sebastian. He told me how beautiful the architecture was, how different it was from home. There were always carriages being driven around, and people. But, there was a little shop down one of the quieter side streets. They had the most wonderful coffee there, and good pastries. The smell of them was so delicious," He was smiling widely as he recounted the memory, "And at night, when all of the people were finally gone.....It was so peaceful. The only sounds were my footsteps and a few owls that had a nest near where we were staying. That was when I really enjoyed the city."

She smiled at him, "That does sound lovely. Maybe on day you can show me that little pastry shop."

"I would love to. I thought about you every time I went there, you know. I know how much you adore sweets and sugary things."

He thought of her? Well, of course she thought of him, but she hadn't thought that he gave her much more thought than when he got a letter from her that he had to write a reply to. It almost caught her off guard.

Ominis noticed her silence and spoke again, "Darling, I must admit--I thought about you more than when I went to that shop. More than when I got your letters," He sighed, running a hand through his hair before he sat up straight again, "I don't know how I've managed these years apart from you, being back here now. When you opened the door I felt like I dove head first into the Black Lake. I can't keep my feelings a secret any longer."

His feelings? What was he talking about? Surely his didn't mean what she thought he did.

He stood from his place at the table and came to stand in front of her before swiftly getting to his knees. He held his hands out to her, an invitation that she couldn't decline. She placed her hands in his and he squeezed them lightly. She looked down at him as he stayed like that for a moment before he continued.

"I'v had feelings for you since we were at school. I thought that maybe it was just a school boy's crush and I would get over it. I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship on something that I would forget about in a few weeks," He chuckled, "But I was very wrong."

She sat there, him still holding onto her hands. She watched him carefully, taking in every detail she could. How his pale skin seemed to almost glow under the light filling the room. Every last little beauty mark on his face--They almost looked like constellations. She had realized she was holding her breath at that point and took a sharp inhale.

She felt Ominis's hands tighten around hers as she did so, almost as if he was afraid of her answer. Like if he didn't hold her tight enough, she would float away like a balloon in the wind.

She still harbored feelings for him, but it had been years. He was bound to be a different person, as was she. Would they be able to have a relationship after being away from each other for so long?

"Ominis-" She began before being cut off by his deep sigh.

"Please, just give this a chance. Give us a chance. I have lived without you for too long. You are every thought on my mind. Your voice is like sweet nectar to my ears. Your scent is intoxicating. I understand why men do such rash things for the women they love. I would do anything for you. Anything to be the one who gets to know who you really are behind closed doors. To be the one who gets to feel your soft caress," He suddenly let go of her hands and moved them to rest one on the arm of her chair, and the other to rest on her thigh.

The feeling of his hand on her sent a shiver up her spine. She felt the goosebumps rising under his touch. His words were already making her feel dazed. How could he hide such strong feelings from her for so long? Why did he pick now to tell all of it to her?

She felt his hand squeeze her thigh lightly, another sigh leaving his lips.

"I don't think you understand what you do to me, darling," He chuckled and shook his head almost in a teasing way.

"What?" She could feel her underwear staring to get damp.

He leaned in closer, his chest now hovering over her body and his head tilted up to hers as she looked down at him, "You don't understand what you do to me." His voice was husky now, and barely above a whisper.

She felt her breath hitch and her skin ignite under the warmth of his proximity. Her heart was practically beating out of her chest and the butterflies in her stomach threatened to fly away with her. In that moment, she could swear that Ominis was staring right at her. Pouring his soul into hers.

He leaned in even more, noses touching and lips ghosting over each other, "I'm going to kiss you now, if you'll allow it."

She barely heard him over the sound of blood pumping in her ears. She couldn't manage to speak, not the she didn't try. So, she opted to just nod ever so lightly, not wanting to move her lips too far away from his.

He pressed his lips to hers, gentle and sweet. It was in his nature to be gentle with her. He had always been that way with her. His hand on the chair swiftly moved to the crook of her neck, finally giving her the skin on skin contact she hadn't realized she was craving. His thumb rested gingerly on her jaw as their lips moved in sync.

After Ominis had done his testing of the waters, she felt his kiss get more aggressive, more rough. More like he was drinking in the sweet waters he had been yearning for, for years. The fire in him only growing as her lips moved to match his rhythm, surprisingly enough for her. She didn't realize she had wanted this so badly, to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands on her. It was enough to drive her mad, and she craved more.

Ominis moved his lips from hers, earning a soft whimper in disagreement. He chuckled again as his lips adeptly found their way to her neck, laying a path of soft kisses.

