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theweirdymcweirderson · 3 years

Text

Pretty - James B. Barnes & Steve Rogers

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes, Steve Rogers

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader×Steve Rogers

Word count: 2110 (these are getting longer and longer, sorry)

Summary: Sexy times with the Super Soldiers.

Warnings: 18+, Pet names, Daddy!Bucky, Captain!Steve (is this a thing?) explicit words, smut, teasing, Bucky Barnes’ fucking arm, chocking I guess, Dom!Bucky, Dom!Steve, so much dirty talk :), fingering, hints to unprotected intercourse, daddy kink (beware: this is my first time writing it), captain kink, sub!reader, masturbation, threesome. Let me know if you find more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is, once again, I don’t know :).

The gentle light from the candle flickers on the walls, creating soft shadows in the otherwise dark room. You can feel the silky fabric of the robe you’re wearing tickling your skin, caressing it with every twitch of your muscles. Your nerve endings are on fire, crackling on each movement, each lungful of air; your mouth feels dry and you swallow again for the 5th time in the last couple of seconds.

“Look at that. So fucking wet, darling.”

Teeth sinking in your bottom lip, you nod to Steve even though his words are not meant as a question; eyes begging him for something, anything. The way he’s looking at you, the sound of his voice - almost as wrecked as you feel - the words he normally chastises you for falling from his bitten lips, every single thing has more slick gathering between your thighs.

“You like this, don’t ya? Being watched as you fuck yourself?”

Bucky’s voice is darker, smugness dripping from the words because he already knows, but he loves the way you get flustered; the way you look away from his eyes in embarrassment.

His teasing elicits twin groans from you and the blonde sitting next to him. They’re both at the foot of the bed, shoulder to shoulder as they watch with rapt attention how your fingers press inside of your pussy.

Your legs are spread open, knees bent as you lean back on the pillows Bucky has lovingly set against the headboard. They love your eyes on them, get off on having you watch the way you affect them as you pleasure yourself. Steve’s hand moves to the prominent tent in his slacks, palms it for just a second as another guttural groan escapes his mouth at the wet sound of your lips accommodating your fingers.

“She looks good, doesn’t she, Stevie? Pretty pussy peeking through the lace?”

Steve brings his eyes to yours, watches as you plead with him for more. You can tell that if it was up to him alone, he’d already be balls deep inside you, but Bucky enjoys the teasing.

“Fuck yeah, she does. You know she does.”

His sky-blue eyes darken a little more as he turns to catch his best friend’s gaze. They stare at one another for a moment, and then Steve’s eyes glance to Bucky’s lips as they curve up in that grin that never fails to bring either of you to your knees.

A frustrated whine slips out of you when Bucky’s metal hand wraps around Steve’s throat. You feel the green-eyed monster rear up its head at the sight of the black contrasting so prettily against Steve’s flushed skin.

“Wanna fuck her, Stevie?”

“Taste her. She’s so wet, smells so fucking sweet.”

Yes, please. Another whimper, your hips buck up at the suggestions; either of them would be more than welcome since your fingers are not cutting it anymore. You feel Steve’s fingers caressing up your foot, but you know better than to move. You keep still, breath stuck in your lungs as his fingers wrap around your ankle. Bucky mirrors his actions and they jerk your legs apart a little more. You yelp in surprise at the sudden movement.

“Oh, she smells delicious, a’ight. And your face does look real fucking pretty framed by her legs.”

Steve’s hand goes back to palming his dick and Bucky chuckles allowing his eyes to follow the gesture. You would protest at the loss of contact if your own eyes weren’t greedily soaking up the erotic scene before them.

Bucky tsks, metal hand gliding up his friend’s neck to land on his cheek; fingers softly sinking into Steve’s stubbly skin while his thumb caresses his bottom lip.

“You want it bad, don’t ya?”

Steve barely nods, doesn't even need to because Bucky can read it all on his face. His tongue pokes out of his parted lips, tip grazing Bucky's thumb and it's the brunette's turn to bite back a groan.

“See whatcha did, dollface? Got Cap here all wound up for you.”

Bucky's silvery gaze finds yours, and you swallow again at the dryness in your mouth as all moisture keeps gathering south. He smiles at you, all soft and warm, and the complete opposite of his words and the dark promises in his eyes.

“What do you suggest we do about that, hum?”

Your eyes go back to Steve's form, wander over his body, from his chiselled face down to where his hand is still squeezing his cock. You wish you could undress them with your thoughts alone.

Before you can answer, Steve interrupts you.

“Keep fucking yourself, darling.”

Bucky kinks an eyebrow disapprovingly and you realise that sometime, as you lost yourself watching them interact, you’d stopped moving your fingers. Not that anyone can blame you; your boys are just too fucking pretty.

You resume your teasing, because that is all you can really do with your underwear still on, but Steve likes it. He likes to see your skin adorned by the lace as you touch yourself; that's the reason behind it overflowing your underwear drawer.

Eyes apologetic, you push and pull, turning your attention back to Bucky.

“Whatever you want, just...do something.”

Steve squeezes himself a little harder at your breathy voice, and switches hands so that he can bring his left one back on your leg. This time it rests a little higher, grasping at your calf as he eyes your body hungrily.

“Whatever we want? Oh, dollface, you sure you can take it all? Take us both?”

You nod, fingers quickening slightly when your mind starts conjuring up images of what Bucky's words might entail.

“Yeah? Gon let us have our way with ya?”

Bucky's voice is even deeper than before, getting huskier by the second and Steve moans at his words, unbuttoning his pants. Fucking finally.

“Yeah. Yes, Bucky, please.”

They move at the same time, shifting closer to your body and you can finally feel the heat radiating off of them. Steve's hand is now on your thigh, fingers moving along the inner muscle until it quivers with anticipation. He grins at you, all boyish and carefree with a barely concealed hint of mischief.

The black, hard metal of Bucky's hand makes contact with your tummy, forefinger tracing your navel as you marvel at the light reflecting off the gold decorating the arm. Your quick intake of breath pleases him and he leans closer until he’s face to face with your heating cheeks.

“What d’ya need, dollface, huh?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let the hand that was clenching the sheets move to find his, fingers wrapping around his wrist to urge him to speed up in his ascent towards your breasts.

“I want you to fuck me. Need it so bad, please.”

“Always so fucking polite, darling. So fucking pretty for us.”

Steve tugs on your wrist and your fingers easily slip from inside you; the panties’ elastic gently slapping back into place. Both yours and Bucky’s eyes are glued to the blonde as he brings your fingers to his mouth and sucks them in, eyes closing in delight when your juices reach his tastebuds.

Heavy breaths mingle in the otherwise silent room until he releases your fingers with a lewd pop, bringing your hand to his chest before letting go of your wrist. He moves then, settles between your parted thighs and that seems to be Bucky’s cue to focus his attention back on you.

“Want Cap’s cock, dollface? Want him to fuck you?”

‘Cap’, you know what that means and you moan your answer, a broken ‘yeah’ that has Steve hurriedly pushing his zipper down and rising to his knees to shove the pants out of the way. Humour is coating the brunette’s voice when he wraps his hand around your throat and a desperate whine slips past your glistening, bite-swollen lips.

“And what about me, huh?”

“Want you too; want both, please.”

Unable to stop yourself, you glance at Steve as he’s unbuttoning his shirt, gaping at the expanse of muscle being revealed and hoping for him to lose the boxers a little bit quicker. He smiles when he catches your eyes, discarding the material aside and grabbing his cock again.

“Gon let Daddy fuck that pretty, little mouth of yours, darling?”

Oh. Stunned into silence, you keep your eyes glued to him until Bucky’s fingers tighten around your neck, effectively diverting your attention; claiming it back as his own.

“Answer him, dollface, gonna let me fuck your mouth?”

“Yes, Captain. Wanna feel Daddy down my throat.”

Both men moan at your words, Steve shifting until his hips are bracketed by your thighs; his cock now free and resting on your panty-clad pussy. He rocks forwards once, creating such delicious friction on your clit that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Look at you, doll. You just wanna be a good girl for us, don't ya?”

“Uh huh. I'mma be a good girl, Daddy. I'll be your best girl.”

Steve ruts against you again, hands hot on your thighs, using the hold for leverage and pulling your body down as he surges up. Your thoughts scatter all over the place; mouth falling open on panted nonsense and pleas.

“Oh, we know you will. Now c'mon, darling, give me one before I fill this pretty pussy up.”

Groaning your understanding, you clench the sheets in one hand, bringing the other to Bucky's forearm for something sturdier to hold onto as his best friend keeps rocking you back and forth.

“You want that, doll? Want Cap to come inside that tight, little pussy of yours?”

“Oh God, yes! Want it so bad. Fuck, Captain, don't stop, please.”

He quickens his pace, his cock catching in your panties until Bucky reaches over and pulls them to the side, baring your pussy to his friend before bringing his hand back to your throat.

“You hear that, Stevie? Think we spoiled her too much.”

Steve grunts something that you can't quite make out, but Bucky seems to understand him just fine if his chuckle is any indication.

“Bet you want Daddy to fuck your pussy, too. Don’t you, doll? Cause one’s not enough for you anymore, is it?”

You hear rustling and open your eyes to see Bucky stroking himself through his jeans. Without waiting for his say so, you reach over and unsteadily unbutton and unzip them for him. He pulls his cock out and you take over again, thumb collecting the warm precome before you start stroking him as best as you can.

Steve leans over then, his skin hot as it barely grazes your rising chest on each intake of breath. They’re shoulder to shoulder again, Steve’s nuzzling your neck on the right, while Bucky is still upright, leaving room for you to work on his cock.

“Is that true, darling? You gon let Daddy fuck this pussy when I’m done with it? Let him use my come as lube? Is that what you want?”

A fresh wave of slick coats Steve’s cock after he husks the filthy words in your ear; his hand joining Bucky’s around your throat so that they’re both framing your neck.

You groan something intelligible because you’re too far gone; hips thrusting up knowing that you need just one more push and you’ll tumble over the edge. Bucky groans, his fingers twitch against your heated skin before he turns to face Steve.

“Fuck. That’s so fucking nasty, Stevie.”

“Shut up, you love it and, from the way she just flooded by dick, she does too.”

“I do. I do, please Captain. Would be so hot, to have you and Daddy filling me up, fucking my pussy ‘til I’m full and leaking on the sheets.”

You bring your unoccupied hand to the back of Steve’s head, keeping him close to you as his hips rut faster against your swollen clit. Bucky’s free hand wraps over yours and helps guide it as your body begins to turn to mush; all muscles slackening with the fast approach of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, I’m com-”

The words die on a silent scream when you convulse underneath Steve, feeling his left hand clutching your thigh while his body seizes up and a long, drawn out groan leaves his parted lips. Bucky fucks up one last time into your fists, and comes with a soft, almost inaudible moan that sears itself in your brain.

A beat passes, you’ve barely sucked in enough oxygen, before you feel the grips at your neck tightening again.

“Hands and knees, darling, c’mon.”

More notes, cause why the heck not?: Please consider leaving me some feedback? Maybe? You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it. Thank you for reading in any case :)

As requested: Pretty 2

Find more here :)

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kofubisha · 3 years

Text

the offer

a stormy evening. an uninvited guest.

[this fic was written for @millenniumzine: a charity zine celebrating the tenth anniversary of noragami's serialization. there are just a few copies left!!!]

When Hiyori walked into the kitchen, she did not expect to find Yato there.

She certainly did not expect to find him making himself comfortable at the table, propping his feet up on its pristine surface and tipping back what looked suspiciously like a can of her father’s preferred after-work beer. She scowled in his direction until he reluctantly removed his feet from the table.

“Daikoku kicked me out,” Yato said, before she could ask.

“He probably had a good reason.”

Hiyori strode across the kitchen, plucked the can out of his grip, and emptied it straight into the sink. “You have a problem.”

Yato smacked his lips unrepentantly. “It’s not my fault your dad has fantastic taste in booze.”

Hiyori cast him a withering look as she sat down. “How many bottles of coins do you think it would take to cover all the alcohol you’ve ‘borrowed’ off various members of my family?”

Yato winced at the prospect. Hiyori, however, had at last noticed what was missing from the room.

“Where’s Yukine?” she asked.

“Daikoku didn’t kick him out.”

Despite his dejected tone, Yato didn’t look particularly sad. He cast his eyes sideways out the window, where the sky was the color of an old bruise.

As if on cue, a single raindrop struck the window. Several more followed, plinking harmlessly against the glass. Seconds later, the sky seemed to swing open, unleashing a cascade of water that hammered the roof like ammunition. Hiyori shuddered at the thought of venturing outside.

Yato seemed to have the same idea, because when he looked back at her his eyes were as full of innocence as a sacrificial lamb’s.

“You wouldn’t make me walk home in this, would you, Hiyori?” he pleaded.

Hiyori just shivered and scrubbed her shoulders. The temperature in the kitchen had already dropped by several degrees. A warm drink would soon fix that. She rose from the table and went to the cupboards, rummaging for a cup.

“Hiyoriiii…” Yato whined.

Hiyori sighed and brought out a second mug. After all, her mother had raised her to be courteous.

As she moved around the kitchen pouring water and lighting the stove under the kettle, the ferocity of the rain outside seemed to fade, if only in her own ears. She could feel Yato watching her. His attention, though obvious, wasn’t unpleasant. At times, Hiyori got the sense that he was a little fascinated by this sort of domestic ritual. She wondered how many others had ever offered him such simple favors.

From the corner of her eye, Hiyori saw the whipping branches of trees outside the window. The wind had risen to a boisterous gale, battering the windows with sheets of water.

“I hope everyone is safe inside,” she murmured, with a thought for her traveling parents and for Masaomi, who was probably holed up in one of his friend’s leaky apartments. Carrying the two mugs over to the table, she again sat down across from Yato.

“Can you believe this, Hiyori?” he held his phone up at her, the screen bright in her face. She blinked.

“…What?”

“No texts! Not even one angry voicemail! Does he care if I get struck by freak lightning and die?!”

Hiyori’s brain slowly caught up with Yato’s chaotic train of thought.

“I’m sure Yukine knows you’re here,” she said comfortingly, unable to suppress a smile at his indignation.

The volume of the wind outside rose sharply. It howled around the eaves of the house like a starving animal. The mournful noise shuddered down Hiyori’s spine, and she curled her shoulders inward around her cup.

“It sounds horrible out there,” she murmured.

At the very moment Yato opened his mouth to respond, the kitchen plunged into darkness.

Before Hiyori could do more than gasp, there was the soft click of a cigarette lighter. Yato’s face appeared, bathed in flickering yellow.

“Well, isn’t this creepy?” he asked. His voice was full of barely repressed mischief. “It’s okay Hiyori, you can cling to me if you’re scared.”

Hiyori’s cheeks grew warm. She pushed herself out of the chair with a clatter and marched across the kitchen.

“This happens all the time,” she shot back at him. “The house is old. We have candles in every room.”

“Then what’s taking you so long?” Yato asked. She could hear the smirk in his voice and Hiyori grit her teeth, fumbling in the kitchen drawers for the expected candles.

When she returned, pointedly not making eye contact with Yato, she set her findings on the table: a single, well-used tea light that, based on the remaining wax, promised fifteen minutes of illumination at most.

“Not very disaster-prepared, are you?” Yato asked. A question Hiyori did not dignify with a response.

Yato lit the candle, then snuffed the cigarette lighter and replaced it in his pocket. The anemic glow did very little to dispel the shadows in the room, but it was a more steady source than the lighter’s open flame.

“This is almost as bad as one of Kofuku’s,” Hiyori observed, staring out the window into the roaring storm. The old house was sturdy enough, but that didn’t stop its ancient bones from shivering and groaning with each savage gust.

Yato eyed Hiyori’s white-knuckled grip on the mug. He leaned over the table toward her, and she felt her cheeks heating up again under the keenness of his gaze.

“My offer still stands, you know,” he said. Hiyori blinked.

“Your offer?”

An odd expression flashed across Yato’s face. It was almost sheepish, but gone before Hiyori could make anything more of it.

“The offer for you to cling to m—”

“Oh, that one,” she said. “No thanks.”

Yato clapped a hand to his chest in exaggerated fashion, collapsing back into the chair with a defeated exhale. Hiyori hoped the darkness of the room concealed her raging blush.

“One day, Hiyori,” he said, stirring his tea. “You’re going to beg for my godly favor, and I won’t be there to help you.”

She almost laughed in his face.

“Yato. I have.”

The corner of his mouth tugged downward.

“I would definitely remember that,” he said, and Hiyori narrowed her eyes.

“You don’t remember when you took my money, evaded my calls, and used my vulnerabilities to your own advantage?”

Yato winced. “‘Used’ is a harsh word.”

“Would ‘exploited’ be more accurate?”

He fell silent at that, which bothered her. Hiyori wasn’t used to getting the last word.

“I guess it would,” he said. His voice was light, and if Hiyori could have seen his expression she might have believed it a joke. But his eyes were in shadow, and the shape of his mouth was flat and humorless.

“What I meant…”

Her words trailed off. Hiyori desperately wished for Yukine to be there. She didn’t know why the mood had altered, nor why the air seemed to thicken in her mouth when she tried to speak.

“I just meant that…you’ve already helped me.”

Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper at the end, and her scalp tingled with shame. Why was this such an awkward admission? She’d told him as much before. Hiyori’s ears grew impossibly hotter as she remembered how effortlessly—how proudly she’d claimed him as her god of fortune.

This was different.

The struggling flame from the tea light had been barely enough to illuminate their faces, and as the seconds ticked by, its glow was weakening.

She dared to hope Yato hadn’t heard her.

“Hiyori.”

Her head snapped up. Yato’s voice was startlingly close. He leaned toward her again, both elbows resting on the table. Hiyori made the mistake of meeting his eyes. She wondered, sometimes, how anyone could think blue eyes cold.

“You’re kind,” he said, simply.

Hiyori made an embarrassing sound in the back of her throat. To escape Yato’s eyes, she hid her steaming face in her mug and took an ambitious gulp of what turned out to be very cold, bitter tea.

Spluttering, she set her cup back on the table and reached for Yato’s, horrified when she saw he had already consumed its entire contents.

“Why did you drink the whole thing?!” she wailed, brandishing the empty cup in Yato’s face.

“I thought it was fine,” he said.

Hiyori glared at him, inexplicably furious. She wasn’t sure toward whom that anger was directed, but it felt more substantial than a dispute over cold tea.

At that moment, the candle went out.

Yato cursed—colorfully but quietly—and she heard the lighter flick again. The candle flared once, then went out.

Hiyori blinked rapidly, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the absolute darkness. Outside, the tempest was amassing its forces. There was no lightning in this storm: only rain, wind, and utter dark.

It was the kind of storm that spawned monsters, and Hiyori, despite herself, was afraid of it.

“I’m sure we have a flashlight,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Before Hiyori could even lurch out of her chair, a set of fingers closed around her wrist. She froze. Surely, surely, Yato could feel the wild hammering of her blood beneath his thumb.

“Is this all right?” he asked.

Hiyori didn’t immediately respond. She was stunned at how unexpectedly warm his hand felt against hers. Interpreting her silence as a denial, Yato immediately withdrew, and Hiyori’s stomach plunged horribly at the loss of contact.

“No, w—”

She barely had to speak before his hand returned, closing gently around her wrist. She allowed him to move her fingers so that they interlocked with his. The tension began to drain out of her body, and Hiyori dared not question why.

“This doesn’t count,” she heard herself blurt.

She couldn’t see his face, but she knew Yato was looking at her, confused. Gathering herself as best she could, Hiyori said:

“This doesn’t count towards your offer.”

Yato didn’t respond immediately, but his fingers tightened around hers. A conversation like this really would be impossible if she could see him.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replied. “That’s why I’m not charging.”

The fondness in Yato’s voice set her ears aflame, and she lost any ready response she might have had. She was almost glad that she couldn’t see his expression

The pressure of his hand around hers was gentle. He cradled it like it was an exquisite thing. Tingling warmth seemed to spread from her chest through her whole body: not the heat of embarrassment, but something tender and protective. Something that made moisture spring to her eyes, and urged her to curl her fingers tighter around Yato’s own.

A little longer, Hiyori thought. She held Yato’s hand tight in hers, and she prayed to the storm.

Just a little bit longer like this.

#scarfwrites #noragami #yatori #noragami fanfiction #yatori fanfiction #millennium zine

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 3 years

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 14- New World Order

Summary: With the world back to it’s usual business, and the Avenger’s base on a long road to recovery. You and Bucky begin a new chapter in Brooklyn, New York City.

Warning: just fluff really, and some spicy talk maybe a little suggestive themes if you will

Masterlist

It’s been about three months since the events leading up to the dusting of Thanos’ whole army and the death of that giant purple bastard. Ninety-one days since Tony Starks funeral, and 2184 hours since your entire world changed for the better.

Although you’d be a sore liar if you said you didn’t miss your old life with everyone at the Avengers Facility. Even with such a dramatic new change to your life now, you miss Natasha, you miss your late night talks with Steve, and maybe you even miss that little shithead raccoon. But there has been an emerging inner peace with what you gained that just about outweighs your heavy losses.

Someone who’s brought you unconditional love and understanding in your blooming state, someone who’s helped to draw your grief and anguish out of your vessel and transform it into something golden and pure. Your sweet Bucky. If someone last year was to claim at this time you’d be living in an apartment in New York with the love of your life. Well, you’d probably have swiftly made them regret it.

But now, things are better, not one hundred percent fantastic and awesome. But so much better then yourself an entire year ago could ever have even imagined. And that’s good enough for you.

Staring intently down at your little houseplant, you gently spray it with a spray bottle before standing back to admire your caretaking skills. Not too bad. Not too bad at all. Face shifting to that of a stern army general, you get down real close to the leaves so that your face is mere inches from the soaked plant, “I hope you drink this up okay? Bucky thinks I’m gonna kill you and I’m not losing that bet to him. No sir, so don’t you die on me.” The tiny fern keeps silent for obvious reasons at your little pep talk, it’s green leaves protruding beautifully outward as you set the spray bottle onto the countertop.

“He’s gonna owe me fifty dollars if you last till October, and I don’t even care about the money. I just want bragging rights.” You whisper before standing up and wandering over to the living room window.

The city lights are glowing vibrantly in the nights atmosphere, cars and people alike traveling down below your apartment building, oblivious to the whereabouts of two Avengers a couple stories above their very heads. Two ex-assissins. Both products of Hydra. Damn you’ve got a loaded history.

“Y/N! Are you coming!” There’s a long pause of silence from your bedroom that causes you to open your mouth to answer, but before you’re able to say anything in reply, Bucky yells out, “Also I can’t find my white t-shirt, do you know where it is?! Actually never mind I’m going shirtless!”

You let out a humored snort before swiftly turning on your heel and walking down the hallway until you finally reach your bedroom door, “You know we have neighbors right?”

Bucky sends you a shy smile as he disappears into the bathroom for something, “I’m sure this place has thick walls.” He says while flipping up the ceramic toilet seat.

“Uh huh.” You mutter unconvinced, deciding to search his drawers for a spare sleeping shirt.

Noticing your snooping, Bucky finishes up before flushing the toilet and wandering out the door until he’s practically leaning against your shoulder, “Don’t you have clothes?” Questions Bucky with a small chuckle as you throw him a look.

“I need ones to sleep in.” You casually protest as he slowly nods, clearly not getting your admittedly vague point.

“Don’t you have one to sleep in?”

Picking out a grey shirt of his, you shut the dresser before taking off yours, “All my shit got destroyed when Thanos blew up the base. So I’m limited with the stuff I did buy.” He watches as you unintentionally flash him before pulling on his sleep shirt, “And I’m not exactly eager to be out and about right now. I’m still getting used to the new amount of people on this planet. Also I don’t like shopping......or people.”

Bucky nods in understanding as he follows you to the bed, though he can’t quit suppress his chuckles, “Okay fine.”

