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angelfrombeneth · 4 months

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MAGICAL DRYING DISASTER - T . NOTT

Mature Content Ahead

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: After waking up late and discovering you left your washing in the machine over night. You had no other choice to use magic to dry it - except it did dry but also shrunk, massively, in the process. Once Theo finds you let's just say he manages to keep it kept in till the common room. Then it's all fair game from there.

Warnings: SMUT, No Protection - PIV, Theodore is a munch - Fem Oral, Body Worship, Smidge of SubWhiney!Theo, Cursing

A/N: This is my first one-shot fic I've posted in a long time but also my first one EVER on tumblr. I used to write on wattpad and ao3 but took a very long hiatus. So excuse if my smut writing is a bit off or any spelling mistakes I currently have acrylics on - its quite hard to type.

Click Clack.. Click Clack...

You ran towards your class quickly, pulling town the absolute belt of a skirt you wore today before entering into your potions class. Late.

"Miss Neveah.. Thank you for finally joining us" Snape panned. His face expressionless as he stared at you. A slight hint of disapproval in his face.

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again!" You scurried to your seat beside Pansy.

"It most definitely will not" He groaned before turning back to the chalk board to continue his explanation.

You shimmied on your seat, pulling as much skirt down as you could. Practically flashing those behind you of your bright red thong and gorgeously placed star tramp stamp.

Nice touch is what you thought when you got it a few months ago after a night out in the muggle clubs with Pansy. She persuaded you and said Theo would love it. Or which he did.

"Y/N.. your skirt is practically a belt. Trying to flash us all?" She whispered, giggling as he peered down as your legs, absent of any tights aswell.

"Girl.. It shrunk when I tried to use magic to dry it. All my other skirts are dirty" You pouted. "I also couldn't find a pair of fucking tights, I was running so late"

"Its not that bad, just don't bend over if you can" She smiled as she reached to your ponytail tieing in a little green piece of ribbon into a bow. "And don't let Mr Lover boy see you" She snickered.

You sighed, focusing in the rest of your class. Praying not many people noticed. You were pretty daft thinking that. You were already the hot goss. It was only so long till Theo found out.

Though alot of boys in Hogwarts fancied you, they all knew about Theodore Nott swooping in, in 4th year the year before you 'blossomed' as they said. They say he saw the potential and snatched it up while they could.

You walked down the hall, pulling your books to your chest as your red bottoms clipped the wooden floor that spanned the whole school. Many turned your way gawking as you, mostly more than normal due to tour skirt size today.

You weren't a bad girl. You has good grades, you were overly nice to everyone just the people you hung round with were opposite. Many saying you were too nice.

After a quick detour to pick up an extra book from the library you shuffled down the corridor, your heels clicking their signature click against the oak as you walked towards your friends who stood beside your regular post class meeting pillar.

"Sorry I'm late!" You skipped towards them hurriedly. You watched as Theo whipped his head around, his jaw practically dislodging from his face as he stared at you.

Mattheo wolf whistled as he looked you up and down. Smirking as he pushed himself off the wall - "Damn Y/N, I didn't know you had this hiding somewhere"

"Neither did I" Theo's gaze burned through you as he bent his neck to get look at you from behind. Definitely a sight for sore eyes.

"I'm sorry- I fucked up a spell and I was running late I didn't mean to- OUCH! THEO!" you got cut off as he slapped his hand harshly against your ass before gripping a handful as he smirked down at you. The boys laughing at the pair of you.

"As much as I am thoroughly enjoying the sight Bella" He looked down at you, his gaze growing darker by each word that fell from his lips. He leaned in, practically growling in your ear."I don't like to share amore mio"

You gulped at his words as he pulled his jumper off, wrapping it around your waist. Slightly tugging on the fabric jerking you forward into his chest as he smiled down at you before kissing your forehead softly.

"As cute as you two are, everyone's looking. Can we clear out" Pansy groaned.

You snapped back into reality, quietly ushering an apology to the group as Pansy pulled your hand as you both walked hand in hand ahead of the boys.

You heard a smack and an 'ow' turning around quickly as you turned the corner seeing Theo slapping Mattheo across the head. "Flirt with someone else" He groaned. You giggled slightly at his protectiveness.

Once you arrived to the common room everyone scattered to do their own thing. Theo once more approaching you.

"Now..." a cheeky smile appeared on his lips as his hands held your hips softly as he peered down at you. The height difference really getting to you. "I can't stop thinking about that little skirt on you.." His hands slowly moving down and around to the curve of your ass as he nibbled at his lip. "..and how much I want to fuck you in it" He whispered the last part lowly as his tongue poked out and slid across his bottom lip as he squeezed your ass through his jumper.

"Then do it" You caught his gaze, already out of breath from his minimal touch.

It's like that's all he needed to hear. Like without warning and no regards for the fact your friends were just a few steps away bundled in the corner on the coaches - he pulled you tightly, hand on your ass against him as his lips crushed into yours. Needy kisses as if he hasn't kissed you in months.

The sudden rip of his jumper loosening the knot as it dropped to the floor. His hands sliding under the little fabric the skirt had as his nails gripped into the flesh on your ass cheeks. You yelped slightly and he took that as permission to shove his whole tongue down your throat. The kisses grew messier and messier as you both backed up towards the stairs, bumping into everything possible as you both chuckled.

Breaking the kiss as you both removed various pieces of clothing as you scrambled up the stairs. By the time you got to yours and Pansys' room you both had disregarded of practically everything. Theo quickly finishing unzipping his trousers before pushing you into the room, kicking the leg off quickly, flinging his trousers into the centre of the hallway as he shut the door behind him.

You stood infront of him in just your skirt, bra and panties as he ruffled his hair, staring at you like a kid in a candy shop, pondering what you try next.

"DONT WORRY WE'LL CLEAN UP AFTER YOU TWO!" Draco yelled, annoyance plastered in his voice.

That broke Theo out of the trance he was in as he lunged at you, unclipping your bra swiftly as he threw it across the room before pushing you against the bed.

"Fuck, I'm so hard. I can't- I just need to fuck you now" He groaned, biting at his lip anxiously as he stared down at you. "Get on all fours". You obliged and quickly.

You felt the sudden cold breeze against your clit as he tightly yanked on your thong, splitting it apart at he threw it on the floor aswell as he kicked off his boxers.

"Fuck your so hot" He groaned, dropping to his knees as he gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks wide as he licked a nice wet strip up your pussy.

A moan lodged itself in your neck as you bundled up the sheets in your hands as he let out a shaky breath.

"Wanna eat you out so bad, but my cock is throbbing.. Need to treat you well tho" He whined as he spat into his hand as he began to fuck it. His free hand gripping your ass as he dove his tounge deep into you.

You hung your head forward as you let out an exasperated sigh as your toes curled. Theo's tongue worked wonders inside of you. He ate you out like it was dire need. The roughness of his mouth sopping against your pussy as his tongue drilled into your hole. The wetness of both his mouth and your pussy mixing as he moaned against you as he continued to fuck the shit out of his hand. Loud moans rumbled against you as he sucked and twirled like no tomorrow.

You were drawing to your high as you noticed he stopped, pulling away for a moment as he let out a deep growl before a light whimper escaped his lips as he came up the bottom of your bed frame and on the floor. He panted for a moment, light whimpers leaving gis mouth as he toyed with his sensitive dick.

"Fuck- Sorry Principessa. I came, naughty of me to do so before I helped you. I'll make sure you feel extra good" His other hand colliding with your ass again as he dove back in. His nose rubbing harshly against your slit as he flicked his tongue continously against your clit. Sucking and nibbling at it from time to time as he continued to grip and massage at your ass.

The sudden overwhelming feeling drove you over the age as you screeched, yelping as you squirted all over his face. You gasped loudly, crashing to the bed as your legs shook slightly as you panted.

"Mhmm.. Love it when you squirt" You looked at Theo as he wiped the cum from his face, sucking his fingers like a dessert he's got to finish.

"You're so gorgeous, so fucking beautiful.. Beautiful body" He groaned as he slid his hands up your curves, moaning softly as the scene infront of him. "S'lucky.. So fucking lucky.."

He tapped your thigh, as you led on your stomach on the bed, your legs hanging off the end slightly as your tippy toes held against the floor.

"Gunna make you feel so good, amore" he cooed as he lied up his tip with your slit before thrashing it in harshly. You yelped once again at you looked back at him.

"Going to teach you not. to wear. a slut. short. skirt. again. fuck!" He growled with each thrust as your body jerked against his movements. Your body slid up and down the bed as your feet struggled to stay on the floor much longer as he pushed you up the bed.

It wasn't before long till Theo climbed ontop of you, straddling you as he drilled into you. Loud whimpers left you as you clawed at the sheets as you screamed into his duvet.

"FUCK!! ARGH- TEDDY!" you pleaded as your back arched, shoving your ass harder into him as his hands gripped your hips tightly, his nails scatting cresent moons to your flesh as your bodies recoiled against one another.

"Yes! Like that.. fuckkk Teddy more.. please!" You babbled. He reached over grabbing your neck as he pulled your body up against his chest. Your legs trapped between his as he squeezed them shut. His arm tightly against your stomach as he continued to drill up into your pussy. You gasped and whined continously as he groaned and growled into your ear. His grip growing tighter around your neck as he flexed his biceps, his tongue sliding up your jawline to your ear.

"Teddy- I'm gunna cum! Please please please PLEASE! Cum with me!" you whined as your eyes rolled back. The growing feeling in your stomach as his cock continued to thrash into you. You were drunk on the feeling of him buried into you. You tightly shut your thighs together for any ounce more of pressure you could grasp.

"Good girl- M'close" He panted.

Your eyes began to roll back as you gasped for air at the tightening of his arm around your neck. The bursting feeling in your stomach as your whole body recoiled and shook as you screamed like bloody murder with all the air you has left in your lungs as you came.

At that moment Theo threw you down, as your body twitched conthously. He gripped your ass as he thrusted deep before cumming in you. Groaning deeply as he threw his head back. Sweat trickling down his forehead and chest as he panted heavily.

Neither of you moved for a moment to compose yourself. You occasionally twitched at your body recoiled against his dick.

"Fuck me.. So good" Theo pulled out, sighing as he watched cum pool at your slit and began to slide down. You felt his tip against you again as he collected the escaping cum and slightly fucked it back into you. His dick entering you once more as you gasped at the feeling.

"Good girl.. such a good girl.." His light thrusts as he peppered you with kisses all over your back and shoulders.

He gasped slightly as he froze above you. You were about to question him till you felt a slightly release.

"Did you just cum again Teddy?" You giggled as he thrusted once more before pulling out and collapsing next to you.

"Its hard to last with you. You make me so addicted" He smirked, his head turned to look at you. He rested his hand on your ass, squeezing it lightly from time to time.

"I'm glad this skirt shrunk" He chuckled, his smile wide.

You shook your head as you laughed at him. "You're a fool" You shimmied towards him, flicking your leg over his chest as you cuddled into him. His body warm.

He kissed your shoulder softly before softly kissing your cheek, nibbling at your ear before whispering;

"Ti amo amore mio".

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #harrypotter fanfiction #slytherin fanfiction #lorenzo zurzolo #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #angelfrombenethfics

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apuckishwit · 1 year

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Pining!Eddie and Wingman!Gareth

A preview of chapter 25 of Rolled a 1 on the Check, Rolled a 20 on the Save by APuckish_Wit on AO3

Eddie is awoken by sharp rapping on his front door, at an hour that is entirely too early to be conscious when he has nothing scheduled for the day.

He groans as he rolls over in bed, dislodging Gandalf from his back with a grumpy mrrow. He runs his hand over the cat’s head in apology, grabbing his phone from his nightstand and squinting at the screen. “The fuck?” he mumbles.

“Eddie! Eddie I know you’re in there! Open up!”

Gareth.

“The fuck,” he mumbles again, with more feeling this time, rolling out of the bed and not bothering to throw on a shirt over the boxers he slept in last night. If Gareth wants to bother him at ass o’clock in the morning, he can damn well deal with Eddie not feeling like getting dressed just yet. Smacking his lips and grimacing at the sticky crust of drool at the corners, he pads out to his living room and opens the door, scooping Gandalf off the floor with practiced ease when he makes his predictable break for the freedom of the hallway.

Why he wants to get out into the hallway is anyone’s guess, as he always immediately starts scratching and yowling to be let back in if Eddie closes the door behind him, but he tries every time.

“Dude, seriously? You couldn’t put some clothes on?” Gareth scoffs as he shoves past Eddie, not waiting for an invitation.

“You have literally seen me naked,” Eddie says, shutting the door and letting Gandalf slip from his arms.

“Not willingly!”

Yeah, it was kind of hard to get privacy in a studio apartment with a postage-stamp sized bathroom…but Gareth had been letting him couch surf there for free, so he hadn’t exactly been able to complain.

“So, not that I’m not happy to see you, but what errand is so momentous that it requires you to come knocking on my door at this obscene hour?” He shuffles into the kitchen and hits the switch on the coffeepot, before pulling the fridge open and examining the contents. “You want a bagel?” he asks after a moment, digging a bag of poppyseed bagels, some cream cheese, and strawberry jam out.

“Nah, I ate on the way over,” Gareth says. He’s making himself at home at Eddie’s small kitchen table, pulling notebooks, pens, and highlighters out of his messenger bag. Eddie raises an eyebrow, propping his hip against the counter while he waits for his bagel to toast.

“Are we doing homework?”

Gareth spins a pencil in his fingers the way he used to spin his drumsticks, stabbing it towards Eddie with a determined glint in his eye. “Yes. We are coming up with a gameplan to figure out if you have a shot with Steve.”

Eddie blinks. “We’re doing what now?”

“You heard me. You’re pining, Munson. Like, I haven’t seen you down this bad for someone since Jackson.”

Eddie winces at the mention of his ex—his longest relationship to date, the man he’d been considering introducing to Wayne. He’d been ready to talk about moving in together, maybe even getting engaged, when Jackson had blindsided him by taking a job overseas. Hadn’t even talked to him, first, hadn’t even told Eddie he was considering it. He’d tried to spin it as not wanting to be influenced on such a big decision about his future. His future, not their future.

Yeah, they hadn’t lasted long after that.

Gareth’s face softens a little. “Sorry,” he says, voice sincere and contrite. “But the point stands.”

“Gar,” Eddie sighs, raking a hand back through the tangles of his hair. “We’ve talked about this. He had a long-term girlfriend—like, high school sweethearts shit. He hasn’t said anything, but I’m pretty sure he’d have married her if she hadn’t broken it off with him.”

“Valid data, but not conclusive,” Gareth counters. “Jeff had a couple long-term girlfriends too, and he and Aidan are going strong. Also bi people exist, Eddie.”

“I know that! And Jeff was so far in the closet before he met us, he was having tea with Mr. Tumnus,” Eddie says with an affectionate laugh. “Steve does not give me that vibe. The closet vibe or the bi vibe.” He fixes a couple of coffees to his and Gareth’s liking, and then sits down across from Gareth with his breakfast. He takes a couple morose bites of his bagel. “Dude, look. I appreciate it. I really do. But I did the whole ‘falling for straight boys’ thing in high school and it never brought me anything good. Steve’s a really great friend. I’m fine with that.”

Gareth tilts his head, staring at Eddie with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Anyway, so Jeff, Aidan, and I went back and watched all your streams with him. Side note, Aidan thinks he sounds hot, is he hot? I don’t care, but Jeff and Aidan really wanted to know.”

“So hot,” Eddie sighs, though he doesn’t mention how he knows. That video was public knowledge, but he doesn’t feel like getting teased for cyberstalking. “Like…he’s beautiful, man.”

“Mmhmm,” Gareth hums, making a notation on his notebook. Eddie huffs, reaching across the table to grab the top of his pencil.

“Gareth, seriously. I love you so much for what you’re trying to do, but there’s no point. I’ll get over him, eventually.”

“Ah, but you haven’t heard my rationale, yet.”

“Oh, there’s a rationale? Do tell.”

“I will. And that rationale is…we think he’s flirting with you, too.” It’s not quite a record-scratch moment, but it comes pretty close. Eddie freezes, staring at his best friend. Gareth smirks at him, leaning back in his chair. “Yup. All three of us. We watched all the streams you’ve put up, and we each wrote down any time we thought Steve was doing something we’d interpret as flirty and when we compared notes, they were almost identical. And that’s not even counting all the people in your views who think there’s something going on between you two.”

“You…you guys ran an experiment about this?” Eddie asks slowly, unsure if he’s grateful or horrified that his friends care so much about his (non-existent) love life.

Gareth waves him off. “Sort of. Point is, as two men in a committed relationship and one man who spent a not-insignificant amount of time in high school trying to sus out if people were serious or just messing with you when they were making eyes at you—we think this bears further investigation.”

Gandalf curls around Eddie’s legs, meowing pitifully until Eddie picks him up and swipes a smear of cream cheese onto his thumb for Gandalf to lick. “I don’t know,” he says, voice wavering even to his own ears. “I feel like I would have noticed if Steve was flirting with me.”

Gareth snorts into his coffee. “You absolutely would not. You put the moves on anything with a pulse, but you’re always shocked as fuck when anyone reciprocates.”

And that’s…okay, yeah, that’s a fair point. Still, Gareth doesn’t have to say it out loud and shit. “Rude,” he mutters, taking a drink of his coffee.