She bit her lip, feeling the trail of heat and the tingling sensation he left in his wake. His hand on her thigh moved suddenly, slipping higher, his thumb grazing as he went. He was getting dangerously close to her now. She let out a soft moan as he began sucking on her neck.

She felt him smirk into her skin, "I want to see you. All of you."

What did that mean? See her?

His mouth moved to her ear, his hot breath washing over her. And almost as if he read her mind he spoke in a hushed whisper, "You know I see with my hands."

Oh.

Her body moved before her mind could process. She quickly stood, causing Ominis to almost fall over. He was thankfully quick on his feet, standing not a moment later. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her as she made her way to her room.

As soon as she crossed the threshold, his hands were all over her. She would never know how he seemed to just know. Right now, though, all she could think about was he feeling of him running his hands down her sides as he pressed his body against hers from behind. He went straight back to kissing her neck again as his hands moved to the back of her dress.

She could feel as he delicately undid each button, running his fingers behind on the newly exposed skin of her back.

"Your skin is so much softer than I imagined," He said as he laid a few kisses across her shoulders, pulling the dress down off of them.

As soon as it he got it past her shoulders he let go, letting it fall to the floor, all but forgotten as he slid his hands down her back slowly. Savoring every inch of her now exposed body.

Her breathing was shallow. She took quick breaths to try and fill her lungs, but nothing she did could stop them from screaming at her as she felt his hands leaving goosebumps behind them.

"W-Would you like me to show you?" She managed out.

He hummed an agreement, his fingers still tracing out the shape of her shoulder blades under her skin.

She turned to face him, almost as if he was commanding her and she was to obey. He held his hands out to her, his eyes half closed in what only could be disturbed as a sultry glance. She bit her lip, taking his hands by his wrists. She could feel his pulse. She was glad that his body had to be screaming at him as much as hers was.

Gently, she brought his hands to her chest, letting him cup her breasts in his hands. She watched him as he did so, his mouth falling open ever so slightly. He moved his thumbs over her hardened nipples which elicited a muffled moan from her as she clamped down harder on her bottom lip. She watched him smirk and blink a few times before she moved his hands, sliding them along her abdomen to rest on her hips. He squeezed lightly at first before digging his fingers into her flesh, his nails almost leaving marks.

"You are exquisite," He breathed.

He squeezed one more time and she felt her legs getting more slick by the second. She then moved his hands behind her, letting him rest them on her bum. He gave it a good squeeze before leaning in and kissing her again. His lips hungry for her, passion and desire leaking out of them.

She realized that she was the only one naked in the moment, and she wasn't about to let him get away with that. She quickly started unbuttoning his vest as their tongues melded together. The only sounds in the room were wet lips and heavy breathing with a few moans here and there.

Ominis's hands moved again, this time on their own to grab her hips again, digging his nails into her skin. She let out a small moan, prompting him to do it again. After a few more moments of unbuttoning his clothing and wet kissing, he stood before her in just his trousers.

She took in the sight of him, soaking in every detail of his form. He was still lean as he had been in school, but there were ever so slight layers of muscle that tugged at his skin in just the right way. He looked absolutely divine. Her lip found it's way between her teeth again as she tried to count every little round mark on his skin. She could spend hours just trying to commit each one's location to memory.

"Enjoying the view?" He raised an eyebrow at her as he kicked out of his shoes.

"Oh, more than you know."

He let out a deep chuckle as he stepped toward her.

"Lay down," His voice was rough and commanding.

She didn't hesitate to obey, quickly making her way to the bed and laying down. He made his way to her, grabbing her thighs and pulling her to the edge of the bed. She let out a small yelp to which he only smirked. He guided her underwear off slowly, letting his fingers graze her skin. He spread her legs wide, holding on to her knees as he he knelt down in front of her. His hands moved from her knees and slid slowly up her inner thighs, his calloused fingertips grazing her in a way that made her feel like she was on fire. He slipped on of his hands under her leg, lifting it onto his shoulder and firmly holding it in place by her thigh. He squeezed again, pressing his cheek into her soft skin.

"You are a divine gift from the Gods, my sweet."

Every time he spoke words like that to her, she could feel her whole core tremble. If he could make her feel like this with just words, what could he do-?

Her thoughts were cut off by the sudden feeling of his finger sliding over her clit. She gasped and almost pulled away from the sensation, only to be stopped by his firm hand on her leg.

"Ah, there you are," He said.

He quickly backtracked his movements, pressing light circles against her. She let out another string of moans as he worked her sensitive area. She looked down at him, watching him. His mouth was parted and she could see the desire written on his face.

"You are music to my ears, dove."

He continued like that for a few moments before dipping his fingers to her entrance, feeling the pool she had left for him. Because of him.