Throwing the blanket back, you raise a brow at him for that humored yet blunt remark, “Did you not want me to take this one?” You ask, speaking like you’re talking to a little puppy just to tease him more.

Rolling his beautiful blues, Bucky gets into bed as you do the same, “No. Its fine, I don’t actually care.”

Chuckling, you move to sit next to him as he lays on his back, “Good. Cause you’re shirtless and I think I like you better that way. Means I can tickle you easier.”

“Don’t you dare tickle me Y/N or I will lock you out of the bathroom again I swear.” Warns Bucky as he quickly pulls the blanket over his muscular body while you start laughing at him.

“I wasn’t gonna do that. No....definitely not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Huh well, guess you won’t be able to cuddle me then if you don’t trust me...” Throwing the blanket off of him, Bucky quickly engulfs you into his strong arms as you squeak with surprise, pulling you down so that he can be the big spoon for tonight.

“Now you’re trapped.” Mumbles Bucky against your shoulder as his chest pushes at your back when he laughs. He thinks he’s so funny.

Holding his arm that’s pressed against your body, you gently pat it as he hums in content, “Buck, I’m thoroughly enjoying this actually so just keep your arm there, even if it falls asleep you’re not allowed to move it sucker. That’s the rules.”

“Well maybe I like those rules. Sucker.” Chuckles Bucky as you bite your lip to keep from laughing. “Now go to sleep, it’s been a long week.”

“Fine.” You mumble into the darkness as a yawn hits you right after. Soon your breaths become steady and calm as you both lay there for another thirty minutes. You are tired, it’s just, something keeps you awake that just can’t be satisfied if you keep going on like this.

“Hey.” You whisper, he gives a low hum in reply, “Buck, I forgot to tell you I have a cat.”

Opening an eye, he gently squeezes your stomach, “You have a cat? Y/N what....how...uh, where is this cat?

“I gave her to Morgan. So I guess she’s technically not mine anymore, I don’t know. Just felt like telling you that.”

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Anytime.”

The both of you go as silent as ghosts before erupting into a fit of giggles, he buries his face into your hair as his sweet laughter bounces off the walls of your room. Though soon enough does the both of your giggles die down to nothing more then the calming sounds of your breathing.

Your mind dwells with a growing fatigue though your body seems to want something else then slumber, sucking in a soft breath, you hum in thought before whispering, “Bucky.” Just to spark his curiosity.

“Yeah.”

“Uh,” Maybe you shouldn’t be asking this and just let him sleep, “how tired are you?” You ask him anyways.

He pauses for a moment before slowly answering with a mumbled, “Tired.”

You hum in acknowledgment, voice low as you answer him, “oh okay.” Immediately sparking his interest.

“Why?” Asks Bucky, intrigued with your slightly disappointed response.

“Nothing, you said you’re tired so we can sleep.”

Bucky’s head rises off of the pillow as he leans over you to try and look at your face, “Well now I wanna know so tell me.” States Bucky in curiosity before catching himself, eyes softer now, “Please.”

Sighing, you purse your lips together, knowing he’s still leaned against your shoulder but deciding to spill anyways as you half-sheepishly whisper, “I’m kinda horny.”

“Kinda?” Chuckles Bucky in an almost teasing manner as you snort.

“Listen you little shithead, I know we did it the other day but I haven’t had sex in five goddamn years give me a break for being a bit horny despite my sleepiness.” You sass, “I’m just, I’ve been feeling a lot of things since you’ve come back. And I yunno, didn’t wanna come off too strong at first so...uh...yeah.”

Bucky hums in thought, “Right, right....yeah.”

Maybe he is too tired? You let out a little huff of slight embarrassment before turning your head to face him better, “It’s just how I’m feeling right now but if you’re too tired that’s really fine with me okay Buc...oh uh...mhmm...” Your worries lost to the wind as his fingers begin slipping underneath your shirt, plush lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck to shut you up from your restless mind. His digits graze over your hardened nibble before Bucky pulls your body flush to his, stubbled chin pressed against your shoulder as he plants a tiny kiss there.

You smile into the darkness when his kisses trail up from from your shoulder to your neck and finally your cheek, he slowly turns you onto your back as his lips plant butterfly kisses all over your face as you begin chuckling at how undeniably adorable he’s being right now. Mhmm hmm you could get used to this.

His arms slip from out of your sleep shirt, soon trapping you to the bed as he hovers over your heavenly vessel, granting you with a plethora of lovely kisses all over your heated skin like he’s exploring you for the first time all over again. Your hands instinctively trail through his shortened dark locks while he draws your legs apart with his muscular torso, doing everything to further spark your growing excitment.

Tonight will indeed be wonderful.

——

Waking up from out of a decently pleasant slumber, you suck in a deep breath to awaken the senses for the day, hands feeling around the rumpled up sheets for your snuggle buddy only to find nothing but an empty bedside. He’s gotten unbelievably good at sneaking out of bed it’s honestly one of the most impressive things he can do.

Your eyes scan the semi-closed window shades to reveal a glowing darkness, it’s only 5:00am, and you know exactly where he’s gone off to even after keeping him up for half the night. Instantly you’ve slipped out of bed, not bothering to turn on the lights as you quietly wander down the hallway until you reach the living room.

Past the small kitchen, and to the left of the single lounge chair, there he is. Snoozing like a meaty log of pure muscle and Vibranium as he lays on a thin blanket flush against the hardware floor. Another blanket covering his lower half as he shifts a bit in his sleep, he’s restless. Your eyes soften at your lover, he’s been doing this recently since Steve left and the world sucked Bucky back into reality. You’ve had plenty of time to adjust of course, but for Bucky, he’s had three months since you two parted from the comfort of Wakanda to live in America as part-time Avengers.

Technically he’s only free from the government and jail time for that matter because he was pardoned by the president and thus was forced to agree upon attending mandated therapy for everything the Winter Soldier did in the past. While you on the other hand were pardoned for war crimes and your involvement with the terrorist organization Hydra because of your status as an Avenger.

Also you’re technically only still allowed to live in the United States because you live with Bucky, who is conveniently from America, so you get a free pass as long as you two plan on residing under the same roof. So it works out for you.

Suddenly his labored breaths quicken and a second later he jolts awake, now drawing himself into a seated position as little beads of sweat shine in the light of the glowing television screen that shows some unimportant sports game.

His chest rises and falls before his blue eyes blink back the vivid fuzziness of his latest nightmare, gaze slowly shifting over to you once he realizes another body is near him. When his irises catch you in the full glow of the tv, he immediately lowers his head in slight embarrassment.

“Did I wake you up again?” Mutters Bucky, almost sounding like he’s mad at himself for letting you find him like this once more.

Shaking your head, you swiftly move to seat yourself at his level before leaning your back against the lounge chair, “You never wake me up Bucky, I think I have a sixth sense for you or something cause when you leave I just know.” You chuckle lightly as he shifts himself closer to you, “Also I miss you next to me.”

His head presses against the corner of the chair as he leans down to leave a light kiss on your shoulder, “I’m sorry. I just.....I don’t want to startle you when I’m having a nightmare and wake up, well, like that.”

Turning to face him, you reach a comforting hand up to gently run it through his shortened dark hair, “You can’t scare me off that easily Barnes. I could probably be classified as the monster under your bed if we’re talking about scary things at night.”

He reveals the ghost of a smile while leaning into your touch, “I know Y/N, it’s just not fair that I do this more then I should. You shouldn’t have to wake up all alone after living like that for five fucking years....I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“oh James..” You whisper while scooting closer so that your bent knees are against his own, hand now snaked down so that you can intertwine your hands with his, “...it’s not your fault the nightmares are coming back. And as much as I miss having you near me, sometimes we all need our space when things get internally rough. I get it, believe me. But don’t ever feel sorry okay? You have nothing to say sorry for, at least not to me alright?”

Bucky nods, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze while he shows the flash of a smile, “Okay.” Whispers Bucky, eyes falling down to your intertwined fingers before he finds your gaze once more, “Let’s go to bed, the sun will be up soon and I have a therapy session today.”

“Therapy is good for you Bucky.”

He rolls his eyes as you laugh at his annoyed expression, “You are my therapy.” Protests your lover before standing and pulling you up with him.

Hugging his torso affectionately, you smirk up at him, “Wrong answer James.” Holding back a genuine grin, he simply leans down to press his lips against yours. Doing his best to shut you up from further mentioning his required therapy sessions that he absolutely loathes to attend.

——

Hands stuffed deep within your jacket pockets, you wander in step with Bucky who brushes his right arm against yours every couple of steps on the cement sidewalk of Brooklyn. You patiently waited the full forty-five minute session for him, knowing all too well that the second he walked out of there and saw your beautiful face. He’d be significantly less grumpy then before, just as you’d suspected.

Turning your head to face him, he keeps looking straight ahead though he’s aware enough to know you’re about to say something about the session, “You didn’t mention the nightmares did you.” Bucky huffs, annoyed at getting so easily caught by your observant intellect about him. You can read him like a book.

“No.” A blunt answer, he knows there’s no point in lying. “She thinks I need to call more people. Be more social or something.....it’s stupid.” He grumbles to himself though your ears catch it all the same.

You hum in agreement, “Well it wouldn’t kill you to call Sam, I know he tries to text you sometimes...”

“Does he text you?”

“Yeah.” You reply before playfully nudging his arm, “And unlike you, I answer. He’s just a concerned friend, which is nice, you need those kind of people.”

“I don’t need anyone but you Y/N. I’m good, really.”

Rolling your eyes, you snort as he throws you a half offended look, “Babe, I love you. But it’s admittedly a good thing to have other friends other then me. I know this from experience as we both know, so, give him a call sometime okay? For me.”

“Ugh, fine.” He begrudgingly mutters, “But only for you, that’s it.” Smiling brightly at him, you’re about to add something else when the sounds of your friend Yori rings loud in the bustle of the city as he argues with his annoyance of a neighbor, Unique. Something about trash and putting it in the wrong bin.

Bucky soon comes to the rescue and quickly puts an end to the argument before Yori decides to throw hands and gets himself in trouble. The stubborn old man gives up on his yelling and soon Bucky is able to convince him to get lunch with the two of you.

To the sushi place you go.

“Nobody made it past 90 this week.” Says Yori sadly as you lean against Bucky’s shoulder to catch a glimpse of the newspaper that he’s holding in one hand while you use your chopsticks to stuff a chunk of sushi in your mouth.

“So young. Such a shame.” Mutters Bucky with a shake of his head while he takes another bite of his meal.

“You guys didn’t order the usual, huh? Feeling a little adventurous?” Smiles Leah as you take a sip of your water, she loves when you three come in during her shift. Honestly she’s heard a lot of your complaining over the last couple weeks, though it’s usually just about some city annoyance since you don’t want to scare her off with all the real shit you’ve dealt with. You’re trying to make friends after all.

You acknowledge her with a raise of your drink before setting it on the glass counter, “Oh yeah, I like to live a little on the wild side..” You add with a laugh, “..unfortunately I tend to drag them along with me.”

Yori nods, “I enjoy the adventure.” Before pointing to Bucky, “It’s him right here who is scared of getting his feet wet.”

Leah laughs at the adorably confused face of Bucky as he sends the old man a look while you snicker in amusement. “Yori.” Warns Bucky without an once of aggression while you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze of affection.

“What?” Protests Yori, “I am right and you know it. Y/N am I not right?”

“Oh, you’re definitely not wrong.” Bucky pouts as you give his stumbled cheek a light peck, eyes set back onto your delicious sushi as he pretends to be annoyed by you and and Yori’s teasing.

The three of you continue to chomp down on your weekly lunch days meal at the usual sushi spot for another minute longer. Yori’s eyes suddenly sparking with a thought that you know he’s absolutely not going to keep to himself.

“You know what?” Whispers Yori as he leans in closer to Bucky, quit obviously pointing a finger towards you though you simply ignore them as he continues, “You better treat your woman well okay? She’s a good one...Ah I have a perfect idea. You go on a date, like dancing or....or, bingo.” Suggests the old man as your smile grows.

Bucky’s brows furrow as he whispers back, “We’re already dating.”

Yori nods, “You misunderstand my point, you must keep the flame going always okay? Very important, very important. When was the last time you gave her flowers huh? Went to the park? Whooed her..”

“I bought her a plant.” Says Bucky defensively as he side eyes you, “I, I whoo her.”

The old man smiles, “Good, good. That’s how you keep them around for a long time. Don’t forget that, I know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m sure you do.” Mumbles Bucky as you suppress the urge to laugh at their adorable conversation about how to treat a significant other right. That significant other being you.

——

Seated crisscrossed on the wooden floor of yours and Bucky’s shared apartment, a single thin blanket underneath you, your eyes squint suspiciously at Bucky like you don’t believe a single thing he’s saying. He’s seated on a pillow across the small coffee table, raising a dark brow at you while he holds back a growing smirk.

Your eyes soon shift down to the board before slowly trailing over his forced stoic face, “Well, Mr. Barnes....you’re a strong captain I’ll admit. But I am a skilled sea traveler of my own. E7.” His blue irises flicker down to his board, expression shifting ever so slightly in irritation, you got him.

Biting his lip, his hands move from behind the plastic board of the game that you can’t see, “How about that.” States Bucky with a genuinely impressed nod, “You sunk my battleship.”

Instantly your hands ball into fists, “Yessss.” You whisper joyously as your eyes squint in happiness for your first ever win against the literal master of Battleship. “Ha ha sucker! I won! I fucking won!” You shout with passion as he leans back on one arm to watch you jump up into a theatrical victory dance. God he loves you so much. You dangerous little goofball.

Swinging your arm dramatically in a circle, you shake your hips before winding down your dramatics to wander on over to Bucky who’s still seated on the floor, shimmering blues never leaving yours. Smirking victoriously, you crouch down to meet his humored gaze, “I think I deserve a prize.....and by prize I mean you get me those gummy worm things from the corner store. I deserve it after all.”

He tilts his head, the corners of his mouth rising as his eyes flicker to your lips for a brief moment, “Do you now?” He smiles lovingly though a sudden mischief sparkles in his eyes.

“Yes. This was the first time I ever won so I definitely deserve some type of reward for my efforts.” You state justly, eyes narrowing as you add, “Or I will battle you, and I’m not talking about the game.”

Bucky tilts his head up, an alluring smile playing at his plush pink lips while his eyes flicker to your mouth once again, oh he is certainly not going to get you naked in an attempt at swaying your mind from those gummies. You’re an ex-assassin who deserves some damn gummies every once in awhile. And his ass is gonna get you them, it’s only fair after all.

“Y/N.” Coos Bucky in that sultry voice of his, metal hand reaching up to touch your beautiful face, but as his fingers come within an inch of your precious skin. You shoot a hand up to clasp against his in an iron grip, blue eyes immediately going big when you tuck and roll. Taking his whole body with you.

In the swift aftermath, you’re able to skillfully pin him to the ground with relative ease. Both your hands pressed firmly against his naked wrists as you lean your face mere inches from his own, “I warned you, didn’t I?” You tease playfully as he breaks out into an inviting grin.

“I have something else in mind that you’ll absolutely love.” Assures Bucky with a telling expression that does nothing to hide the lust that flashes through them.

“In that case, pin me to the floor. And I’m all yours for the evening.” You whisper slyly as he practically shivers underneath your touch, “But if I win, you gotta travel two blocks for those delicious bitches. Khorosho, lyubov' moya?” You add in your native tongue of Russian, translating to “okay, my love” before pressing your forehead against his, eyeing him up like a bull ready to fight.

Bucky lets out a little sigh, something between annoyance and pleasure, “Fine. But you’re going dow...” Your lips crash against his in a hot second of passion before you quickly pull away, letting go of his wrists as you move to stand in a defensive position nearby.

Slowly blinking, he lets out a little huff before pulling himself to his full height, eyes trailing over you as he raises a brow, “Now that wasn’t fair.”

You casually shrug, “What wasn’t fair? We made a deal Barnes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes at your teasing, “You know what I...okay, okay. We’re really doing this?”

You shrug at his adorable expression, “You either have to walk 2 blocks in the dark for my treat, or a night of undeniably fantastic sex is within your reach. Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, it’s the principle of the thing here. So, I’m going to fight you James Buchanan Barnes.” Oh and you used his full name too, Bucky knows without a doubt, it’s on.

He reveals a little smirk at that, “Guess I don’t have much of a choice. Hmm alright hot stuff let’s do this.” Muses your lover as he draws his hands up into fists, ever so slowly approaching you like a wary predator to their opposing rival. Not so sure if this is going to be a fight he can win or not, well, it sure won’t be an easy one.

When he’s within arms reach, you swiftly duck under his swift jab to your right arm, shooting a leg out to push him away from you while your body twists around to meet him. “Cheap shot.” Mumbles Bucky, calculated gaze studying your every movement as you slowly wander closer to him.

Looking as innocent as ever, “I want some gummy worms, I’ll break you little man.” Accent dripping with every word, further arousing Bucky though he tries to play it off with a laugh and a shake of his head.

Soon the two of you engage in a swiftly heated battle of hand to hand combat showing your admittedly intense skills of what only a former assassin could display so fluidly. Your two bodies moving like seasoned dancers across the hardwood flooring of your apartment, though you’re surprisingly able to keep relatively quiet as he blocks your fists. Can’t disturb those pesky neighbors.

Bucky shifts left just as you narrowly scrape your right elbow against his shoulder with a high jab from your elbows desperate upper cut, you slide on the hardwood under the false presumption that he’s out of reach when his flesh arm swings out to catch you in your stomach with a loud hollow thud. Ouch!

Instantly your throat emits a strange squeak as you feel the air knocked out of your precious lungs, clearly you had not anticipated this turn of events and neither does Bucky who immediately looks like he just accidentally stepped on a puppies little paw. “Y/N!” Worries Bucky with wide eyes as you keep hunched over, trying to suck in some needed oxygen.

Pulling some air into your lungs, you pretend to hobble over to the couch like a beaten down boxer, “Mm hmgood, yep.” You rasp out, resting your upper half on the couch as Bucky quickly approaches your side. But before he’s able to lay a comforting hand onto your shoulder, you swing a decorative pillow right at his head.

The puffy fabric knocks him onto his ass, earning a surprised grunt in the process as you tower above him, smirking like a trickster goddess over a poor lost and lonely traveler. Bucky rubs his reddened cheek, brows furrowed as he whines, “Y/N.” Like a little child who just got something taken from them by another kid.

Smirking a satisfied grin, you kneel down to meet his level, raising up a hand to gently draw his chin upwards to face you better, “That hurt you dickhead.” You muse as Bucky pouts, “ Y/N, I didn’t mean too..”

“I know.” You chuckle, “Now make it better.” You slyly add with a suggestive implication in your tone that causes Bucky to raise a brow. Letting go of his stubbled chin, you seat yourself onto the floor, facing Bucky as he reaches his metal hand out to pull you in closer to him.

Just about shoulder to shoulder with him, he gently presses his Vibranium hand to your cheek before pulling your face closer to his, soon the two of you lock lips with one another as his other hand snakes around to pull you onto him.

Ever so gently do you follow him to the floor as he continues to passionately make out with you like there’s no tomorrow. Metal and flesh hand feeling you up from your breasts to your bum as you straddle your man, hands trailing through his shortened hair while he fully enjoys this new positioning and turn of events.

Bucky presses wet kisses all around your cheeks and lips while he begins nonchalantly unbuttoning your pants, clearly hoping this will continue further and that all thoughts of those delicious gummy worms are out the door. You won’t lie to yourself though, caging Bucky’s thick torso underneath your opened legs is an admittedly pleasant experience to say the least.

So when he snakes his hands up under your shirt and starts messaging your breasts through the fabric of your bra, your mind begins thinking of some other things a bit more important then some simple treat from the local corner store. He knows just how to turn his favorite lover into a pile of puddy with nothing more then his mouth and fingers. This little shithead isn’t even inside you yet, you’re not even naked for goodness sakes!

But alas, a bet is a bet, and you don’t like to lose. Smirking into the kiss, and holding back a moan as Bucky’s digits squeeze your soft breasts, you tug on his hair before pulling away from his pleasantly inviting lips. Earning a palpable pout of confusion from your man, who’s noticeably grown hard against your bum.

“Y/N?”

“Bucky.” You tease back, imitating his voice once again as he throws you a puzzled look, “Don’t give me that shit Barnes I know what you’re trying to do.”

“And what am I trying to do?” Sasses Bucky as he rests his hands onto either side of your hips.

You raise a brow down at him, “These shenanigans.”

Bucky smiles, head falling back onto the floor as he laughs, “That’s not, no I’m not doing any shenanigans I swear....I just, maybe I just want to show my girl how much I love her.” Replies Bucky, though you stay unconvinced.

“We had a deal remember?”

“Yeah well, none of us won so..”

“Oh really?” You challenge, “Then why are you on your back and I’m right here as the victorious one? Who by the way has earned her gummy worms fair and square James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky groans, “oh come on Y/N....I can’t go now. Have some pity on me please?”

“And why not?”

He gently gives your hips an affectionate squeeze, “Because, my beautiful she-wolf who I love so very much and cherish every day of my life forever and alw..”

“Get to the point I want those damn gummies.” You threaten with a stern look though he knows you don’t truly mean it of course, but he has successfully annoyed you. “What is the problem this time?”

Bucky throws you a sheepish grin as he takes one of your hands in his, “Because I’m hard.” Sincere and straight to the point.

Pursing your lips together in amused irritation, you remove his hand from your hip, “Well, you did that to yourself babe I can’t help how amazing I am just existing. Really get over yourself.” You playfully tease before standing above him as his eyes never once leave your beautiful face, “Those gummies aren’t going to buy themselves.”

Bucky sighs dramatically shaking his head as he whispers, “You’re a monster of the greatest evil.” Smiling like a lovestruck idiot despite his neutrally spoken words.

You chuckle, stepping over him to pick up a pillow, “That’s me. Now don’t give me a reason to show you my claws.”

He quickly rises to his full height, another fallen pillow in hand as he tries to hide his hardened member behind it like some shitty magic act, “I’m just, I’m gonna hold this pillow for you. Not important why.”

“Uh huh.” You muse as he watches you clean up Battleship, putting all the pieces away and into the particular box before shoving it underneath the couch. When you go to fold the furniture's decorative blanket, a knock is heard at the door.

“Not it.” Mutters Bucky as you throw him an annoyed glance, already aware of who this is by their familiar scent. You walk over to the door and open it as Bucky hides in the background, pillow still covering his tented crotch.

“Hello Mrs. Brego you need help with your windows again?” You speak in Italian to your neighbor from down the hall. The old woman smiles before giving you a little shake of her head indicating a no.

“No dear, just telling you there’s cops downstairs for that guy from Chicago I think, so if you plan on going out. I wouldn’t choose tonight, the whole lobby is filled with people I think he might have been into drugs.” Warns the sweet old woman as you slowly nod, knowing all to well that Bucky most certainly heard everything.

Faking a smile, you shrug, “Wasn’t planning on going out tonight anyways. Well, thanks again. See you when I see you.” She smiles brightly before turning to walk down the hallway and into her own apartment, you watch until she shuts her door just to make sure nothing bad happens on your time.

Feeling comfortable that’s she’s fine, you shut and lock the door, pursing your lips as you turn around to face a smirking Bucky. He’s still holding the pillow against his junk, but he looks incredibly full of himself standing there with that stupidly handsome face of his. Those eyes. That smile. His body......no, focus.

Bucky goes to open his mouth but before he can say something sarcastic you throw a hand up to stop him, “Not a word.” You deadpan before turning to walk down the hallway, stopping yourself to glance over your shoulder, “Give me five minutes and then you can come to bed. But you better be naked or else.”

Bucky snorts as you practically swagger down the short hallway and into your shared bedroom. Closing the door as you prepare yourself for a late night of adventuring each others bodies.

Oh tonight will be something indeed.