“But accurate. So, how ‘bout it?” Gareth hovers his pencil over the notebook, waggling his eyebrows. “Even if we’re wrong, at least you’ll know.”

Eddie gnaws on his lip a moment, scratching behind Gandalf’s ears. There are a myriad of reasons not to rock the boat—not least of which is the fact that he’s still not convinced Steve is anything but straight. That—that would’ve come up in their conversations at some point by now, wouldn’t it? And even if he’s not, how compatible are there lives, really? They live on opposite sides of the country, and Steve seems pretty set on building a life in Chicago.

Not that—not that Eddie’s, like, super invested in Seattle. He can do the work he does anywhere, really, and Chicago is a hell of a lot closer to Wayne. Not that…whoa, not that he needs to be thinking in those terms right now. Or ever, really.

Just…

He thinks of how easy it is to talk to Steve. How much he likes reading to him, listening to him ramble about how his favorite teams are doing in their playoffs as he putters around in his kitchen. How much Steve seems to like listening to him go off on any of the subjects that have caught his attention, asking thoughtful questions and remembering important points weeks later. They are so, so different, but they just mesh, making room for each other in their lives and being happy with the space they each take up, and all without ever having met face to face.

He shouldn’t encourage Gareth. He is rapidly realizing that Steve is pretty much everything he’s ever wanted in a man, but he is not lucky enough for life to have just dropped someone like that in his lap and have an actual chance with them. Life only works that way in his stories and games.

Still…would it hurt to know for sure? If—if there is a chance that Steve would reciprocate his feelings.

Oh holy fuck, if he did reciprocate…

“What do you have in mind?” he asks, leaning forward as Gareth’s grin turns as pleased as a cat who’s caught the canary.

#my writing #Rolled a 1 on the check Rolled a 20 on the save #steddie #snippets #Oh I'm having fun with this chapter

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contrarywiseizybel · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022

Day 10: Lord Voldemort/Cedric Diggory (master/slave)

Warning for: Power imbalance, implied torture

(Cedric's whole aesthetic here is 100% Link's Gerudo Vai outfit from Breath of the Wild. I regret nothing.)

The Master was in a foul mood.

Again.

From the Death Eaters suddenly remembering they had jobs to do elsewhere, to the house elves giving him tear filled looked while they hid behind tapestries, it was pretty obvious the Master was upset. The closer Cedric got to the throne room the more dark magic he could feel, like a viscous goo coating the floor, trying to trap his bare feet. Just outside the throne room one of the Lestrange brothers, Cedric could never remember which was which, gave him an appraising look.

“Took you long enough.”

Cedric didn’t respond. His orders were to behave around the Death Eaters, but that didn’t mean he had to respond to their jabs. And like the rest Lestrange didn’t find much enjoyment teasing the Master’s toy, so he wandlessly opened the heavy, ornate doors.

“Good luck.” Lestrange teased, slapping Cedric’s ass and slamming the door shut behind him.

Cedric buried down the irritation and embarrassment. There were bigger things at risk than his pride, and he needed to remember that.

Still it was hard to hold onto that conviction when the Master was leering at him.

“There you are, my badger,” Lord Voldemort teased, “I thought you may not have been coming.”

“I apologize, my Master.” With a practiced cant of his hips Cedric made his way closer, ignoring everyone and everything who wasn’t Voldemort. He wasn’t to be curious and could not try to figure out what had upset his lord. That wasn’t his job.

No, his job was something much simpler, and much worse.

Lowering to his knees Cedric pushed his chest out, letting his Master inspect the loose silk that draped over him. Red eyes scanned Cedric’s jewels, the ruby earrings that trailed up his ears, the golden serpent that circled his arm, the rune engraved collar on his neck. All were in place, a reminder that Cedric was still bound to Voldemort’s spells and whims.

A pale hand reached out, thin long fingers tipped with black, as though they had been dipped into a pot of ink. Without hesitation Cedric kissed the tip of each finger, careful to keep his face blank at the grimy taste of dark magic made tangible. He must have done well, as those same fingers began scratching through Cedric’s hair, careful not to dislodge the sheer veil.

“We have guests today, pet. Don’t be rude.”

The Master was far too pleased, but Cedric couldn’t wince, couldn’t hesitate. Delicately he turned, chin hooking over one bare shoulder so he could see what had the dark lord in such a mood.

A sea of red stared back, the Weasley family trapped behind Voldemort’s silencing spell and all held at wand point by elite Death Eaters. He recognized Charlie and the twins, having known them well enough through Quiddtich back at school. They were all three boxy, more solid than their other siblings, and it looked like they had taken the brunt of the torture. Charlie was a mess of bruises and one of the twins was bleeding from a head wound while the other held his fallen brother close. The more willowy Weasleys were hurt as well, from Ron’s missing eye to Ginny’s muscles spasming, most likely from having been put under the torture curse. He also recognized Fleur, the brave French champion, who was still beautiful despite her roughly chopped hair and the long scar down her pale face.

“Hello.” Cedric greeted, toneless and uninterested as he had been taught. He turned back to his Master, watching with hooded eyes and an indulgent smile. No reaction to their pain, no wince at their anguish.

He had something more important to worry about.

Red eyes locked on his own and Cedric knew that thought had been plucked from his skull. He didn’t recoil. No, he had no secrets from his Master.

Couldn’t have secrets from his Master.

“Yes, my pet, they’re here for your little treasure. Thinking they can sneak right in and steal it away, after all your hard work.” Voldemort took the delicate chain that trailed from Cedric’s collar, wrapping it around his hands. “Ah, they’re yelling again. Would you like to hear from them?”

Cedric shook his head sharply, eyes still locked on Voldemort. The sight of the once proud Hufflepuff shivering on the marble floor, dressed in fine silk and pleading silently to the man who had kidnapped him, such a pathetic sight seemed to delight the dark lord.

“Tell them.”

“I don’t want to hear from you, Weasleys and Fleur.”

“Ah, ah.” Voldemort tutted, black stained finger tapping Cedric on the nose in reprimand. “They’re all Weasleys now. Congratulate the newly weds.”

“Congratulations Fleur and whomever you married.”

His Master laughed in delight, his Death Eaters following along. He didn’t hear any scuffling, no brave Gryffindor leaping forward to attack Cedric’s unguarded back. Not that Voldemort would let them.

Well...not that he wouldn’t heal Cedric if he let them attack.

“These little rebels have been quite annoying. Calm me down, my badger.”

Cedric hesitated then, only for a moment. This wasn’t the first time Voldemort had made such a demand. Not when they were alone, not even when Death Eaters and sycophants milled around the throne room. But in front of his old classmates? In front of people who knew him before he became this?

“Pet.” Voldemort said, tone warning as if the pressure of his dark magic wasn’t already alerting Cedric of his mistakes. Cedric pushed himself up, undoing Voldemort’s belt with a practiced ease. Maybe the Weasleys were screaming behind him. Maybe they were cursing him. Maybe they were crying for what the once Hogwart’s Champion had become.

He didn’t care. They weren’t what mattered.

“Swallow me down, and I’ll let you return to your treasure for the evening.”

The pale dick he pulled from Voldemort’s robes was still flaccid, but Cedric had a mission. The sooner he finished the sooner he could get back to the safety of his rooms, the sooner he could -

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?”

The sudden voice startled Cedric, causing him to release his lord and almost, almost, look back. But he saw the bleached white wand in his Master’s hand and knew this was another test.

“Can you not finish your job?” Voldemort teased, pulling Cedric’s hair harshly. “I suppose if you’d like to stay down here the rest of the night someone else can go keep an eye on -”

Cedric didn’t let him finish, instead wrapping his lips around the hardening cock and tuning out the scandalized screaming behind him. He swallowed around the heated flesh, the only part of his Master that seemed warm. His hands were usually like ice, like a corpse. But he ignored that thought the same as he ignored the yelling.

He had a job to do.

His lord certainly seemed pleased, claws digging into Cedric’s scalp so hard blood fell down his forehead. His own dick, thanks to years of conditioning, began to harden but he paid it no mind. Instead he was focused on Voldemort, on his dark lord, and on bringing him pleasure unmeasurable.

Another scream sounded behind him, not in outrage or disgust but instead in pain. Cedric ignored it, willing down that part of his heart that longed to reach out and comfort whoever was being tortured. But he couldn’t, not for them.

Oh so carefully Cedric ran his teeth over the hard shaft, tongue following to lavish his Master with attention. It didn’t take long for the dark lord to lose himself in the rhythm, thrusting carelessly into Cedric’s mouth and casting spells at the prisoners. Cedric ignored them, ignored that part of him that swore he knew those words and what they would do to the family behind him.

It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter.

Finally, finally, Voldemort pushed Cedric away, pumping his cock with his own hand so he could finish on Cedric’s face. Semen hit Cedric, some on the very tip of his eyelash. Experience said it would stay there until he left the throne room. His Master did enjoy showing off.

“You rapist bastard!” One of the Weasleys screamed, and Cedric fought down the wince at how young the voice was. “Is this what you did to Harry too?”

If his lord hadn’t just finished a taunt like that would have done the job. He rather loved hearing what people thought he had done to the boy hero Harry Potter. They could only speculate after all. After Peter’s death, at Cedric’s own hands, only three people knew what happened that night in the graveyard.

“Perhaps someday.” Voldemort teased, and for the first time since entering the throne room Cedric knew fear. His hands grabbed at his Master’s robes, trying to not tug them like a child but losing to that instinct. Voldemort just smiled, a wicked smile with too many sharp teeth and no good cheer. His thumb wiped away the semen on Cedric’s bottom lip, holding it out to his captive. “But not today.”

And Cedric smiled, eagerly sucking at Voldemort’s thumb. The Weasley’s went blessedly silent behind him, a spell most likely as he never knew the family to choose to be quiet. And while he worked at cleaning his Master’s finger, Lord Voldemort smiled down at his slave.

“Go on, you may have the rest of the night to yourself.”

Cedric didn’t hesitated, bowing as low as he could and hurrying away. He never looked back at the Weasleys, didn’t look at the elite Death Eaters who were probably cackling at his little performance, and didn’t even pause when one of the Lestranges opened the door.

Instead he hurried off to his gilded cage, a paradise trapped in a bubble of magic he couldn’t escape. Once inside he could not leave again, not without Voldemort’s summon. And yet he always returned.

Because there, at the center of the Master’s magic, preserved in a crystal coffin and sleeping as he had for years now, was Harry Potter.

“I’m back now,” Cedric whispered to the unresponsive boy. He wiped off his face but otherwise made no move to clean himself. There would be time later. “You’re okay, Harry. I won’t let him hurt you.”

A voice echoed in his own mind, a scared young man in a dark graveyard, trying to protect a boy who never volunteered for the danger he had been assigned, desperately hoping he could kill the portly man who was sending curses at the pair. He could hear that young man’s yelling, a perfect mimic of his own words now.

“I won’t let him hurt you.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #voldemort/cedric diggory #implied harry potter/cedric diggory

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whitexwingedxdoves · 3 years

Text

Foxtails and Rabbit trails | Part 2

A/N: This is part 2 to my collab with @starlessea i’ve had such a fun time working on this with Yaz and I hope you all love it as much as we do 🐰 Read Part One Here Summary: Daryl Dixon was a good hunter, but there were still some things that he struggled to find. Such as the patience to deal with you. You wore a rabbit’s foot keyring, but Daryl thought you were the furthest thing from lucky. After all, you ended up stuck with him, too.

- Lying back on the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, you thought that the world had never looked so pretty.

The foxtails tickled your cheeks, and you could feel the fresh dew on the leaves as they gathered up beneath your fingers. You tried to focus on their texture, and how you could hear them crunch brittley before they scattered to the ground like autumn confetti.

You really did try to focus on the good.

But the pain was blinding.

“Hol’ still, ‘m gonna get ya outta there,” Daryl whispered, but you picked up on the way his voice stuttered over the words.

He got to work on disabling the trap, every little movement translating into a jolt of searing pain which made you cry out for him to stop. Though, the look in his eyes was no better. Even through your tears, you could understand that this was hurting him just as much as it hurt you - maybe even more.

If only you hadn’t been so fucking careless.

You reached out your hand for your satchel, fumbling in the grass until your fingertips brushed up against the soft fur of your rabbit’s foot. It was supposed to be lucky.

What a joke, you laughed, and grit your teeth through the pain.

Daryl disarmed the trap, making you whimper hoarsely once more as the metal jaws dislodged from your ankle. Your knuckles had turned white over that rabbit’s foot - almost matching its snowy pelt.

The man retrieved the rag from his back pocket - that same one you’d joked about not so long ago - and used it to bind your leg to stop the bleeding.

Maybe that ratty cloth was handy, after all.

You tried to look down to catch a glimpse of the injury, and assess the damage. Except, Daryl didn’t let you.

“Eyes on me,” he instructed, gesturing to himself with his free hand.

You nodded, before letting your head fall back onto the damp grass. You glanced off to the side, noticing the mounds of dirt that crumbled near you.

“Hey, Daryl,” you murmured, “look at all of the burrows.”

The man didn’t look up from what he was doing - tending to you - but he still nodded his head anyway.

“Yeah,” he replied, tightening the makeshift bandage, “see if ya can spot any rabbits.”

And with that, Daryl carried you back to Alexandria - quickly and carefully, looking down at his feet the entire time.

Once you reached the infirmary, the man placed you on one of the beds whilst Denise got to work. She tried her hardest to be gentle with you, but even the softest touch made your skin crawl. Painkillers were given - only dulling the sensation ever so slightly - but they seemed to be enough for the doctor to stitch up your wounds, and replace Daryl’s old red rag with a clean bandage.

“I thought you hunters were supposed to be mindful of your surroundings,” Denise quipped, sending one of her sneaky looks your way as she finished her work.

You rolled her eyes and shuffled ever so slightly in the bed, trying to get a glimpse.

“Yeah well, it was pretty well hidden,” you hit back.

Daryl cleared his throat from the corner of the room; he’d been so quiet that you almost forgot he was there.

“Nah, ya got too distracted by the damn rabbits,” he grumbled.

More like too distracted by damn Daryl Dixon.

A glare was exchanged between you and the archer, but your smile got wider the longer you stared.

“Either way, it got you pretty good. You need to stay off that leg.”

With a stern tone, Denise broke your gaze.

You shook your head. “That doesn’t work for me,” you argued, “I’ve got people to feed!”

In response, you tried to shuffle off the bed - but a searing pain clambered up your leg and stunted your movements.

“I’m sure Daryl wouldn’t mind taking over for a while. Just until you’re better,” Denise reassured you.

The young doctor peered over her glasses at the archer, only for him to reply with a grunt.

“Now rest,” she told you, pressing your shoulder back down into the mattress. “Doctor’s orders!”

That first night at the clinic had been quiet - far too quiet. It made you mull over your mistake until it was old in your mind, and heavy on your conscience.

That is, until Daryl returned to bring you dandelions.

Denise had insisted that you stay where she could keep an eye on you, until the morning at least. But, you missed the comforts of your own room - where it was familiar. The walls of the infirmary were too white and barren, as opposed to your house which was decorated with pressed flowers and furs and much too many books.

Your foot twitched occasionally, and every time you closed your eyes you could hear the snapping of those metal jaws as they clamped shut.

Sleep would probably elude you tonight.

Your nerves were made even worse when you were startled by knuckles rapping on the window. Reaching for the lamp, you illuminated the figure behind the glass - who also seemed spooked at having been caught.

Daryl stood there, motioning for you to open the latch on the window.

You did, and the man lifted the pane, letting in the cool night’s breeze.

“You’re not supposed to be in here,” you whispered, peering around the infirmary.

Daryl scowled, and muttered something below his breath that you couldn’t quite make out. The lampshade cast long shadows on his face, and you could only see the whites of his eyes poking out from between the strands of hair hanging over them.

“I ain’t,” he rasped back, gesturing to where he stood. “Technically.”

You raised an eyebrow at the man, not expecting that dry humour to come from him. He shook you off, and continued.

“Not stoppin’ long,” he dismissed, lifting up his backpack and fumbling around in it. “Went back out there an’ couldn’t see no more traps.”

He smirked - faint and dim in the artificial light. But you still caught it.

“Ya must’ve sprung the only fuckin’ one.”

You laughed a little too loudly.

“Just my luck,” you shot back.

Daryl pulled something out from his bag - something you immediately recognised. It was a pelt blanket of soft, tawny fur. You’d made it yourself.

“Olivia tol’ me to give ya this,” he explained, feeding the material through the open window until you could reach it. “She went to get it from yer room.”

The feeling between your fingers instantly brought you comfort, and you ran the blanket along your cheek absentmindedly.

Before you could reply, Daryl fished something else out from the rucksack and placed it on the windowsill.

It was a glass bottle of dandelions.

It was a soda bottle, to be exact - probably snuck out of the pantry when no one was looking. You also recognised the flowers; you’d seen them out hunting once and noted just how much you liked the colour.

They looked like sunshine.

“Those from Olivia, too?” you whispered, gently stroking over the petals with your fingertips.

Daryl zipped up his bag and shook his head.

“Nah,” he mumbled, gesturing for you to close the window behind him. “These are from me.”

That was when you realised that perhaps Daryl Dixon wasn’t such a hard ass after all.

