#and i was like yes darling i have actually been wildly aware of this fact for the past hour or so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

omg-imatotalmess · 4 years

Text

Pet Names

Hey guys! I have had the headcanon that George would turn into a puddle when you call him something sweet, and my hypothetical question got lots of positive responses. So, here I am, yet again, offering a subby boy because that’s my specialty. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!), sub!George, dom!reader, pet name kink, praise kink, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, riding, swearing

---

There was one thing about dating George Weasley that was an absolute fact: George loved pet names. Of course, you knew that to a degree. Since you started dating, it had become a rarity that he called you by your given name. You would have hated it from anyone else. Pet names typically weren't your thing, but you couldn't bring yourself to hate them when his voice dripped with sweetness. However, it never really occurred to you that he might want you to use them too. It wasn't until the two of you were lying on a couch in the Room of Requirement that you even thought about it.

Snuggled up to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he dozed, you began to reflect on the whole pet name situation. He always had something sweet on the tip of his tongue while you only ever called him George. Georgie, if you were feeling particularly affectionate. You wondered if it bothered him that you didn't have a cute name for him. It wasn't like he'd ever asked, but sometimes he had trouble asking for things that he thought were embarrassing without joking about it. He always gave you delightfully cheesy nicknames when people were around that could easily be brushed off as joking. So maybe the embarrassment thing was the case. He just didn't exactly know how to ask.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your head, sweetheart," George said, breaking you from your musings.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," you said, nuzzling his neck affectionately.

"Wasn't sleeping before anyway. Even if I was, what goes on in that brain of yours has to be more interesting," he said. Smiling, you rolled completely on top of him so you could see him better. "Well, hello there."

"You caught me. I was thinking again," you said.

"Were you thinking about me?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I was."

"How embarrassing. Do you have a crush on me or something, love?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"You're an idiot," you said fondly. "Really, though, I wanted to ask you something." The playfulness drained from his face immediately as he adopted a more serious expression. He almost looked a little worried. Smiling, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss between his furrowed brows in an attempt to make the wrinkle go away.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, I was just thinking about the nickname thing," you said. Your answer did nothing to relieve the expression.

"Don't you like them? I'll call you something else if you want." You shook your head.

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted me to call you something else. Do you want cute names too?" you asked. George shifted under you, his expression morphing into one you'd become incredibly familiar with. A bright red flush bloomed over his cheeks as an almost concerningly wide grin pulled at his lips.

"Thought you'd never ask snookums!" he laughed nervously, "Here I thought you were about to let Ron and Hermione out cute us. Personally, I think you should go for something like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband.' The whole phrase. Just to prove them that we're the cuter pair." As he rambled, you found yourself becoming more and more amused by his expert avoidance of your eyes.

"George?" Your voice was gentle but prodding, cutting his nervous speech short. Blinking, he offered another nervous laugh.

"Yes, darling, sweetness, light of my life?" he asked.

"Breathe," you said.

"Right. I'll live a lot longer if I do that," he said, pulling in a steadying breath. Smiling, you ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him further.

"Now, as much as I truly do like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband,' it's kinda a mouthful," you said.

"That's what she said," George rattled off automatically.

"Jesus, I didn't mean to fluster you so bad. I'm sorry, sunshine," you said, testing the name.

And he whimpered. It was just a soft, breathy little sound. One you would have missed if you hadn't quite literally been laying on his chest. You weren't even sure if he was aware he'd done it, but, Christ, were you happy he did. That one little sound told you so much. Not to mention the way his fingers squeezed needily at your hips and that his eyes seemed to lose focus. Suddenly, you felt like you were taking up his entire field of vision. Nothing beyond you existed. Not to him. All that for just one simple word.

"You like, sunshine?" you asked.

"I dunno if it has the same ring as, uh, as whatever it was that I said, but it's alright," he said, squirming under your penetrating gaze.

"Just alright? You want something else?" you teased.

"If you-if you think you can c-come up with something better," he stuttered.

"Okay, baby boy," you purred.