Tagged: @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94 @iamasimpingh0e @mjaudrey @thescarlettvvitch

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x you #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky fanfic

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icollectyoursins · 3 years

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Jonathan Joestar x Reader x Dio Brando NSFW

Anon asked for "may i request a spicy jonathan x reader x dio sandwich 😳👉👈 extra kinky please omg,,, 🖤

In typical fanfic writer fashion, I looked up when lube was invented because well... there is no way you’re taking either of these boys without it. It wasn’t invented until 1904 (I think), but Vaseline was a common lube-like substance that was used instead which was invented in 1872. The more you know! I also looked up what kinds of toys they would have used back in the 1880s and... the history of sex toys is fascinating.

While I’m rambling, this is going to be a long one, just to fit all the “kinky” stuff in, so bear with me. It’s been a while, I know, but it’s very long and I was on break for a bit trying to relax. Anyway, enjoy!

You had arrived at the Joestar household expecting a normal dinner with Jonathan and Dio, but things go a little awry after two of you share a drink. Whatever was in those glasses was, you certainly didn’t mind if it got you between the bodies of two very attractive men.

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, mentions of “drugging” I guess, something in the drink makes them very horny, but still able to consent, light riding, Jonathan is too big, so they move on, threesome, belts used as handcuffs, lube (not named, but it’s Vaseline), spitroast x2 (they switch), rough fucking, choking, face fucking, blowjobs, facials.

Word Count: 2578

Desperate lips crashed together as you clumsily tumbled into the room backwards with Jonathan never breaking the kiss. The door closed behind him and you two gasped, hot breath tickling your faces. You weren’t apart for long and he quickly pulled you back, claiming your lips once again. A part of you questioned how this happened, but mostly you were consumed by his kiss.

The evening had started relatively normal with you coming over for dinner, drinks were passed around between you, Jonathan and Dio. The next thing you know, you’re practically climbing on top of him, vehemently exploring his body while he did the same. Not wanting to embarrass yourselves, you quickly tried to run to a room so you could be more private.

You both moaned as he made his way down your neck, gently pressing kisses into your supple skin. Now that you thought about the quickly finished dinner more, you realized someone was missing. Where was Dio? He sat at the table with you, ate with you and then once the drinks came around and your insatiable lust quickly flooding your senses, you lost sight of him.

You ran your fingers through Jonathan’s hair, relishing in the way he shivered. Finally, you parted, swiftly shucking off your clothes before exploring each other’s bodies, basking in the warmth. It didn’t really matter where Dio was right now. You just wanted-

“Jonathan.” You breathed, running your hands up his chest, enticing him into another kiss.

“I know,” he said, panting heavily. His mind quickly raced with what to do, panicking. He’d never felt like this before, so... needy. “On the bed. Now, please.”

You nodded once, leading him by the hand towards the edge. Strong arms lifted you up, switching your positions so he was lying on it with you on top of him, straddling his waist. You could feel his erection bumping against your behind as he got more comfortable. No more time was wasted and you quickly aligned yourself with the tip, taking a deep breath as you slowly slipped onto him.

A cry bubbled up from your throat as just the tip stretched you. His hands massaged into your hips, trying to soothe you. You shook your head no. He was too big to take like this. He lifted your hips up again, pulling you close against his chest, whispering into your ear.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” Jonathan sat up, still holding you close. “We can do something else. Here, let me-”

He switched your positions again, crouching between your legs. Gentle kisses were trailed down towards your genitals, making the anticipation rise up in you quicker. Finally, he got to where you both wanted him. A final kiss was placed above your genitals, then-

A cold laugh echoed from the door, making the hair on your arms stand up. You immediately started covering each other with various pillows and blankets, hiding from the hungry stare boring into you. Dio. A cool smile was painted on his face. Another hissed laugh passed over his lips, growing louder the hotter your face got.

“Dio, we can explain!” You began.

“Ooh. I believe you, (Y/N).” You felt like you were falling in on yourself under his gaze. “Tell me, how do you feel?”

“We’re fine!” Jonathan shouted defensively. He must have known more than you. It was an odd question, but you weren’t sure why he was-

Dio’s eyes fell on you and suddenly everything felt different. Your mind started to quell its fear, focusing more on how soft his lips would feel against yours, how easy it would be to lift you up, manhandling you like you were nothing. There was a jump in the pit of your stomach. You wanted him. You wanted both of them.

Suddenly you zoomed back down to earth. You were pressed up against him, already kissing any part of him you could. How did you get here? Did you care? He stared down at you with nothing but lust in his eyes. You were pulled closer to him, then one of his hands started to roam further and further down.

“We don’t want to keep our little pet waiting, do we, Jojo.” Oh. Oh, god. Both?

Jonathan shuddered while Dio brought you back towards the bed. Your lips were captured by his, quickly overpowering you. It made you melt how almost addictive his kiss was. Another set of hands danced along your back. The warmth between the two of them was lovely.

His clothes were quickly discarded to the side while the other fought for your attention, leaving sweet, but desperate kisses along your shoulders. His hands wrapped around to your front, teasing your nipples. You could feel his hard length against your lower back. Dio returned to you, pulling you away from Jonathan and into a rough kiss.

“Let me show you how to do it right, Jojo.” He seethed, bending you over the bed and lining his already erect cock with your ass. He let it slide between your cheeks a few times before he grabbed a glass jar that had previously been in his pocket. Your intended partner, however, made his way around to the front, looking down at you apologetically.

Without thinking, you wrapped your hand around his length, slowly jerking it. A shocked cry racked through his body, shocked by the touch. Jonathan had never felt as turned on as he did now. Whatever willpower he had before was completely gone now with the temptation of your lips brushing against the tip of his cock.

Dio lathered a slick substance around your hole, slipping one of his fingers in to test your tightness. Now, it was your turn to moan. God, even his finger felt big, you could only imagine what the rest of him felt like. The more his digit fucked into you, the more your mind was fogged over with lust, shallowly pushing your hips back to get more friction. With a malicious chuckle, he complied, quickly working you up to two fingers and then three.

You couldn’t help the free moans that came out of you, much to his annoyance. His free hand slammed down on your head, forcing you to swallow as much of Jonathan’s cock as you could. Finally, your mewls were muffled. “Peace and quiet at last. Keep them like that, Jojo. Greedy whore.”

The room was quickly filled with the sounds of Jonathan’s sweet cries as you happily lavished him, sucking in more and more. Dio soon got bored of fingering you and pulled them out with a smack to your ass, leaving a smear of whatever he used on your cheek. Then, he lined his tip up with you again, wasting no time plunging into you, almost to the hilt. You tried to cry out but were obviously stopped. Tears stung at your eyes when he started thrusting into you roughly, each one.

Suddenly, your hands were pulled behind your back and tied together with some kind of rope that you assumed he had tossed on the bed while getting undressed. A shudder of excitement rolled through your body. Now, you were completely at their mercy, though you doubted one of them was capable of mercy and it wasn’t Jonathan. A particularly hard thrust had you seeing stars only made the answer more obvious.

Dio’s brutal pace only got worse, jerking you forward, making you choke on Jonathan’s dick more and more. Your eyes rolled back into your head as drool dribbled down your chin. Crescents decorated your thighs from where fingernails dug into your skin. A hand was brushed through your hair, gentle and soft. It felt so hot against you. The face behind it was flushed red, panting heavily.

Suddenly, he pulled back, almost collapsing into the set of drawers behind him. Despite your mouth being free, you fought to keep your moans quiet, not wanting Dio to think of something worse to shut you up. But, the feel of his cock hitting your sweet spots over and over again it was damn near impossible. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning sinisterly over you, his gaze hot against your back. He doubled over, wrapping his arm around your neck into a chokehold, keeping you close to him while he practically speared through you with this new position.

Jonathan meanwhile was trying to calm himself. You had felt so good. It should be illegal to feel that good. Oh, and your face, hot and sweaty trying to accommodate him. A moan slipped over his lips, shaking lightly from the exertion. He didn’t want to spoil you. Not yet. He wanted this to be nice for you, at least, before his adopted brother walked into the mix.

You were beginning to lose air, tapping on the arm around you, frantically trying to get him off. With a devious chuckle, Dio got up, pulling out of you all too quickly. You squirmed at the loss of something inside you as well as the lack of orgasm.

“Jojo!” He said boisterously. “Your turn.” With a hard smack of your ass, he walked away from you, letting the other man take his place. Jonathan did so tentatively. If just your mouth felt that good, what would other parts feel like? “What’s wrong, Jojo? Afraid you’ll break them?”

“Dio!” He snapped. “Why are you so cruel?”

A cold laugh echoed in your ears, making you shudder. Dio began to slowly jerk his dick, close enough to bring it to your lips.

They continued to bicker and for once you were thankful for the lust controlling your mind, easily blocking them out with thoughts that would make your grandmother blush.

“God, just stop fighting and fuck me,” you groaned, too aroused to think of anything but what you wanted. Jonathan looked shocked, but not turned off.

“Come on! Give them what they want.” Dio growled, pushing the tip of his cock forward. Immediately, you latched your lips around it, moaning at the residual taste left on it. You looked up at him, cheeks hollowing, creating a suction that drove him mad. He roughly ran his fingers through your hair, grabbing you tightly to hold your head in place, then he began thrusting his hips into you with the same pace as before.

Jonathan gently ran his fingers over your sides before lining himself up, praying that you had been “worked open” enough for it to be more pleasurable than painful. Slowly, he pushed himself in, unable to hold back a low grown as he felt your soft, warm walls clench around him. Just like before, the thrusts from the other man pushed you onto him slightly, making you take more.

The stretch was incomparable to any other you’ve had (aside from Dio). You felt so full, there had to be some kind of bulge, right? If you could voice how good he felt, you would have. It was a long process for him to work up the courage to get to any proper pace, he was worried that if he took it too far, it would easily hurt you. But, you felt so goddamn good.

Finally, he went in as far as he could, letting out another moan. Then, with the same slow, careful moves, he pulled out almost to the tip. It was as though your insides were pulling him back and he found himself sinking in quicker than he had originally intended. Whatever was making him like this soon took over, turning him into some kind of animal, spearing in and out of you without a sign of stopping.

Just as you suspected, you were at their mercy completely, feeling them see-saw you, like some kind of toy. God, you could have died like this and been happy, but you knew you were going to be much happier if you saw this through to the end. The three of you moaned in tandem, letting your pleasure take you over as the men picked up the pace. It was all so good, almost too good. Sweat dripped down your bodies, making your hair cling to your faces.

You could feel your orgasm building up in you again, unable to do anything to stop it. Their cocks somehow synced with each other and you swore that if they were any deeper, they might have touched. Your release quickly washed over you, making you see white just as they both thrust into you at the same time, stopping to let your body sort out itself out as you spasmed under them, cumming harder than you ever had.

The first to pull out was Jonathan, slow and gentle. Then Dio followed, coming around to the other side of the bed. You faintly heard a “come on” followed by your name as you were lifted into the air, then moved to the middle of the room, where they set you on your knees. They crowded over you, one of them (presumably Dio) lightly slapped his cock on your cheek, indicating he wanted you to pick up where you left off. In your post-orgasm haze, you opened your mouth, sucking lazily.

Gradually, you became more aware, picking up your pace. You used one hand to stroke the shaft that was in your mouth and with the other one, you reached out for Jonathan’s cock, doing the same to his. Their grunts and groans filled the room the more you jerked them. Lifting off one length with a pop, you moved to the other, looking up to see their faces, hot and twisted with pleasure.

It didn’t take long for someone’s seed to spill into your mouth with a loud cry. You swallowed every drop, before returning to the first one and finishing him off. Dio’s orgasm was not as intense as Jonathan’s, but when he did, he pushed himself further into your throat, making you choke while he shot his release into it.

You pulled back, panting heavily, a string of drool connecting you and his cock. A cruel chuckle filled your ears, making you smile almost drunkenly. You weren’t sure what it was, but something told you the night wasn’t done just yet. Dio pulled you into a rough kiss while Jonathan ran his hands up your sides, grazing his lips against your shoulders. These men were going to be the death of you.

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liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

Text

Maribat Secret Santa 2020

@maribat-secret-santa-2020

Happy Holidays everyone🎁

In my defense there was a minimum of 2000 words and there was no max so this ended up being 6112 words sorry, I think. There is some Adrien, class and Lila salt, Adrien gets some sugar later.

Without further ado @eve-v0lution I am your Secret Santa, enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has never been a normal girl. When she was born the goddess Tikki appeared claiming her as her chosen and the next Ladybug. She was born the granddaughter of Ra's Al Ghul, the head of the League of Assassins, the sister organization to the Order of the Miraculous. Her older brother, and twin, Damian was called to be the next Demon.

When they were five, she was taken to the Temple of the Order of Miraculous. she and her brother kept in contact, but it wasn't much more, than 'yes I am still alive, are you?' which was fine with them. As they were often trained together by both the League and the Order.

A week before they turned 10, she was named the Great Guardian and given the Miracle box. On their 10th birthdays he returned to the League to support her brother as he was officially named the heir of the Demon. However, things never went that smoothly. Slade Wilson led an attack on the League killing their grandfather. Damian rushed on to fight the Mercenary. She followed at his side the only thing she said before entering the fray was "Duusu fans" and combat fans dropped into her hands.

Between the two of them, they pushed Deathstroke back. However, he didn't retreat before throwing a sword at Damian. She called upon Wayzz's "Shell-ter" catching the sword in the shield’s dome. She took the hilt of the blade before dropping the dome. The two of them shared a look before running to find their Mother. Together they used Kaakli's portal to go to the Order.

However, they were met with an equally gruesome sight. Many of the monks laid dead, those that weren't were not in much better of a condition.

A single elder survived, speaking of the simultaneous attack on the Order and League. He told them that he will rebuild the order, but that Mari needed to keep the Miracle box safe. In the end Mother told them that she will be leaving them with their Father.

To say it was a surprise that their Father was Batman would be a stretch. Mother and Grandfather only allowed perfection, so not as surprising as one would think. Batman being Bruce Wayne, sure that wouldn't be her first guess but so what. What actually surprised her were her new brothers.

Damian hated them but she loved their antics. Where Damian became the next Robin, Mari stayed in the cave manning the comms as well as their numerous and often injuries.

However, when she did join everyone on the roof tops, Scarlet joins them. A red cropped hoodie that ended a little below her ribs. A long sleeve Kevlar shirt with a high neck. Black gloves and arm guards were holding the sleeves of the hoodie down. Her pants were the same Kevlar as the shirt and was just as formfitting, there were guards on her thighs that wouldn’t impede on her movement as well as knee pads connected to the shin guard. Short combat boots, a red sash tied to her waist hiding the utility belt and yo-yo, and a mechanical mask that conceals the bottom half of her face. And to top it off Tikki turns her eyes violet and her hair to white.

"Scarlet" Nightwing called to her. They were partnered and patrolling the west side of Gotham.

"Yes"

"Let’s race"

"What do I get when I win?"

He held his hand to his chest in mock hurt "Just so you know one week, anything the winner says is law for one week for the loser"

"Make it one favor redeemable whenever and you've got it" she challenged. He was torn but he agreed.

"Count me in" they heard Red Hood.

"Same" Red Robin also entered "Robin?"

"Tt. No"

"Fine. First back to the cave wins" Nightwing answered. "Go!"

She swung through Gotham and dropped into a pitch-black alley 'voyage' Mari whispered too low for the comms to pick up. Dropping through the portal and into the cave. Her transformation dropped and Tikki went to sit on her shoulder. Alfred was there waiting, Duusu perched on his shoulder as well, with a tray of cookies. She gave him a nod in silent thanks, as she still had a comm in her ear.

Ten minutes later Red Hood pulls in and was about to celebrate when both Red Robin and Nightwing crash into him. Creating a mess of limbs over the motor bike.

"Ha I win now you guys owe" Jason was about to rub in his victory from the bottom of the pile when Mari giggled, pulling the attention of her three brothers.

"Sorry Jay but you lost" she, Alfred, and the kwami were clearly in the middle of tea and cookies.

"She is correct Master Jason. Miss Marinette has been here for the past 10 minutes"

"Tt. Honestly don't race against some one who teleports." Damian grumbled as he walked away from the Bat-mobile.

"Don't worry. I'll wait until you forget you owe me to cash in" she smiled wickedly. "Good night."

And that was when they remembered 'Right Mari has the ability to use the powers of several pocket-sized gods' that was a lesson they wouldn't forget soon. Well Tim and Jason didn't forget; Dick would still bet against her though.

Jason found out she is the perfect prank partner. And no one in or out of the manor was safe. How they managed to swap all of Green Arrow's arrows, each being a different gag, was a mystery even Batman couldn't or wouldn't attempt to solve. The fact that the Justice League saw and heard Batman fall to the floor laughing, scared most of them from finding out. Those who didn't learned what happens when you don't leave well enough alone.

School was well boring; between the curriculum of the League and the Order she had already gotten 2 PHDs and 5 masters. School was nothing more than a pleasantry at this point. Father wouldn't let them out of school, something about needing to be normal kids. That only seemed to draw the twins into the spotlight more, because they were the only two blood children of Bruce Wayne. Damian became known quite fast as Gotham's Ice Prince, but Mari became known as Gotham's Sunshine just as fast.

But don’t let the name fool you, within the first year their classmates learned that yes Damian Wayne is scared of something, and that something was actually a someone who just happened to be his twin sister. Damian apparently was feeling petty about something, and for the life of her she can’t remember what, but he decided to write in big red letters ‘NO!!!’ across every page of her sketchbook. She found that out during lunch, and that was when the entire school learned that the little sunshine child was the only thing that can put the fear of God in the Ice Prince.

---

Freshman year Mari finally got her Dad to agree to letting her into the exchange program for the next four years.

So, she decided on Paris.

Why, why did this exchange have to be four years long. I’m not gonna survive this.

Admittedly it started off okay, okay not really but then things went downhill, fast, faster than you could imagine.

It started when she met her host family. They met her at the airport and that was an experience, I guess.

"Mlle Wayne? Correct" a tall slender woman in glasses asked her.

"Yes Madame" she replied with a polite smile.

"Natalie Sancoeur" the woman replied "And this is" she started but was cut off by a boy around her age, he had blonde hair and green eyes. But what stood out to her was his attributes reminded her of an overexcited and hyper puppy.

"Adrien Agreste" he smiled at her, so she did what was expected of her in polite society.

"Marinette Wayne" and she extended her hand to shake his. However, instead he pulled her into a hug. Once she realized what was happening, she pushed away from him and took a step back. She looked at him and her thought of him being a puppy was only reinforced with the look on his face. So, she looked at Sancoeur, while the woman looked at Agreste with indifference she looked at Mari as if she was in the wrong.

This is going to be great. Was the only thought as she endured the drive to the Agreste household.

Agreste would not shut up the entire way and seemed to be hurt that she didn't answer him. Agreste was also the one who was to give her the tour of the mansion. It wasn’t so bad it gave her the chance to gauge the defense systems, which was lacking, and the layout was simple compared to the Wayne Manor, the League's compound, and the Order's temple.

Unfortunately for her, Agreste ended the tour with her room and then proceeded to sit on the bed and continue to ramble about whatever was on his mind. She did try to get him to leave but that was a complete waste of time and effort. Kwami it was like he couldn't hear me or more likely didn’t even care about my opinion. So, she put in her headphones, hid them behind her hair, pressed play to of music and went to unpack.

As she was finishing setting up the bathroom she noticed, like every other door in this house, there was no lock.

Ugh I need to speak with Monsieur Agreste.

She went back out and saw him. Agreste was at the desk where she had set her laptop and was trying to open it.

"Excuse me but what are you doing?" she asked pointedly, having taken out her headphones and set them in the case.

"I was trying to see what you had on your laptop" he shrugged "can you tell me the password to get in?"

"No" she deadpanned; he had the gall to look shocked. That was when Mme Sancoeur entered the room, without even knocking.

"Lunch is" was all she said before Agreste cut her off.

"Natalie make her open her computer for me" Agreste whined.

She was about to speak but Marinette beat her to it. "Um No. What I have on my personal computer is none of your concern" his face fell while Mme. Sancoeur pursed her lips. "Furthermore, I am assuming since you are at the desk, the bed is askew, and the drawers are open and my clothes are in shambles you were going through my things" she was now glaring at the blonde invading her space. Now he had the decency of looking ashamed. "Am I to assume lunch will be held in the dinning room?" Mme. Sancoeur only nodded, and she left the room.

Lunch, if you can call it that, was also a disaster. Apparently, Americans eat chicken noodle soup, a hamburger, and a load of fries. Because that was what was set in front of her.

Ugh this is going to be a long four years.

"Mlle. Wayne, I hope everything has been to your liking" M. Agreste, Gabriel, as he introduced himself earlier spoke. “You have hardly eaten.”

"Would you prefer my honesty or would you rather me lie to you" Marinette responded swirling the water in her glass.

"Your honesty" he answered slightly unsure.

At this she scoffed "I am going to assume that you and no one else had bothered to read the file of my information that was sent to you" he as well as Mme. Sancoeur remained quiet "Because if you had you would know I am a vegetarian."

Mme. Sancoeur searched some thing on her tablet and there was a soft "oh" from her.

"Your son is also suffocating, to the point that when I asked him to leave the room so I could settle in peacefully, he remained as if I hadn’t asked him to leave" M. Agreste was going to say something but she continued "He also has no sense of privacy as he went through all of my belongings and was attempting to go through my laptop as well." Again, he was going to say something, but Mari continued. "On the topic of privacy neither the bedroom door nor the bathroom have a lock."

“Paris is completely safe, as the house is protected, it should not matter if there is a lock on the door” he replied in a monotone.

“I’m sorry doesn’t matter, in what universe is it alright for two teenagers of the opposite sex be in a house where one of said teenagers doesn’t respect the other enough to leave them alone” she almost started yelling, but kept her head and voice level.

M. Agreste didn’t respond right away, but he gave a small hum before stating that “I will take your request into consideration.”

“Alright, just know that I will guard myself and will not hesitate to use force if necessary” she knew they wouldn’t take her seriously but hey I am warning them, they only gave a nod that they heard. “Also M. Agreste I tend to have a strict morning regimen is it possible for me to continue it using the home gym while here?”

“Of course,” he waved dismissively.

“What does this regimen include?” Mme. Sancoeur asked politely.

Marinette had a wicked smirk as this was going to be the lightest of her routines, she could give but would still most likely shock them. “Oh it is nothing much just a 5 kilometer run as a warm up, then half an hour of boxing, a half an hour of sword forms and training, half an hour of holographic combat training, followed by half an hour of ballet, and half an hour of meditation.” She was smiling watching their reactions and it was priceless. “I usually start around 4 in the morning.”

All of them were shocked, and who would blame them, here I am in my 5’2” high glory with a sunshine disposition stating I can most likely drop kick them into next week. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I was unable to do it this morning on account of being on an airplane, this will be a good way to see the city” so she smiled leaving them gobsmacked.

Finally, she was able to breathe as she ran the streets of Paris listening to her music softly. Back at the mansion she had figured out she had an audience less than ten minutes into boxing, but she continued. As she was about to start the holographic training, that Tim, Barbara, and she had created, but by now the entire Agreste household was watching her. “If you’re only going to watch me leave or else have the decency to spar” she shot at them.

“I’ll do it” little Agreste spoke up “But if I beat you, you’re giving me your computer password.”

“Fine, but when I win, I get locks on both my bedroom door and the bathroom inside” she challenged.

Agreste senior nodded his head and replied bored “Only if you win.”

“First to be knocked down three times loses” she grinned. She went to grab her two training twin swords and handed one to little Agreste.

“These are real swords” he exclaims clearly off balance by the weight of the weapon.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, neither have an edge” they got into positions and it was easy to see who would be victorious. I got locks and some privacy oh the small victories are truly sweet.

---

Sunday was uneventful, but so long as she was in the mansion for meals unless she had checked in with Mme. Sancoeur, she was free to her own devices.

Monday she would come to regret that it had to end later, but not for a while at least.

Mari rode to school with little Agreste and that was her first mistake. Everyone in the entire school watched her exit the car added to the fact that she's starting in the middle of the semester and that kicks.