Though, your favourite memory from back then had to be the time he brought you bluebells. You’d practically chewed his ear off on one of your earlier trips, telling him all about how pretty they were - but you never thought he was listening.

You’d been sitting in your front room, pressing the previous bunch of flowers between one of your bigger books, when Daryl entered your home that day. Denise still hadn’t given you the all clear to go back out and hunt, and your movements were still pretty limited.

Hence, the constant appearances by the other hunter.

At this point, it had just become a part of the routine. Daryl would visit the house, walk straight to the empty vase on your bedside, and fill it with a new set of flowers.

Though, today was a little different.

Usually, he’d drop off some of the meat he’d managed to catch, and then leave. But, today he took a seat on the sofa opposite yours and fumbled with a tangled up cord.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you giggled, sitting further back into your cushion.

“Been trying to fix ya stupid traps out there. Can’t get the knot right,” he mumbled, his patience wearing as thin as that rope in his hands.

You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh at his words.

The irony tasted so sweet.

Daryl shot you a look which instantly made you cover your mouth. “Come here, I’ll help you,” you managed to say, whilst beckoning him over.

He did as instructed, but not without grumbling.

You took the cord from his hands and effortlessly untangled it. Daryl muttered something under his breath - but instead of prying, you took the victory and proceeded with your demonstration.

“Loop the rope around your hand like this and tie it.”

Before finishing the action, you handed it over to Daryl so that he could do it by himself.

“Then you fold the loop over to make ears, just like a rabbit!” you announced proudly, leaning over the man to show him exactly how it should look.

He scoffed. “What is it with you and the damn rabbits?”

You rolled your eyes at the archer, and nudged him in the side for not paying attention - to which he carried on following your directions.

“Then you thread the rope through,” you instructed, your hand hovering over his as you watched for any mistakes.

You hadn’t realised how close you were to him until he had finished the knot. You pulled away, and cleared your throat before refocusing on the cord - not daring to dwell on the tension.

“Then you add this end to the spring and leave the other end hanging.”

Daryl nodded silently, inspecting your work like he was trying to recreate it in his mind.

“Thanks,” he eventually whispered, chewing at the corner of his lip.

It didn’t take the man long to spring to his feet and murmur a goodbye before leaving.

Thinking back on it, you could only laugh at how naive you both had been.

Those bluebells were the last flowers ever left in that glass vase, but they hadn’t been the last you’d seen during your time at Alexandria. To this day, you still had an old, leather-bound book tucked away somewhere on a shelf - containing all of those pressed flowers with their dried up petals and stems. But, they weren’t the most memorable.

No. The ones you could remember the best, despite not having them laid flat atop a page, were the foxtail lilies.

“You good?” the man asked, guiding you through the long grass.

You followed him slowly, weaving through the wildflowers - being careful not to trod on them.

Your leg had mostly healed, but your confidence still hadn’t made a full recovery. It was your first time hunting since the accident, and you couldn’t help but keep your eyes locked on your feet the entire time - despite Daryl having reassured you that he’d checked the area three times over.

“Yeah, just feels weird,” you replied, rolling your ankle. “But it’s good to be out again, thanks for taking over for me.”

Despite being out of commission for a few weeks, the people of Alexandria definitely hadn’t starved - that’s for damn sure.

Daryl shook his head, and continued to step through the foxtail lilies. He was leading you back to that new area - to explore it properly this time.

“Nah, ain’t nothin’,” he shrugged, not even sparing you a backwards glance.

You followed his trail, where his boots had flattened the grass and made it easier for you to navigate.

You sighed. “Can’t just say ‘you’re welcome’, can you?”

Something sprung in the distance, and you immediately flinched. It took you a few seconds to figure it out - but you soon realised that you recognised that sound.

You turned to the other hunter, only to find that he was already looking at you.

“Daryl Dixon,” you breathed, a smile already wide on your face. “Did you set a twitch-up snare?”

The man shook his head, before pointing into the distance - at the dozens of burrows you hadn’t gotten the chance to show him that day.

“Not jus’ one,” he announced, as you glanced around the field, counting the traps.

No wonder Alexandria hadn’t gone hungry.

Another one sprung, and made you jump. You couldn’t help it, you slapped Daryl over the back and laughed too loudly - probably making the remaining rabbits scurry back into their burrows.

“Be still my beating heart!” you joked. “I knew you’d come around.”

The lilies tickled your legs as they blew in the breeze, and made you laugh even more. But for once, the man didn’t scold you for scaring away the game.

“Yer welcome,” he replied, and smirked straight back.

Daryl thought of that memory, as he and Judith made their way through the darkened forest, back to the house.

You had definitely changed him since then - in more ways than how he set up his traps.

Daryl hung behind the young girl, watching her feet as she navigated the thick overgrowth, and stepped over tree roots - her fox tail charm swinging from her jeans.

It had been his, once. He’d caught that red fox himself in the dead of winter, and kept the brush just like you’d told him to do. Though, Judith Grimes had taken a liking to it as a baby - always reaching for the soft fur with her small hands, and sneezing when Daryl used it to tickle her nose.

It was hers now; it had been since that day.

As if feeling his stare, Judith turned back and called out to Daryl for him to hurry up - unless he wanted dinner to be cold. He let out a grunt and picked up the pace.

He was too damn old for this.

The two of them returned to the cabin before the sun had set, but Daryl could already smell the scent of cooked meat from the pathway, a few minutes back. The lights were on inside, flickering warmly behind the glass windows - as though calling the both of them home.

Judith reached the door first, and rapped on the wood, tapping out their signature knock. As soon as it creaked open, the young girl burst through - nearly knocking you over as she trudged through the house with a wide smile and muddy boots.

Then, you disappeared behind the frame after her - yelling something about how animals were meant to be on a plate, and not seated at the dinner table.

Daryl couldn’t help but laugh at that one; you always did have a good sense of humour.

But for that reason, the hunter made sure to wash his hands as soon as he stepped through the door - before even attempting to put them on you, and pull you in close.

But once he did, you beckoned him over.

Daryl felt the warmth of your skin as you pressed your forehead to his.

“‘M home,” he murmured, offering out the bunch of wildflowers he’d picked for you on the way back.

They were slightly crushed from his grip - the stalks bent and the petals flaking off - but you still smiled at him in such a way that it made his breath catch.

Yeah, he thought, you hadn’t changed one bit.

“My favourites,” you replied, and placed those foxtails in fresh water at the centre of the dinner table.

tags: @browneyes528 @phoenixblack89 @srhxpci @jodiereedus22 @witch-of-letters @deadthewalking

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic

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ubemango · 3 years

Note

*gregorian chant* breeding kink c*m inflation kink breeding kink c*m inflation kink breeding kink c*m inflation kink bree

In another universe pups is the ABO fic I never wrote HJDHJDSHJDSHJHJFHJFSD OK so anyway I won’t lie I had to google what cum inflation was and when I saw what I saw.... yes. Ok. It got my brain gears going *rusty noise of gears turning* U know what I mean??? So i was thinking..... ***NSFW WARNING

You see hentai on Namjoon’s laptop one day. You’ve mastered the art of nonchalance, though. So when he comes back from the bathroom and gives you a smile—as if you haven’t gotten a peek into Things That Turn Namjoon On That Don’t Include You—you breathe an internal sigh of relief. Safe.

Except you’ve stopped taking notes and now all you can think about is Namjoon watching porn so brazenly on his laptop. Where he does schoolwork of all places! He could at least just use his phone. Also you’re just a teensy bit wet because cartoon boobs and dick is still conducive to horny hours, even if you are doing something as unsexy as critical writing.

Your study date ends with a simple kiss on the lips because Hoseok’s home this time and you’d rather not taint the living room space while he’s occupying the apartment too. Namjoon slips in a little bit of tongue though, because he’s cheeky like that.

You text Namjoon right when you get home. You lie and say you’re going to sleep early, with the excuse that you have to wake up early for a meeting with your advisor. And when he sends you his good night text, you get to it. Getting ready for bed, turning your night light to the colour red once you’ve settled in.

You have sleuthing to do.

Because the hentai wasn’t just... well there’s no regular hentai, is there? It’s just. There. Being hentai. And what’s Namjoon without an inclination for messy pussies because of—because of—

You close your eyes tight because you can’t believe what you’re about to type into the search bar on your phone.

But first!

Incognito. Whew. The shame of clearing your history would be too much to bear. So when you press enter on cum inflation it isn’t so bad. Especially when all the X-rated websites pop up and your screen just becomes Anime Boobies Galore when you click the first link.

You can’t believe Namjoon had the gall to just leave that website up there on his screen. You’re scrolling down the page and already you’re feeling hot. And it isn’t even because of the fact that you’re skimming through videos of perfect girls getting so cummed up their stomachs literally become distended. Nor is it the thought of Namjoon watching it and enjoying it, either. Rather...

Was he thinking of you when he was watching these videos? Bending your knees up over your shoulders and promising you that he’s saved up all his cum for you? Getting you to drool down your chin, cross-eyed?

(Your hand is down your panties at the third video you come across. You come pretty hard when you see the girl’s pussy literally spew semen from how hard the guy comes inside her. And when you reach post-orgasm clarity you immediately exit the browser, chuck your phone onto the floor, and hope to god sleep overtakes you within twenty seconds.)

The next time you meet up for another study date with Namjoon is the weekend. That’s a good three nights of jacking it off to the same video of a huge dongle fucking a good five buckets of semen inside his girlfriend. And when you settle all your notebooks and laptop down, you immediately go for the kill.

“Do you like anime boobs?”

Namjoon chokes on the water he’s drinking from his bottle. “I—ahem. What, uh... what brought this on?”

“I’ve been watching a lot of hentai so I thought I’d ask,” you clarify.

“Uh-huh,” he says incredulously.

“And you know, it’s just—I liked it. A lot. You know. Just for your information.”

Namjoon blinks. “Are you trying to get at something here?”

“Because I don’t really mind, you know. Porn is porn. And you can like whatever you want. Like as long as it’s nice and consensual,” you ignore him.

“Babe.”

“Like I would never make fun of you because I’m—well I’ve watched Grinch porn before but that was against my own will—“

“Baby,” Namjoon laughs, squishing your cheeks to stop your rambling. “What’s going on?”

“I like h’ntai,” you try to articulate with his hands still keeping your lips pressed in like this.

“I get that. But why?”

Oh god. You don’t even know what you want from this conversation. Maybe the guilt of catching him has caught up to you. Or maybe you also just want to have a distended stomach from having Namjoon bust a fat load inside you.

You take his hands from your face, clutch at them for support. “I saw... Um. What you were watching. The other day.”

“Ah.” You watch Namjoon’s ears turn red. He squeezes your hands right back. “You—damn. I’m sorry.”

“No—!” You clear your throat when it warbles. “N-No... it’s... well I...”

You feel his thumb rub comfort into your skin. He looks like he’s getting ready for a scolding. So when you say, “I actually really liked it and I’ve been watching it every night,” in one breath, Namjoon blinks.

And blinks.

After a solid sixteen seconds of silence, he says: “That’s really hot.”

You both stare at each other. The notebook you laid out for notes sits quietly, waiting.

“You wanna go to your bed—?”

Namjoon nearly dislodges your shoulder when he pulls you up to stand. “Yes we’re going right now.”

Something you’re really thankful for when it comes to Namjoon is how compatible you two are. You can’t count how many times you’ve both just looked at each other, no words to say, but somehow still completely on the same page. It’s like you both have the instinct of the other person ingrained in the part of your brain that deals with intuition.

You’re pretty keen on foreplay most days, but even Namjoon sees you’d rather rip your hair out than not immediately go for the feeling of his dick ramming inside you right at this very second. He laughs when you strip in record time, laying supine on the bed while he undresses.

“What’s gotten into you?” As if he’s not hard himself. He crawls over you with kisses warm on your belly, your breasts. “I have to admit. I really just wanted to fuck today.”

“Oh thank god,” you sigh. You knew something was up the second you realized Hoseok wasn’t home. He probably sexiled himself. You remind yourself to buy him dinner one day for his noble deed. “Just—I’m wet. I think. I just want you inside me, please.”

Namjoon groans. “You’re dangerous.”

“I watched hentai for three nights straight, I’m horny,” you whine in correction.

“You wanna know something? Please don’t laugh.”

“What?” Oh you’re wet alright. Namjoon lines his cock at your hole, slides tight inside. “O-Oh—what?”

“I kind of. I haven’t jacked off since the last time we met,” he says, voice tight. “Thank god you watched that shit because I probably sound crazed right now.”

“Huh?”

He grinds up till his hips meet your ass, and you shiver when the tip of his cock hits just right. “I—I wanted to save my cum for you,” he admits, sweating at his neck, and something clicks inside you, because you were right.

“I thought—about that too—ngh!”

Namjoon fucks you steady now. No more shy thrusts like he always starts off with to gauge your mood. He knows you want it. “Shit. About what, baby?”

“You. A-And... making me full... of you.”

“Oh my god.” He grabs your thighs, opening you wide. Takes a thumb to your clit like he’s on a mission. “Will you come with me? Can you do that?”

Holy fuck you’d do anything for him. So you nod, moaning with every hard thrust he gives you. Your legs threaten to close when he rubs you raw, but he commands with a low voice:

“Open, pups.”

Embarrassingly, that does it. He’s never one to order you around. And knowing he’s purposefully saved you his cum like it’s Christmas come early, you know better than to hinder the process.

Your legs shake when you open wider, feeling the warmth of his cock tenfold. “I’m close,” you cry when he slams into you.

“Feel it here?” He slides a sweaty palm to your abdomen. “Gonna give it to you right there. Make you so full. So pretty. All—mine—!”

You don’t even know if that was your signal. But the thought of him swelling you up like that girl on your screen, her womb so full with cum and promise—

“Joonie!” You shriek, toppling right into red-hot pleasure, clutching at the sheets because it’s too much. You come in waves, and Namjoon rides it with you, bucks into you with one last groan. You feel it, feel his excess warmth coat your insides just like he’d told you, and you pretend you feel your stomach balloon for more space. He rubs a grateful hand on your stomach.

“My little cum dump,” he coos tiredly, and you slap his arm with a laugh.

“Don’t pull out yet.” You slide your arms around his shoulders, bringing his tired form onto you. “Keep me plugged in.”

He laves at your neck. “Oh so now I’m out of line when I say weird shit.”

“I never said it was weird,” you whisper. “I’ll happily house all your semen.”

“Oh my—pfft. Ok. You know what? Show me that video you were watching, I need to know what’s got you like this,” he snorts, and you promise to do it later. You’ll just keep him like this for a little while.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #bts scenarios #ubemango fic #f: pups series #d: pups series

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 2

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five. Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“You alright?” Somi asked gently, watching me fling my backpack into the corner of the room with enough force to dislodge one of the wooden panels on the wall, the shelf crashing and bringing down the two potted plants on it. The sound of ceramic shattering made me wince, regret churning in my stomach.

“Yeah...yeah. Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Somi.. I broke your pots-”

“Never mind the pots...why do you look so upset? Have you been crying?” She demanded , reaching for me, hands curling around my wrists and drawing me into a hug and I swallowed, my throat dry and eyes swollen from all the tears that I’d wrung out of them.

Outside the room, Namjoon stood guard, at the door and I felt guilty remembering how the past three hours had gone.

After confronting Jungkook, I’d stormed off in righteous indignation and poor Namjoon had been forced to follow.

He had kept a discreet distance as I climbed to the tallest ridge on the roof, scaling the gables with ease and I knew he had been terrified at the prospect of me falling.

Immortal or not a three hundred foot drop to the ground would be something that would hurt.

And it was my bodyguard’s job to make sure I did not get hurt.

When he wasn’t busy fucking other women that is.

I gripped my sister harder, fingers curling into the fir of her coat as I tried to catch my bearing.

“Do you know Helena?” I whispered, pulling away to look at her. Somi’s face fell,eyes filling with sympathy.

“Oh, no. Was she here?” She asked gently, reaching out and cupping my cheeks and my lips wobbled.

“Why didn’t you warn me that he was in a relationship?” my voice shook and Somi shook her head.

“He’s not!! God, Helena doesn’t do relationships. Jungkook and her.... well, I’m not sure but they’re just fuck buddies..... barely that. You know she’s from the Kim clan right? Those bloodsuckers never settle for one partner. “ She muttered.

I stared at her.

“He called me a child and then told me he’ll tell dad if i try to make a move on him.” I whispered.

Somi flinched.

“Sera....”

“It was humiliating and painful and I don’t ever want to think about it, ever again.” I muttered.

She sighed.

“It’s not like you don’t have men dying for a glance from you, Sera. You forget that you’re literally the most beautiful woman in the clan. If he rejects you, you’re definitely not the one missing out in that equation.”

I nodded, misery seeping into me. My sob-fest on the roof hadn’t been wasted. I was angry at first but now, a sort of resigned acceptance had taken the place of my anger.

The look on Jungkook’s face had been too real, the emotion behind his rejection too potent for me to get over. I wasn’t sure I could change his mind.

Wasn’t even sure if I wanted to.

“Was he very hurtful ? You know, if you tell dad, he’ll hire someone else and-”

“No.” I said immediately. “ I won’t do that. It’s not his fault, it’s minge. I acted out like a...well a child to be honest. He doesn’t owe me anything and he’s always been obvious in his disinterest. I was just too blinded my own attraction to consider that it wasn’t reciprocated.” I grimaced.