If you thought sunshine had done it for him, baby boy blew that out of the water. A shiver tore through his body right down to his fingertips as his mouth dropped open into a quiet moan. Despite the low volume, the sound echoed in your ears. It dripped with pure need. As though he couldn't go another second without you touching him. The cherry flush that bloomed high in the apples of his cheeks swooped over the tips of his ears. He was beautiful. Enticing. And you were only human. Leaning forward, you traced your tongue up the shell of his ear, biting it lightly.

"That better?" you muttered against his ear. Pulling back, you watched as George opened and closed his mouth, fishing for anything to say in response. He wasn't having much luck, just spitting out collections of sounds that didn't quite resemble words.

"Come on, baby boy, use your words," you said, cupping his cheek and rolling your thumb over his bottom lip.

"Yes." His voice cracked on the word.

"Good boy," you said, smirking like a well-fed cat, "Now, how 'bout we get you out of those clothes. I wanna see all of my pretty baby."

"Please," he breathed. Carefully, you repositioned yourself, so you had full access to his clothing. You only managed a couple of buttons before his much larger hand curled around one of yours. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said. Smiling, you pulled his hand to your mouth and returned the gesture.

"I love you too," you replied.

With your hand back, you made quick work of his shirt. You pushed it open and took in the lightly freckled expanse of his chest. His skin was a swirl of cinnamon-colored constellations. You trailed your fingers across them, admiring the trail of goosebumps the left behind. George was lovely. Devastatingly so. Bringing your head down, you followed the same path your fingers had taken, stopping briefly to lap at his nipples. He whined softly at the attention, tangling his hands in your hair.

"You're so beautiful," you said.

You kissed up his chest to his lips, and he tilted his head to meet you. His lips pressed hungrily to your own. The faint taste of honey teased your senses as you dipped your tongue into his mouth. You loved that he always managed to taste sweet. Lightly, you ran your tongue over his own, savoring that elusive sweetness for as long as you could. Slipping your hand down to rub him through his pants, you were surprised to find him fully hard. Even though you'd barely touched him, he was straining against his zipper.

"(Y/N)," he whimpered against your mouth.

"I bet that's uncomfortable. You want me to take care of that, baby boy?" you asked, popping the button.

"Please. Please take care of it," he begged, bucking his hips into your hand. Without responding, you pushed his pants down to his thighs while trailing burning kisses down his torso. You pressed a kiss to each of his hip bones before wrapping your hand around his cock. Giving it a few long, slow strokes that had him bucking into your hand, you looked up at him.

"Tell me what you want," you said.

"Your mouth. Please, (Y/N)," he said quickly.

"Anything for my sweet baby boy," you said.

Slowly, you dragged your tongue from the base to the tip, paying special attention to the ridge of the head. A low moan sounded above you. You took a moment to appreciate the sound before sinking his cock into your mouth. His hips bucked, and you gagged slightly. Breathing softly through your nose, you gripped his hips tightly to keep him from doing it again. You bobbed your head slowly, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock.

"C'mon, don't tease," George begged, straining against your restrictive grip.

You didn't say anything but picked up the pace slightly. Removing on hand from its place on his hip, you fondled his balls and teased lightly at his perineum. His hips flexed wildly against your hand. It only took swallowing around him once before he was calling out warnings and groaning loudly into the open air. You pulled off before he could cum, ignoring the disappointed whine.

"Wanna come. Please, (Y/N), I wanna come so bad," he cried, bucking into the air looking for friction.

"I know, baby boy," you said, shimmying out of your pants. "I wanna be ridding you when you do, but you gotta prep me first. Can you do that for me? Can you finger me until I'm nice and open for you, baby boy?"

"Uh-huh," he said, fumbling for the lube that appeared on the table. Turning, you presented yourself to him, so he had better access. Gentle as always, he sunk a long finger into you.

"That's my good boy," you sighed. As he fingered you open, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the backs of your thighs. You wrapped your hand around his cock again, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. Then he curled them a bit.

"There! That's it," you mewled, rocking back against him.

"More!" He obediently added another finger.