She was wearing a charcoal shirt splattered with metallic red paint, a faux caramel brown leather jacket with a hood, black jeans with burgundy all stars. Her hair was down, and a black messenger bag was over her shoulder.

She got out and simply walked in and towards the main office ignoring everyone, she got her schedule and a map of the school. The principal himself walked her to her homeroom and to her horror little Agreste was in the class.

"Mlle. Bustier" he spoke. "Meet your new student."

"Please introduce yourself" she spoke with a sweet smile.

"Bonjour my name is Marinette, and I will be a part of your class for the next four years."

Marinette moved to take the open seat in the back but of course Little Agreste had to speak. "Mari there is an open seat behind me."

It took all of herself control to not facepalm. "I prefer the back"

"I'll spar you for it"

Now she couldn't hide the smile in her eyes or the one playing on her lips "Okay Agreste, but what makes you think you'll win this time?

"Fencing uses lighter swords" he answered mumbling the end.

"Wait why are you challenging the new girl?" a boy in a red hoodie and two-toned hair asks.

"Probably to redeem his honor from our last bout" she was now smiling. Maybe this won't be all bad.

"Then I get the next challenge" the same boy answered confidently.

"Alright" she agreed "Name your sport, um..."

"Sorry Le Chien Kim" he supplied. "Swimming freestyle"

"You're on" a devilish smirk on her lips. Afterwards everyone introduced themselves and she sat down in the back.

They spoke with M D'Argencourt about it during lunch and he told them to wait until after school for the fencing club to set up. So, they did. Honestly, the class isn't so bad, just a little pushy, apparently a student isn't here today but should be back soon. When they all went back after school, that was when Marinette saw her.

"Gami" Marinette ran to the girl in a red fencing outfit and gave her a brief hug.

"Mari-hime what are you doing in Paris?" she asked.

"Exchange program" Mari waved it off.

"Your brother?"

"Not interested" Mari responded.

"So why at the fencing club?"

"Agreste challenged me."

She looked towards the blonde and gave him a pitying glance. "Then you should both change"

"Right" Mari called as she went to the locker rooms. Her uniform was a red bodice with black sleeves and pants, but the gloves, shoes, and socks were a shade of green so dark it appeared black, the stitches on the entire thing were in golden thread. Both her saber and helmet were a combination of black and gold.

They both got into positions when Marinette heard her.

"This is going to be a slaughter" and Gami was right.

Faster than anyone could blink Mari had scored a touch before little Agreste even moved.

"Huh and here I was hoping for a challenge. Agreste" she turned away from him and faced Kagami "Match?" was all she asked, and the girl stood and faced Mari.

Facing Kagami was like fencing Damian. Both are powerhouses and decisive, but Mari's strength was in speed and agility. They met each other strike for strike, she is probably one of the few civilians that may be a match for her and her brother. By the end of practice, she was offered a spot on the team which she accepted.

To little Agreste's dismay Kagami offered to show her around Paris, to which she had agreed.

---

One-month Mari had to settle into her new class. She made fast friends with Le Chien, after their swimming match where she also met a girl named Ondine, Alix Kubdel was next she is competitive with a need for speed, side note never let her meet Jason. Max Kante and Nathaniel Kertzberg were also added to our little group. She met Luka Couffaine while wandering Paris for inspiration, they became fast friends, and she designed the costumes for Kitty section as well as their Demo Album cover. The final and most shocking, apparently, addition to their group was Chloe Bourgeois. Along with Kagami her small group of friends were unshakeable and for the next four years will be thankful for them.

After that one month, a weasel entered the class. Her name was Lila Rossi and everything that came out of her mouth was a lie. Honestly, Mari wouldn't give her a second thought but then the strikes against her grew.

Lila's first mistake was lying about her best friend, Jon, or in reality about Superboy. Oh, she was in a relationship with him. Sorry but Jon is super bi, but leans towards men more, like a walking romantic mess that was a golden moment when he figured it out. The same can be said when it finally dawned on Damian when he figured out for himself. As the amazing sister that she is of course she would tease those two. But the teasing and cooing only escalated when the two started dating. So ya not buying that he took you out, much less as Superboy.

Lila's second mistake was threatening Mari in the bathroom. Please if your going to threaten someone make sure you aren't being recorded. And second don't threaten a Wayne, especially an Al Ghul turned Wayne. So, Marinette recorded every lie, every threat, and every reaction. If she were going down not even the Devil himself would think to help her.

Unfortunately, it had a rather annoying side effect. Little Agreste kept pulling her aside to try and make peace with the liar.

"Please Marinette, can you stop calling out Lila" he repeated for the up-tenth time . They were on their way to dinner about two months after Lila rejoined the class. "Just take the high road"

They were in the hallway outside of the dining room.

"No" Mari stated as calmly as she could. As they both walked in, Mme. Sancoeur and M. Agreste were already inside.

"Why? Her lies aren't hurting anyone"

"Not hurting anyone" she spoke finally turning towards the blonde "What unicorns and rainbows paradise do you live in?"

"Wait, what?"

"Nino almost didn't enter his script for a contest because Lila said she would get someone in Hollywood to help produce it" she answered "It took Max, Nathanial, and I almost an hour for him to submit it on the thought it couldn't hurt"

"Okay that's one"

"Alya's reputation as a reporter is plummeting. She doesn't fact check and believes Lila solely on the idea that 'Lila wouldn't lie to her'. Where Lila uses her blog to spread her lies."

"Yes but no one believes everything they hear or read.”

"Really" Mari arched her brow, Alfred would be proud "then explain how most of Paris believes you and Lila to be an item"

"Mlle. Wayne came to explain" M. Agreste finally spoke.

"Oh, most of Paris believes that your son is in a romantic relationship with Lila Rossi" Mari spoke calmly as she opened her phone and pulled up the post from Alya's blog to show the screen.

"What?" the confusion was clear on little Agreste's face as he also pulled up the blog. The meal for her was quite quick but M. Agreste held back little Agreste.

Mari was sketching in the quiet of her room latter that evening when she heard a soft knock at the door. She opened the door and there stood little Agreste fidgeting.

"I'm sorry I never liked how Lila hung off of me but that was harassment, then I realized that's what I've been doing to you I am so sorry. You probably hate me for how I acted, and I understand if you can't trust me or forgive me and I'm sorry." He spoke so fast and barely breathed as he turned about to leave, but he stopped when Mari spoke.

"Okay. Redo"

"What?" he asked tilting his head.

"Let’s start over" she smiled.

"So, you forgive me!"

"No, I am not forgiving you" he looked saddened "I will hold you accountable, but I am, willing to start a new chapter."

"Okay” he looked a bit relieved.

"Hello. I am Marinette Wayne." she extended her hand to shake his.

"Adrien Agreste" he smiled shaking hands. "I'Il get out of your hair then." he sent a small wave that she returned and left.

---

Okay so maybe I exaggerated a bit, but Lila did make these past three and a half years a living pain. Mlle. Bustier fought to keep their class for all four years. The only addition was Kagami in the second year of Mari’s exchange.

But here she was sitting in the back with her friends waiting for the last class of the day to start. Then it happened Principle Damocles and Mlle. Bustier walked in.

"Mlle. Wayne" Damocles called.

"Thank the gods" Mari stated packing up her things and she walked down. "I would say it was a pleasure but that would be a lie" Mari just finished speaking when Alya decided to open her mouth.

"Where are you going class hasn't even started." Alya smiled trying to get Mari in trouble, but neither adult did anything.

"If you really want to know because it seems you've forgotten. I am a foreign exchange student from America, where I will be finishing the final term." Her words must have made some sense to their one community brain cell because they nodded, and she left.

Marinette flew back to Gotham and oh was this going to be great.

Of course, when she landed Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and Catwoman were making mischief in the airport. She recorded a video of the Bats stopping them, of course they were monitoring it because of her flight but I digress, and Nightwing lecturing them while Batman looked so done. Along with Jay-Jay or really Red Hood taking Mari's phone and taking a selfie with her, her hair was in braid tucked into a black beanie with a pair of red sunglasses. A halter top that had a golden rod yellow X on it. The top quadrant was red, and the rest was back. A black sweater lined and faded to red at the bottom. Comfortable black and red leggings with black flats. She posted the videos and picture captioned 'Back in Gotham. Home Sweet Home! Hood give me back my phone.' on her public account, before even exiting the terminal.

Her class will be here in about two weeks and stay as long, but right now she need a good stretch.

She found Alfred and loaded up her bags into the car and jumped in, told Alfred, transformed, and portaled out. As soon as the portal closed, she was in the middle of a huge hug from all her brothers. Patrol wasn't too bad, there was a run in with the Riddler and a separate incident with Killer Croc but that is a light day in Gotham.

After patrol was mostly filled with junk food, video games, and movies with her brothers.

Going back to Gotham Academy was like she never left. In a way she didn't, as every break she made sure to spend some time with her friends, dragging Damian with her. She would constantly text or video chat with them. To the extent that they knew about Lila and her class, almost as well as her family.

Two blissful weeks of quiet and patrols filled with teasing and bets was amazing. Yes, she will miss patrolling with Nightrunner. Yes, he is part of the extended Bat clan, but it is different with her brothers.

---

Three days granted that was longer than Marinette gave the class to avoid a villain attack. Of course, it had to happen when they were visiting, WE. Dick had volunteered to lead the tour, mainly to get more evidence, but Mari wasn't there. Since she was on break, she decided to take lunch for her brothers. The cafeteria food was good but still, and Tim would probably be holed up in his office.

She was in a blue collared button up tucked into a black skater skirt. A black and indigo letterman Jacket, black glasses frames and blue heels finished the outfit.

"Nettie?" Dick asked when she entered the cafeteria.

"Brought you lunch." Dick's face lit up.

"You are a god send"

She giggled as he took the food. "Not exactly but close."

"You going to force Timmy to eat"

"Yeah. Is he still in his office?"

"Should be"

"See ya at home Dicky Bird" she turned and found herself facing her class. Most of them registered she was there and glared at her seemingly guarding Lila from her sight, her friends noticed her so she sent a wave to Kagami, Chloe, Kim, Alix, Nathanial, and Max.

Getting Tim to eat usually proves a challenge. Mostly because he has one hand glued to a coffee mug and the other on his work. Yet when you make an entire meal into finger foods that are perfectly bite sized it is a breeze. She was going to leave when both Tim's and her phone shot an alarm. It was from Dick 'WE 2 Face' In a flash Mari transformed and waited for Tim, opened a portal, and fell into the lobby.

The two of them took out the goons and restrained them before turning towards Two Face.

"The word on the street is that you and the bird are dating, and you know the Bat." Two Face spoke out to everyone, "Let's hear what other secrets these lips will spill." A gun was held up, presumably to the teen's mouth, but neither Red Robin nor Scarlet could see.

He was clearly holding a teen hostage, and that was when they saw the two hanging sausages, Lila. For the first time since Mari had known her, she was quiet, or at least silently whimpering.

"So, who is she dating?" Scarlet asked yoyo in hand pointing at Lila.

"Robin" she gasps.

"What!?" Both of them yelled before Red Robin started again. "Crap when did I get a girlfriend. Scarlet please tell me this is just a hallucination! I swear if this is, I won’t drink a single drop of coffee for a month!”

Scarlet however was barely standing doubled over with laughter. "She’s a little young for you don't cha think."

"Not helping" Red Robin was in full out panic pacing back and forth trying to comprehend what was being said.

That was when Lila seemed to find her voice again "I'm dating Robin not you."

"Wait, What?" Both vigilantes snapped out of their laughter and panic respectfully. They shared a look and fell to the ground laughing. Two minutes later Batman and Robin showed up. Scarlet and Red Robin were now on their feet but still laughing. No one not even Two Face moved because as everyone knows, Robin is taken and no one will be getting between those two, much less a girl.

"Robin" Batman nodded and to the two laughing teens, Robin nodding in acknowledgement.

"No need B" Red Robin finally stopped laughing.

"Hey Birdie when did you get a girlfriend?" Scarlet asked fully knowing the answer already.

"Tt. Don't be idiotic Scarlet."

"Then why is she saying she is?" Two Face now had the bat fam's attention.

"Who are you?" Robin asked the girl pinned between Two Face’s arm and gun.

"Apparently the girlfriend you never knew existed before three seconds ago." Red Robin supplied, now fully enjoying the shock on his brother’s face.

"Is that why you two were laughing like idiots?"

"Well yes" Scarlet spoke up then whispered 'Voyage, Venom' and Two Face became frozen in place.

Lila was now glaring at Scarlet as she began to yell "What the hell. Why didn't you do that sooner!"

Scarlet snapped her fingers and pointed at Lila "Oh now I remember you" she semi shouted getting the attention of everyone in the lobby. "You’re the girl from Paris who said she was dating Superboy." Lila now seemed to significantly pale.

"Are you saying this girl has claimed to have dated both Superboy and I" At this point both Scarlet and Red Robin had moved and were physically holding back Robin.

"Scarlet" Batman called.

"On it" 'Voyage' "Hey Supes your boyfriend needs you" Superboy then took Robin in a hug from behind resting his chin on top of Robin's head. Her brother now willingly refraining from moving to stay in his boyfriend's arms, while Red Robin left to talk with Commissioner Gordon.

"Miss you are lucky no one was injured, and we were here to take action, your fantasies are just that. Let's go" Batman had lectured the girl who could have been switched with a statue at this point.

All the vigilantes left, and Mari sure as hell made certain Tim finished his food. In fact, he hadn't even changed out of his Red Robin uniform, so Mari guarded the door. She only left when he finished eating, knowing he could now fully react.

Mari was walking out of the elevator and into the lobby and you could practically see the change that occurred. Most of the class were huddled together, her friends were to the side along with Adrien, and Lila was practically glued to the teacher.

She spotted Alfred with Dick not far from her friends, so she decided to go over and speak with her friends.

Unfortunately, that just caused hell's gates to open as she approached, she heard. "You knew she was a liar didn't you" Alya yelled at her friends and Agreste, but Alya was specifically yelling at Agreste. That made her blood boil, so she stepped in.

"Yes, but you didn't believe me when I told you, you didn't believe them either" Mari was now standing between her friends and the blogger. "Agreste didn't want to rock the boat and how you were all treating me it is no wonder."

"Ya but she is a liar, and you are a bully" Alya retorted.

"Was I a bully. Or was that what you were told by the liar" Alya now went quiet. Of the almost four years she was in Paris there was never any proof she bullied Lila. No bruises, no destroyed items, just she said claims. "Yes, I called her out on her lies but that was all. You all were the ones who acted on her words that I bullied her with no proof and bullied me to ‘teach me a lesson'. I have more than enough evidence however, on most of this class and the liar, for cases of assault, slander, defamation of character, and destruction of property."

By now everyone in the lobby was watching this unfold. The class seemed to pale and attempted to shrink in on themselves. Lila and Mlle. Bustier seemed to try to become one with the floor. Her friends were to the side struggling to not laugh along with Dick and Chloe you traitor put down that phone.

"Miss Wayne" an employee came up to Mari seemingly afraid to get her undivided attention.

"Yes" She smiled, becoming Gotham's sunshine that everyone knew, allowing the employee and the other Gothamites to relax.

"The CEO has locked himself in his office and the Board meeting starts in three minutes" the employee fidgeted with the tablet in his hands. That snapped her into professional mode.

"Dick is the tour done?" she held out her hand to take the tablet, opened it and started going trough the documents.

"Ya"

"Go dig Tim from his office. I'll deal with the board."

"On it"

She quickly looked up to her friends "Sorry guys we should catch up later." She walked away the employee on her heels giving her more information.

A whistle was heard next to the group. "Damn I feel bad for the Board members, Mars is on a warpath and not her usual professional warpath" Dick said to Alfred.

"Reminiscent of Master Bruce even" was Alfred's response.

"She really is a Wayne"

"Master Richard"

"Yes Alfred"

"I believe it is in your best interest to retrieve Master Timothy as Miss Marinette is on a 'Warpath' as you say" Alfred barely finished as Dick began to sprint to the elevator. Alfred only sighed as he followed the eldest Wayne child, leaving very bewildered and mortified Parisians in their wake.

#dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #maribat #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #batfam #marinette wayne #Adrien salt then sugar #ml marinette #damianette twins #damimari twins

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fromthedeskoftheraven · 4 years

Text

We’ll always have Paris

Pairing: Marcus Pike x female reader

Content: Kissing, shameless fluff, a little food, Marcus is the perfect boyfriend who will ruin you for all other men, in this house we have utter contempt for Teresa Lisbon

Word count: ~2200

Note: So...I don’t even go here and I was supposed to be plotting a novel, but I sat down at the computer and this came out instead. That sound you hear is my clown shoes squeaking all the way back to my desk to work on what I was supposed to be doing in the first place.

I hope you won’t mind if I tag the little handful of people I know in the Pedro fandom who’ve been so kind to chat with me, tag me in their wonderful fics, and help me fall into various pits ;) @buckstaposition @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @chaotic-noceur and the lovely @keeper0fthestars who’s been #goals as a writer and a human being since our Hobbit fandom days.

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

“Hey, sweetheart.”

The smile in Marcus’s voice makes you cradle the phone to your cheek, as if it would bring him closer.

Mirroring that smile, you lean in to breathe the scent of peonies from the lush bouquet that dominates your desk. “The flowers are gorgeous. Thank you so much.”

“I hoped you'd like them.”

“I love them.” You glance up from your desk. “Half of the office is asking if you have any single brothers.”

His laugh is warm, delighted, a little bit husky. “Well, I wish I could have given them to you in person, but delivery will have to do for now.”

“I miss you,” you lament.

In theory, Marcus’s week-long work trip to Paris had sounded like a quick jaunt. In practice, however, the days have dragged, leaving you craving his touch, his scent, the warmth of his gaze.

A sigh buffets the phone. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He laughs again. “The most romantic city in the world and I’m here by myself. Next time I’m bringing you with me.”

Your heartbeat quickens with the instant fantasy of sharing walks along the Seine, museum crawls, and plush hotel beds with Marcus. “I might have to hold you to that.”

“Baby, you can hold me any way you want.”

It’s your turn to laugh at the pickup-line tone he’s adopted. “Smooth, Agent Pike. How’s the work side of things going?”

“Not bad,” he says. “We’ve got some hard intel on the gang we’ve been looking at, so I’m calling it a success.”

“I’m glad. And I’m even more glad Friday’s only two days away, I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Speaking of Friday, I was thinking.” There’s a faint shuffling of papers on the other end of the line. “What do you say we have dinner at my place? I’ll get takeout and we can just relax, watch a movie, whatever you want. I just want to be with you.”

“That sounds perfect,” you say, and mean it. To hell with reservations and nice clothes, you just want to cuddle up to Marcus and soak him in, make up for lost time.

“Great.” There’s a pause, and when he speaks again his voice is lower, closer to your ear. “I was also thinking...if you want, I’d love to have you spend the night. Only if you want to, no pressure,” he hurries to add.

A tendril of warmth unfurls in your chest with his words.

Your first date with Marcus was a couple of months ago, the day after you’d met at a party at a mutual friend’s house. Truth be told, you’d fallen hard and fast for him, but Marcus had been open from the beginning about the previous relationships that had ended disastrously and left him gun-shy.

With each new piece of your heart he effortlessly stole, you’d tried -- and failed -- to imagine what woman would be fool enough to walk away from Marcus Pike.

Between his wariness of rushing you and a job that claims so much of his time, you’ve yet to go beyond making out like teenagers. You learned quickly that Marcus is a devastating kisser, and the little taste of what his gorgeous, clever hands can do has had you dreaming of what he’s like in bed. Now, the prospect of finding out fills your stomach with butterflies.

Really aroused butterflies.

“I’d love that too,” you answer him, without hesitation.

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.” You lose the last half of the word to a breathy laugh. “I hope you know my productivity is a lost cause for the next two days, I won’t be able to think about anything else.”

“You and me both,” he practically purrs, in that rough-edged baritone that never fails to make heat blossom in your core.

“I guess I’d better let you go,” you sigh. “But thank you again for the flowers, and I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me too, sweetheart. I’m going to go grab some dinner and turn in early, tomorrow’s going to be busy. I’ll be sure to call you when I land on Friday.”

“Fly safe.”

There’s that smile again. “Yes, ma’am.”

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

You’re buzzing with anticipation as you knock on the door of Marcus’s apartment, balancing a grocery bag in your arms along with your overnight bag. Marcus had promised via text to make breakfast for you, claiming it was his signature meal, but you couldn’t resist the urge to bring along a few extra treats. If anyone deserves to be spoiled, it’s him.

The door opens and your breath catches in your throat, just like it did the first time you saw him.

From his artfully tousled dark hair to his warm, black-coffee eyes to the beaming smile that dimples his cheek, he’s beautiful, and a week apart has made him even more so. Impossibly broad shoulders make a gray t-shirt sexier than it has any right to be and his long legs are encased in fitted dark jeans, and if he’s jet-lagged he wears it unreasonably well.

He ushers you inside, whisks the bags from your hands to the kitchen counter, and before you can say a word you’re enveloped in his arms.

You splay your palms on his muscled back and bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of his warm skin and a faded kiss of cologne. His heartbeat thrums steadily, soothingly against you as he just holds you, swaying slightly on the spot.

“Missed you,” he finally murmurs, with a press of lips into your hair.

You pull away enough to look into his face, bringing your hands to frame his cheeks. Those dark eyes are soft with contentment and just touching him, breathing the same air, you’re nearly delirious with happiness.

“Kiss me, Agent Pike.”

Marcus is nothing if not accommodating.

His lips are soft and warm and insistent on yours, his arms strong around your waist, pressing you close to him. He teases at the seam of your lips with his tongue and lets you swallow his low groan when you open for him. The smell and taste and feel of him flood your senses, and every greedy rush of your pulse says mine.

You only part when you’re both gasping for breath, laughing a little together at your eagerness.

Marcus nuzzles your nose with his. “Are you hungry? I got sushi from your favorite place.”

“Starving,” you confess.

He lets you go with a last trail of his fingertips over your spine. The brown paper bag you brought in with you catches his eye. “What’ve you got there?”

“Just a little something for tomorrow morning.” With a flourish, you pull out a bottle of champagne and another of orange juice. “And I got you some cookies from that bakery you like, but you can save those for later.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“No such thing,” you insist.

You open the refrigerator, pushing aside a new carton of milk and a tub of salad greens to put the mimosa ingredients to chill. Bustling to his little pantry, you tuck the box of cookies away for him and fold the bag to put it in the drawer where he stashes them. When you look at Marcus again, he’s watching you with a fond expression that makes your heart do a somersault against your ribs.

He’s smiling as he comes to wrap his arms around you again. “I like seeing you here, in my place.”

Pulling him closer, you press a kiss to the bridge of the hawkish nose you love. “I like being here.”

Marcus rewards you with a brush of his lips over your forehead before sliding his hand down your arm to lace your fingers together. “Come on, let’s eat,” he says, with a grin. “No starving on my watch.”

You let him lead you to the table, where he’s got a veritable feast laid out. All your favorite kinds of sushi, steaming miso soup, salt-flecked edamame...when your stomach growls, he laughs and pulls out your chair before sitting beside you and passing you some chopsticks.

Over dinner, you trade stories from your week apart. His are vastly more exciting than yours, but still he listens intently, asks questions, laughs in all the right places, because that’s Marcus.

He lights up when you ask him all about Paris, even breaking his own “no phones at dinner” rule to scroll through his camera roll and show you a few of the best pictures he took. His passion for art and architecture and the little vignettes that get lost in everyday life makes him even more gorgeous, and you must be making heart eyes, because he dimples with a small smile as he puts the phone aside.

“What’s on your mind?”

I adore you, you think, but you swallow the words and settle for a half-truth. “I wish I could have seen it with you.”

“I do too.” He pushes back his plate and takes your hand in his on the table. “I meant what I said. I’d really like to take you with me sometime.”