God, I’d been an idiot and Jungkook’s words had knocked some good sense into my head. But I did care for him and his son and they needed this job. I wouldn’t put his job in jeopardy just because I didn’t get my way.

I was better than that.

“Alright... Dad wanted to meet you for breakfast tomorrow.... He sounded serious. Do you know what that’s about?”

I groaned, when I remembered the reason my dad wanted to see me these days.

“Dad wants me to start meeting men now. He thinks I’m old enough now that i’ve turned 21. He’s been badgering me for a whole entire month but I kept putting him off because of...well, because of Jungkook.” I admitted.

Somi looked worried.

“You want to ? If you don’t we can talk to dad and-”

“No-” I shook my head.” I’m just gonna agree.”

Somi looked surprised.

“Are you sure? Sera you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to-”

I smiled weakly.

“I’m not going to be allowed to stay single forever Somi. Especially not when the entirety of dad’s day is spent trying to chase suitors away from the door. Do you know the Count from Jeju Do...dude’s a whole seven centuries old and he looks like a toad. He apparently tried to ask about me and Dad’s been freaking out. “ I shuddered.

Somi laughed.

“ That’s what you get for being you. But dad’s right. Keeping you away from everyone is only inviting more interest. And we don’t want you to be with someone insufferable.” She ruffled my hair and I hugged her again sighing into her shoulders.

No I didn’t want to be with someone who just saw me as some kind of a possession to be owned. I wanted someone nice and kind. A handsome man who did the right thing . Someone who maybe, worked hard to give his kid a safe and protected life, someone who didn’t shun away from hard work and was a gentleman as well.

Someone like-

“Someone other than Jungkook.” Somi said gently reading my mind.

“I really liked him.” I whispered softly, feeling tears spring again.

God, I thought I was all out of tears for Jeon Jung Kook but apparently I was wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I took extra care with my makeup the next morning, because my father usually had a ton of business meetings during his breakfast. I didn’t usually bother but , I was going to agree to his suggestions today and well, nothing wrong in delighting my father. And nothing made him happier than seeing me prance about with pretty feminine clothes .

My dad, for all his jovial cheerful air, loved his position as the head of the Hwang clan. And as his most prized possession , I was the apple of his eye. And while he didn’t treat me as an object or anything ( my dad loved me deeply and his affection was always evident. ) , there was no mistaking the fact that my dad enjoyed the power that came with being my guardian. Powerful men were willing to bend to his will, just for a chance to be with me.

I sound insufferable, don’t I?

Trust me I’m not.

The vampires that court me are usually assholes. Entitled, brain dead assholes . When I opened the door in the morning, dressed in a short summer dress and ready to meet my dad, I was surprised to see Jungkook standing guard outside. He straightened away from the wall where he was fiddling with his phone, his gaze flitting to me, eyes cold and blank.

I bowed lightly, not smiling.

“Mr. Jeon. I have a breakfast date with my father and then I’ll be heading to the cottage. I’m also meeting a friend of mine at the Art Museum in the evening so i’ll need the Mercedes brought around to pick me up maybe at 5.00PM.” I said briskly, glancing at him.

My face flamed red when I noticed his gaze, fixed steadily on my ass. I cleared my throat angrily and his eyes met mine, a slow lazy grin playing around his mouth.

“You look different.” He commented , shamelessly giving me another once over.

The nerve.

I swallowed, willing myself not to blush harder.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

He chuckled.

“That dress barely covers your butt, angel. You sure you want to head to daddy dearest, dressed like that?” The way he said daddy made my skin heat up.

I felt my jaw come unhinged.

“That’s...that is none of your damn business.” I said shrilly.

He gave me another once over.

“Okay, then. If that’s what you’re into...fine. Let’s go.”

Gritting my teeth, i tried to keep my face neutral. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. I would not.

I walked ahead of him , my fists clenched and my jaw tight and I felt incredibly upset because the day had barely begun and I was already wound tight. I was supposed to be relaxed and clear headed while talking to my father but Jeon Jungkook had muddled my brains as usual.

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.

“Sera, wait.” His voice made me pause and I stopped, turning around to glare at him.

“What?” I snapped.

He sighed, deeply. I watched as he ran his hands through his hair, tongue pressing into his cheek the way it did when he was upset.

“About last night-”

I felt my pulse quicken.

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” I said quickly, turning back around to leave but his fingers came around my arm, gripping hard .

“Well tough luck. Because I do!” He said sharply.

I whimpered, pain blooming up my arm and he swore, loosening his grip.

“I keep forgetting you’re human.” He muttered, “ I’m sorry... I just... I wanted to apologize for how i handled things last night. I was twenty once and I should have been more understanding.”

I closed my eyes. Oh, God no. Please, please for the love of God, let me hate you in peace. Don’t apologize and make me fall in love all over again.

“Its fine.” I choked out. “ You were right. I was out of line.”

“You deserve better.” He said quickly, eyes flitting away from my face and I felt a sharp pang in my heart. God , this was agonizing.

“Jungkook-”

“It’s just that you’re...well you know who you are. You can’t be with ...someone like me and trust me you don’t want to be with someone like me either. I know its appealing, the whole illusion of stability. older man, has a kid, has his life together .....but that’s not all it means .” He gave me a tired smile.

I bit my lips, ot replying and he went on.

“ I have baggage, a shit ton of it and I would have to be especially cruel to unload something like that on a girl barely out of her teens. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of ,....but ruining your life, I’m gonna draw the line there.” He smiled , looking a whole decade younger and I closed my eyes.

I was back to square one, I thought miserably. He had my whole heart.

“ So we’re good right?” He prompted and I exhaled, giving him a smile.

“We’re good.”

“That’s good. Because my son loves you and I would rather we be friends. You’re just like a daughter to me. ” He touched my face gently, pulling away at once, the small contact leaving fire in its wake and I had to clench my fists .

A daughter?!! Is he out of his damned mind?

“Okay.”

“Let’s go then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jungkook, please sit down. You’re like my son and I don’t want you hovering like you’re part of the backdrop. I’ve trusted you with my entire life.” My father beamed, pointing at me and i laughed.

Jungkook bowed respectfully, taking the chair next to me.

“How are you , my buttercup?” My father asked softly, fingers gripping mine and I smiled.

“I’m well, father. Do you like my dress?”

Next to me Jungkook coughed and I shot him a dirty look.

“It looks ravishing on you. The prettiest flower in my estate is my daughter, do you agree Jungkook?” My father prompted and I swallowed the smirk that threatened.

Poor Jungkook was going to learn that being my bodyguard meant singing my praises twenty four seven or at least anytime my father was in hearing distance.

“Uh..” Jungkook’s eyes flitted between the two of us, “ Yes sir. Your daughter is quite lovely.”

I beamed at him and he looked away quickly.

Coward.

Turning back to my dad I held my hand out.

“DAd, you wanted to see me about something?”

“Yes dearest. You know the Kim clan’s matriarch has been after me. Three of her great great great grandsons have come of age recently. And all three of them are set to take over some very lucrative businesses. They are good men and apparently they’re quite smitten with you. They say you know of them from school?”

I sighed.

“Do you know their names?” I prompted.

“Mingyu, Minjae and Yugyeom.” My father said briskly.

Ugh.

“ They’ve asked me out before, yes.”

“Uh..Excuse me.. Could I get a refill?” Jungkook said quietly next to me and i turned, watching him wave to one of the footmen.

“Jungkook, are you thirsty?” My father asked brightly.

An idea formed in my head, wicked and dangerous.

“Perhaps, he should get a taste of the Hwang Elixir?” I said innocently.

My father’s gaze snapped to mine.

A small frown made its way to his face.

“Are you sure? I’m not sure if Jungkook would be comfortable-”

I turned to him, purposely flipping my long hair off my shoulders exposing my throat . Jungkook’s eyes went to the curve of my neck at once and i felt a sick sort of triumph when his eyes flashed red.

“Oh, no no...” I crooned, leaning in closer. “ I’m sure you aren’t uncomfortable , are you Jungkook ssi? After all, I am just like a daughter to you , aren’t I?” I stared right at him, fluttering my lashes and I saw his jaw clench.

“Of course, Ms. Hwang.” He said briskly, glaring at me. I played with the small gold chain around my neck, letting my fingers flutter over my pulse , drawing his gaze there.

“Well, that is true ...” My father looked uncertain, but I gave him a gentle nod and a smile.

“Well, as a special guest, I suppose you can enjoy our hospitality , Jeon. Why don’t you take a drink from -”

I moved closer, pressing up against him and Jungkook sighed, lips closing over my neck, and I felt my eyes flutter shut at the wet warmth of his mouth .

It was intoxicating, the way he used one hand to grip my neck gently, the other on my waist to steady me and when his fangs pierced through, I could sense the warm liquid flood his mouth and Jungkook’s entire body relaxed, a strangled moan escaping him.

“---my daughter’s wrist.” My father finished and I felt Jungkook stiffen next to me.

This time I couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed on my face.

My eyes dropped to his lap and yup, his pants definitely looked a tad tighter.

“Did I do good, Mr Jeon? Or should I call you daddy? ” I whispered quietly , fluttering my lashes at him and his fangs retracted and he pulled away from me, shoving me back into my own chair quickly.

My father was slightly slack jawed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hwang. “ Jungkook muttered and I laughed.

“I do believe it is I whom you should be apologizing to. It is my neck you just mauled. ” I smiled brightly staring at Jungkook and if looks could kill, I would have a thousand wooden stakes through my heart right about now. ‘

Take that Mr. Jeon.

Daughter, my ass.

“My apologies , Sera.” He said stiffly.

My father laughed raucously.

“Ahh, you must be used to the neck, my dear boy. understandable understandable. it is how we used to do it in the old days, after all . These younglings with all their etiquette and feminism and what not....it’s hard to keep up..... But now you must tell me? Is my daughter not the sweetest you’ve ever had?”

I choked, coughing. Oh God, sometimes my 900 year old father had no idea how he sounded.

Jungkook looked like he had swallowed a lemon.

“She’s certainly ...” He stopped, probably realizing that any adjective at the end of that sentence would sound entirely wrong.

“Delicious?” I prompted, blinking innocently and Jungkook shot me another glare.

“Well, nevermind nevermind. .... So, tell me dearest, will you be willing to meet the Kim boys?”

I sighed.

“I like Yugyeom. I cannot stand Minjae. I don’t know enough about Mingyu to make any judgement. How about I meet Mingyu and if I don’t hit it off with him, I will allow Yugyeom to court me....” I said softly.

I glanced at Jungkook but he was studiously looking away.

“Very well my dear. Do you have any plans today?”

“I’m meeting a friend at the museum.”

My father’s eyes widened.

“Well isn’t that a wonderful coincidence. Mingyu's law firm is just a block away if I’m not mistaken. I’ll ask the boy to pick you up afterwards. Have dinner with him and you can tell me tonight of your choice.” My father smiled briskly.

“Yes, father.”

“Jungkook..” My father prompted and the vampire glanced up.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take good care of her. At the restaurant, make sure you stay at hearing distance. “

“Yes sir.” Jungkook bowed and I groaned.

In other words, let my father know if I behaved appropriately.

i pouted and my father waggled his finger at me.

“No, no no.. Missy. I’m going to make sure you keep your end of the bargain . You need to give these men a proper chance before you reject them. “

I nodded.

“And you must ask Either Somi or Seolhyun to dress you. No jeans or one of those ridiculous gowns that make you look like a pastry.”

There was no mistaking the snort that came from my right and i glared at Jungkook before turning to my dad.

“Yes, father.”

“Good, now run along the pair of you. “

I stood up, kissing my father fondly on his forehead.

“I love you.” I whispered.

“You are my whole entire joy, dearest. “ He kissed my hand gently, eyes warm and soft.

As we left the room, Jungkook let out a sigh.

“I am never having a meal with you two again.” He ground out and I laughed.

“Anything you say, daddy.” I grinned.

Jungkook groaned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As luck would have it, my friend cancelled .

So at six the evening, I finished locking up the cottage as the last of the kids left, fumbling with the lock while a tired Joo Won napped in his father’s arms, head resting on Jungkook’s shoulders. I felt myself soften at the picture they made, Jungkook singing softly , fingers brushing his son’s hair back as he rocked him gently.

“I’ll be a while... I needed to get ready. Why don’t you put him to bed? Who’s watching him tonight?”

“Hwasa and Moonbyul offered. I’ll drop you off in your room and head to the north wing. What time are you meeting the jerkwad?” He said casually.

I blinked rapidly, confused.

“I’m sorry... the jerkwad?”

Jungkook shrugged.

“It’ just a fact. Most men are absolute jerks at twenty one.” He shrugged.

i felt myself bristling on behalf of the unknown Mingyu.

“That is absolutely unfair. My brothers were incredibly kind and good.”

“To you perhaps. Because they don’t have to impress you. But men act differently when they’re trying to get between a woman’s thighs. They’re jerks when they want to get laid...” He grinned.

“Is that why you act like a jerk to me? ” I smiled evilly and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, darling we both know I don’t have to act in any different way to get you into my bed . I just have to do this.” He smirked, curling his finger in a come hither gesture.

I felt my pulse pound and I tried not to let his words get to my head. He was flirting , yes but it was a joke. He was joking with me because the very idea of being with me was a joke to him.

And I couldn’t forget that.

Rolling my eyes, I pulled on the lock a couple more times to make sure the door was well locked.

“Shall we leave?” He prompted watching me wrestle the backpack onto my shoulders. I grunted under the weight.

“Of course. Let’s go.”

We walked in silence for a few seconds.

“So, how’s he doing? With stuff?” Jungkook asked gently and I felt warmth bloom in my chest.

“He’s very advanced for his age Jungkook. You’ve done a wonderful job with him. He’s able to read and he has a beautiful l writing hand. He’s learned his multiplication tables all the way up to seven and he has the voice of an angel. Which I think he gets from you. ” I smiled, reaching out to brush the back of Joowon’s head.

Jungkook smiled softly, the late evening sun painting his perfect features in a soft golden glow.

“Your father was kind enough to support me the first few years when i had him. I didn’t trust anyone enough to leave him with them and well... i needed to put a roof over our head.” He sighed .

I touched his arm, giving it a small squeeze.

“I understand. I’m glad you’re here. He’ll grow up well in our clan. “

“And he has a lot of excellent men to look up to here...He needs a good role model, someone kind and amazing who can inspire him to be hardworking and fair. ” He smiled.

I bit my lips.

“I think he’s had that all along. ” I said quietly.

Jungkook’s breath caught for a second and the air between us changed. I licked my lips.

“Jungkook you’re a good father. You know that right?” I said after a few more seconds of silence.

He laughed.

“Am I really? I wonder.”

“He loves you.” I breathed , “ You’re all he talks about.... Today, one of the other kids tried to say that his father was brave because he helped someone who was stuck in an elevator. you know what Joowon did? He listed some twenty different incidents where you’ve helped people out....And he looked so proud.”

Jungkook’s ear looked red in the brightly lit garden.

“i was just doing my job. Most of those times, I was in danger.” He grunted.

“And yet, you did the right thing. “ I whispered. “ And your son was watching. And he’s learned the importance of doing the right thing even when you’re scared. That’s a life lesson that isn’t easy to learn.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” He chuckled. I grabbed his arm forcing him to stop.

I had to tell him this.

“ Jungkook, when immortality is on the plate, people don’t give much value to morals. They don’t always care about doing the right thing.... . Its how our kind functions. Consequences don’t mean much when you have a whole eternity to fix your mistakes.....So I always admire vampires who value morals. “ I smiled, “ To see a five year old with such a well formed moral compass... it tells me that you’re an amazing father. Possibly the best I’ve ever met. “ I reached out, to hold his hand, wanting to touch him in some way, to make him believe that I was completely honest.

“Sera!!!!!!” My sister’s voice made me jump and Jungkook stepped away as well.

“Dad told me you’re going on a date? I’ve picked out an outfit for you!! But you need to take a shower! You cannot show up smelling like diapers and spit-up.” She called.

I groaned.

“Time for the ugly duckling to transform into a swan, I see?” He said gently.

“Your son’s favorite fairytale.” I whispered.

“He makes me read it every night.”

“I would like to sit in on that someday.” I laughed.

His eyes met mine.

“You’re always welcome, Ms Hwang,” He smiled politely. “ Someday soon maybe your kids and my son would be friends.”

And just like that the wall grew between us.

His kids and my kids.

Not our kids because he wasn’t for me.

He would never be for me.

I felt the sudden inexplicable urge to cry.

Turning away, I began following my sister as she waved to me. .

“I’ll be at your door at seven.” He called out behind me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook #bts fics #jungkook vampire au #jungkook vampire #bts vampire au #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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skelanonymous · 3 years

Text

First - Killermare

Words - 3.1k

I decided I needed more happy Killermare, even though I’ve literally written a ton of it. I should write literally anybody else next…>_>

Killer entered into the kitchen with a tense back, casually perusing the fridge with a wince. He’d taken a hard hit on the side during the last fight with the Stars. Probably cracked something, but nothing was falling off so he didn’t bother too much with it. His determination would hold him together.

He grabbed the carton of milk and took a swig straight from the container.

“Other people use that you know.”