"Am I making you feel good?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Whether it was from moaning or just from the idea that he was bringing you pleasure, you couldn't tell.

"So good," you said. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, and he shivered.

"Close," he whimpered.

"Let me sit on your pretty cock, baby boy," you purred. Almost reluctantly, he slipped his fingers from you, and you positioned yourself over him. Neither of you was interested in waiting long. Once he was fully seated inside you, you could already feel him shivering with the effort not to cum.

"Move?" It came out as a question. Both asking your permission and begging you to ride him until he was shaking with overstimulation.

Picking up your hips, you dropped them back slowly. You savored the slight burn of the stretch. Hands quickly found your hips. And then you were moving. You weren't sure if he'd thrust up into you or if you'd started this pace on your own. You didn't care. It didn't matter when he was hitting that spot inside you just right.

"So good, baby boy! Right there!" you cried.

"So tight. So good. Wanna cum! Please can I cum?" he begged, digging his fingers into your hips in a way that would definitely bruise.

Pulling his chin up with two fingers, you kissed him like your life depended on it. Tongues tangled sloppily, your teeth clicked together, and the angle was a little off considering the constant motion. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to care with him, whining obscenities into your mouth. Begging to cum so prettily. If you were a little meaner or not so desperate yourself, you'd draw it out a little longer. Maybe next time. Separating with a wet pop, you smoothed your thumb across his spit-slick, swollen lips.

"Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me?" you asked. He nodded, hooded eyes staring at you pleadingly.

"Close, close, please," he whined, dropping his head forward to your chest.

"Cum, baby boy." With a long, low moan, he was gone. He pounded sloppily into you with uncontrolled thrusts, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Between that and the sight of his utterly wrecked expression, you went tumbling over the edge after him. Your own shout of pleasure shook the room. Your thighs trembled with the force of it. For a second, you swore, you stopped breathing.

"Holy fuck," you panted as you came down from your high.

"Felt pretty holy to me," George said, leaning heavily against the arm of the couch.

"When I find my brain, I'll say something witty," you said. You let him slip out of you, opting to ignore the mess running down your thighs in favor of laying against his chest again.

"Anytime you wanna do that again, I'd happily oblige, love," he said.

"You just fucked my brain across the room while I called you baby boy, and you're already thinking about round two?" you snorted.

"Should I not be?" Well, round two did sound pretty good.

"Give me a hot minute, and I'll get right on that, sunshine." You didn't miss the love in his dark eyes as he gazed down at you with a crooked grin. Or the way his cock twitched in interest.

#its 3:30 am #but here it is #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george x reader #george x reader smut #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #dom!reader #sub!george #smut #harry potter #hp

2K notes · View notes

cloud9in · 3 years

Text

Promises (Poppy x MC) Part (2/?)

Read Part ONE (summary for fic is there)

ITS BEEN A MINUTE. @iamsimpforpoppy I hope you’re still around to read :P I love this story lol. Hope you guys do too!!!

Word Count (2.8k)

Bea and Poppy’s relationship became official a month after their initial meeting. One would say they moved quickly, too quickly. But every love story is different. This one in particular seemed to have little to none flaws, if you ignored the fact that Bea was promoted to Carter’s right hand woman in the Southside Spades.

They did end up having that conversation after all.

“…Are you sure Carter? I mean this is a huge deal and a special role-“

“If I didn’t think you were capable you wouldn’t be here right now Goldilocks.”

Carter winked and clinked his half empty beer bottle against Bea’s, who surprisingly had a nearly full bottle. He took note of the abnormality.

The blonde instinctively rolled her eyes at the nickname, “Okay but that name has to go. We need codenames……ooooh how about bimbo and himbo.”

“I’m guessing…..no, hoping I’m the himbo?!” Carter comments as he promptly tries to stop the laugh escaping from his lips.

“Mmmmmmm, I’ll get back to you on that.”

They share a laugh and Bea feels Carter’s gaze latch onto her in her peripherals. She could sense the shift of energy in the space between them, it almost felt uncomfortable, and that was something she never felt with Carter. “I never asked you if you were okay with such a role. If you aren't, I understand completely, I just want the best for you.”