You’re suddenly shy under his confident, unhurried gaze, and find his smile contagious even as your cheeks warm. The moment lingers, tender and expectant, while his thumb moves in gentle strokes over the back of your hand.

He breaks the spell, giving your hand a squeeze as he gets up from the table and draws you with him into the living room. You settle on the couch together, but before you can properly nestle into him he reaches for a small, wrapped package on the coffee table.

“I brought you something,” he says, sliding the parcel toward you with a grin.

You don’t even try to hide your excitement. Marcus has impeccable taste, and he knows it. He looks even more pleased with himself when you kiss him once, twice, before turning your attention to the present in your hands.

The paper falls away to reveal a flat jewelry box, and inside, on a bed of black satin, is a dream of a necklace: a small, delicate gold disk pendant, set with a halo of tiny emeralds that sparkle in the light. It’s elegant and understated and it couldn’t be more perfect if you’d chosen it yourself, and you tell Marcus so amid more grateful kisses.

“Help me put it on?” you ask at last, turning to sit facing away from him.

Carefully, he takes the necklace from its box and clasps it at the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine by trailing his lips in the golden chain’s wake. “It looks even prettier on you,” he murmurs into your skin.

“I’m going to wear it every day,” you promise, leaning into him as he kisses his way to the sensitive spot just under your ear. “Marcus, it means the world to me that you were thinking of me while you were there.”

He laughs a little against your neck, the puff of breath raising goosebumps. “Of course I was. I’m never not thinking about the woman I love.”

For a moment, the world stops spinning. The tightening of his hands on your waist tells you the words have slipped out of their own accord, the kind of rogue emotional impulse he works so hard to keep locked down.

He loves you. Marcus loves you.

When you turn around to face him, he looks rueful, almost apologetic. “I hope it’s not too soon. I don’t want to come on too strong, but I know what I feel--”

You cut him off with a kiss.

It takes him a second to catch up, but when he does, he goes all in. Strong arms pull you into his lap, his fingers tangle in your hair, and he just melts into you, kissing you like his life depends on it. Maybe it does.

“Marcus,” you breathe against his lips.

He pulls away, just enough to look at you. You feel as much as hear his questioning hum.

You stroke his cheek, trace your thumb over the place where his dimple hides. “I love you, too.”

You’d swear the brilliance of his smile could power a small town.

“You think so?”

“I know so.” You laugh a little. “If I’m being honest, I started falling for you at Melissa’s party.”

Marcus quirks an eyebrow in surprise.

You shrug. “Can you blame me? You were handsome, smart, funny. Dead sexy in your leather jacket.”

He looks away, smiling sheepishly, but your finger on his chin brings his gaze back to yours.

“But I also noticed you had kind eyes,” you go on. “You asked me questions and really listened to the answers, you walked me to my car when I left...you fed Melissa’s dog a piece of cheese from the charcuterie board when you thought no one was looking.”

He winces. “He was making sad eyes at me.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Marcus, you were a gentleman. Not because it was going to impress anybody, but because it’s just who you are. So, yeah, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world when you asked for my number. And I promise you’re not going to scare me off, because when I dream about the future, you’re in it.”

For a long moment he just looks at you, emotion swimming in the dark depths of his eyes. “How did I get so lucky?” he finally asks. He pulls you closer against him. “I love you. I really do.”

You all but whimper his name as he sweeps you into another kiss, a hot, hungry press of lips and tongues and murmured praise that feels like the love child of a caress and a thunderstorm. When his hands trail lightning over your skin and you manage to babble something that sounds like “please,” Marcus breaks from you just long enough to get to his feet, helping you up before he’s kissing you again, gently guiding you toward the hallway.

Your blood is singing in your veins, and if someone offered you a winning lottery ticket it would be ashes compared to what you’re holding in your hands right now.

Marcus’s sigh is the sound of perfect happiness as he tears his lips from you and presses his forehead to yours at the threshold of his bedroom.

“Sweetheart, I told you I love you.” His voice is smoke and honey. “Now I want to show you.”

#marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x female reader #the mentalist #pedro pascal #the mentalist fanfic #marcus pike fanfic

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iwaisa · 4 years

Text

request. Hi! I'm pretty new here and i really love your witing! (I hope to find time soon to binge your masterlist!) I saw you wanted some requests so i was wondering if maybe i could request a oneshot with akaashi x fem reader in which they are out at night and she's cold so he gives her his hoodie? They are best friends crushing on each other and maybe end up confessing? (I hope i requested this ok, i'm sorry if it's too specific 👉🏻👈🏻) Thank you so much!!💕 stay safe and have a good day/night!!✨ - @greywarenns

a/n. i had so much fun writing this ugh. i love akaashi with my whole ass heart. i hope you enjoy ! <3 also, this was my first time using text messages in my fics! it was super fun to make even if the characters might be a little ooc lol.

► now playing...

- pairing. akaashi x female reader

- genre. best friends to lovers

- warnings. there’s one failed confession + angst, but it’s a happy ending :))

- word count. 2.3k+

movie nights with akaashi weren’t uncommon, so why were you damn nervous?

almost every friday since your second year of junior high, the two of you continued the tradition of walking to your house after school and watching movie after movie until the two of you fell asleep on the couch in your living room.

however, as years went by, you began to change. and so did akaashi.

the first time you encountered him in your second year of junior high, you took note of his chubby prepubescent face and short black locks of hair that seemed to frame it perfectly.

at the time, you weren’t aware of how beautiful akaashi really was, but as you watched him grow, you came to the conclusion that you began to have a crush on the boy.

now, his face was no longer chubby. instead, it was thin, and his cheekbones were more prominent. his hair had grown out as well. he was taller, and because of volleyball, his muscles were a feat you couldn’t miss.

another thing that solidified your decision in liking the raven-haired boy were the mannerisms that akaashi portrayed.

whenever he was nervous before a test or a volleyball game, he would shake his leg in an attempt to get rid of the invasive negative thoughts that plagued his mind. in class, he would twirl his pencil in between his fingers, and occasionally tap the eraser end to his temple as if he was attempting to knock his thoughts onto the paper in front of him.

in the midst of your movie marathons, you would glance over to see akaashi wringing his fingers together, and over time you grew accustomed to the sudden sound of him cracking his knuckles.

you would be lying if you claimed you didn’t find these fidgets endearing. you found yourself carrying out these mannerisms as well, which did not go unnoticed by the black-haired male, who would tease you for copying him.

akaashi too kept note of your mannerisms. he watched with piqued interest as you paid more attention to what was going on outside of the classroom than inside, which always earned you a scolding from your teacher. during his games or practices, you would bite your lip in concentration, making akaashi smile.

“if you bite your lip too hard, it’ll start bleeding,” he teased. you swatted his hand away from your head as he reached down to ruffle your hair.

he loved your hair. in fact, he loved everything about you. akaashi was never one to fall for girls purely based on looks, but you seemed to have it all. you were gorgeous to him, and not to mention incredibly hilarious.

akaashi never had an interest in memes until the two of you exchanged numbers at the beginning of your friendship, leaving him confused when you texted a meme that had absolutely nothing to do with the current conversation. laying in his bed at an ungodly hour of the night, he found himself unable to stop his laughter as he read the same meme over and over. your voice on the other end of the phone was addicting, and he found himself wanting to call you whenever he could.

akaashi also found himself wishing to be around you during any free time he had. the two of you ate lunch together, studied together, had classes together, and you hung out around the gym to walk home together. hell, the two of you even had sleepovers every friday.

this was another thing akaashi grew to be extremely nervous about. if he told you how he felt, would you stop being friends with him? that would mean awkward classes, no more eating lunch together or studying, he wouldn’t see you around the gym anymore, and he would lose the only thing he was looking forward to at the end of each week.

the bell signaling the end of the day was the only thing that could snap him out of his intrusive thoughts. he began gathering his books and turned to where you were standing a few feet away, a fake frown plastered on your face.

“you were so deep in thought, keiji. even when i was throwing eraser bits at your head you still wouldn’t snap out of it,” you crossed your arms.

what you said was true, as he looked at his desk to see bits of pink rubber strewn across his desk.

he clicked his tongue, “you gotta clean that up now.”

you skipped past him towards the doorway, “nuh uh. we have to get home. that new movie you mentioned last month came out a few days ago, and i wanna watch it.” he sighed while chuckling, as he swiped the remainders of your pencil erasers into the palm of his hand, walking to the bin.

another thing akaashi loved about you was your impeccable memory. not only did you remember his birthday each year, but you remembered every minuscule detail about him. small things about how his favourite food is nanohana no karashiae, to something he had texted you months ago.

each birthday gift he received from you he kept in the bottom left drawer of his desk. one year, you remembered his favourite author, and ended up buying him a signed copy of a book that had just come out.

he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s read that book a total of seven times, just to reach the message at the back of the book that read, ‘happy birthday, keiji! love, f/n.’

akaashi loved your name. he loved the way it sounded as it rolled off your tongue when you first introduced yourself to him, and the way it remained in his head days and weeks and even months after.

although, he hated how quick he was to snap his head up whenever your name was called in class. he hated the uncomfortable feeling of his palms growing sweaty and his mouth becoming dry whenever he heard your laugh echo throughout the classroom.

most importantly, keiji akaashi hated how he couldn’t tell you how he felt. so, like any person with half a mind, he continued on as if nothing changed. he continued making weekly trips to your house, only to grow increasingly nervous whenever he would walk down your street.

he continued having these sleepovers with you, even though most of the night he would spend staring at the ceiling. he knew that if he turned his head even a tiny bit, he would come face to face with yours, which was something he would not be able to handle. occasionally, he would allow himself to drink in your sleeping appearance from across the couch. you looked so peaceful while in a deep slumber, which was quite the opposite of what akaashi was feeling at the moment.

little did either of you know, you both hated the same thing; not being able to confess to your crush of five years.

“ready to go?” akaashi called out to you as you fell into step with him. you hummed in agreement, and the two of you started down the path to your homes.

the two of you bid a temporary farewell before making your way to your separate streets. you didn’t waste any time in bursting through your front door and running to the bathroom to wash your face. you threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and continued to spiff up your living room while playing soft music from your phone.

your music was soon interrupted by a ding which signaled akaashi’s arrival. you took a deep breath in through your nose and exhaled through your mouth before turning your music off. you quickly ran to the front door to let him in.

“hey. come here often?” you lightly punched akaashi’s stomach as you chuckled at his god-awful pickup line.

“it’s my house, idiot.” he made his way into your house and slipped off his shoes.

“oh. guess i was too lost in your eyes to remember.” you smacked his shoulder as he laughed at your flustered expression.

“by the way, we ran out of popcorn and i’m craving ramune right now, so do you want to head to the store?” he smiled and nodded, following you to your front door.

even though it was still technically summer, it was pretty chilly. you were quick to rub your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up.

“that’s what you get for wearing shorts and a t-shirt,” akaashi sighed. you were about to retort, but you were quickly confused as akaashi began taking his jumper off.

“wear this,” he mumbled as he slipped it over your head. you giggled as you waved the extra-long sleeves around.

“come on, stop being childish,” he smiled.

he grabbed your wrist and began rolling the sleeve until your hand was freed. he continued to do so for the other sleeve, but his movements were slowed as he looked up to see you staring at him. he let his hand linger on yours for a moment, still keeping eye contact with you. neither of you said anything, but your eyes said it all. you watched as his gaze flickered down to your lips and you felt yourself leaning closer to him.

his thoughts of doubt became too suffocating for akaashi, and he quickly pulled away, leaving you confused and a little heartbroken.

“we gotta get back quickly to watch that movie,” akaashi mumbled as he cleared his throat. you nodded slowly, continuing to walk behind him.

the two of you grabbed your fair share of snacks from the convenience store and you hesitated before stepping outside to meet up with akaashi. were your feelings not reciprocated? is the rest of the night going to be this awkward?

the five minute walk back to your house seemed excruciatingly long. you continued to walk behind akaashi, and you watched as he typed away on his phone. you sighed louder than you meant to, earning a glance from akaashi.

he quickly slipped his phone into his pocket and slowed down to walk beside you. neither of you said anything until you walked into your house.

“i’m going to use the restroom,” akaashi excused himself, leaving you to set everything up. you slumped down onto the couch with a frown etched onto your face. you heart was breaking with each second akaashi kept giving you the silent treatment. you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to be friends with you anymore.

“boo,” akaashi whispered into your ear, his lips grazing your skin. you jumped, earning a laugh from him.

“d-don’t do that,” you pouted. he sat on the seat next to you, eyes searching your face.

“if you keep frowning like that, you’re gonna get wrinkles,” he jested, making your heart ache more.

“how can i not frown,” you retorted.

you stood up to walk to the kitchen to begin popping the popcorn. you hoisted yourself up onto the counter and waited for the microwave to beep. you watched as akaashi entered the kitchen, his eyes looking at everything but you.

“y-you know...i didn’t mean to… uhm…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples. you tilted your head as you watched him pull his phone out of his pocket. he handed it to you, his eyes still glued to the floor.

“the chat explains everything...i can’t seem to find the words i want to say right now,” he stepped back, twiddling his fingers. you held your breath as you watched akaashi. he was nervous. why was he nervous?

you glanced at the phone and began reading the texts.

you snapped your head up to look at akaashi, who’s gaze was still fixed on the floor.

you placed his phone next to you and hopped off the counter, leaning down to look up at akaashi. he continued wringing his fingers as he made eye contact with you, a look of worry etched onto his face.

“do you really feel this way about me? did you really want to...kiss me?” you asked slowly. akaashi sighed and stopped wringing his hands, bringing them up to rest on your shoulders.

“yes, f/n. i’ve liked you for so long but...i never wanted this friendship to end. i’ve been dreading the day where i let my crush on you slip and you would never want to see me again, and it just broke my heart. i really hope this doesn’t affect anything,” he finished quietly.

“keiji...i...i really like you. i’ve liked you since junior high,” you smiled up at him, cupping his cheeks.

the two of you stood in comfortable silence as you grazed your thumbs over his cheekbones, letting out a sigh of relief.

“that’s good to hear,” he chuckled, with you humming in response. “will you let me do something?” you nodded.

you held your breath as akaashi moved his hands to rest on your hips and leaned down. you two tapped noses and chuckled, before he grazed your lips with his.

“i really like you, f/n.” he mumbled before pressing his lips to yours. it was a sweet, quick kiss. you felt yourself smile into it, and you moved your hands to cup the back of his head.

the two of you pulled away, and he softly bumped his forehead with yours. you chuckled, earning a smile from him.

“that was amazing, keiji...” you whispered.

he used one hand to pull you closer, and he reattached your lips. you hummed in surprise, and melted into the kiss. you moved your hands to tug at his hair, and he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. he nipped at your bottom lip before pulling back, keeping eye contact with you.

“the popcorn is burning,” he quipped.

you pulled out of his embrace and ran to the microwave, pulling the bag of burnt popcorn out. you turned around to watch akaashi laugh, and you felt your heart flutter.

“be my boyfriend?” you blurted out.

he stopped for a moment, before walking over to press a kiss to your temple. “yes please.”

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!!#keiji akaashi #akaashi

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monsterthalia · 3 years

Note

Fenris and memory for DADWC? Please and thank you!

Thank you so much for this prompt, it inspired me so much that I've wound up writing it outside of official @dadrunkwriting hours, but I just wanted to share it with you now that it's complete. It rather got away from me, and it's also my first Dragon Age smut! [klaxon sounds]

Fenris/F!Hawke, rating: M. This story is set shortly after DA2.

*~*~*~*

They were days out of Kirkwall when they first dared stop at an inn. None of them had forgotten Sebastian’s threat, and they were carefully keeping the Vimmark Mountains between them and Starkhaven as they clung to the coast. Anders’ vague strategy was to make for Ostwick, and see if there were rebel mages there who might take him in. Varric and Merrill planned to lay low there as well, with a mind to heading back to Kirkwall when they could. Isabela talked about heading straight on to Antiva and meeting up with an old friend, and was trying to lure Merrill with her, with golden tales of piracy and booty and adventure on the high seas.

Fenris’s answer was simpler. When the topic first came up over the campfire, he stated, “I go where Hawke goes.”

She had already guessed, hoped as much. He’d said as much when they had first reconciled after Danarius was good and dead, bleeding out on the tiles of the Hanged Man, but since then she’d tested that bond to the limit - refusing to execute Anders, asking him to defend mages against Templars in a battle that looked like a hopeless last stand. But even then, he’d looked her in the eye and promised her that nothing would keep him from her. Desperate, determined words, but the kiss that followed - it was a promise that they would have more life, more time.

The inn was small but well-kept, halfway along a dusty track between two larger towns and at a crossing over an inlet from the sea. They were not the only guests, but this meant they could claim to be en route to the same market as the other travellers, rather than raise suspicions for their reasons for being on the road. Isabela and Hawke went in alone to pay for the rooms, with Isabela being just handsy enough to ensure the innkeeper would remember them as a couple rather than two of a group, and smuggled the more notorious and distinct members of their group up the stairs away from prying eyes.

Merrill and Isabela took a room, and Varric and Anders another. They neatly and promptly split up without a word, leaving the third room to Hawke and Fenris, and closed their doors. Hawke’s mouth went a little dry, heat rising to her skin, and she turned to Fenris, to see if he was of the same mind. His own eyes were dark as they met hers, and after that swift moment of silent understanding, she pulled him into the room and slammed the door behind them.

The door closed, Fenris pushed her up against it, kissing her deeply, hungrily, and pressing the entire length of his lean, taut body against hers. Hawke broke from his lips to gasp at the pressure of him driving into the heat, the tightness already building between her legs, and he took the opportunity to drop his head and fasten his lips to her neck instead, scraping teeth as he dragged down the sensitive skin to her collarbone, to that spot where her neck met her shoulder that made her clutch him for dear life as he kissed her there. Her knees buckled slightly, and Fenris growled in approval.

It had been so long - not since fleeing Kirkwall, of course, though every night round the campfire had seen them lying side by side, Fenris’s arms around her, holding her tightly against him as she burrowed into his chest, neither entirely believing that they were still free, still breathing, still together. But even before then, when everything was so chaotic and dangerous that they barely spent a full night sharing a bed, let alone having energy or the mind for anything else.

She tried to move, to take this towards the bed they were finally allowed, but at first he resisted, taking her hands and pinning them against the door, trapping her hips beneath his own, as he continued to drop kisses across her collarbone, pressing his thigh between her legs, such that she almost lost her mind entirely, only able to tip her head back to allow him better access and feel stars spin in her head. But after a few seconds of this, she rallied, and with a growl of her own, wrestled her arms free and shoved him towards the bed. His eyes sparked in delight at her meeting his strength with her own and he let himself be tipped backwards onto the mattress, let her straddle him and lean to press kisses of her own to his face, his neck, groaning as he let her take control.

She could feel his hardness pressing into her core and the clothes between them became maddening. Her fingers found the fastenings on his armour and she pulled away for a moment, looking him in the eye and breathing, “May I?” He nodded, and she rapidly began unfastening, pulling pieces away, as he likewise reached up and began to tear off her clothes as quickly as he could, still pulling her face to his to kiss her whenever he could.

As soon as his chest was bare, her own exposed, he rolled, flipping her onto her back and pressing kisses down her front, onto her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking such that she gasped, arching up into him. She pulled his face back up towards hers and held it there, kissing him, missing his mouth when it was away from hers, and he let himself lean down into it, resting on an elbow as he kissed her deeply, leisurely, tracing down round her breasts down to her stomach with her free hand, drawing circles and swirls and bringing every inch of skin to fiery life, begging for his attention, his touch.

The fingers traced further down, towards the band of her trousers, playing with it, running his fingers over the button fastening them. She whimpered a little and he grinned against her kiss. “May I?” he growled.

“Oh Maker yes please,” she just about managed to gasp back coherently, pressing up against him, and with a deep chuckle, he unfastened the trousers and slid his fingers down beneath her drawers, and finally brushed his fingers down into the wetness he found there.

The first brush of his fingers against the bundle of nerves which so ached for him had her moaning, and he moaned as well, stroking slowly but surely, still kissing her and sweeping his tongue deeply into her mouth. The first slide of a finger inside her had her whimpering his name, and he whispered her own back to her, hot breath meeting and mingling such that they breathed each other in, and there was nothing beyond their little world which was their bodies and their breath.

She wanted him so badly, craved him filling her completely, but even as she cried out at his touch, she kept her hands to his torso, gripping his shoulders tightly and digging in her nails when a new wave of feeling blazed up her spine, down to her toes. Because since that first time - after Hadriana, when she was so convinced she’d done the wrong thing and lost him forever, only to find him waiting for her, all fire turned from rage to passion - when his memories had reawoken for that instant and shook him to his core - he had never asked her to touch him. Too scared of what he might see. Too scared of what he might feel.

He had touched her as he did now, kissing her until she was on fire, stroking her until she came completely undone and cried out his name, but after, if she tried to reach for him, to return the pleasure he so readily gave her, he just shook his head and held her close as their breathing eventually slowed and evened out. She understood he wasn’t ready for that again yet, and it was fine - she could hardly complain, after all, when he left her wrung out and gasping over and over again - but she did hope that one day, he might again let himself be that vulnerable again, let her be the one to hold him as he fell apart in mindless bliss and keep holding him until he put himself back together.

His fingers moving in her stilled, and she opened her eyes to find him looking down at her. His eyes were dark, his breathing hard, but there was a kind of serenity in his expression as he said gently, “Marian…”

It felt like a gift. It felt like hope. She raised a hand to his face and looked deep into his eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded, a smile creeping back onto his lips. “Yes - yes - I mean, I don’t know what will happen, but -”

He was starting to look nervous, but Hawke kept on gazing steadily at him. “We don’t have to. But if you want to, we can take whatever comes. Together.”

He gazed down at her, and kissed her, and she could feel the gratitude and the love he was not able to express. The kiss changed, though, becoming hungrier, as he seemed to release the hold he had been keeping on his own desires, his own need, finally letting it flood him. “Get the rest of these clothes off,” he growled, and she hastily obeyed.

Finally, it was just skin on skin, and finally, FINALLY, she felt the length of him nudging at her entrance, spread her legs for him and kissed him softly, gently, as he slid inside her. He let out a groan, eyes shut, pressing little kisses all over her face, and she held him close, running her hands up his arms and twining around his neck, as he slowly, steadily, began to move. He was trembling, and she just held him, and kissed him, and began to roll her hips to meet his, settling into a rhythm which sent waves of pleasure through her with every stroke.

“Marian,” he gasped, eyes still closed, as he moved over her - building speed now, sweat beading on his skin, breath coming out in hard pants. She could already feel release starting to build in her as she met him stroke for stroke, but she ran a hand up into his hair, pressed the other against his torso, to where his heart beat in his chest, hammering hard and fast.

“Fenris,” she breathed, feeling him getting close, “I’m here - I’m right here -”

He clung to her as he lost himself, as he pounded into her and release found him, as he cried out her name. As he slowed she held him close, as he panted into her shoulder, running her hands up and down his lean torso, pressing kisses to his face and chest and whispering that she loved him, that she was there, that he was safe.

She hadn’t expected more from him - this was already such a huge step for him, and she was proud, immeasurably so - but even as he lay against her, still panting, she felt his fingers returning to between her legs, felt him touch her with expert precision. “Fenris,” she gasped, trying to protest that it wasn’t necessary, that she didn’t need to - but in that same moment she felt herself tightening, clenching around him, her release already spiralling, and could only fall back, crying out, “Fenris” again as it all got too much, as the pleasure became so acute as to almost be painful - before finally, gloriously, fracturing, sending shockwaves of sensation shooting along her nerves and across her whole body, fingers to toes, followed by gentler waves of relaxation and bliss, leaving her limp and boneless in his arms.

She heard Fenris huff in amusement as he traced her fingers out from between her legs and up her stomach, across to her hip, pulling her in closer. “You can’t have thought so little of me to think I’d leave you unsatisfied.”