“Too bad for them.” Killer turned around to grin at Nightmare. He’d recently gotten into his Boss’s VERY good graces and no broken bones were going to keep him out of it. “Well if it isn’t small, dark, and Lovecraftian.” That got a chuckle, a rare thing to hear from Nightmare. It made his target soul ache something awful, hearing that cute sound and not being able to do anything with it, not nearly close enough to Nightmare to capitalize on the opportunity.

“As good with words as with a knife, hmmm?” Nightmare stood in his space, touching along his arm unconsciously. Killer tried to keep his mouth in check.

“I’m also pretty good with my hands.” God damn idiot brain, hitting on his fucking god level boss. There’s fucking with people and there’s shooting out of your league. He just smiled through it. “Whatcha need Boss?”

“I’m moving a wing of the library and needed an extra pair of hands.”

“And you knew how talented mine were, so you came right to me?” Killer slid the milk back into the refrigerator. He leaned back on his left side to keep from agitating the right, elbows on the counter, a picture of relaxation.

“Something like that.” Nightmare laughed again. Killer held in the pleased sigh, standing up, crossing his arms behind his head very delicately.

“I’m all yours Boss. Lead the way.”

They wandered down the hall directly towards the library, Killer keeping step just behind Nightmare, letting him stare all he wanted without being caught. Those strong thick tentacles swayed around his back, framing his ass for Killer to appreciate along the lengthy hallways. He rarely went over this way unless Night summoned him here.

Nightmare already cleared small sections away, stacks of meticulously organized books littering the floor. He gestured to a pile.

“Start here and work clockwise. I’ve laid it out to make it easy enough for you to do without me babysitting your progress.”

So began replacing them on the shelves. Killer hid the winces of pain from stooping and bending fairly well, silently moving until he hit a tiny snag. He reached up to place one on a tall shelf when he flinched into the wall.

His body hit the shelves and dislodged an avalanche onto his head. He almost moved away before one smashed into his cracked ribs.

"Son of a fucking bitch!

"Killer!" Nightmare raced over to unbury him. The tentacles made quick work of them, stacking haphazardly off of Killer’s winded form. His hands were on Killer’s forehead in an instant, checking for cracks, diligently looking over him after hearing the cry of pain. Killer groaned angrily when he was cleared off.

“Fucking Blue and his fucking blue attacks. Ugh.” Killer couldn’t sit up, pain still blossoming fresh in his chest. Night paused in looking him over.

“Were you wounded on the last mission?” His single eye penetrated his two, pinning him under it until he relented, grimacing with a gesture to his ribs he’d been carefully avoiding.

“Yeah. Stars got a good hit in on me. Was fine until the book hit it though.”

“Clearly not, considering you lost your usually impeccable balance!” Nightmare’s tentacles wrapped Killer up to get him standing without making him bend the wounded area. “Come with me. Healing magic is easiest when accompanied by intent, wrapping it will make it easier.” He grumbled and took off towards his room, Killer hobbling after to keep up.

Walking into Night’s room changed the mood. He suddenly felt out of place, surrounded by luxurious purples tones and dark wooden furniture. Night had gestured to the bed before wandering into his private bathroom.

His bed was comfortable. Killer’s nerves ruined any enjoyment of getting into Nightmare’s room, jittery from the moment he was directed to sit on the plush comforters. Nightmare returned with a roll of bandages and an unimpressed look.

“I thought you were smart enough to know how to care for yourself.” He moved in front of him. “Take off your jacket and t-shirt.”

Thankfully Night was too focused on unraveling the bandages and gathering antiseptic to see Killer’s face go red, suddenly very aware that he was in his boss’s room, said boss’s hands about to be on him after a request to undress. He pulled them off smooth and casual, but his grin practically cracked at the edges.

“What the hell?”

Night’s hands hovered over the cracked ribs, flinching back at the small break that Killer had dislodged from its setting.

“Yeah, it’s not great.”

“Killer!” Night growled at him. “Why didn’t you seek treatment before THIS?!” He gestured to the crumbled ends of the break from grinding against each other. “This is entirely fucking curable! It’s ridiculous you didn’t, at the very least, wrap this!” The growl travelled up his body, baring his teeth at him, tentacles cracking like whips at his back. Killer didn’t move, but his voice took on a nervous edge.

“I’m a dead man walking boss. I’ll just keep going forward until I can’t anymore.” Healing magic was taxing. All of them were terrible at it besides Nightmare, who never offered, only taking over when he was clearly needed. They never want to bother him to ask for it.

“I could’ve fixed this sooner.” Nightmare pinched the bone into place with a click. Killer gasped in pain. He wrapped it tightly, uncaring about Killer’s harsh pants while doing so.

“We only take it when you offer. None of us wanna annoy you.” Fuck, he was so falling out of Night’s good graces for this. After he worked so hard, some dumb break was gunna take him back to zero. He fisted the plush comforter. “Your time is important.”

“To whom, when you dust from accumulating injuries that I can’t see?”

“The multiverse I guess.”

“The multiverse doesn’t give a shit about me or my time. This is all I have.” Nightmare pinched his nasal crest after finishing. “You serve me, but I cannot do this alone. Your lives are valuable to me. I thought you, especially, would know this Killer."

"Why do ya say that?"

"Because of how important you are to me." Nightmare's hands grew warm with gathering magic, mending now that everything would heal correctly. "All of you are valuable, like the supporting beams holding the castle aloft, but you are more integral. You are the center pillar. As my right hand, as long as you stand, I have faith in my ability to recover. I believed you to be my most valuable asset, but if you’re going to just let yourself turn to dust, then I’ll-”

“No!” Killer’s soul snapped into a heart shape, eyelights flickering in time to meet Night’s inquisitive gaze. “I’m not dusting on you just like that.” He grabbed Night’s warm hands away, taking them up in front of his startled cyan face.

“K-Killer?” He brought them up and kissed the phalanges as one would do to their king.

“If you’ll continue as long as I am by your side, then I’ll remain with you until I die.” Killer’s sockets went half-lidded, struck by the emotion his inverted soul let in, his silly crush amplified ten-fold by Nightmare’s faith in him. He’d never seen his boss look so confused, eye wide and frantically searching Killer’s. “What’s wrong boss?”

“You-I’m...what’s-why all-”Killer’s hands had long since gained a mind of their own. He slid wordlessy off the bed into Night’s space, silencing him with a casual touch on the cheek, fondly caressing the bright greenish glow.

“Shouldn’t have told me I meant so much to ya cuz I’m gunna take that to heart.” Then he swooped down to kiss him.

Killer pressed their teeth together firmly, tilting their heads to line up for deepening the kiss. He relaxed into it, holding Nightmare close while getting a taste, slowly touching and teasing Night's tongue with playful flicks. He could feel the very hesitant kiss back before they parted for air.

"Feeling shy Nightmare? Don't worry. I'm bold enough for the both of us."

Killer laughed into the next one, leaning into it to force Night's response, groaning at the feel of the shy tongue in his own mouth. He could feel his small partner shaking in his arms when they broke apart.

"Killer…" It must've been awhile since Nightmare got with anyone to sound so needy.

"I'm here. Wanna have some fun Nightmare?" He whispered it into Night's ear, smiling at the trembling he could still feel against his ribs, lost in the heady feeling. Night devolved to breathy pants, which Killer dove into before he felt tentacles lay solidly against his chest to push him back.

"Killer, wait, I can't-I'm not prepared for this." Night's flushed face told a different story, but he didn't fancy being killed.

"I've got lots of patience. I'll just make you feel good until you are." Killer's mouth slid down to Night’s neck, sucking on the bone to the high pitched whines, sending all his thoughts south, ecto eager to form at the slightest provocation. His haze broke under the Night's firm push out of his space.

"Killer, stop."

His back connected with the bed, wincing from his still (though much less so) wounded bones. The rejection stung worse.

"Sorry boss." That HURT, knowing he'd fucked up pretty royally. God, he'd forced himself on Nightmare right after he'd been given a shred of attention. He was such a fucking idiot. "I'll keep my hands to myself." His eyelights poofed decisively. He almost couldn't bear to look at him, but he needed to see Nightmare's face at least once.

Night hadn't stopped shaking. His tentacles attempted to hide him from view, face fully blushing, head still tilted away from the fresh mark Killer had left, noises leaking unfiltered from his trembling body.

"S-s-sorry. I-I c-can't handle it-t. Too much." Killer grabbed his shirt and hoodie from where it lay beside him.

"I'll leave you be. Maybe annoy Horror or something, I don't know." Anything to not be here. Playing it off would make it easier to take, even if it meant no second chances with Night. He slid his clothes back on. "Come find me when you got the next mission lined up."

A tentacle wrapped around his ankle before he took the first step.

"Why are you leaving?" His voice was airy, light, breathless.

"I'm a dick, but not that much of one. I went too far, I'll give ya some space for a day." He shrugged, a drop of hate splashing on the floor. He'd describe his emotions as 'in shambles.'

"I don't want space. I just need a minute."

"I don't know Boss. Shouldn't rush that kind of thing." He could stomach taking advantage of people outside of this castle, but betraying the ones inside it, those who guarded his back and knew where he slept (and cared about but he'd never tell them that), it turned his mood sour. It ate at the pit of his stomach and it’d eat through him entirely if he didn’t get the fuck outta dodge.

"What thing?"

"Being assaulted, harassed, whatever you wanna call it. And being the person who forced themselves upon ya, don't think I should be here." He tugged at his ankle again, but Night hadn't relented.

"Killer, I didn't stop you because I didn't want it." He avoided Killer's eye roll.

"Uh-huh." Killer really didn't want to resort to cutting off the tentacle. It wouldn't hurt him, but it'd suck and prove he was an asshole, so he pulled harder. "Say I believed you. Then why?"

"Killer, I…" Nightmare looked like he wanted the carpet to swallow him. "I've never kissed anyone."

"...What?" He stopped struggling against his restraint. "There's no way. You're telling me, five hundred years of existing, and you hadn’t had your first kiss?"

"Yes." And Killer commited a cardinal sin without thinking.

"But Dream definit-" Is fucking Ink or Blue or Cross or all of them, he wanted to say, but Night was quicker.

"I am aware." Nightmare's glare was potent, but Killer's confusion was denser. "But he is lovable, unlike me."

"You're lovable." It slipped out in-between all the mental gymnastics. He wasn't sure he wasn't being fucked with still. "So you haven't…" How to phrase this delicately, he wondered. "...slept with anyone?"

"Killer, I haven't kissed anyone. Why the fuck would I have slept with someone?"

"You gotta know how unbelievable this is." Talking wouldn't reassure him, so Killer leaned down into Night's space again, stopping just shy of his teeth. "You're telling me that someone as fuckable as you's been ignored all this time?" Nightmare's single eye widened with the flush. Killer smoothed out his tone, dropping it low to hold him at the edge of his words. "Nice juicy peach you are, no one's tried to pluck you up? I can barely look without salivatin'." He lapped at his teeth, careful to keep his hands in safe places. He wanted to see how inexperienced Night really was without ruining his chances forever.

Nightmare's tentacles laid limp behind him, all the tremors coming from his real form, whose hands had raised to snatch at the shoulders of his hoodie, gripping tightly when he caved under the languid licks at his mouth by letting Killer in.

Patience led this one, Killer carefully taking over every inch of Night's mouth. The slower pace served to work up his partner faster. Nightmare's calmness abated, tentacles waking up to come and clutch at Killer's form, Night crawling onto him, transforming the kiss into a frenzy of desire that Killer surrendered to, as long as Night was leading the way. The tentacles touched plenty of hot spots, but he kept his own hands on innocent ground. Night's confidence could crumble under too much of a good thing.

"Take a breath, Nightlight." Night shivered against him after breaking apart, so much sensation his body was unaccustomed to. "I gotcha." Killer rubbed soothing circles into his back.

"I can see how that could escalate." Nightmare finally got out. It made him laugh.

"Yeah. It's pretty easy to get carried away." He kissed the top of his skull before laughing again. "You give handsy a whole new meaning though."

"Sorry." The sweet little monster in his arms barely resembled his boss, hiding his face by burrowing into Killer's chest.

"Don't be. It's pretty hot." His lewd grin made Night blush again.

"I would've thought my corruption would be the ugliest and most disgusting part of me." He punctuated it with said appendages undulating behind him.

"Boss, I just kissed the fuck outta you and I've never known you without it. Trust me, not a deterrent." Killer stroked down one to make Night's spine curl. "If you learn how to use ‘em right, they're pretty useful in the bedroom."

"Don't call me Boss when we're like this." Night whispered softly. His face caught between a glare and something soft, he was starting to come back to his senses.

"That might be too much power Nightlight." He grinned at the tiny glare. "How was your first kiss then?"

"Nice." Nightmare sighed as he sat up, unfurling all the aching limbs. The usual persona rebuilt itself. But now, Killer knew how easy the composure was to break. "I'd like to repeat it sometime."

"I'm all yours." He'd never get sick of that face if Night was willing to let him see it. They rose together from the floor, Night reestablishing the space between them.

"I'll have to talk to the others about not bringing injuries to me. Time spent on them is not time wasted." He straightened his sweater, presentable before opening the door. Killer choked the urge down to mess it up again. “The idea that you would’ve rather lost a rib than speak to me is absurd.”

"Yeah." They better not take his catch. Fuck them.

"I'm not going to kiss them Killer. The sour look is atrocious on you." Night's brow raised. Caught red handed. Killer laughed.

"Can you blame me? I know the kind of filthy degenerates who live here; I'm one of them. I don't want 'em to take a bite outta you." Subconsciously, he shook his sleeves to feel the weight of his multiple blades.

"You act as though there are many vying for my affection. People used to throw rocks at me for walking by their homes, and now they try to kill me. I'm not surrounded by suitors." He said this while walking down the hall towards the still upturned library. His strides were confident, power inherent is his manner, carried with a royal grace that Killer could only ape with minimal success. The only reason he wasn't swamped with competition was everyone had been too chickenshit to make a move.

"Ya also thought I wasn't interested and nothing has ever been less fucking true." He pushed his luck a little further, stepping in front of Nightmare to kiss him quickly. The chaste thing was almost too much considering the shakes. "I'll just keep doing it if ya don't say anything."

“We need to reassemble the library.” He huffed through, walking by with weak knees, Killer trailing just behind. “This wasn’t an invitation to touch me at all times.”

“Only some of the time then?”

“Shut up.” He humored the request once inside Night’s treasured library.

Back to quietly organizing, clockwise, his talented hands flipped them onto shelves with ease now that he wasn’t hindered by aches. It was quick and effortless like it should have been the first time. He’d begun humming by the time he placed the last one, not expecting the hand on his shoulder but welcoming it as he had earlier the same day. Night silently pressed something into his palm.

“I trust I don’t need to explain.” Killer’s fingers closed over the silver key, smiling and spinning it on his pointer while leaving the now neat library. Guess his league was a lot wider than he thought. It wasn’t an invitation to his bed, but the invitation to his heart was just as good.

“Gotcha loud and clear boss. See ya soon.”

They CUTE.

#story time #killermare #nightkiller #first kiss uwu #I got lots of feels

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Hey again! I know I just asked for one and I don’t wanna be bothersome, but I saw that Raymond Tango is on your list and I was hoping I could get an imagine with him and maybe Gabriel Cash as well?

Something like the reader works at the prison where they end up and helps them out when they’re jumped? Or whatever scenario you can think of 😁 Please add a lot of flirting if you can

I actually watched Tango and Cash and the Expendables because of your imagines 😆 And I’ll probably keep discovering more awesome movies thanks to you!

I also had an idea for Rambo where the fireworks on the 4th of July trigger his ptsd and the reader is there to comfort him? (It was Canada Day today so there were fireworks in my hometown to celebrate and I got the idea for it 🤷🏼‍♀️)

Thank you so very much!!! 💕

I'm really sorry for the wait, but I hope you like this!😊❤

Tip-Off.

Ray Tango x reader x Gabe Cash (Tango and Cash)

Warnings: injury, swearing, mention of violence, mention of gun use

Masterlist

Finally, I manage to fling the door open, the thick metal clanging loudly as it slams against the wall, announcing my arrival to the room behind it. Gritting my teeth, I crash through it, yelling out to the inmates I know are gathered there, my standard handgun held at the ready. I hate to use it, but I know very well that many of the people turning to face me won't move unless threatened by something a little more dangerous.

The room is lit with a drab light, keeping most of the thugs' faces cast in shadow as they turn towards me, shouts of surprise and panic filling the air. As if startled by a ghost, the lot of them suddenly retreat into the darkness, doors banging open and shut around the perimeter, many of them cursing loudly as they clear out. Frowning, I move further into the room, shouting at them hoarsely, my head rotating quickly to make sure I'm not being ambushed by any of them. Thankfully or not, they disappear quickly, leaving me alone in the deserted area with two familiar people hanging by their necks from the ceiling above large troughs of water. Upon closer inspection, I notice that the water is electrified, a sparking cable lying a metre or so away.

"Hey, hey, what's going on?! Don't just leave us hanging here, kill us or let us down! You shitbrains!" I groan in realisation as I notice exactly who is hanging from the ceiling, the two captives facing away from me.

"Are those my only options, or would you rather I tried to get you down?" I call out to the only one of them who is actually moving, walking round to face them.

"Huh? Who're you?" It's Raymond Tango, the one still writhing on his hook. His partner, Gabriel Cash, hangs listlessly, head drooped, blood dripping from his lip.