The blonde eyes soften at his comment and she looks at him, “never doubted that, where is this going though because you never express your feelings like a normal human being.”

He pulls on the strings of her hoodie until it completely caves around her face, burying her whole.

“Hey asshole!”

“That’s for talking too much.”

Bea yanks her hoodie open and sticks her tongue out in a mock expression. “Oh boohoo. Poppy literally says the same thing, I don’t get it. I talk, it’s a problem. I don’t talk, it’s an even BIGGER problem. Damn a girl can’t ever exist in peace.”

Carter places his bottle flat on the table and studies the blonde’s face.

She kept rambling on about her new girlfriend and the gang leader didn’t know it was possible to feel happy yet anxious at the same time. He was aware of when they entered the talking stage, went on their first date, and finally became official, because Bea told him everything. As much as the experience of being in a real relationship was new to her, Bea looked up to him and somehow she knew Carter would give her the best guidance possible.

It didn’t stop him from worrying. Like an older brother would. He feared the two would mix, and everyone knows that love and crime will eventually combust. He is no stranger to it.

“Bea.”

“Did you know she stole one of my hoodies and actually won’t give it back?? What am I supposed to do, just take it? No she’d murder me.”

“Jackson.”

Her voice slowly dies down after sensing the seriousness in his tone. She takes a sip of her beer to ease the silence that sat in the air, and Carter responds shortly after.

“You know I trust you with my life right? You’re very important to me, kid.”

“I know.”

Guilt was a feeling he chose to lock away in an unbreakable box and bury six feet deep. There couldn’t be guilt in a lifestyle like this. But Bea was his only exception. And she was slowly bringing that box back up to the surface.

“I need you to promise me that you won’t let these two worlds collide.”

“Carter….”

“One of you will get hurt. And I won’t forgive myself if it’s you.”

He leaves Bea at the table, the remnants of his comment still replaying in her head. She pulls out her phone and sees a text from Poppy on her lockscreen.

Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- Can’t wait to see you tomorrow 😘

The blonde smiles unconsciously and opens the message to respond.

I’m missing you like crazy. I have a special surprise for you.

Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- You know I highly dislike surprises, just tell me.

And ruin the surprise? You must be crazier than I thought.

Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- Jackson.

Patience babe…tomorrow it is.

Bea clicks her phone shut and slips it back into her pocket before downing the rest of the beer.

***

“You know your hand on my ass only makes them stare even more Jackson?”

Bea bites her lips and gropes the blonde’s plump backside shamelessly while slowly whispering into her ear.

“That’s the point, princess.”

Poppy shivers almost instantly at the boldness. “Is this the surprise you were talking about?” Bea doesn’t answer, instead trailing her hand up Poppy’s skirt. This was definitely not the time and place for such behavior but she was clearly still learning everything about her girlfriend.

And it definitely felt good to call her that.

“Since when did you get so brazen? You know you’re exactly the type of person my daddy told me to stay away from.”

Bea laughs at that statement and wraps her arm around the blonde’s waist, “yeah? And why’s that?”

“Well I can’t ask him now, he might rough you up and that’s my job.”

Poppy could feel the stares of everyone burning into them, but she could only focus on the blonde cuddled up against her. The shorter girl wouldn’t call herself an attention whore, but she sure loved the PDA that Bea projected without a care. It felt nice to be genuinely admired in public rather than putting on a mask everyday.

But it’s safe to say that Poppy preferred all the handsy stuff to happen in private.

“Do you want to grab dinner with me tonight Pops?”

“Am I picking the place?”

“…Yes.”

“Then yes.”

Bea rolls her eyes at the blonde’s downright shady self but smiles nevertheless.

“Now don’t cancel on me out of the blue. I will not be thrilled about it.”

“Shouldn’t I be telling you this? Your dad always has something going on in his business that somehow has to involve you too.”

Poppy sighs and glances over at Bea, “well you know I’ll have to take over eventually. Especially since I’m legally allowed to handle deals now.”