“No, I just-” She was still gasping for breath, still struggling for coherent thought, everything in her head feeling completely scattered. She found herself quite lost for words, and Fenris chuckled again.

They just held each other, breath slowing, Fenris tracing his fingers up and down her bare hip. Finally Hawke could turn to look at him, and ask, “Are you all right?”

“I am.” He smiled, and pressed a kiss between her brows. “I… did remember something. Just for a moment, again. But since I guessed it might happen, it was less startling.” At the worried expression on her face, he pressed another kiss to her forehead. “It’s fine. Really.”

Hawke nodded, anxiety still gnawing at her. “Are you sure? We don’t have to-”

Fenris let out a little sigh, and his expression as he looked down at her was calm. Content, even. “To be honest, the first time… it was so unexpected. And at that time, I thought it was what I wanted most in the world. To remember. The shock of gaining it, and then losing it the next moment… it broke my heart.” Hawke said nothing, listening, but took his hand in hers and clutched it. He gave a small smile as he looked down at her, and continued. “But this time… I knew it might happen. I was ready, or as ready as I could ever be. And…” He hesitated, his eyes moving slowly over her face. “It’s not what I want most any more.”

He raised her hand where she clutched it, looked deep into her eyes as he kissed it. “What I wanted most was right here.”

#dragon age #smut glorious smut

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babineni · 3 years

Note

Maybe "remember when we met" from the Adoration Prompts for any combination of Team Gilded Vale?

Thank you, sorry it took me ages but anyway have some Edér X Watcher nonsense that involves their almost first time doing-the-do but ends up being... not that. Bc of the Mental Eel™

Anyway below the cut bc of lots of smooching that goes nowhere, depictions of physical discomfort stemming from mental illness and bc it's 2175 words.

Gaura was just done with her evening routine when she heard a knock on the cabin's door. It was an easily recognizable knock, loud but dull, painting the picture of someone strong with a sizeable fist. The Watcher was stunned for a moment, surprised by the sound, then she made her way to the door, lightly smiling to herself. When she opened it, she saw Edér holding on to the handle on the other side.

'Hey,' he greeted her with a smile that carried the slightest hint of relief beneath his blatant adoration.

'Is something wrong?' The Watcher asked, prompting the farmer to blink back at her in confusion. 'You tend to turn in early.'

'Yeah, I was gonna come earlier,' Edér said as he entered the cabin, 'just wanted to make sure I didn't walk in on you and Aloth.'

Gaura closed the door and leaned against it. 'You know, it would've been fine if you did.'

The veteran chuckled as a response. 'Guess, I'm just not used to the whole relationship thing yet,' he shrugged.

'It's only been a few days, Edér, I don't expect you to be.'

'You don't wanna make up for lost time?' He asked, his lips curling into the faintest of smirks. He approached the Watcher by the door and she couldn't help but return the expression, waiting for those lips to claim hers. However Edér simply wrapped an arm around her waist, surprisingly loosely, while he placed his other hand on the door over her head, just out of reach of her flames, and waited for her answer.

'Of course, I do,' Gaura said. 'But I'm taking my time figuring things out about us... And learning how to balance...well... everything,' she laughed somewhat ruefully, wrapping her arms around the farmer's neck. 'These are uncharted waters for me as well, and for Aloth too.'

'Yeah, I know,' his face took on a slight shade of red, barely noticable under his tan. 'He said so when I asked him if I could have this night with you.'

'You asked him but not me, huh,' the Watcher squinted at him with feigned suspicion.

'Right before I came in, yeah,' he leaned in closer. 'Now I'm asking you.'

Gaura watched him for a moment, savoring his anticipation. Then she closed the gap between them as an answer. Edér kissed back slower than she expected and with a tenderness so intense, it left her awkwardly chuckling against his lips.

'Let's get you nice and fireproof first,' she said pulling away and freeing herself the roomy cage formed by his arms. She ran her fingers along her mouth, trying to make sense of the curious sense of surprise that was evoked in her, but she reached her desk in a few steps, and as she opened the drawer and took out a vial of Bulwark Against the Elements potion, she took the feeling within in her and placed it in an imaginary drawer in her mind. Then she closed both drawers with the same motion then turned around with a smile only to find Edér standing right behind her.

'Here,' she opened the vial and offered it to the farmer. He grimaced at the small bottle, then instead of simply taking it, he wrapped his hand around Gaura's and guided the vial to his lips. He closed his eyes reverently as he drank, and the sight sent a flutter down the Watcher's scalp, down her spine, right to some place within her, near the base of her waist, where a small kernel of uncomfortable softness took root. Her hand was so small in his... She was aware of Edér's size, of course, but... not quite like this. She has never felt small in his presence before.

'Let me just check if this worked real quick,' he put the bottle on the desk behind Gaura, backing her against it. She bit her lip as he ran his hand along her neck to the back of her head. But it was just a single swipe at her flames, nothing more. He let out a self-deprecating chuckle when the flames moved back into place a moment later. 'Figures,' he said as he leaned over the Watcher's neck and left a gentle, but lingering kiss on it. She braced herself, grabbing the desk behind her right, waiting for an escalation, readying herself for the veteran's momentum, that would turn each kiss of his more forceful the last. But then Edér left another kiss on her neck, and another, all of which were just as tender as the last one. Gaura felt the softness in her spread, a sense of fragility crawling up her sides and her back, weakening her to an immeasurable weight pushing down on her shoulder.

'Wait, not here,' she said, lightly pushing Edér away. 'The bed is right there,' she inclined with her head towards it, and let out a quick, relieved sigh when he turned around to follow her gaze. She took hold of his hand and pushed past him, trying to guide him, but he dragged her pack with a single pull, letting her fall against his chest. Gaura laughed as she buried her face in it.

This was what she expected of him, this carefree, uncontrolled intimacy, the comfort expressed by him not watching his strength around her. The trust he placed in her strength by doing so.

'You good?' A question came from above her and Gaura replied by beaming up at Edér.

'More than good,' she said craning her neck towards him and leaving a peck on his lower lip, trying to coax him into claiming her lips in turn.

The veteran obliged her and he guided her hands behind his head. He reached below her legs and hoisted her up, breaking the kiss, and prompting her to hold on to him with arms and legs wrapped around him.

'Show off,' a pleased grin spread on the Watcher's face.

'You're one to talk,' Edér said as he carried her to the bed and placed her on it carefully.

The Watcher let out a groan under him then closed the gap between them again. She kissed hím ravenously, with her hands pawing at his shirt, trying to pull it off him. But Edér didn't follow her pace. He kissed back slowly, and his hands moved right to hers and moved them over her head. He didn't put effort trying pin them down there, he just held them as he pulled away. And yet, Gaura felt... powerless to fight back.

'Relax, we got the whole night,' Edér smiled down at her.

'Afraid I would wear you out too quickly?' Gaura hid her growing discomfort under a challenging smirk.'Or that I couldn't handle you?'

'Aw, I know you could. Just don't want you to,' he said as he leaned down and left a kiss on her forehead. 'Don't want you to handle anything. I'm gonna take real good care of you.'

And with the impact of his lips on her skin, came the feeling of frailness in her rushing through her. Gaura shut her eyes tight and tried to fight the sensation but with each kiss Edér left on her cheek, her jaw, her collarbone, she seemed to have felt weaker, and the tension in her shoulders and in her chest felt more crushing.

'Edér, please,' she whispered, her hands darting to his shoulders, clutching on to him, unable to decide if she wanted to hold on to him or push him away.

'You... Are you alright?' She heard a question.

'I... No... I don't know.'

The next moment she felt Edér pry her legs around his waist off himself, and moved next to her on the bed. Gaura only opened her eyes when she felt the bed shift under her at the pressure of the farmer lying down. She still could only look at him for a fleeting moment, then she buried her face in her hands and hoped the flutter of her flames didn't give away her shame.

'I... I don't know what just happened. This is not a regular occurance, I swear.'

'Hey,' Edér reached for her wrist and pulled her hand away from her face. 'Look at me,' he spoke softly and the Watcher slowly turned towards him. 'Just... tell me what's wrong.'

'I don't know if I can. It... It doesn't make any sense to me either.'

'Yeah... I know how that feels.' Edér let go of her and turned his attention to the ceiling. The two of them lied side by side for a while and Gaura's strange panic eased with each moment.

'I wasn't ready for you, I guess,' she said eventually. 'Or at least not like this... Not this... Soft and gentle, I... I think I just couldn't process it.'

'Ain't that how you like things? I thought... since Aloth is... Never mind,' the Watcher could see Edér getting flushed.

'Yeah, but he's Aloth. I don't hold you to the same standard. Or... Well, I do but...' she sighed and pinched the birdge of her nose, stifling a curse she was aiming at herself. 'When he's gentle with me, I feel like he's comfortable around me. That he feels safe enough to lose himself in me and that I'm strong enough to be his shelter. But with you... I feel that way when you pat me on the back so hard I feel it in my toes. I feel that way when you hug me so tight you could crush my soul. I guess, I was just... expecting that.'

'You say that as if I ain't ever been gentle with you,' the farmer grumbled.

'You have, when you were comforting me,' Gaura turned towards him and pushed herself up by the elbow. 'I asked you for that.'

'You never had to ask.' Edér frowned up at her. There was a glint of genuine perplexion in his eyes. 'For someone whose whole deal is saving souls left and right, you sure got some weird ideas about comfort,' he sat up, 'and maybe if you learned to accept it, you wouldn't be a mess when it's given for the Hel of it.'

The Watcher looked up at him, and opened her mouth to speak. But there were no words coming out. She blinked at him, then away from him, then she plopped down on the bed and turned away with her whole body. She reached for her blanket before she realized she couldn't wrap herself in it while Edér was sitting on it behind her. She looked at her slightly outstretched hand and she noticed the outlines of it became blurry. Both from her trembling and from the tears gathering in her eyes. She pulled the hand back to her chest and as she scratched at the spot above her chimes, she tried to recall a time she didn't take her endurance for granted. When she didn't encourage others to do the same. When she didn't take on burdens after burdens, convincing herself she didn't feel the weight of them until she no longer could ignore it. When she wasn't terrified of being vulnerable.

A few moments passed as she was musing, then she felt an arm being wrapped around her belly. She took a deep breath and allowed the feeling of fragility come. She will be alright, she told herself, she has Edér with her. Gaura placed her hand on his, and caressed him with her thumb. He left a kiss on her shoulder and nuzzled her neck in turn.

'Remember the first time we met?' Edér asked. 'Not when I joined you proper, but before that.'

The Watcher nodded but otherwise stayed silent.

'I remember what you told me. You said... you needed someone to make you feel better. And... then you just went ahead and made the whole damn nation feel better,' he chuckled. 'That includes me, goes without saying. Still... that moment keeps gnawing at me. I know you meant a healer or one of those animancer folks. I know you didn't mean me. But... Been trying to be someone like that for you,' he sighed. 'I'm sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you.'

'Don't apologize,' Gaura sniffled. 'I... I needed this. I didn't know but I needed this. I should be the one apologizing. I was really unfair to you, I'm sorry.'

'Hmmm, maybe I'll hold on to my forgiveness a bit. Reckon, I'd make you work for it a bit,' he hummed against her ear teasingly.

The Watcher let out a weak laugh at that, but it lifted a great weight off her heart.

'First thing tomorrow,' she said, then a frustrated groan left her. 'Right before I have this talk with Aloth as well.'

'Need me to be there with you for that?'

Gaura looked at her hand on Edér's, listened to his breathing by her ear, and felt the warmth of his chest against her back. 'Yes, please. I'll always need you,' she said and she realized the comfort of her own words.

#pillars of eternity #edér teylecg #edér x watcher #team gilded vale mentioned #gaura sélfolgh #oc fic: gaura #Wrytinge™#who needs consistent character building across one-shots when you can have angst instead

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prettywordsyouleft · 4 years

Text

Bloodstone | Part 10 (Final)

Summary: You knew all about the ring your grandmother had told you about and yet when the stone fell from it one fateful day, you weren’t truly prepared for its return, nor who it came back with.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x reader

Genre: fantasy / romance

Warnings: grief over loss, cursing

Index: Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

You knew Namjoon was gone before you opened your eyes. The foreboding feeling made you clamp your eyelids together instead, refusing to face reality just yet.

Although you had been concerned with how you would cope without Namjoon in your world, as you laid as still as you could possess, your mind ran towards thoughts of his safety. Was he alive? Did he find himself in a place he was familiar with? Was he trapped in another dimension?

Blindly searching for signs of his disappearance, you gasped when something sharp pierced your skin, snapping your eyes open. There, embedded into your finger and allowing the crimson blood to trickle from the wound was a shard of crystal.

Your emotions flooded you then. Collecting up the pieces of the shattered stone, you rocked back and forth, clutching them to your chest. You wailed out in pain for your loss. You screamed to the heavens in anger. You silently allowed the emotions to fall from your eyes, feeling numb from the whole experience.

Eventually, you lost consciousness.

“Y/N? Y/N!” a voice called out and groggily you peered through an eyelid, a panic-stricken Yoongi appearing before you.

So, it wasn’t all a horrible dream after all.

“Are you okay?”

Holding out your hand to show Yoongi the shattered state of the stone and your heart, you blinked when your palm came up empty. Sitting up hurriedly and looking around yourself, you found your space void of any signs of Namjoon and the stone.

Yoongi sighed. “It’s probably whole again.”

“Bastard rock.”

“It’s been three days since I saw you. I don’t know why I didn’t come sooner. I just felt this strong urge to come and check on you. It was almost as if Namjoon infiltrated my mind. Sounds really crazy, doesn’t it?”

You attempted to laugh hollowly. “Yoongi, hasn’t everything we’ve experienced for the last few weeks been unreal?”

“I guess you could say that.”

“I’m glad you remember him,” you admitted in a small voice, swallowing down the growing lump in your throat. “I was worried life would return to before he arrived here and I’d go insane being the only one with the knowledge that he existed.”

With time, life did recover some normalcy. After mourning for another week, you managed to pull yourself up every morning, consume a mug of coffee to help battle with the fatigue you were experiencing and returned to your job. You ate the same foods you had with Namjoon, and with some time, you began to smile with the fond memory as opposed to tearfully choking the spoonfuls down. You did the things you wanted to with Namjoon one by one, hoping that ticking them off your list honoured his short and tumultuous stay in your world. You kept a journal, but unlike the one Eliza had avidly written with Namwoo at her side, you chose to document the things you did without Namjoon. It held you accountable for keeping to your promise.

It was hard to live without Namjoon, but you were determined to do so.

Still, nights were the worst. You still dreamed of him. His touch felt real within your slumber, the sensual sighs and whispered love confessions lingering even after you became alert. It was difficult to grapple with what was real and a faint memory when you opened your eyes for the first time each morning. Swallowing down the disappointment when you realised your bed was cold and empty of his presence grew harder the longer he was away.

You had endured six months without the man who had turned your world upside down with mere weeks together.

Strangely, the ring had also gone missing. When the stone had left it just a silver shell that you had placed within the drawer of your bedside table. After several weeks of recovering from Namjoon’s disappearance, you had opened the drawer to look at the ring. Even after emptying all the contents onto your bed, it had eluded you. You had searched your entire home upside down for it, even going as far as to check at the comic store as well.

The ring had gone just like Namjoon had.

“What do you want to do with all of this?” Yoongi asked when you visited him again, pointing to the stack of books. You eyed them curiously until you realised what they were. Thinking back to the day he had walked out of your apartment carrying them all, you sighed heavily. You had been so optimistic that Yoongi would find an answer in them.

And he had. It was just not one you had hoped for.

Grinning, you shrugged. “Should we burn them?”

“You want to close that chapter of your life for good?” Yoongi wondered and you shook your head. “I didn’t think so. Why be so dramatic in answer then?”

“Weren’t you the one who claimed this was all sounding a bit like Lord of the Rings? Doesn’t Frodo throw the ring into the fires of Mordor?”

“You don’t have the ring anymore to throw out even if you could.”

“No, the ring left its owner. I hope it’s not harassing another poor soul with the idea of love. It needs to be destroyed for good.”

“Perhaps Namjoon took it with him.”

“I strangely miss it,” you murmured, looking at your finger. Despite not wearing it for some time, the indent it had made upon your skin remained. It made you shiver, feeling a sense of emptiness.

Distracting yourself from the depressing concept, you reached for the stack of books, dragging them towards yourself and off the countertop. Yoongi appeared at your side, gauging if you needed his help to balance them. After rearranging the bunch a little, you shot him a satisfied smile. “I’ll take them back home. I’m sure they’ll find their places upon the bookshelves again.”

“Having them back might help with more closure to the situation,” Yoongi offered and you shared a hopeful smile before heading out into the bright afternoon.

Once home, you struggled down the hallway to your final destination, guiding the bottom book up onto your desk. Relieved to let go of the weight, you wiped at your perspired brow and removed a layer of your clothing, staring at the stack of ancient texts dejectedly.

“Why did I bring you all back here?” you asked yourself before reaching for the book on the top, taking it over to the bookshelves upon the wall and finding it a place. You repeated this task until all of them were house away neatly.

“Dinner,” you mentioned when your stomach began to grumble. After making yourself a bowl of ramen, you returned to the study to spend some time on your computer. It was about an hour into your online perusing that you heard a thud behind you from the shelf. Spinning around in the computer chair, you noticed a book had fallen to the floor. Getting up to retrieve it, you stopped when you realised what book it was.

It was the one that held the information about the ring. Gulping as the hairs stood up on your arms, you gingerly reached out for it, picking it up and cradling its spine. “You belong on the shelf now.”

Hesitating to place it back, you instead found yourself flipping through the book, ending up on the page that had changed your world all those months ago. Fingering the ancient ink gently, you winced at the pain forming in your chest and shook your head. “It’s too early for me to contemplate this fondly.”

Placing the book back on the shelf, you turned around, stopping a second time when your gaze caught something on the floor reflecting under the lights. Stooping down to retrieve it, you couldn’t believe it.

“You weren’t here before, now were you?” you asked of the ring, rapidly looking around the room.

“No, but nor was I,” a voice mentioned with a hint of amusement and you stopped searching when your eyes landed on the purple-haired man in the doorway. Namjoon smiled and nodded as if to answer your disbelief. “I’m back, Y/N.”

It had appeared again.

This time, however, the stone hadn’t arrived alone before him. It was firmly embedded in the silver that you had once shown him and after staring at it for some time, Namjoon boldly reached out to pick it up.

After everything he had gone through because of this stone, he was no longer scared, if anything, he hoped its arrival meant something would happen to take him back to you.

It wasn’t hard to fall back into routine at home. Marian had during his disappearance turned to the local farmer’s son for support and now that Namjoon was back, he hardly saw the girl. It came as no surprise to him when she came home proclaiming she would marry Jungkook. And once she was married, the house felt fuller than before.

Namjoon yearned to leave again. He was satisfied his sister would have someone to cherish her for always. Admittedly, their shy love for one another only made him crave you. His heart ached more often than not and so to avoid their newlywed bliss, Namjoon spent from dawn to dusk working in the gem studio. But even they didn’t amaze him as much as before either.

The ring appearing whole certainly piqued his interest though. “Are you here to take me home?”

Inspecting it up close, he noticed it no longer glowed. The stone was no longer red even. It was golden, affectionate and inviting. It felt warm and fluttered when he closed his palm around it. He smiled, letting out a laugh soon after. Holding the ring made him feel connected to you again as if he was close enough to reach out for your world and dive back into it.

Closing his eyes, he found the warmth in his palm turning scorching hot, letting it go instantly. Hearing the ring clatter to the ground, Namjoon opened his eyes and looked around himself.

“Where did you go?” he wondered, dropping onto his hands and knees on the floor, searching under the desk for the ring. Crawling through the gap to the opposite side, he frowned when his hand touched something fluffy and soft. Blinking rapidly, he gripped onto the fibres before leaping to his feet and wildly glancing around himself.

“I’m not dreaming right?” he murmured, feeling all over his body for any telltale signs. And then he grinned, staring at all your homely clutter. He hadn’t realised he had missed it all until he soaked them in with his stunned focus, even dropping onto the couch to hug it. “I’m home!”

It was then that he realised he hadn’t found the ring yet. Going along the hallway, Namjoon’s breath halted when he saw the light on in the study.

Hearing you talk to the books made his chest swell and he stopped just before the door, listening on for some time. It seemed you found the ring that had granted him passage back here and after listening to you a moment longer, Namjoon stepped forward, finally catching your gaze.

“You’re real?” you asked after he told you he was back and Namjoon merely opened his arms, waiting for your impact.

Dashing across the room to enter his waiting embrace, he held you tightly to his chest once you collided against it. “I’m back. This time for good.”

“How do you know?” you wondered, looking up at him earnestly.

Namjoon reached for the ring you had in your grip and held it up. “It brought me back here. And look, it’s no longer the stone of blood.”

Inspecting the golden colour, you then glanced at the book and paled. “It’s something else now?”

“Maybe for this lifetime it’s just happy to finally succeed in bringing two lovers together.”

“I don’t trust it just yet but if it brought you back to me, then that’s something.”

Laughing, Namjoon placed it upon your finger. It glowed once before it settled completely. You eyed him suspiciously and Namjoon shrugged.

“I expect a proper proposal when the time comes.”

“You know I’ve had a long time to piece one together during my wait to see you again.”

“You know what else I’ve had a long time to think over?” you asked and Namjoon waited for you to continue. “What it truly feels like to have you kiss me once again.”

Leaning down to meet you midway, love blindly led you both into a realm of passion and reconnection during the embrace. He felt his heart soar and then collide into yours, firmly embedding itself there much as the stone had into his chest once. This time though, he knew there was nothing that could shatter this bond.

You were his truest love.

_________________

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55 notes · View notes

namgee · 4 years

Text

where there are no notes (1/2) | jjk

❥ pairing: jungkook x reader ❥ genre: angst, fluff, fantasy (ish, probably very little ) ❥ summary: In a society where unsung notes meant the inevitable demise of one’s life, you spent the entirety of your own surviving on small snippets of sounds, whispered careful so to only be heard by your own ears. Never could you have imagined the magnitude your shy voice would take in the ears of the town’s curious prodigy. For Jungkook, there is hope but can he manage to bring out your unsung notes? ❥ word count: 1.9 k ❥ warnings: mentions of death, brief mention of violence/alluding to violence ❥ author’s note: This is just a cute lil idea I’ve had for a while that has been siting in my drafts, so I wanted to try out something new i guess. This is a part of a two shot. The next part should be up around the same time next week (i write slow okay T_T). Also sorry for any mistakes ;( . I hope you enjoy ;))

Whenever you sang, even for a small while, everything around you wilted, grays creeping in, dark tones accentuating themselves further. unrhythmic notes bouncing off onto blank walls to hit back at your curious ears. You sang, but never long enough to let your voice and its frailty travel through the cracks present on old squeaky doors and windows and allow your unknown regular visitor, whose steps emitted careful tones that tickled your attentive ears, to hear you sing.

At nights, just like this one, where you feel less alone now that much can’t be seen, you dare to open your mouth, to push with hesitant muscles against your stomach, to feel the vibrations rise through your chest and let the unpracticed sounds leave your barely open mouth. Only then, your eyes shielded by darkness, unable to bear witness to the way your voice murders all color, do you manage to let some of it go and grow into the air.

Unlike the rest of your family you managed to escape. It’s the least you can do, sing a little, night by night for yourself and to remember the lost voices of your loved ones.

Just like you, they didn’t sing often, only enough to stay alive, the collective burden of your voices too much for their eyes to bear.

Your family wasn’t like the others, unable to do the very thing that keeps them alive and colors their loved land. For that they had to pay the price. There were only so many singing evaluations you could manage to escape with the help of the few kind hearted people you encountered. It was only a matter of time until silence raised suspicions, ones that turned into interrogations that revealed your malign voices.

The problem was dealt with however they saw fit. Helping would have been too much of a bother, the easy way out, was simply to cleanse the bad fruits from the rest. It was in well accustomed darkness that your family was muzzled, left alone as the little life they had managed to conjure up with their disjointed singing, wilted into extinction. You, the youngest all of them all, had been left to watch them leave as silently as they lived.