"The reason you're still alive." I frown, tapping Cash's foot.

"Oh, it's you. Feel like helping me down?" Ray stares at me, fear still bright in his eyes as he shifts in his bindings.

"Don't sound too grateful. I just saved your ass." I roll my eyes, but move to start helping him.

Going closer, I ignore the dark-haired man's expectant expression, bowing so that I can heave the troughs of water out of the way, first. It isn't easy: the containers weigh tonnes, their contents sloshing all over the place as I brace my shoulder against the battered steel, muscles straining to dislodge them. A grating screech sounds from the base of the troughs as they rasp along the hard ground, but I eventually manage to get them clear, panting by the time they're significantly out of the way.

"Ok, this is probably gonna hurt a bit." I warn Ray, before going over to the knots at the end of the ropes holding them up.

"What is- argh!" The detective yelps in surprise as he drops unceremoniously from the ceiling, landing with a thud on the cold stone floor.

I leave Gabe's line for now, going over to help Ray up as he rolls onto his side, groaning in pain. Untying him, I check him over for any particularly bad wounds.

"Couldn't you have done that a little less painfully?" Ray grumbles as he moves to sit upright, wiping away blood from his nose, groaning.

"Sorry, next time I'll bring a mattress." I roll my eyes again, "You'll live. Now help me with Cash."

"Can't we just leave him there? He makes quite a nice light fixture." Ray jokes dryly, climbing wearily to his feet.

Shooting him a pointed look, I try to ignore the small spike in my pulse as I regard the dishevelled detective, not for the first time admiring his chiselled good-looks. Swallowing down the idle thoughts, I move back to the end of Gabe's line.

"Catch him, will you?" I tell Ray, loosening the knot, Cash's limp body dropping ever so slightly as I do so.

"The lump'll crush me!" He complains, but goes to stand underneath him anyway, reaching up to brace Cash's thighs with a grimace.

"You know, your jibes would have much more effect if he were awake." I smile wryly.

Ray doesn't say anything, but sends me a quick smirk anyway, knowing I'm right.

Turning away, I untie the knot completely, looking back to see Cash fall onto Tango, his torso rocking precariously as the latter struggles to hold him up. Rushing over, I reach out, arms outstretched as the two start to fall, Gabe landing heavily in my grip, throwing us all to the floor. We land heavily, a dull pain erupting in my back from the impact.

Winded, I lie there, Gabe on my chest, Ray on his rival's stomach, breathing heavily as we try to recover. Against me, Gabe shifts slightly, moaning in his unconsciousness, making me force myself to sit upright, his head now in my lap, Ray still trying to catch his breath on his back. Looking down at the man on my thighs, I brush aside some hair from his face, swiping away a little blood from his lip, glancing up to see Ray staring at me, jaw tight. Confused, I go to say something, my brow cocked, only to stop when a pained voice trickles up from between us.

"This isn't what I expected from the afterlife." Gabe murmurs, eyes barely open as he gazes up at me, licking his dry lips.

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Cash." Ray jumps in, pushing himself back up.

Frowning, Gabe lifts his head, opening his mouth to speak, before closing it again, the sharp response clearly struggling to materialise.

"Come on, let's get you untied." I chuckle, moving to shift out from under the detective in my lap.

Gabe groans, whining as I roll him over, Tango reaching over to loosen the knots of his ties. Once free, he lazily tries to return to his original position, only to complain when he finds out I've moved. Now standing, I look down at the two with a fading smile, quickly becoming serious as I think back over the gravity of the situation. The two notice, joining me in standing, Gabe rapidly adjusting his clothes as Ray wipes blood from his lip.

"Whoever set you guys up has a serious problem with you two." I muse, scratching my chin in consternation.

"Wait, you believe us?" Ray sounds surprised, his rival regarding me with a similar expression.

"About what?"

"The setup."

Glancing at him, I tilt my head.

"Yeah, of course. What, you thought I was one of the bribed guards? After all the tip-offs I gave you both?" I shake my head in exasperation.

"Pretty dumb, if you ask me, Tango." Cash comments, smirking as he runs a hand through his hair, betraying his nerves.

"And who didn't listen to the tip-offs?" I tease him, grinning as Ray sends him a pointed look.

"Hey, I've had a lot on my mind!" Gabe protests, before he conspiratorially rakes his gaze over me, "A certain someone in particular."

Blushing, I wave him off, muttering a quick "behave" before gesturing for the two detectives to follow after me.

"You're disgusting, you know that?" Ray hisses to Gabe as they limp along behind me, a scoff following this as we reach the door I came through.

"And you think you're better? Come on, man, I've seen you staring at her when she does her rounds. Your cellmate practically has to wipe the drool from your chin."

"I'm not deaf, you know." I sigh, leading them into a side room, where a desk and few chairs have been pushed to the wall, a couple of pieces of equipment sat neatly where I left them.

The two men enter behind me, frowning at the sight of the small room, confused by its purpose. Naturally, Gabe is quick to recover and goes straight to one of the chairs, sitting down and leaning back in it, head tilted back so that his mane of golden hair falls down between his shoulder blades. Ray eyes him disdainfully, only to take a seat near him, running a hand through his own hair, muscular arms flexing as he does so. It's a struggle for me to keep my eyes averted from them both as I go to the table in the centre and take out my first aid kit, opening it to check inside.

"Ok, who's first?" I finally look up at them both, my cheeks warming up as I am met with two intense stares, neither looking away as I make eye contact.

"I'll go!" Gabe interrupts Ray before he can speak, hopping up and coming over to me, leeching on the table with a grin.

Shaking my head, I take some gauze and start to clean out the worst wounds he received, which I soon find are not particularly bad, so I move to check that he's not concussed at all. Removing a small penlight from my keys, I hold it up to his face, placing a finger under his chin to level his head properly.

"Ok, stare straight ahead." I tell him, not quite realising why he's smirking until I realise that he's decided to stare straight at me, blue eyes fixed on mine. Shaking my head, I once more ignore the blush on my cheeks as I check if his eyes are dilating properly, quickly moving to check his response as I move my hand in front of his face. Thankfully he seems to be ok, everything working as it should be.

"All done." I tell him, placing the penlight down on the desk beside him, glancing back up in time to see him leaning in. Surprised, I have no time to react before he's pressed a quick kiss to my cheek, the blonde smirking as he hops off the bench, eyes glittering mischievously.

Ray makes a sound of disapproval, glaring at Gabe as his rival steps past, muscles tensed up as he tries to fight back the (very) obvious jealousy. Quickly, he takes Cash's place on the table, looking at me gratefully as I start cleaning up the wound on his head. His dark eyes don't leave mine the entire time, unnerving me a little.

"So what do we do now?" He eventually asks, voice low as I stand close to him to make sure the cut is properly dressed.

"You guys need to get out of here." I muse, chewing my lip as I work, "It's just how we're gonna do it that's difficult."

"We?" Gabe sounds hopeful, though I can hear a little jealousy in his tone. This confuses me, until I realise why: Ray has gently placed a hand on either side of my waist, most likely under the pretense that he needs a hold to ground himself.

"Y-Yeah, we. I don't think you two will make it out without help." I tell him, calming my nerves as my pulse picks up, swiping the gauze over Ray's head once more before taking up the penlight again.

"And you're offering? Won't that lose you your job?" Ray questions, surprised at what I've said.

I sigh, standing back upright once I've checked his eyes.

"If I get caught, yeah, it will. At least it'll be for good reason." I shrug, stepping back out of Ray's grip, somewhat reluctantly.

Taking advantage of this, Gabe steps closer, placing a reassuring hand on my lower back. Unused to this kind of affection, I look up at him, expression somewhat blank as he speaks.

"You're sure about that?" He queries, searching my face for hesitation.

"Yeah, I am. What happened to you two wasn't fair, so I think it's good if you get your revenge." I nod firmly, glancing back at Ray, who smiles at me, "Look, I'll come up with a plan as soon as I can. For now, you two need to try and stay alive."

"Easier said than done." Ray murmurs, but agrees nonetheless.

"For you, we will." Gabe teases, tapping my chin with a grin.

#tango and cash #Ray Tango #Raymond Tango #Ray Tango x reader #Gabe Cash #Gabriel cash #Gabe Cash x reader #Sylvester Stallone #Kurt Russell #break writes #Ray Tango x reader x Gabe Cash

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kalee60 · 3 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where stucky are mad at each other for some reason but get forced into the same tiny escape pod and spend a very interesting hour pressed so tight together on their way back to the surface...

Not going to lie Bec - when I first saw this prompt, my mind immediately went one way, and one way only - and I'm pretty sure you just played me like a fiddle with this idea of yours and knew exactly what I'd write.

So please take this humble offering, you are literally my greatest support and I would not be here without you gorgeous ❤️ my adoration for you is endless for our unique and special bond x

The fic is just over 4k and also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Truth or Dare and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

"Are you freaking kidding me right now Rogers?" Bucky shouted as he tried to wrest control of the tiny submarine, or whatever the fucking contraption Stark had purpose built for underwater expeditions, from his meathead best friend who never had a plan. "What the hell was that?"

Steve glared over at Bucky, who scowled back. "I had it under control."

"Under control, my ass. You ran us into a goddamn rock, a rock so sharp we now have a leak - and guess what? We just happen to be about three miles under the sea!"

"I - " Steve started to say then stopped abruptly to slam at the controls before him in the dim lighting, trying to unwedge the small vessel off the rock.

"Don't! Fuck Steve, leave it, don't get us off the rock - we'll tear apart if you do." The sharp edge of panic amidst his anger was clear.

"I know what I'm doing, Buck." Steve ground out.

The panic immediately disappeared leaving only ire behind, "I highly doubt that by looking at the trouble you got us into. I thought partnering up with Sam was a pain in the ass for those few months, but I'd somehow forgotten what you were like."

Bucky heard Steve grinding his teeth, and satisfaction filled him that Steve was at least angry at their hopeless situation, one he was solely to blame for.

They’d been tasked to go to the Raft - one of the inmates had managed to escape - Namor, and although Bucky thought it was way out of their scope of skills to be chasing a literal being that came from the ocean, who had super strength and a huge advantage by, well, being able to breathe underwater, the Avengers assembled and it was left to Cap, no, Nomad and Bucky to sort it out.

At first, the mission was fine and on track, they were given the craft from Stark, Steve assuring both Bucky and the cocky self-appointed head Avenger, that he'd used it many times over on missions, and away they went. Bucky had realised after an hour at sea as they dove deeper and deeper, Bucky wide-eyed at all the sealife and fish that swam into the lights from the craft, that Steve looked a little peaky, a little sweaty. Apparently, after some hard prodding, Steve admitted he'd only taken it out for a few runs in the East River and had never been in the ocean with it.

Bucky was fuming.

He became even angrier when they found Namor, and Steve without any hesitation hit a button that harpooned a weapon from the undercarriage, missing the man completely and hitching it on a nearby rock, careening them towards it. Bucky was certain he saw a smirk and a laugh from their quarry as he swam off - uncaptured. Free.

It was, in fact - quite humiliating for two usually competent supersoldiers.

So now they were fixed tightly onto a jutting rock bed, water leaking slowly into the vessel and Steve was acting like a massive stubborn child about their situation. Especially when they realised they couldn’t call for assistance - they were too deep for a signal.

As a starfish floated by and suckered itself to the window, making a home there, Bucky was starting to wonder if they'd get out of the situation in one piece. They may have the serum running through their veins, but he was certain drowning was still on the scope of things that could kill them. He glanced at Steve who was still pressing buttons - that and along with an irate best friend who had a penchant for knives.

The urge to strangle Steve and his handsomely stubborn face rose with each and every breath, and he couldn't fathom why he was in love with such an imbecile. Bucky, glad that Steve wasn’t aware of where his feelings lay, not wanting to openly tell such an idiot he loved him; though Bucky hadn’t really had an opportunity to approach Steve about it, unsure if he ever would find the courage to bring it up.

Plus right then... right in that moment as they floated and bobbed in the undercurrent while beady eyed fish approached them curiously, Bucky was livid and was certain that even if Steve turned to him to profess his undying love - Bucky would punch him in the face.

“What do you propose we do then smarty pants?”

Bucky’s mouth formed a tight line at the old taunt.

“I suggest we get into the escape pod and head for the surface.”

“What? And give up?”

“Give up Steve? Of course we give up. What the fuck do you think we can do?” Bucky exclaimed, as Steve grumbled into the small space. “For a brilliant strategist you sure are an absolute ninny sometimes.”

“A ninny?” Steve burst out in horrified disbelief.

Bucky felt his lip twitch and almost laughed at Steve’s expression and the absurdity of their situation that by calling Steve a ninny, is what pissed him off the most.

“The only way we can do anything of any use now, is if Namor comes back and surrenders. And I don’t think he’s about to do that, considering he sped off laughing when you marooned us on this damn rock. One I might add that has more strength and the ability to stay calm and think more rationally than you.”

“Are you seriously comparing me to a rock?”

“If the Cap fits.”

“Really?” Steve deadpanned at Bucky’s admittedly terrible attempt at humour.

And before Bucky could say anything further, potentially offer a simple truce, a large shadow loomed above them and Bucky was instantly caught in the beauty and grace of the huge marine animal swimming overhead, close enough Bucky could reach out and touch if there wasn’t glass between them. It looked to be a shark of some type and Bucky was captivated by the smooth skin, the sheer mass and the tail that flicked; until that same large tail hit the vessel on one of it’s sweeps, dislodging it from the rock.

With a triumphant yell, Steve pushed on the accelerator as Bucky yelled at him to stop, and suddenly the whole craft shook and groaned, creaking as the very structure started to unhinge.

“Jesus fuck, Steve. Get in the escape pod now!”

Steve for the first time since they entered the vessel listened to Bucky, and they both jumped up and scrambled for the pods that were situated behind their seats, opening the escape hatches - only to find one empty, and the other thankfully still in place.

“Shit, Tony.” Bucky swore. “Don’t you know about the Titanic? Always have enough damn life rafts. Fuck.”

“We can fit.” Steve said matter of fact and opened the hatch door, just as the thick glass from the front of the craft splintered, water spurting through and a loud cracking filled the space. Bucky’s heart thumped hard and fast at the danger they were in, his Soldier training all but useless in the face of this new terror.

Bucky pushed Steve, who yelped at being manhandled into the small space, and Bucky jumped right in, landing on top of Steve, their faces only inches apart - and that face did not look happy.

They had just enough room for Steve to hit the big red button that closed the pod, and an automated voice immediately filled the area.

“Releasing in three, two - one.”

The voice went silent as the capsule whooshed out of the craft, and Bucky was on the correct side to see through the glass over Steve’s shoulder, the lights of the vessel flickering as it tore apart from the pressure of the water. Bucky let out a shaky breath that they’d escaped in time.

“Calculating your trajectory and location,” the voice began, then went silent for a few seconds, “you will breach the surface in just under two hours.”

“Two hours.” Bucky griped and wiggled, Steve hissing for him to ‘quit it’. The voice continued on in its modulated voice.

“Due to your depth, the emergency pod has been slowed to ensure you rise at the correct rate so you do not suffer any complications.”

“Complications,” Bucky said under his breath, knowing with the serum it was unlikely they’d get sick. “I’ve got a big bearded one right in front of me. I think that’s complicated enough - just get us to the surface quickly.”

The voice droned on about protocols and safety features for a few minutes and mentioned when it came into range it would send a distress call to FRIDAY for assistance. Finally some good news, because all Bucky could think about was the fact the enormous shark was not in sight. He hoped it was long gone.

“Can you move your damn leg?" Steve hissed, shaking Bucky from his contemplation of why he insisted on watching Jaws a few weeks earlier.

But it was the tone Steve used that irked Bucky further, and ever helpful, he moved his leg back and forth like a petulant kid. “That enough movement for you?”

“Buck, your damn knife is digging into my thigh. Actually why in the hell are you wearing it on an underwater mission in the first place?”

“Why did you bring your shield?” Bucky countered, not wanting to tell Steve about the other seven knives in his pants.

“That’s not really comparable.”

“It is.” Bucky replied sullenly, knowing it wasn’t at all.

Steve sighed heavily, and they spent a good fifteen minutes without conversing, not even daring to look at the other in the soft green-tinged light from the control panel where Bucky could read their glacially paced progress as they headed for the surface. They were still so far down.

“Truth or dare? Steve suddenly asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Are you for real? Now?” Bucky asked incredulously. “Look, I know that game worked when we were kids - but read the damn room, well, pod.”

Steve didn’t respond as the charged air between them rose in silent intensity.

“Truth.” Bucky finally bit out after a long minute.

“Why did you bring knives on an underwater mission?”

“Jesus Christ, you don’t let up, do you? Why am I even surprised, it’s Steven Grant Rogers asking. Because Steve, I take them everywhere. You know this. I might have had to stab some seaweed for being rude to your delicate sensibilities or something. And don't you dare try and say they haven’t gotten us out of tough spots before.”

Steve harrumphed, “I’m hardly delicate.”

“Sure thing.”

They fell silent again, until Bucky gave in and sighed heavily. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you lie and say you knew how to drive the boat?”

“Bucky, you don’t drive a boat.”

“Yeah, well you proved that without a doubt.”

Steve tensed up, Bucky experiencing Steve’s muscles bunching together against his body from being so close, he swallowed heavily.

“I thought I had it handled. How difficult could it be?”