"Oh, you are so deliciously wet for me, love," He smirked again, sliding two fingers into her slowly, relishing in the feeling surrounding them. She threw her head back against the bed. He let out a small groan that mixed with the moan she let out at feeling him inside of her.

He began pumping his fingers slowly, the sweet sound of her drawn out moans and the wet slapping of her pussy hitting his ears. He picked up the pace, shoving his fingers as far as they would go.

"O-Oh, f-fuck!" She arched her back. His fingers were like magic as he worked her.

He stopped suddenly, removing his fingers quickly. She whined at the loss of him, looking back to see him slowly put his fingers into his mouth, sucking her off of them.

"Merlin, you taste phenomenal."

He quickly stood, unbuttoning his pants and pulling out his member, pumping it a few times with gritted teeth.

"On your knees." He commanded.

She quickly got off the bed, kneeling in front of him. He still held himself in his hand. He used his other hand to grip onto her hair.

"Open," He growled.

This was a new side to him that she hadn't seen before, and she wasn't ashamed to say that she liked it. She liked being commanded by him, she liked how he gripped her, how he pleased her. So, she did as she was told. She opened her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out, ready to accept him.

He slowly guided himself into her mouth, a muffled groan escaping his lips. He moved her head by the hair firmly in his fist, stroking himself ever so slowly.

"Your mouth is so fucking good." Ominis was not one for swearing. He hardly ever said anything one would consider crass, and that made this all the more attractive to her.

After he gave her a moment to acquaint herself with his size, he began thrusting his length into her quicker. Soft groans coming from him as he did. He began picking up speed, thrusting harder, shoving his whole length down her throat. She tried to keep her throat relaxed, not choke on him, but she couldn't keep it up. She gagged loudly, which caused him to pull out entirely, a wide smirk on his face.

"Good girl," He said, "Now, get back on the bed. Ass up."

She moved and got back on the bed on her hands and knees, putting her bum in the air. She felt him get on the bed behind her, his hands gripping onto her hips. He slid one of his hands down her bum and felt for her entrance before taking his length and pressing his tip against her.

"Ready, love?"

"Y-Yes," She breathed. She had never imagined that their reunion would turn into this, but she was happy it had.

Without another word, he roughly pushed into her, feeling her walls around him with a drawn out groan.

"Fuck," He muttered, rolling his hips.

She moaned out as he did so, feeling him fill her.

He reached out and gripped her hair again, pulling her to support her top half with her hands. He began bucking into her wildly, moans and groans filling the room as they both felt the pleasure rocketing through their bodies with each connection of hips.

"That's right. Take it, darling, " He groaned, "You take my cock so well."

She could feel him hitting deep within her, right on that magic little spot. Each thrust of his length hitting perfectly. The knot in her stomach was tight, almost painfully so a he continued his pace, her moaning loud and unbridled. He moved his hand from her hair and slipped it around her mouth, leaning forward to press his chest against her back.

"Quite, darling. I want to hear my cock fuck that pretty pussy of yours," He almost purred into her ear.

He continued to buck his hips as he stayed over her like that with his hand over her mouth. Her moans muffled by his firm grip on her face. He grunted into her ear as he listened to the wet sound of skin on skin echo off the walls surrounding them.

"Mmmm," He said something after that. Something that she could only describe as air slithering past his tongue.

Parseltongue.

He let the sweet sounds of it pass his lips as he fucked her. Listening to him speak to her like that was only serving to drive her more mad. She could feel herself getting closer as the friction became almost unbearable.

Her walls began to tighten around him, causing him to let out another groan.

"Let it out, dove. Come for me," He whispered into her ear, sitting up in his knees again and gripping her waist tightly.

The then began pounding into her, pulling her hips to meet his as he groaned and grunted at the feeling of her tight pussy around him.

It didn't take long for her to get to her climax after that as he continued to hit her sweet spot. Her legs shook under her as the knot in her stomach came undone.

"O-Oh, Ominis!" She moaned loudly as she came. Her breath heavy.

He chuckled, continuing to hit her hard as his own climax came over him. He groaned loudly, pushing as far into her as he could, filling her to the brim.

They stayed in that position for a moment, both panting hard as they came down from the high of their escapade. After a moment, Ominis pulled out, falling onto the bed next to her. She quickly followed his lead and laid next to him.

He opened his arms for her to come closer to him and she happily obliged, cuddling herself into his chest as his arms wrapped around her. He kissed her forehead and then rested his chin on top of her head.

"How was that?" He asked.

She giggled, "That was....It was wonderful."

He chuckled and squeezed her tightly to him, "Good."

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #Dominis #hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy one shot #ominis x reader #ominis gaunt x reader

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