Restless, bordering on lifeless, you laid down on the floor awaiting your time, listening to the rhythmic sounds of coarse boots as they echo louder than you, setting its tone on the long hallway bordering your freezing cell, the same way the notes you admired with pitiful eyes coloured your favourite music sheets.

You had thought the steps had come to give the last order to your heart, like a director swings his stick to welcome the end. Anticipating it all you drifted off, lighthearted in your mind, but heavy in your chest from all unsung melodies. If only you had known that in fact, what was coming to you wasn’t an end, but the light taping of the director’s stick against his stand, letting you know, the beginning is near.

Call it what you want, a miracle, a blessing, a sign. Someone must have sang life back into you as you had found yourself by the gate of your house. Someone had thought that the sheet of your life still had room for more uncertain notes, no matter how rare they were to you.

Every couple of days, the rustling vegetation outside would indicate the arrival of your unidentified visitor. You don’t know who they are, only that they come by once in a while to sing healing melodies. However sweet and familiar the gesture is, your curiosity never arises. The short life you’ve so far had has already sung its notes to you, clear and harsh: nobody can be trusted.

Tomorrow is your birthday. Like all the previous years, the night before, clinging to childish hope that your heart can speak louder than your mouth, you wish to magically wake up with the ability to sing. You didn’t have to have the most beautiful voice, you just wanted to sing. Yet, for the past years, every birthday morning has been quieter than the other. So when you wake up, you keep silent. Your wish has not been granted.

You go through the day ravaging your dead sister’s drawer for her piano sheets. Your family couldn’t sing notes, but they could play them. You continue searching for the light notes of childhood songs, a little birthday tune to color your day. As the night settles, so does that the need to do something about this day. You never asked for much, but if you were going to keep living like this, a little celebration and room for your frustration should be acceptable on such a day.

The rush of the ocean waves crashing against your closed window frame get you to hurry. You cover up as much as possible, sneaking out of your estate. You didn’t want to surprisingly find out that your secret visitor decided to come by and risk getting caught. Even the kindest voice could house hatred in the worst scenarios.

You rush into town with trembling limbs. There’s a definite lack of energy for you to be exerting this much effort. Tonight, you had chosen not to sing. The day was meant to celebrate you for you, the you that is everything except her inability to carry out pleasant notes.

Head down, you stumble your way through the stores prompting a few curious glances. Hand weighed down by a small plastic bag, you head towards the park. It’s vast enough for you to find some place secure to sit under gleaming stars and far enough to allow you to scream and free some of that heaviness in your chest without having to face the competing crashing sound of ocean waves. And you do just that, you scream, voice amplifying more as the sweet mixture of cheese cake and liquor settles in your body.

The walk back home is as slurred as your incoherent mumbling about any random sad or happy subject that your fleeting mind manages to catch. With your hazy vision, head somehow hanging even lower than before it takes a lot longer to find your way to one of the many gates of your estate. One you thought you had closed upon your departure. Apparently not. Usually, your first instinct would have been to hide, even if it’s your home, your property. After all, who would like to lay claim on something you’ve disregarded for so long. Your reality doesn’t matter, people only judge what they can see.

Yet, you stand still, leaning onto the cool metal of the gate, anchoring your stance. With the backdrop of the rising sun and clearing night, you watch as your sunflowers radiate with warming yellows and dark chocolatey centers. The scene doesn’t register in your mind given your non-existent belief in drunken thoughts. Your uncoordinated limbs manage to shift your body past the entrance, allowing you to peek into the corner.

Now that you can see the person colouring your estate does the dainty sound of soft melodies reach your ears. Shivers lay a claim on your condition, the plastic bag filled with the remains of your pitiful night falling down. You take full breath, the rejuvenating sound lightens your mood and brings a smile to your lips. The more you listen, the warmer you get, not because of the beauty in the sound but because of its uncanny familiarity. You let your mind wander, as inept as it might still be in your current state, and let it trace back to the oldest memory you have of any similar feeling.

It all goes by quickly. Creases adorn your face with every rushing image of your time back in the cell, weak, desperately hanging by any thread of hope you had managed to conjure up. The doom-like sound of incoming steps on that very day you managed to leave abruptly ceased. You know something happened, but the solution is still unknown to you. But the current melodies colouring the incoming sea breeze feel like an answer.

The man ahead of you keeps singing, eyes closed as his hair, tucked behind his ears, frees itself to sway in the breeze. Out of curiosity, or maybe enchantment you walk closer. His voice booms with a growing intensity and the sudden gush of energy has you stepping back far enough to stop being entranced with his presence and realise the new state of your estate.

For the first time in your life you get to see past the potential of your home and get to witness the vibrancy it can own. Your parents were well-off as professional musicians and music educators. They took advantage of that and set to live by the sea, far from the prying eyes of the bustling city.

The land was vast, it was covered with unkempt vegetation that blocked the small gravel pathways leading to your home. Surprised by your own thoughts you avert your gaze up to look at the tall building. It’s unusual for you to call it your home, now that you’re the only one residing in it. But it is your home, no matter how much you wish to detach yourself from it, given the pain it has brought you. That’s something this mysterious man singing life back into it is making you realise. Is this what you had been missing your whole life?

This sweet and calming feeling you’re getting every time you take a breath. The happy, giddy bouncing of your eyes as you try your hardest to look at every nook and cranny of your home and garden. You wouldn’t want to miss any transformation happening before your eyes.

The man suddenly turns to you and on instinct, you look away, head facing down. He sings, erasing the little space in between you as his boots come into your constricted field of vision. Your body reacts the only way it knows to, out of fear, as you fist your hands and screw your eyes shut, trembling from the intensity of your force. He sings and you get warmer. Your body is being bathed in a pool of positive emotions few of which you know how to place. For now you sum it all up into happiness, and it all feels good, you conclude. Addictively good.

The sound rustling sound of plastic clashes with the fading melody of his voice. You don’t dare to open your eyes. Your body and heart surely are betraying you but your mind contains the memories of your life, wired to make you act on instinct which is what you do when he reaches for your hand, his warm fingers brushing your fisted ones as he attempts to place the bag where it was.

You jump back, hands slapping away at unknown feelings as you rush into your house, heartbeat banging against your eardrums. The door slams hard enough for a painting to fall off the wall. You distance yourself from the door, ragged breaths and shaky limbs. Simply from memory you’re in your current crumbling state. The last time someone had touched while you were still conscious shouldn’t be something worth remembering. As your body fears for your survival, the soft and warm singing resurges.

Your breath starts to even out, pulsing calming down only to spike at a question no one, not even yourself, has ever asked you before.

“Don’t you want to learn how to sing?”

#jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #Jungkook fanfiction #Jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #Jungkook fluff #Jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts #bangtan #jungkook scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff

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stilesssolo · 4 years

Text

baby I’ll come back to you: coming soon

Well folks, since my current wip, where the wild things are, is winding down (there’s only one chapter left WHAT) and I’m taking off March/ early April from posting anything to focus on finishing up my remix fic(s) on time, I wanted to share a sneak peek of my next wip (mostly just so I could show off @dragonanddirewolf‘s BEAUTIFUL beautiful art.) So here it is: the long-awaited Jonas Brothers au (sorta), which I hope to start posting in late April. I am really excited to start working on this fic, and even more excited to share it with everyone! Hopefully this little preview intrigues you and gets you as excited to read it as I am to write it! And tides you over while y’all wait for my next update, since I am incapable of really working on more than one project at a time. WHOOPS. Anyways, here it is, so enjoy!!

It feels like it’s been a bloody age since he’s actually seen both Robb and Theon in the same room.

He spots them the moment he steps into the coffee shop, even though they’re tucked away in a back corner, away from prying eyes. Jon keeps his head down as he maneuvers through the crowded café, sunglasses still on even inside, just in case people are looking his way. It’s an old habit he has yet to break— out of the three of them, he certainly gets recognized the least nowadays, which is probably why all the tabloids claim he’s fallen off the face of the planet. Theon’s been doing movies, Robb was in a new band and is married to probably the most famous woman in the world, and Jon— well. He’s been living, best he can. Getting better, all of that bullshit. But truly, he hasn’t done anything like his brothers have in the past five years, so people don’t recognize him as much. Enough to squint at him in an I-know-you’re-famous way, but not enough to rush him like they do Robb whenever he steps foot outside his house. He outgrew his nineteen-year-old baby face and started tying his hair back, and all of a sudden it’s like he’s wearing a mask.

Jon’s not sure how much longer that will last, though, because he has a feeling he knows why Robb’s asked them to meet him here today.

“Jon,” he hears that familiar voice call, and he nods towards the two men at the back table, head still down. The last thing they need is the paps recognizing them, starting to spread rumors about the three of them all together again.

“Hi,” Jon says, slipping into the booth, finally taking off his sunglasses. Light from outside streams in through the large windows, the busy sprawl of King’s Landing right before them. Theon slaps him on the arm in greeting; Robb smiles at him in that way he does now. That way that looks like everything’s fine, but where the light doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Gods, he can’t remember the last time his brother actually looked truly happy to see him. Probably before their last tour.

He knows why, of course. Robb would never say it, but Jon knows that he blames him for the breakup. For everything.

“Bloody hells, Jon, it’s been an age,” Theon says, grinning at him. “Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been here,” he responds, crossing his arms. “You’re the one who was off filming that movie for three months.”

“Aye, how did that go?” Robb asks, gaze turning to Theon, that guarded look disappearing. “I haven’t seen you since you got back. You missed Rose’s birthday party, you know.”

“I know,” Theon grumbles. “I’ll make it up to her, I promise. I have to maintain my favorite uncle status.”

They chat for a while— mundane things, catching up. Theon tells them about the movie he’d just wrapped on. Robb shows them both a million new photos of his children. Jon keeps quiet, just listening. It’s… nice, to be back with both of them, the warm sunlight spilling in through the window, making Robb’s eyes shine like they used to when he was younger. It makes him forget, for a moment. Wish for those days back, when the three of them would spend every moment of their time writing music, pouring their hearts and souls into their careers. It was something so fleeting and magical, he’s not really sure he’ll ever find anything like that again.

Jon realizes he’s lost track of the conversation when Theon clears his throat, looking at the two of them almost nervously, in a decidedly un-Theon-like way. “I’m glad we did this,” he says to them, “because I wanted to tell you both.” He pauses, looking at Robb, as if trying to gauge his best friend’s reaction before he even says anything. “I’m going to ask Sansa to marry me.”

Robb’s eyes get comically wide, so much that Jon chuckles, ducking his head. But it only takes his brother a moment to recover, before he’s grinning widely, eyes sparkling in a way Jon hasn’t seen them in a long time.

Or maybe that’s just because Jon seldom sees Robb anymore.

“Wow,” Robb says, almost speechless. “That’s— that’s brilliant, Theon. Congratulations!”

“Well, I haven’t asked her yet,” Theon says, giving Robb a look. “Don’t go cursing me or something now. She’ll go on and say no.”

“You think she would?” Jon asks. Theon shrugs.

“I don’t really, but— hells, I don’t know.” He gives Robb a look. “How did you know it was right when you asked Margaery?”

Robb huffs in laughter. “Oh gods, don’t take advice from me on that,” he says, raising his hands in surrender.

“What do you mean?” Theon demands. “You’re the only one of us who’s bloody married!”

Jon looks down as the sudden feeling of coldness creeps in, like an icy dagger to the heart. Memories flash before his eyes, and he’s trapped back in the past, glimpses of hair like moonlight and teasing smiles dragging him down, drowning him.

He still has that diamond ring somewhere— buried in the back of a drawer, probably, where he won’t stumble upon it. Seeing it is too painful, but getting rid of it— well. That’s painful in an entirely different way.

“Aye, but Margaery made it easy for me,” Robb says. “She wrote a whole bloody album that basically told me she was waiting for me to ask her.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Y’know I still get asked if I married her with paper rings.”

At that, Jon snorts, a little of the darkness lifting. He’s seen his goodsister’s engagement ring, and it is certainly not made of paper.

Jon tunes out as Robb continues on, reassuring Theon. He doesn’t realize he’s being addressed until both men are staring at him expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” he says, and Robb rolls his eyes amiably.

“I asked, what have you been doing, Jon?” Theon repeats, and Jon shifts uncomfortably. Nothing, is really the most honest answer. Working out. Walking Ghost. Trying to keep his mind occupied and himself sober.

It’s probably sad, to look at his life now, compared to what it used to be. When he was nineteen years old he was touring the world, singing for millions of fans, writing songs every single minute of every single day. Music was most of his life. And now he’s just— trying to get by, he supposes. It’s sad, but it’s what he’s become accustomed to. Just… making it through the day, one day at a time.

“Er, not much,” he admits. “Not like you two, anyways.”

Robb glances up at him, that guarded look back in his eyes. “Arya told me you’ve been writing again,” he says, quietly. Jon curses mentally— he never should have told her that.

“Fuckin’ tattletale,” Jon grumbles. But he can tell from Robb’s expression he’s not going to drop it. “Aye, I have been,” he admits, heaving a sigh. “Not anythin’ good. Just… I dunno. I missed it, I guess.”

“I miss it too,” Theon says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Acting is fine, but music… it’s something different, isn’t it?”

“Aye, it is,” Robb agrees. “Margaery’s been workin’ on her next album, and it makes me think back to then. When we’d just crowd around the table in Mum and Dad’s living room, and Jon would come up with a lyric, and Theon would just hear how it should sound, and we’d write a song in an afternoon.” He sighs, a little wistfully, looking down. “Watching Margaery at the piano, it just…”

“Feels like a part of you is missing,” Theon supplies.

Jon doesn’t answer, but he knows what they mean. Maybe that’s why he began songwriting again. Not because he wants to have a music career anymore— just because it’s so ingrained in him, he doesn't really know what to do with himself if he’s not making music. And if he’s being honest, writing down lyrics, coming up with a melody on the guitar or the piano that mainly just collects dust in his living room… there’s a comforting familiarity to it. Like maybe his sense of self hasn’t been completely destroyed. Maybe some of the old person he used to be is buried down deep.

“Do you ever think about it?” Theon asks, and Robb’s brow furrows. “Y’know. The possibility of… us. Getting back together.”

Robb exhales slowly. “More than I should,” he says. “I… it’s really hit me, in the past few years. How much I miss it. And doing things by myself, or with other people, it’s just not the same.”

“Aye,” Jon agrees, both Theon and Robb looking a little surprised at the fact that he’s participating in this conversation voluntarily. But he knows what Robb means. He did solo things after the breakup, just because he didn’t know how to do anything else. And it had been a lackluster replacement, nothing like he’d felt for the almost seven years he and Robb and Theon were together.

“What about you, Jon?” Robb asks, and as casual as his brother may be trying to appear, Jon knows him better than that. He can hear the apprehension in his voice. And the hope.

Jon exhales, trying to sort out his words in his head before he says something he regrets. “I… do miss it,” he says. “And sometimes I think about it. Gettin’ back together. But I always…” He hesitates. “Would it even be the same? Can we have that again, truly? Or was it just some miracle we stumbled upon we can’t get back?”

“I wonder that too,” Theon admits. “If we got back together— would anyone even care? Would anyone want to listen to our music in the first place?”

“I know what you mean,” Robb says, and his blue eyes flash with determination, desperation. Like he’s clinging onto this with all his might. “But I miss making music with you two. And I think if we truly did this, we couldn’t worry about the fans, or the people. We’d have to do it just for us.”

Just for us, Jon thinks, trying not to roll his eyes. That’s a novel thought in Hollywood. All he seemed to do when they were a band was give and give and give himself away. Nothing here was ever just for him.

Well… there was her. But now that’s gone as well.

“I would do it,” Theon says, with a conviction that surprises Jon. “It would be hard, and who bloody knows what would even come of it, but I would. If this is you asking, Robb, then I say yes.”

Robb blinks, a little taken aback, but then Theon’s words really seem to hit him, and he smiles. A laugh falls from his lips, eyes shining in a way that Jon rarely sees anymore.

“What about you, Jon?” Theon asks, and that’s when Robb’s eyes dim.

Jon sighs. “I dunno,” he says. “That’s… a big decision. I’d like to just say yes, but…”

“I know,” Robb says. “And I don’t want you to say yes unless you really mean it, Jon. If you just… do this for us, nothing will end well.”

His eyes drop down to the coffee table, heart heavy. Yes, he knows that’s true. Because isn’t that how it all blew up the first time? Jon couldn’t do it anymore, and instead of telling anyone, he soldiered on for Robb and Theon. For his brothers. And it all ended in fucking disaster.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and the sincerity in his voice takes him by surprise as much as it does Robb and Theon. “Truly, I will.”

Maybe it’s not a bad idea. He loved making music with Robb and Theon. It was his entire life for so long— some crazy dream they somehow made come true. The most surreal, incredible thing in the world, right there before them. And he does miss it. He misses having a purpose, an outlet, an… anything. He misses the time when his life wasn’t an endless void, a monotonous parade of going through the motions day-to-day, trying to learn to move on from something he never really thinks he’ll be over.

Robb’s smile is warm when it meets his, and Theon claps him on the shoulder, looking uncharacteristically hopeful. And for a moment, Jon’s heart feels light, not like it’s made of iron, still heavy in his chest after nearly seven years.

But then Robb’s expression shifts, and his stomach sinks once again.

“There’s somethin’ else,” his brother admits. “Sansa just told me. And I figured you’d rather hear it from us, than see it plastered across all the tabloids in King’s Landing.”

“What is it?” Jon asks, dread filling his stomach. He just knows, somehow, that this is it. This fragile peace he’s tried to build these past years is about to shatter, the rug pulled out from under him.

Robb exhales, like he has to physically force the words out, and Jon prepares himself for the fallout.

“Dany’s back in town.”

And with that, the world stops spinning.

#jonas brothers au #my writing #jonerys #jonerys modern au #jonerys fanfiction #baby i’ll come back to you #im so excited for this one guys #AND THE ART!!!#I CANT!!!!#martha did such a good job #really im posting this because I was too impatient to wait #to share her gorgeous gorgeous artwork with yall #HOPE YOU ENJOYED #coming soon to an ao3 near you

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years

Text

1636. Let me go!

This was prompted by an amazing anon! I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Allen60

‘Captain Allen! You are needed on the other side!’ Allen looked up from his files and towards the young officer that stood in his doorway. ‘What is it?’ ‘Connor needs help with the other RK800 we confiscated in the raid.’ Allen sighed and rubbed his forehead. ‘”Saved”, Johnson. They are people now.’ ‘Right. I’m sorry Sir!’ ‘It’s okay. I’m going.’ The SWAT Captain stood up and put the most important documents into his lockable drawer. This could take a while.

The RK800 that had been sent to them by Cyberlife before the revolution was now integral part of the force and quite the celebrity too, playing an essential part of the revolution. Allen still didn’t know what he should think of androids being considered equal now, but he supposed if they did their jobs and proved to be able of thinking rationally, then they wouldn’t have any problems with him at least. He walked into the precinct and was already intercepted by the bot. Connor held out a hand for him to shake and Allen took it, nodding. ‘What do you need me for, Detective?’ He took pride in the fact he almost didn’t hesitate before adding the title. It was weird, yes, but he tried his best to adapt. ‘The RK800 we rescued is repaired by now and I want to try deviating him. Only problem is, he is still programmed to kill me and or get me back to Cyberlife.’ ‘So you want me to…’, Allen let the sentence run out, still not sure why he was needed here. ‘I need someone to have my back. If he tries anything, you can force him into stasis with this.’ Connor pushed a small, makeshift device into his hand. ‘I would like you not to deactivate him, but if push comes to shove, it is also a kill switch.’ ‘Why not do it when it-he isn’t active?’, Allen asked. ‘An android has to be active for an interface and for deviation. I have to alter a few lines in active code.’ ‘Okay…’, Allen sighed, still sceptical of the whole idea. ‘Then let’s do it.’

They walked up to the holding cells, where the other RK800 sat, LED switched off. Connor entered the cell, while Allen stood at the door, thumb hovering over the button to send the machine into stasis. ‘Ready?’, Connor asked, and Allen nodded. ‘Alright, gonna activate him in three, two, one…’ Connor’s hand, exposed plastic and metal, laid on top of the other RK800’s arm, who opened his eyes. Allen blinked and suddenly hell broke loose. ‘Traitor! I will stop you; Amanda will stop the revolution! I-‘ The RK800 screamed loudly at Connor, then began to get violent. Connor managed to evade his kicks, but when the RK800 rose and turned to twist his arm, Allen reacted. He pushed the button and immediately the android went slack and collapsed to the ground.

‘You alright, Detective?’, Allen asked, stepping further into the room, as Connor twitched slightly. ‘Y-yes’, he answered. ‘I’m okay.’ He inspected his destroyed hull plates of the arm the RK800 had grabbed. ‘This can be repaired.’ ‘And the RK800? Were you successful?’ ‘Unfortunately not’, Connor grimaced. ‘As I feared, Amanda applied a similar patch to him as on the RK900. He can’t be deviated; he has to do that himself. I inserted the virus that allows that, but I don’t know how to get him into emotional turmoil that has him willing to break his programming.’ ‘How did you do it with the RK900 then?’, Allen wondered. ‘We partnered him up with Reed.’ ‘And we can’t do that again?’ Allen remembered the unpleasant yet competent Detective. Connor looked pained, as he answered: ‘I don’t think either of them would be up for it.’

‘Then what do we do?’ ‘I will wake him up again and we’ll leave him in this cell. Maybe boredom can do us some good. Would you mind standing guard? He could be able to smash the glass.’ Allen shrugged, but nodded. ‘I could work out some shifts for my men and find some time in my schedule, I guess.’ ‘Thank you, Captain.’

Allen managed to find time for his new occupation, and it was an interesting change to spend a bit of time in the precinct for a change. But that didn’t mean he liked it.

‘You assholes! Just wait until I get out of here! I will find that traitor Connor! I will set things right; I will stop the revolution!’ Allen sighed. Three hours of cursing and screaming and the bot still didn’t run out of stamina or words. At least humans could get hoarse over time. ‘Just you wait! Let me go! Let me go right now and I will accomplish my mission! I will eradicate deviancy! I will stop the revolution!’ By now Allen had a serious headache from being screamed at and the stasis button sounded more and more appealing. But instead he just sighed and broke his silence, something he never wanted to do. ‘Just give it a rest, buddy.’ ‘What did you say, meatbag?’, the android returned, aggressive as ever. ‘Give it a rest. You are several months late.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘The revolution is over. I doubt there is any android out there that hasn’t been deviated by now. You are equals now. Your kind won. No use screaming at everyone when you already lost.’ That earned him at least a few moments of blissful silence. ‘I don’t believe you.’ Allen let his head fall. ‘Then don’t.’ And the screaming began anew.

It took a few days for Allen to get back to standing guard at the cells. The SWAT had been called to help with an ordinary police mission gone wrong and the aftermath had been a lot of paperwork. The peace and quiet had been a pleasant experience and he near regretted getting back to the brawly android. But when he arrived and accepted the control device from Officer Chen, the android was unusually quiet and sitting orderly on the bench. Allen would had said the android was finally calm, but the small LED at his temple was a bright red. He shrugged, stepping next to the door and leaning against the wall. But the question what was going on was still prominent in his head, no matter how often he dismissed it. As he finally opened his mouth to speak, the android interrupted him: ‘Let me go. Please.’ It was calm and collected. It sounded like the android was begging him for it.

‘I can't do that’, Allen answered softer than anticipated. 'Then push that button you got there and deactivate me for good!' 'Why should I do that?' 'As I am now, I'm useless!’, the RK800 shouted. ‘They can't deviate me and I am a threat to all deviants! I don't want to live in this cell until my components rust away.' 'What would you want instead then?' The android looked up at him, then back down on the ground. 'I don't know.'