“Steve…” Bucky started, stopped then sighed, “Steve, you need to actually be truthful with me, to the Avengers, especially if you need help. You don’t have to prove that you have it together all the time, every time. That’s what I’m for.”

“So you’re saying you could have piloted the boat?”

“Is piloted correct? But in answer - no, I couldn’t have. So we would have found a better way.”

“Buck, he’s an underwater being, what else were we going to do but try and follow him down here?”

Bucky remained quiet thinking over the options. When the call went out, only Steve and he were available for the mission, so in a way Steve was correct, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

Steve moved suddenly in an unintentional grind, and a spark flew down Bucky’s spine, shit, they were close, really close, and through his initial fear and anger, Bucky hadn’t really thought about the situation he’d inadvertently put himself in. Pressed up against Steve’s body in a way he’d never been before.

Oh shit…

“Truth or dare,” Steve asked, breaking Bucky’s thoughts on the bulge he could feel just slightly higher than his own.

“Truth,” Bucky gritted out, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the murky water surrounding them. “It’s not like we can do any dares down here.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking directly at Bucky, and Bucky finally gave in and glanced his way, holding Steve’s gaze, and knew immediately that he shouldn't have. Steve’s eyes had taken on a greenish-blue tinge, making them pop and they softened at the edges once Bucky was in their snare. Bucky let out a long exhale. He hated when they fought - but he was still annoyed that Steve hadn't listened or been truthful.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Bucky jerked in surprise, wincing straight away, as rubbing up against Steve wasn’t going to help him remain impassive. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one I would have thought,” Steve replied curtly, and Bucky saw the slight tick in Steve’s cheek, and he caught his breath. For some reason Steve was invested in his answer, but why? Could it mean..?

“We live together Steve. You know I’m not.”

“Not even Darcy,” Steve countered.

Unable to stop it from bubbling up, Bucky started to laugh loud and heartily before realising that the motion was doing nothing to stop the friction between them, and Bucky started to worry that the knives on his person weren't the only hard thing Steve could feel pressed up against him.

When he’d composed himself, he saw that Steve had tilted his chin up proudly, and Bucky knew he’d hurt his feelings.

“Uh, that’s a negative. Darcy and I are not dating, she’s like Becca. You know - a little sister, an annoying one too, and yeah I love her, but not in the way you think. To be honest I’d like to date…”

Bucky trailed off, realising he was about to give too much away.

“You’d like to date?” Steve coaxed, eyes riveted on Bucky as he looked slightly down at him, and Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever really get used to the change in Steve's physique. Having to look up to his once small friend, shoulders wide enough he was a literal tank.

“Tall, blonde people,” he admitted, face immediately heating; not meaning to let that particular parcel of words out.

“Oh.” Steve replied, face slack and wondering as he stared at him, the gravity in his eyes not letting Bucky look elsewhere. So Bucky shut his eyes to escape, berating himself for being an obvious fool.

“Dare,” Steve husked.

Bucky snapped his eyes open to find Steve unblinking, attention directly on him, and there was something lurking behind his gaze, something dark and delicious, Bucky uncertain if what he saw was real or not. So he thought about his response carefully before answering.

“Okay, Stevie,” and Steve inhaled sharply through his nose at the nickname, Bucky pleased at the response. “I bet you can’t get your hands to the control panel to turn on the exterior floodlight so we can see the fishes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You want to see the fishes?”

Bucky nodded slowly, having a gut feel Steve already saw through his game, considering where Steve’s hands were positioned in the first place. Between their bodies.

Steve wriggled his fingers, and a live wire burned through the very structure of Bucky’s cells, remaking them into something different, something primal as Steve continued to move and pushed his hand between them towards the panel, inadvertently pressing hard up against the front of Bucky’s pants, right over his dick in the process. A dick that was suddenly much more interested in their predicament.

Bucky might have made an error in judgement as he slipped out a strangled gasp.

Steve’s face lit up in a grin at Bucky’s unintentional response, deliberately mimicking the same movement again.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the touch through his tac pants, wishing for no obstructions between them, and before he could lose himself completely in the sensations, Steve's hand pulled free to touch the control panel, light suddenly flooding outwards. Tufts of seaweed and darting fish fled past the glass as they continued to slowly climb for the surface.

And before he knew what he was saying, Bucky was pressing his hips the scant inch forward into Steve's body and whispered, "I dare you to do that again."

The ragged and shaky exhale from Steve was gratifying in its sheer emotion, and the 'Buck' that tore from his throat made Bucky look up. The moment his eyes met Steve's he was gone.

"Can I?" Steve asked, and Bucky could do no more than nod as Steve's lips came crashing down on his.

It was the kiss Bucky had been waiting a lifetime for, and he couldn't believe as Steve's tongue slipped in between his lips, a low deep growl erupting unbidden in his throat, that the catalyst was a failed mission where they were stuck together angry in a cylindrical tube in the middle of the ocean.

Steve's hand forced itself back between their bodies, and Bucky moaned as Steve made the best of the small space, rubbing over and over until Bucky grew thick and hard in his pants, all while Steve kissed the very breath from his body. Bucky was stunned that Steve was an exceptional kisser, partly impressed and partly jealous at the realisation that he'd had experience, more than Bucky first thought.

"Jesus Buck, you taste so good."

"Yeah?" Bucky husked back, leaning up as far as he was able, capturing Steve's lips again. What started as chaste, soon became hungry and insistent and Bucky tried to move his hands, but there was no room for two sets between them, Steve’s all that could fit; so Bucky let Steve take control, do what he wanted. And somehow, without even speaking about it, Steve gave Bucky exactly what he needed, what he craved. And if Steve wanted, Bucky would spend his lifetime taking care of Steve in return.

"Your fucking knife," Steve husked into his cheek as he pulled away, lips wet and thoroughly kissed. It was a spaced out look Bucky wanted to see more often.

"That's not a knife," Bucky sassed back.

"Well unless you're extraordinary and have two dicks, then yes, I think the one pressing just above my knee is a knife."

Bucky tried to adjust his stance to lessen the pressure from the weapon, and at Steve's wince, he knew he'd not managed to do it.

"Well to be fair, I wasn't expecting to end up in this predicament."

"Predicament?" Steve asked as his fingers pressed against Bucky's groin again, pushing and sliding to create extra friction.

"Oh shit," Bucky breathed, hating and loving the knowing smirk on Steve's face. "Maybe I've been wanting this for over a hundred years and you know, since nothing has ever happened before, how was I to know that being trapped in an escape pod, while seething in anger would do it for you?"

Steve looked blankly at Bucky, mouth open, shock clearly written over his face. "Over a hundred years?"

Bucky realised he had no filter when Steve had a hand on his dick, and flushed at the long kept secret, now a confession, but kept going, confirming it. He was all in by that stage.

"Give or take a year."

"Buck, why the hell didn't you say anything? I've been waiting since…"

Steve trailed off and Bucky couldn't help it.

"Since..?"

"I was sixteen."

"Fuck," Bucky surged forward, kissing the breath from Steve, and Steve's hand movements became more insistant. Suddenly Bucky felt the zip of his pants loosen and he couldn’t stop the wanton moan from escaping and he wriggled his hips in anticipation. Between one breath and the next Steve had somehow, miraculously snaked his hand into Bucky's pants, and now, now, there was only a layer of thin underwear between them.

Why the hell hadn't he gone commando?

"God, Buck, you feel amazing - knew you would.” Steve said as he looked into Bucky’s eyes while stroking him, and the sheer power behind his gaze pushed all of Bucky’s buttons. “Want to get my mouth on you."

Bucky gasped, vibrating at the imagery and Steve chuckled, nipping at Bucky's lips, kissing him again and again and it hit Bucky that Steve was able to feel every single quiver and sharp intake of breath he made. He was no longer able to hide his reactions, even if his face gave nothing away - Steve was so close that all of Bucky's tells were like a neon sign emblazoned above his head. Steve had him at his mercy.

And Bucky loved it.

"I want that," Bucky whispered back, "want your mouth everywhere. Want my mouth all over you too pal, I can't wait to get you naked."

"You're too much," Steve ground out and suddenly Bucky was being kissed deeply, thoroughly and he lost all concept of time and space. Steve's fingers gripped his dick, squeezing and making short jerky motions, it wasn't the greatest angle, and Steve didn't have full motion - but it was perfect. Bucky was so turned on, his dick weeping into his underwear, and he knew that if Steve kept going, kept kissing him, touching him, he was going to come in his pants like he'd done too many times when they’d slept next to each other before the war.

"Oh fuck Steve, keep doing that."

"You like that?" Steve husked, complying when Bucky nodded his head limply, rubbing in tight circles, fingers tangling in Bucky's underwear as he tried his best to get Bucky off. And Bucky, well he wasn't easy, it usually took him a while to get in the right headspace to feel comfortable enough to let go, to let himself be free in the moment, but with Steve he knew he could be. He trusted Steve, wanted him by his side always, and he knew he'd catch Bucky, protect him as he fell. Steve would never let go again.

"Gonna make you come on my dick," Steve rasped into Bucky's mouth, making Bucky forget everything sweet and hopeful in their future to concentrate on how filthy Steve’s lust driven words were, "going to fill you up, and I'm never letting you out of my bed again Buck. You're mine - you hear that?"

"I… yes… yours," Bucky said as his knees buckled, and Steve had him, gripped him tight, pinching his dick in a way that made Bucky white out and he came apart. Bucky spurted into his pants, underwear soaking up his release and he jerked and whimpered as Steve held him through it, mouth hovering over his, whispering words of want and desire.

"You're gorgeous Buck, the prettiest fella I ever saw."

"Jesus Steve," Bucky breathed as he came down from his orgasm, legs still twitching. "You're going all Brooklyn and sappy on me."

Steve kissed the corner of Bucky's mouth delicately, as if he hadn't just got him off in the tightests of spots, and removed his hand from Bucky's pants. "Always felt sappy with you Punk."

Bucky grinned back, sated, happy and languid - until he felt it.

"Have you got a fucking bludgeon in your pocket?" he exclaimed when Steve shifted, and awed, Bucky realised exactly what Steve was packing in his plain navy shorts that were often tangled with his black briefs in the dryer at home. Steve's cheeks tinged pink and Bucky was gone, so gone on this man who was sweet and commanding all at once.

"Oh shit Steve, am I going to have fun with you."

"Yeah?" Steve grinned back, suddenly a little shy, a little hopeful and Bucky smiled.

"For the rest of our lives if you want."

Steve sucked in a breath, "I'd like that."

"The surface is less than twenty metres away, a rescue shuttle has been dispatched and will meet you on the surface."

The automated voice fell away, and Bucky and Steve looked over each other's shoulders at the lightened water, having completely ignored the sea of fish and marine animals around them. It was stunning, there was so much life just under the surface.

And before he knew it, they were blinded by sunlight as the pod popped up on the surface, Bucky finding Steve on top of him, all of his weight pressing him down as the cylinder floated in the ocean on its side. The sheer bulk of Steve was phenomenal, a portent of things to come.

"Far out, you're heavy." Bucky commented with a grin.

"Sorry, the serum… well you know."

"No, I like it." He said as Steve kissed him again, leaning down to take Bucky's mouth under his in a passionate but short taste. "But you're still an ass for getting us into that position in the first place."

"How did you know I didn't plan it this way?"

Bucky laughed just as the lid opened and he squinted into the bright light, the quinjet hovering over them, finding himself staring directly up into Clint's grinning face.

"Looking cozy there boys, need a hand?"

"I think we have that handled," Steve replied with a smirk, staring at Bucky, and Bucky could only gaze up into the brightest blue he'd ever seen, the eyes of his best friend, his soon to be lover and hopefully so much more.

It took some maneuvering to get Steve off him without toppling them into the ocean, but soon they were inside waiting as Bruce and Clint secured the pod to take back to Tony's lab.

Bucky made his way to the front of the jet as Steve called in their failure to Fury, and greeted Natasha who was in the pilots seat, stretching his arms up and over his head, popping his muscles from having been cramped up too long.

She looked him dead in the eye in the unnerving way only Nat could, and remarked, "your fly's undone."

Red faced, Bucky looked over at Steve who'd heard Nat and was silently laughing, telling Fury that 'no, he didn't think losing Namor was amusing', before hanging up and motioning Bucky over.

"You really are a jerk." Bucky hissed as he pulled up his fly, finally realising how wet and uncomfortable he was. He needed a shower. Preferably with company.

"But I'm your jerk though."

"Gee, aren’t I the luckiest guy in Brooklyn," Bucky snarked back at Steve's playful wink, and for the entire trip home, neither of them could keep the grins off their faces.

A day later - Natasha brought Namor in.

#stucky #mywriting #Canon divergent #Steve is stubborn #Bucky is sick of his crap #mutual pining #snark and banter #Bec gives the greatest prompts #steve x bucky #kalee answers #darter blue is my 🏍️ or ☠️

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mediocre--writing · 3 years

Note

this hc is sad but whenever neil gets too rough and billy’s injuries are too severe to heal on their own, neil will do his own version of “first aid” since he can’t risk a hospital. stuff like holding billy down while doing stitches, stuffing a belt in his mouth and telling him to shut up and stop crying like a pussy. maybe billy views it as a form of love in some warped way, all “he wouldn’t patch me up himself if he didn’t love me, right? he could have left me or had me do it myself but he didn’t” and he doesn’t realise for a long time how not OK it is until he either causally mentions it to someone or someone witnesses it and tells him how fucked up it is

the first time it happens is when neil yanks on billy’s arm when he tries to walk away. dislodges his shoulder from its socket.

billy is already crying and neil huffs like it’s some inconvenience. grabs two wash clothes from a kitchen drawer and tells billy to bite down.

has him lay on the floor and shoves his arm back in (it took three tries). billy swears that he’s never felt pain that bad.

neil goes to the corner store and grabs a cheap sling for billy, just so the shoulder heals right and doesn’t get overextended or anything.

billy’s grateful that neil cared to help him. even gave him ice packs to make sure it didn’t ache too bad.

billy was 11.

it gets worse after that, if you can believe it.

neils a mans man. he expects billy to be as well.

neil knows when a cut is just a scrape and when a cut needs stitches.

he’s neared the line many times, but it’s never reached the stitches level yet.

but it does now.

neil had shoved billy into a wall, right under a cross that was hanging there (can you sense the irony?) and the cross fell and slammed onto billy’s face.

didn’t break his nose or anything, but there’s a deep deep deep cut right by his eye.

there’s blood in his face, but what freaks out billy the most is that there’s blood in his eye, and he fears that’s where the edge of the cross hit him.

neil, again, grabs two wash clothes and tells billy to hush, grabbing an ice cube to ‘numb’ the area (though it does nothing) and sticks the needle into billy’s cheek.

once too scared to open his eyes, billy is now writhing away because there’s a needle in his face and neil looks way too calm to be doing this. shouldn’t a parent be worried?

but neil forces billy back where he was before, holding down on his arm. says something along the lines of “do you wanna bleed out? i’m trying to help you, boy.” and billy just waits it out.

he cries like a baby.

neil let’s him take the day off of school the next day. let’s billy lay with an ice pack on his swollen face and bruised eye for most of the day. even apologizes, in his own, twisted way.

billy was 13.

once, when billy’s being whipped with neils belt for whatever godforsaken reason neil pulled out of his ass, he hits the same spot too much.

then the belt buckle grabs the skin and pulls.

billy’s screaming in pain. can’t describe how unbearable it was to have the raw skin of his back yanked by a dull belt buckle.

but, it turns out, he needs stitches. not wasting a clean washcloth, neil just shoves the belt into billy’s mouth, going to grab the first aid kit.

billy is laying on his stomach, holding his hands in front of his face so he doesn’t lash out and he bites onto the belt as neil stitches the skin back.

but neil doesn’t reprimand billy for leaving teethmarks on his nice leather belt, so billy thinks it could have been worse.

billy was 15.

the first time susan has to witness one of their bad arguments, billy had snuck a boy into his room.

they weren’t even doing anything. barely even flirting. and they were alone.

billy leaned in, but so did the boy, and they met in the middle and billy felt like an inexperienced virgin while kissing his first boy.

it was a life altering experience.

on many levels.

neil comes home early. or maybe not, maybe billy wasn’t watching the clock. either way, billy’s got a boy in top of him, though fully clothed, but making out nonetheless, when neil slams in.

billy’s life flashes before his eyes that night.

he barely even remembers what neil did. what he said.

billy knows at one point he thought about how much he missed his mom. and, apparently, he said it out loud. spurring his dad on with maximum fury.

it was past 3am when billy woke up from his unconscious state to unbearable pain. neil was stitching him up, had already done so on his face and neck. had moved on to his leg (a line of stitches worked all the way up the back of his calf).

billy could feel the bruising on his torso (from numerous kicks and pushes that rolled him into furniture and walls) and around the crown of his head (the result of a plate being smashed over his head).

he didn’t move. he didn’t have the energy.

but he could hear susan. she was yelling at neil, whispering, but scolding him.

“the hell is wrong with you!? he could have died? this is too far, neil, he’s your son! you should love hi—“

“i’m doing this because i love him, su, you know that! you want a faggot in this house? huh? no, you don’t! and do you really think i’d let my son bleed out on the floor? you think that little of me?”

and billy gets it. gets his dads side. because neil could just leave him to bleed all over the carpet. but he didn’t. he helped.

he had good intentions and only did what was best for billy. who was billy to say what his life should be when he wasn’t even smart enough to learn from his mistakes?

that was the reason for their move to hawkins.

billy, during their first week there, didn’t attend school on behalf of all the still healing stitches and bruises, though he was spotted around town a time or two (already instilling his bad reputation)

and once he gets there rumors fly around the school.

apparently, billy had to move from cali because he beat up a biker gang and they kicked him out of the state.

but, then, the night happens. the one where billy beats up steve and comes out looking pretty clean.

hopper drives his half unconscious body home, along with max, so he can ‘explain the situation.’

that night, for many reasons, is a night max will never forget. ever.

she’s seen demo dogs and tunnels from other dimensions, a possessed kid, and a girl who can move things with her mind.

but she also got her first taste of what it looks like when billy gets beat by his father.

it’s like a car crash, you know you should look away, but you just can’t.

and billy, still drowsy from the sedative, is getting in thrown around the living room and kitchen like a rag doll, being shoved into shelves and cabinets, even dislocated his left elbow and there was a loud crack from billy’s ankle.

and, though she’d wanted billy dead mere hours before, this seemed more torturous.

at least when it was billy and steve, they were both conscious. this was just twisted.

neil, for whatever strange reason his mind came up with, made max and susan watch the lesson: this is what happens when you don’t follow rules.

max could barely make out the rising and falling of billy’s chest at the end.

there was blood splattered on billy’s chest and neck, on his jeans and in his hair, on neils hands.

“grab me the first aid kit and a towel, su,” she scurried to the bathroom and back and max wanted to bolt. run. sprint. just get away from whatever was happening.

neil bent down and used the towel to press down on billy’s bleeding wounds, stopping the blood flow. he then disinfected and wrapped what he could, bandaged everything else.

then he rolled billy on his side, grabbed his forearm and upper arm then snapped them together, fixing the dislocation with practiced ease.

this was also when billy woke up. screaming.

“hush,” is was quiet, but stern, and billy knew to listen.

the towel, one side inked in blood splatters, had the other side shoved into billy’s mouth before neil got out the needle and thread, stitching billy’s larger wounds.

if max thought the most scarring part of her night was going to be anything that happened before this, she was wrong.

she knew. she knew that billy got smacked around sometimes. and he kinda deserved it. he was a jackass.

but this. this was a whole new thing. this was downright madness and max didn’t think she’d ever be able to sleep peacefully in her own bed again.

the tears were rolling down her face when she made eye contact with billy, who had equally red and teary eyes, but his held more pain. more suffering. more knowledge.

“see what you did? you made your sister cry,” neil told billy as he pulled especially hard on a stitch on billy’s tender stomach, making billy scream in agony, in more pain than before.

after that night, max listens to billy more. blames herself for being out and getting billy into trouble.

billy is just glad he was able to find the old sling he had years ago and that it still fit. he’s grateful that his dad stitched him up and made sure nothing would get infected.

knew he should have kept a closer eye on max and this is what needed to happen for him to see that. he knew that now.

a week later, the boys were talking about how some guy named (ronnie? maybe lonnie?) had called the byers asking about will. they talked about how joyce chased him out of the house with his own shotgun.

will told her, when they were leaving lunch, that joyce was so mad because lonnie, his dad, had hit his bother, jonathan.

max thinks about that. thinks about how susan would never, not in a million years, chase neil off with his shotgun for hitting billy.

she stood and watched when neil almost killed billy.

she didn’t know what to think. she wondered if billy knew what was happening wasn’t right. wondered if he’d ever tried to run away or was too scared of getting found if he did.

wondered if there was any scenario in which billy would take her harsh criticism of his dad well.

and it takes years.

billy moves out for college, somewhere good where he can focus on being smart, like he’s always been, and gets out from under neils thumb.

he discovers who he is a little better and still comes to hawkins every holiday and break, gets closer with jonathan and steve and robin and even nancy.

the first person he tells about it is jonathan. he hears the lonnie stories for himself and chimes in with his own anecdote. apparently, it’s not as light hearted as jonathan’s.

but he opens up. it takes the night and a little alcohol and weed, but billy has successfully told jonathan everything his dad has done to him. every stitch and relocation.

jonathan tells nancy and nancy tells steve. steve coddles billy and (because they were already close and in that ‘talking stage’) eventually gets some of the truth out.

jonathan, even though he told people, never exposed everything. there’s some things steve will never know about because they’re just too much and billy found comfort and a commonality in jon that he didn’t know he needed.

(joyce would also totally from that point on have adopted billy, doesn’t matter if he’s already like 22, he’s now her child)

#idk i like the idea of jon and billy being friends #but like not close/hang out every day friends #more like know too much about each other and bonded on accident friends #also their characters are very similar #they just had different types of parental situations #tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw blood #tw injury #tw stitches #tw abusive parent #stranger things #billy hargrove #neil hargrove #harringrove #mediocre—writing

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19red · 3 years

Text

hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much

The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.

Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.

It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.

He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.

The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?

A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.

The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—

Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.

It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.

“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.

“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.

Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.

“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”

The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”

Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.

***

“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.

Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.

Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.

The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.

People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?

“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”

Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.

“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.

“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”

Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.

Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.

“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.

He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.

“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.

Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.

Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.

Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.

“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.

Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.

“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.

Patrick’s phone chimes.

well hello patrick 😜

“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.

“I guess,” Jonny says.

Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face. It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.

His phone chimes again.

“Tell me the truth.”

totally hit me up again next time ur back here

“What?”

Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?

Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.

Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.

“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”

Patrick’s head jerks up.

“What?” Jonny says, flat.

For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.

Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”

It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.

Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.

“Dude,” Shawzy says.

Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.

Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.

He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.

might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually

Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.

We could catch up then if you have time ;)

totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw

Who?

🙄

Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.

it is! 100% porn worthy

You don’t know what you’re talking about

???

I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.

big dicks? They are

Haha

their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men

Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.

maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs

“Who are you texting?”

Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.

Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.

“Yeah, no, fuck off.”

Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.

Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.

It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy. “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”

A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.

For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.

Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”

Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.

Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.

“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”

“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

“Oh,” Jonny says.

The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”

“She was okay.”

Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”

Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.

“Fuck you.”

“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.

It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”

Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.

“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”

“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”

“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”

“She’s got family there, I think.”

“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.

“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”

“You think that’s smart?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”

“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.

Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.

“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”

“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”

“I’m telling Erica you said that.”

The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.

It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.

Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.

He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.

“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”

#belle #i KNOW i have a tag for my writing #but rn i'm blanking #??????#stuff i wrote

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beholdme · 3 years

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 15

Chapters: 15/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can’t help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14]

Almost a year into their relationship, Martin's lease comes up.

There's brief romantic talk of them all moving in together, but they're all attached to their own spaces, especially with Gerry needing to keep his art studio, and it trails off without any real resolution.

When Martin's landlord doesn't want to renew and he essentially has no choice but to find a new place to live, he panics.

Jon is with him when he opens the letter, and witnesses the heartbreak on his face, a look far more appropriate to the death of a loved one than to having to move house.

He understands though. This is Martin's first home. The first rent he paid, the first freedom he claimed. The first place he had whispered 'I love you' to Jon, and the first place Gerry had pressed his lips to Martin's.

Jon is settled in his own flat in a more practical way. It's close to the library, Gerry's bar and also to Martin's bookstore, but he still understands Martin's heartache, even if it is detached from his scope of personal attachment.

As Jon takes the time to think things through, he knows they're being silly. When was the last time he had commuted to work from his own flat? And if Martin had to move anyway, why shouldn't the three of them be living together? Gerry would happily spend every spare second with them and frequently tells them so.

At their knock, Gerry opens the door in a pair of leather pants and not much else, hair faded out from navy to a soft violet.

He physically reacts to see Martin tear-stained and Jon frowning intensely at his side.

"Why tears? Who do I need to murder?" Gerry mutters darkly as he draws Martin inside and into his arms.

"He has to move out of his flat," Jon tells him angrily, still standing in the doorway.

"Oh, love." He whispers, rocking Martin gently.

"It's so stupid to cry about it. It's just a shitty little flat." He hiccups into Gerry's chest.

"Fuck that. We all know better than that. That flat was important to you," Gerry retreats further into the studio, dragging his weepy partner with him and leaving Jon to shut the door. "And you're important to us, so here's the plan. Gertrude and I are gonna dig up some dirt, we're gonna have a little chat with your landlord, and he's gonna agree to sell you your flat. Problem solved."

Martin laughs wetly as he is deposited in the cushion pile and Gerry follows him down to sit in front of him and take his hands.

Jon strips his jacket and scarf off and tosses them on the couch (the biggest indication of his upset, really, as he normally always meticulously hangs things up), before flopping down on the floor with them. Martin and Gerry offer a hand each, and they sit in a triangle, connected.

"Gerry, you can't blackmail my landlord into selling me my flat." Martin starts, voice still choked with tears, "Not least of all because I can't afford to buy it anyway. I already have a business loan, not to mention all the debt from before my mother died."

Apparently able to sense any great excess of emotion, Luna and Saturn wander in and both attempt to curl up in Martin's lap. Jon takes Saturn, leaving Luna to her tearful human. Martin smiles gratefully and disentangles his hands to pet behind her ears.

There's silence for a moment as they consider Martin's words. Gerry opens his mouth, closes it, then decides to say what he wants to anyway. "I could lend you the money. Or give it to you. Whichever you prefer."

The look on his face could be accurately described as casually angelic, and he reaches out a hand to stroke Saturn benevolently.

Martin and Jon stare at him, stunned.

"What do you mean?" Jon eventually prods him, incredulously.

Gerry opens his mouth to respond, but Jon senses the sass coming and adds, "A real answer please," rather firmly.

"Fine then," Gerry mutters, rolling his pretty teal eyes. "I have some money in savings. And in investments and stuff, I'm not actually irresponsible, despite what my appearance might imply. And the years I spent galivanting about the county. And Europe." He shrugs, rambling on, "Okay, maybe I am irresponsible."

His partners stare at him for a moment, then exchange a look.

“Define some money?” Jon says, poking him in the ribs. Gerry tells them.

“What!?” At Jon’s exclamation, Gerry blushes from the roots of his hair, and all the way down his bare chest.

"Where did you get it?" Martin finally asks.

"From selling my paintings?" Gerry responds, but it comes out as a question, and he rubs his burning neck in embarrassment.

"And," Jon says, voice carefully neutral; having regained some sense of composure, "why do you keep your job at the bar if you have enough money to casually offer to buy Martin a flat?"

"Don't feel left out Jon, I'll buy your flat too." Gerry offers, smiling at him beatifically.

"Gerry…" Martin lets out his name in the significant tone of voice that lets him know this is a 'serious conversation'™ and to get his shit together.

"Okay, okay," Gerry flaps his hands uncomfortably. "At first it was just because I was convinced that the painting money was gonna dry up and I didn't want to be left in the lurch. I've always operated anonymously and that made it hard to make money as an artist, it was only when Gertrude joined the crusade that I found any success. She insisted that people would buy prints online, and she was right. The digital art and prints were really popular, and it led to people wanting the originals." Gerry pauses and shakes his head in disbelief. "And Gertrude always has to be extra about everything, so she sold them at fucking auction instead of pricing them, which made me seem edgy and exclusive."

"You are edgy and exclusive," Jon interrupts to insist, a slight petulant edge staining his voice.

"Thanks," Gerry mutters, still blushing. "Anyway, so then I had all this money, but I was convinced it wouldn't last and now it's been years and it's only gotten worse and I was panicking so Gertrude took half the money and helped me put it into investments, which have mostly been pretty successful too, so now I have all this fucking money that I don't know what to do with, so Martin, would you like a flat?" Gerry ends his monologue slightly hysterical and Martin laughs out loud at the slight desperation in his voice.

"Do you even own this flat? I've been wondering how you could possibly afford it." Martin asks him, gesturing around at the massive space in one of the most up-and-coming parts of London.

"Yes, it's one of the only significant things I've ever actually paid for with the art money. You know, to do art in."

"And were you ever planning to mention this?" Jon queries, sounding slightly put out. He frowns down at the cat, instead of his ridiculous boyfriend. Saturn decides at that moment that he's had enough belly-rubs, and without warning, sinks his claws in, bites Jon's hand and then scurries off. Jon glares at his fluffy black tail as it disappears up the stairs and Gerry tries very hard not to laugh at him.

"Jonathan!" Martin scolds him, pushing his shoulder gently to regain his attention. "Gerry doesn't have to tell us about his finances."

Jon pouts even harder.

"Jon's right, I should have said something. I just didn't want it to be a big deal." Gerry responds, voice quiet and unusually reserved. He looks a little adrift and helpless, and they can see just how uncomfortable the money talk has made him.

Jon sighs and dislodges the stick from up his ass. "It's not a big deal, love, I'm only surprised. I'm glad it's out the way now." He collects Gerry's hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles.

Gerry relaxes and tugs Jon closer to kiss him, before offering the same to Martin.

They all sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, digesting the day's many revelations.

“Not that I’m not incandescently happy to see you both, but why did you actually come over?” Gerry asks eventually.

“Oh,” Martin sits up straighter, remembering their original objective. He looks down at the cat in his lap, stroking its back in an effort to distract himself. “It’s a little awkward actually.”

Gerry raises his eyebrows, thinking of what could make Martin feel awkward after all the things they’ve done together, occasionally right where they are currently sitting.

"Do tell." Gerry urges him. Martin and Jon share a look. Gerry rolls his eyes at the pair of them. "Come on, guys, whatever it is, just tell me. It can't possibly be that bad. Unless you're breaking up with me? Because fuck that."

"No, Gerry," Jon says, sounding amused. "The opposite."

"The opposite?" Gerry asks, frowning.

"Yes, the opposite," Jon tells him more firmly. "We were thinking," Martin makes a small nose at this, "that is, I was thinking, that since Martin has to move anyway, the three of us should finally take the plunge."

"You know," Gerry mutters peevishly, "I love riddles as much as the next overdramatic goth with a young adult book obsession, but could you please spit it the fuck out."

"Jonthinksweshouldallmoveintogetherhere." Martin finally rushes out, breathlessly.

"Martin, baby, those are separate words."

He takes a deep breath and tries again. "Jon thinks we should all move in together, here, with you."

Gerry sits up taller abruptly, a wide grin spreading over his handsome face. "What, really? You actually want to."

"Well, yes," Jon says, although his voice still sounds nervous.

"Okay great. Luna and Saturn are gonna love this." Gerry jumps up excitedly. "So I know you guys like having your own personal space, and I always have my art shit everywhere, but I've been thinking and I think we can make you both comfortable here too."

Martin and Jon share a perplexed look at Gerry's sudden frenetic burst of energy.

"We'll be comfortable here no matter what," Martin rushes to reassure him.

"Hush," Gerry speaks over him. "We both know you're just saying that because you feel like an inconvenience. But you're not and we all have to make this our home. Come, come on, I want to show you."

Gerry grabs a hand from each of them and drags them behind him and around and under the wide stairs that lead up to the loft space.

He leads them to two doors under the stairs, leading them into one. It's a large storeroom, technically, and Gerry has filled it with extra paint, canvases of many different sizes, and a plethora of other painting supplies. There aren't any windows, and the industrial light makes the space look stark. The scent of oil paint and turpentine is pervasive, but homey since those are things they associate heavily with Gerry himself.

"They're both the same. I've been thinking that if you two ever did want to move in here, you could take one each. A creative space just for yourselves, or your own bedrooms if you need some space once in a while. If you want them." His typical self-confidence is slightly lacking, the nervous twist of his fingers belaying his nerves at the admission.

"Oh Gerry," Martin says with something akin to wonder in his voice.

"But aren't you using them?" Jon asks, never one to let romanticism come in the way of practicality.

Gerry shrugs, "I've been thinking of having cupboards installed in the studio space and moving all this in there anyway. It will be more convenient for me when I'm working and it will be worth it to have you here all the time."

Gerry pauses, brow furrowing. "I've also considered moving the art studio in here so you two don't have to trip over my art stuff all the time."

Martin and Jon both understand the significance of that offer, knowing that Gerry's favourite things about this place are the high ceilings, giant windows, and natural lighting at most times of the day and even at night.

"You would be willing to give up your art space for us?" Martin asks in some wonder.

"Well yeah, of course," Gerry says as if it's obvious. "We'll all have to share the bedroom then, but the living space will be bigger. Whatever you would prefer."

"Just like that?" Jon's blunt incredulity finally tips Gerry off to their shock.

"Oh come on. I obviously haven't been a very good boyfriend if you two don't already know that you're more important to me than painting." It was the most romantic thing Gerry could say to anyone, really.

Martin kisses him, tearing up again.

"What did I say? Don't cry, love." He reaches up to wipe the tears away, and Martin offers him a wobbly smile.

Jon goes over to kiss him too. "You love us more than art."

"We're going in circles here. Yes, I love you both more than literally anything." Gerry is starting to wonder if they're being obtuse on purpose.

"We love you too," Jon tells him emphatically.

"Of course you do. I'm delightful." They all dissolve into laughter at that, the weighty mood breaking with it.

"So do you think you'll both be happy here?" Gerry asks when the laughter has faded.

Even standing in the mildly dusty storeroom and breathing in paint fumes, Jon knows the answer already. "I think we might be able to make it work."

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #fic #also on ao3

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