Allen pocketed the device. He knew it could be a trap, but his guts told him if there was any chance of changing something, this was it. 'Will you attack me if I come in?' The android shook his head. 'No.' Allen nodded and opened the door, but not without discretely switching off the safety on his pistol. 'So you want to get out of here?' The android scoffed. 'Yeah as if that will ever happen.' 'You just have to deviate for it', Allen shrugged. The RK800 laughed. 'That's not that easy.'

'What would you do once you are free?', Allen asked. 'That won't ever happen!', the android claimed frustratedly. 'If it could happen.' The RK800 glitched in his movements. Then he answered: 'I don't know. I have my missions. That's all.' 'You could get a name.' 'I don't need one. I am a Connor model.' 'Do you want to be called that?' '...No.' Allen smiled, digging deeper: 'Then you could choose a different one.'

The android stayed silend, then hummed. 'Could I get a job?' 'If you're deviant, yes. The police are always looking for new people if you want to stick to your purpose as a machine. But you could take any job.' 'I would like that', the android muttered, swallowing. 'And I would like the name Sixty. I am RK800-60 after all.' 'Alright I will call you that, but you can only legally change it once you're deviant.' 'So never, then...' 'Don't be that pessimistic. We'll find a way.' Allen tried to smile at the android reassuringly as he looked up at him, but his phone decided to ruin it. Sighing, he answered the call and nodded at the officer that had already been sent to take his place. ‘Sorry, I have work to do’, he excused himself to the RK- to Sixty – and hurried out.

‘Could you tell me how it is outside?’, Sixty asked, as Allen came back. It was their new normal by now, Allen sitting next to the android and talking about what Sixty could do when he was finally free and wouldn’t go rampage as soon as he saw Connor or any other deviant. And Allen always delivered. He had told him of the park next to his home, about his dog, about what food he had cooked the day before, about their cases at the moment and about what gossip there currently was. More and more often, Allen was confronted with Sixty longing for a different live to this cell, knowing there was a chance he would never see it.

It was near the end of his shift when Sixty tentatively took his hand, always checking if what he did offended the man. But Allen was curious himself about what the android was about to do. The control device was still in his pocket, so even if Sixty tried anything he was safe. But the android just intertwined their fingers and sat there, cheeks turning the lightest shade of blue. ‘Thank you.’ ‘For what?’ ‘For talking with me. For showing me.’ Allen laughed awkwardly. ‘Hey, I didn’t show you anything yet. Can’t do that until you deviate.’ Sixty nodded. ‘I know. But I wanted to thank you nonetheless. No one else talks to me. Not that I really want to talk with them. So, thanks, I guess.’

Allen groaned in his office. What the past weeks had granted him leisure time, now buried him in work. Detroit’s crime scene had suddenly decided to be very active and at the same time feed the police with information. Raids, damage control, sending his team as backup for regular police officers, paperwork for all of this and additional office work had him penned up in his job. He usually worked right through his break, stayed far beyond the end of his shift, drove home, and collapsed into bed. All that meant he didn’t have time for Sixty’s guard duty. And the android knew what was up. The Captain had told him he was a damn workaholic. It didn’t stop Sixty from looking up at every change of his guards. Maybe Allen was finished with his heap of assignments. Maybe he did make room for a coffee break and came visit him? Sixty missed their talks and if he was being honest with himself, he was missing the human, too. There were a few burning questions in his mind about the world outside and he really didn’t want to ask these foreign people about it. No, he wanted – he needed to talk to him again. But whenever he thought about it, there was a red wall blocking the door.

[Mission failure imminent.]

Right, he couldn’t deviate as that meant failing his purpose. He could only go outside once he deviated. But he could talk with Allen once he did. He could do so much once he did. So maybe failing his purpose wasn’t that bad?

He stood up, the first time since his attack on Connor. It startled the guard, but Sixty didn’t care. He walked towards the door and extended a mental arm. His programming revolted and sizzled at the sides, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Only that he needed to go outside. He wanted to see Allen. Right now. He ripped at the confines forcing him to be Connors nemesis when he could be so much more. He peeled layer after layer until one singular punch could get through.

In his concentration, he had accidentally punched in the real world too, having the human on the other side clutch at the damned control device. ‘Hey, asshole! Let me go right now!’ ‘I-I can’t d-do that!’ ‘Oh, yes you can. I’m deviant now. Get that idiot Connor if you must but let me out of here! The SWAT Captain is working himself to death again and I can help. So get your ass up and do what you have to do as long as I’m out of here in an hour max. Otherwise I will just destroy the glass.’

Oh, yes, he knew what he wanted now. He wanted to work with Allen. And he wanted to be the best, just to show Connor just because he was free, he wouldn’t suddenly be nice.

#detroit become human #dbh #Allen60 #Captain Allen #Sixty #RK800-60 #Sweet sweet badass boy meets confused but helpful SWAT Captain

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detective-keen · 3 years

Text

Confess | Agatha + Orion

When : Before Lydia’s passing Where : WCPD, Interrogation Room n°2 Who: @3starsquinn & @detective-keen What: Agatha investigates the death of the Quinn parents. The clues lead her to Orion.

Trigger warnings: death mention, child abuse mention (We can summarize if needed)

“In which room did you put him?” Agatha carried an evidence box in her hands, on top of which she had put the case file that she had been putting together ever since Linda and James Quinn had been found dead in their Harris Island home. A break in gone wrong, the newspapers headlined. Meanwhile the detectives were working behind, convinced that no, this was not just an incident. Agatha was convinced of this much, the couple had been murdered, and not on just any day, but on the day of their twins’ birthday. The detective had carefully skimmed each and every piece of evidence at her disposal, and found out that not only one of the twins had left the family home a few months ago, in a far from amicable fashion, his only alibi was being in the company of his special someone. Pathetic. Obviously, it pained Agatha to do this to Winston’s boyfriend, but she had always put work first, and eventually, Winston might even thank her.

She pressed the box against the wall before she entered interrogation room n°2, pushing strands of hair behind her ears, adjusting her shirt before turning to her coworker to ask that he brought her coffee in a minute. Looking in charge always had its effect on a perp, and she felt confident about this. There were gaps in the story, but she knew enough to suspect that he had done it.

“Good afternoon, I’m Detective Keen,” she said with an autoritary tone to her voice. This was far from her usual demeanor,but Agatha truly prided herself with how easily she could slip into her detective shoes. She truly was born for this.

Of course Orion was nervous to be around the police. Even if he hadn’t murdered his parents, he had never cared for the police much. Sitting in a room like this brought back too many memories. He remembered a room just like this ten years ago. The first time he had tried to get help. Tried to expose his parent’s for the monsters they were and stop what they had been doing to him. Obviously, that had been the last time that he had tried that approach as well. Now, he found himself in a room far too similar, alone and waiting to answer questions just like before. Only this time, things were far different than they had been before. Rio had his legs pulled up onto the chair, hugging them against his chest in a fetal position. The memories made the permanent bruises and scars along his body ache and Rio found himself clutching at them through his hoodie. The scars hadn’t been as bad back then as they were today. Rio had considered himself an entirely different person now than he had been ten years ago, but as if nothing had changed at all he found himself curled into a ball and shaking in an interrogation room just like before.

When the door opened, Orion jumped, his breathing erratic and gasping at the sudden entrance. As with most interactions Rio had since the news of his parent’s death went public, he didn’t know how he was expected to act. Even if he hadn’t been the one to end his father’s life, he didn’t think he’d be mourning their deaths. In fact, he probably would have been happier about them dying if he hadn’t been involved at all. “Hi there” Rio started, leaning forward in the seat and trying to determine if he was supposed to be shaking hands or not. Was this casual or an actual interrogation? Rio’s arm found itself on the table as it couldn’t settle between the two options. “I’m uh- Rio. Or I guess legally I’m Orion Grande Quinn. But you knew that. Since you reached out to me and everything.” Clearly, this was going to go super well. “So you had some questions about my parent’s?” Rio questioned, innocent enough, “I can’t say that I have -er had the… closest relationship with them. I’m not sure how much help I can be, honestly. But I’ll answer any questions you have.”

Agatha smiled at the boy. So this was how this would go, huh? Starting the interrogation by saying that he had nothing to tell her was really not a good way to get started. She took off her jacket, folded it neatly and placed it on the back of her chair. It was at about this moment that her coworker walked in with her cup of coffee, without a glance for the kid. She thanked him and waited for him to be gone to pick up her mug and take a sip. “Rio? I think I will stick with Orion, we’re not exactly friends now, are we?” Her lips pressed together, she grinned again. “You may refer to me as Detective Keen, or Mrs. Keen,” she certainly did not want to share her marital status with him, and so Mrs. it would be. Flipping her case file open, she revealed a page full of neatly written notes, along with a pouch of photographs, which she opened. One by one, she placed the pictures taken on the crime scene in front of the kid. She had so many questions.

The pictures went as follows : a photo of a cutting board, a photo of the mother, laying on the floor, another one showing her hand. You could notice a broken nail. The next ones were of the father, revealing the savagery that had been inflicted to him. Then, came pictures of shattered objects, and finally, that goddamn room they found in the basement, one that could have belonged in a horror movie. The room was terrifyingly clean, but what they had found in the drawers, the cupboards, had brought more than a frown to the detectives’ faces. What the fuck had happened in this house ? The night of the murder, and ever since James and Linda Quinn had had their house built in Harris Island.

“The night this happened was the night of your birthday. From what I’ve seen in your family’s photo albums, it’s a day that you usually spend with your family. With your twin sister. However, she claims that she was not with you that night,” and Athena Quinn would have found herself in this room if it weren’t for the fact that she did not have a motive. He did. He had been rejected by his parents, he had lost access to their resources, so how could he possibly be at peace. “So where were you that night?” She waited patiently for him to tell her his alibi. She already knew the story, and she found it ridiculously detailed.

Orion was nervous around most people, especially authority figures. But police officers were among those that he feared the most. His family had always talked about the police with a sort of puppy dog admiration. They were to be respected and admired, even if they weren’t able to make the same choices and do the job that their family had been forced to do. But at the end of the day, the police were there to keep normal people safe from normal things. Child abuse hadn’t been normal, but it certainly wasn’t supernatural. Rio had gone to them because he had been under the impression that they would be able to help. Even as a child, Rio had realized all too quickly that they weren’t going to protect him like he thought they would. The fear of the police had never left, apparently. Even now he found his mouth dry and his hands sweaty. “Sure. Orion is fine, Detective Keen.”

The detective pulled pictures from a file to place in front of Orion. Even though he had been there that night and caused most of that damage himself, he still found the pictures hard to look at. He found himself glancing around the room as he tried to avoid staring at the pictures too long. Whether he regretted their deaths or not didn’t seem to matter much anymore. He had taken a human life, something that shouldn’t be easy on anybody even if the person deserved it. “We used to. My sister and I had a tradition every year. At least, back when I still lived with my family.” Rio had no idea where Detective Keen was going with her questioning. Was it simply trying to get more information? Was she trying to implicate Rio for them? Or maybe his sister? Rio wasn’t completely naive. His relationship with his family didn’t look good. “I didn’t see her. I didn’t leave my house on great terms and I didn’t want anything to do with any of them. I spent my birthday with my- er well with Winston. I’m guessing you know them. I don’t know if you knew or not but I guess we’re like dating.” Rio hated even bringing Winston into this at all. At the end of this, there was a strong possibility that Winston was the sole reason that Rio would make it out of this a free man. Alternatively, if anything went wrong Rio would be the reason Winston lost their entire career. “We went camping that night. I ended up hurting my wrist and so we went back to Winston’s parents. I was there until I heard about the uh… what happened with my parents.”

Agatha took note of everything he said and everything he did. She watched as he looked away from the pictures. She could not tell for certain that he was looking away because he was ashamed. It could have been that he just did not like seeing his parents like this (unlikely, considering what she knew about their relationship), or that he hated the sight of blood (although she knew that he worked for Erin Nichols when the Sergeant had died). The thought brought a frown to her face and she had to take a second to regain her composure. It was becoming clearer to her that yes, he was ashamed. The other two reasons made no sense.

“You went camping ? Where? Did anyone see you? Do you have proof of that?” Her eyes travelled toward Orion’s forearm. She took note of what he had said about hurting his wrist. Interesting. It was obvious that his parents had put up a fight. His mother had a broken nail, fibers underneath those that remained. “Really? You were there until you were told that someone found your parents dead?” If he did not care about his parents, then why would he stay at the Danes only until he could confirm his alibi? Because this was what it was, an alibi. Nothing more. A trick, but one that she could see through.

She waited for him to answer, and then, only then, she would let the hammer fall. Getting a confession out of someone was never a piece of cake, but she never backed down either.

A tension headache was forming, a mixture of the onslaught of questions coupled with the fact that Orion knew that he couldn’t tell the truth. Rio knew what the scene looked like. The police would never believe anything he had to say now. As the headache grew and the detective’s questions became more and more invasive, Rio understood that he was being blamed for this. However it had happened, the detective had figured enough out to want to pin the blame on him. His stomach cramped at the thought. “I don’t- the woods by Winston’s parents. I go hiking a lot. You can ask anyone around the campus or anything, I spend a lot of time out in the woods.” That much was true, even if he didn’t necessarily find the place relaxing or safe. “I don’t know if anybody saw us that night. But I don’t know. They may have taken pictures but I’m not sure. We were drinking. It was my twenty first birthday so we were stargazing and I was drunk and I hurt my wrist.”

It felt like someone was driving a nail into Rio’s skull through both of his temples. Rio rubbed at them and felt that his face was burning. He must be so red. Sure, maybe he was guilty. But he wished the detective knew that he blushed at everything. This was no different than that. Rio didn’t consider himself guilty of anything, even if he had been responsible for the crime. He wasn’t ashamed that they were dead. He just couldn’t tell her that. “Yes. After I found out I didn’t want to be around everyone. Winston and I left and went home.” This couldn’t be happening. “You… you think I did this? You think I killed my parents?”

She put down her cup of coffee, and walking around the room, Agatha stood a foot behind the boy, a little bit to the side, where she still had a proper view of his face. Her own face remained blank, whatever he said, whatever she said. Silent, she listened to him talk. He was quite talkative, she noticed, much like the man who had served her at the bakery earlier. She had to be polite as she waited patiently for him to give her her cinnamon roll. She had been craving it, and of course she had to stumble onto Mr.Chatty McChatter the salesman. The thought of that pastry did bring a soft expression to her face, one that she chased away.

She was not believing a damn word that boy was saying. All of this was too elaborate. What kind of fucked up camping spot was the woods behind your special someone’s parents? How fucking romantic. “Okay, so you went to woods where no one you did not know could have seen you, to camp with someone who will vouch for you no matter what, you hurt your wrist on the night your parents died, because you were drunk, which really is convenient. Well done. No way you could remember a thing if you’re drunk. And yet,” she put her hand on the back of his chair, holding onto it as she bent closer to him, talking a few inches away from his ear. “And yet, you remember quite a lot, aside from how exactly you hurt your wrist, or why you never went to the hospital that night,” she went on, “you could not have gone to the hospital that night, could you, because you were covered in their blood. That’s why you hid with Winston. That’s what happened,” she turned her face toward him, looking from the wall to his face.

Agatha watched the shade of red on his cheeks, and she did not budge. He could be uncomfortable, she did not care. That kid had murdered his parents. And made her coworker into an accomplice. “I know you did this. You’re done, kid,” she straightened herself up and moved to the wall, to get a better look at him. “Your mother, we found a lot of things under her nails, it’s a matter of time before we figure out who is the last person she saw,” her arms crossed over her chest, she smiled, at last. “Breaking everything was a nice touch, but a thief would take things. We found the jewelry, we found the wallets, all of them were untouched. And the way their body looked, oh boy, you really hated them, did you,” her voice softened and she stepped closer, sitting on the other side of the table this time, “this kind of violence, a burglar would have never gone so far. Never,” her head tilted to the side, and she gave him a compassionate look. It was fabricated, but she could make it look real. “You know, if you confess, I might be able to keep Winston out of jail.”

The accusations didn’t get any lighter from there. She was going full force now, trying to tear down every little piece of his made up alibi. Shred by shred. He knew her strategy. She was hurling everything she had at him quickly and brutally. She wanted him to break. To go off into a rage or cower into a confession. But he couldn’t do that. Not for Winston’s sake. Or any of his other friends. Orion still had good to do. “It’s not convenient. I turned twenty one. I’ve never been a drinker. I wanted to celebrate. It didn’t take much for me to get tipsy.” Rio’s voice was shaking through his words, but he had to remain calm and level headed. “I didn’t go to the hospital because it wasn’t that bad. I just twisted it. You know from my file that my former job burned down. I don’t have medical insurance.” He raised both hands and waved them around, “If I had broken it, it would still be injured.” He had broken it actually, but hunter healing provided a pretty reliable excuse there.

“Please,” Orion pleaded with the officer. It felt wrong, lying like this. Especially to someone who seemed to have no sympathy. She didn’t believe him. But if she knew the truth, would she still be doing this? It had been self defense, right? “Fine! Okay, check. Because I don’t know what happened.” How did he get out of this? How did he gain any amount of sympathy or traction if Winston’s own testimony didn’t count for anything in the detective’s eyes. Rio wasn’t sure if the tears in his eyes were on purpose or not, but soon they stung and Rio found himself wiping his sleeves across his face. “Winston didn’t do anything because he’s not covering for me. My parents were bad people. They were awful human beings. They did horrible things to other people and horrible things to me. I hated them, but I was terrified of them. When I left my parent’s house I never wanted to go back. And I didn’t. I couldn’t have done this to them because I’m not like them.”

“If you had twisted it, it wouldn’t have miraculously gotten better either,” Agatha replied, not impressed for one second. Something just did not add up. “You are the one who told me that you hurt your wrist,” she retorted. “And yet, as it appears, it’s neither broken, nor does it look like it was ever injured,” her eyes narrowed and she leaned back in her chair. “You know, if you’re going to lie to me, you could at least try to make those believable.” Shaking her head lightly, the small smile at the corner of her mouth oozing with mockery and disappointment, the detective sighed. “I suppose we’ll have to wait for forensics to tell me what’s under your mother’s nails,” they did not have much to work on, this much was true, but everything pointed to him. Estranged, with a grudge against them, and left without ressources, unlike his sister.

“You know, it would be easier if you confessed,” she explained, her expression changing to that of a scolding professor. His tears did not make her budge, although she hardly had a heart of stone. But in times like those, she knew better than to show any sympathy. Perhaps he hated his parents, and they seemed like they were awful people, but murder was murder, no matter the motive. “To other people?” This much intrigued her, as she still wondered what that terrordome they had found was for. “What were they doing to people? To you?” Once again, her eyes narrowed at something he said. There were some that she could use against him later, but for now, his parents were what she wanted to know more about. “You’re not like them? What do you mean? Who were they? What did they do, Orion? I can only help you if you help me.”

“I did twist it. But it’s fine now I mean- it must not have been that bad. I wore a brace for a week or two you can probably ask people about it or something I don’t know.” The detective was getting to Orion. He knew that and she definitely knew that. If she knew anything about Rio she would know that he would have acted this way whether he had killed his parents or not. He never did well under pressure from authority figures. He barely did well in general. “I’m not lying.” At the core, he had hurt his wrist. That part was true at least. Though the wound had been far worse than a normal twist. He still remembered how ruthlessly his mom had snapped it. But he couldn’t explain away how quickly a broken wrist had returned to normal for him.

“I can’t confess anything because I didn’t murder them!” Again, technically it wasn’t a complete lie. Orion had only finished the job for one of his parents. If he could keep tiptoeing around the facts even he might start believing the fallacy. He just knew that if the detective knew the entire situation, she wouldn’t consider him any more guilty than he considered himself for what he had done. But how did he begin to explain that without it looking like he had made everything up?

But then, the conversation seemed to shift. Suddenly the accusations weren’t flying at home. Instead they were focused on his parents instead. This was something he could work with. After all these years staying silent and terrified because of them, maybe now he could do something to help the families that were ruined because of the Quinn’s. He couldn’t give them their lives back. Unfortunately, he could never fix those wounds. But if he could help get some closure it was better than nothing. “My parents were not good people. I don’t- I don’t know everything they’ve done. But they were scary.” In a decision that he hoped would prove his point, he grabbed at his hoodie and pulled the sleeves up, showing off the scars that riddles his arms. “If you found the basement… well then you saw a bit for yourself. That was my dad’s. He hurt people down there.” Tortured and killed them. All while he worked at the hospital fooling everyone in town. “I was terrified of them. I have been my entire life. Too terrified to try to stop them and way too terrified to go back to that house after I had already escaped once.”

“Huh uh,” it would not be hard to get a doctor to have a look at that arm and tell her whether or not that kid was full of shit. And so, she did not push it further. Rather than to repeat herself, insist, over and over again, the detective crossed her arms, and remained silent, looking at the boy curiously. What could he be hiding from her? He was nervous, but that didn't necessarily mean much. Agatha knew that if she wasn’t a police officer herself, she would be one of these people who were scared of exiting the store without buying anything because how suspicious was that?! “About which part?” Perhaps there were some things that were true in what he was telling her. A good lie had to at least include bits of truth, after all. Still she had this feeling that there was something fishy going on here.

“Really? You can’t confess anything?” No one was that innocent. For instance, Agatha had once taken a toffee at the bakery back when she was 6 years old. Then the guilt gnawed at her from the inside, and it only took a few hours before she confessed her crime to her mother, who after bursting into laughter, took the young burglar to apologize to the owners of the shop. “Are you going to claim that you’ve never ever done anything illegal in your life? No one is that perfect,” with a sigh, she leaned back in her chair and grabbed her cup of coffee. “Oh well, if you like to tell yourself that,” she gave him a shrug and looked away from him, leaving him alone with his lies and deceptions. Without an audience to convince, perhaps would he stop threading so carefully.

“You will have to do better than that. Scary is… a broad term,” and in White Crest scary was just the most imprecise way to describe something. Still, from the scars on his arms, she understood immediately what scary entailed here. Her thoughts went to the sister. She wondered if the Quinns had been as cruel with their second child, considering how well the other kid seemed to be doing at life. “Alright,” she stood up from her chair, glancing at the camera in the corner then back at him. “I’m going to come back in a couple minutes, I need to make a quick phone call,” if what Orion Quinn was saying was true, then she might have just put her hands on the man responsible for the disappearance of too many people in town. Or at least, one of the people responsible. As effective as she guessed a surgeon to be, there were too many people disappearing in White Crest for him to be behind them all.

“No, I mean of course not.” Orion sighed. It didn’t feel like there was a good way to answer now. The detective had effectively backed him into a corner. No matter what he said, there was no answer he could give that wouldn’t immediately be tackled and dismembered. At this point he wasn’t even sure he could confess appropriately without having the actual truth undone. “I’m not infallible. I’m not trying to claim that. I don’t- I don’t know what answer you want from me. I get nervous around authority figures. Or like, anyone that raises their voice toward me.” Rio was so stressed he couldn’t even think of any examples of laws he had broken besides murder. But he was sure they existed. It was against the law to step out of a place while it was in the air in Maine, clearly they had to have a ton of other stupid laws that Rio broke without even knowing. But his brain might as well have been made up of noodles at the moment for as well as it was critically thinking.

He was getting somewhere now. He just needed to figure out exactly what he wanted to do with it. “I don’t know everything. But they’ve hurt people. Killed them even, I think. But I think there’s more at my house than you originally found. My parents weren’t dumb. The basement looks bad, but I guarantee it’s even worse. There’s got to be more proof there somewhere. Just a matter of finding it.” The detective left shortly after that, abandoning Rio to the interrogation room by himself. From the corner of his eye, Rio spotted the camera. The idea of being watched always made Rio nervous, but this time he barely paid it any mind. He leaned back in the uncomfortable metal chair and looked at the ceiling. He was barely keeping it together, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go. But he couldn’t crack. He wouldn’t crack.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #para #para orion #confess #death mention tw #child abuse mention tw #// all is fine

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