“I hate that word. Legal. Ugh.”

The shorter girl scoffs and plants her hands on her hips, “yeah I bet you do.”

***

Bea dragged open her closet in search of clothes for dinner tonight but the dinging noise of a text distracts her.

C-Dog🖤- Need you tonight. Something came up, meet us at the garage.

Bea wanted to thank the gods up above that she didn’t promise Poppy that she’d show up for dinner. But that wasn’t going to save her from the fury of the blonde. Good thing it can’t get worse than that, right….?

Only it was. And Poppy will probably beat her up herself, if she wasn’t dead by the next day.

Bea’s mind and heart races as she digs her brain for a proper excuse to tell her girlfriend, but is very unsuccessful. She’s good at drug dealing though.

Going with the good ole truth never really hurt right?

Baby I’m so sorry I won’t be able to make it tonight. Got held up with the gang. I know I’m an asshole, I’ll keep in touch I swear.

Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- What else could I expect from my gang banger girlfriend 🙄 please stay safe..

You know I always do.

Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- Do I? We need to talk about this tomorrow.

Of course Pops.

Other Half 💗❤️‍🔥- Call me every chance you get or I swear I’ll track you and trust me you do not want me to do that.

Yeah she definitely doesn’t. Especially since Carter sounded frantic over the phone. The last thing Bea needed was a paranoid girlfriend, so she played it cool like always.

Just simple stuff baby girl, talk soon.

***

“…What do you mean it’s gone?! So where is it? Do you know what this means Carter??”

The gang leader sighs frustratingly, rubbing his eyes in efforts to gain some stability. “The product was here, and now it is not. Which can only mean it was stolen. And when I find out which son of a bitch did it, they’re dead.”

“In the meantime, we are dead”, Bea emphasizes wildly. “This is the Red Raven gang we’re talking about. If they get any inclination that we lost their drugs, they’ll kill and replace us. No mercy. None.”

The blonde paces back and forth trying not to think about buying a plane ticket to Timbuktu.

Carter approaches Bea and plants his hands on her shoulder, “breathe Jackson. You are my partner. The leader of this gang. So get it out of your system and start being rational.”

The blonde lets her shoulders sag as she inhales and exhales in place for a while. The minute she’s grounded she catches Carter’s gaze and her eyes light up. “List. I need a list of whoever went in the room with all of the product. We need to narrow it down.”

***

“Jackson you’re a fucking genius.”

“It’s called having common sense but I’ll take the praise. It’s the only one I’m getting from you anyways.”

Carter resisted the urge to pick a fight with the younger girl, because finding stolen drugs and not getting killed seemed like a much better idea.

Bea figured out that Henry, one of the newly recruited members of SS was a thief, or maybe just a crackhead. Same thing. He was the last to be in that room so all eyes were on him, and guns.

“Heyyy buddy. Henry right?”

The shorter man trembled at the sight of a gun lodged right into his mouth. “Mmmm!”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you want to say something? Here let me just”, Bea clicks the gun which only causes the thief to panic even more. It was almost pitiful.

“Alright lay off the poor sucker.”

Bea pulls the gun out of his mouth and sits down on a stool in front of Henry with a grin. “So…where is the stash darling?”

He points almost immediately to a built in storage locker with a shaky finger.

“Ohhh well that was so easy Henry! Glad you could comply. You should tell your friends to be more like you. But…between me and you, they might already be dead”, Bea whispers that last part slowly, smirking when Henry’s lip quivers violently.

“Please just do it already! Why are you guys waiting?”

Bea raised an eyebrow in surprise and glanced over at Carter who scanned the man’s face intensely. “I guess he wants to die? Talk about kinks I mean come on”

“No.”

Carter reaches his arm out towards Bea but never takes his eyes off Henry. The blonde watches in confusion until she realizes the thief is looking behind her, and so is Carter.

“It’s a setup Bea, duck!”

She dived for the ground quicker than lightning as a bullet flies through the air, leaving a trail of dust behind. Carter ducks for cover as well and starts firing rounds towards the men who snuck up on them. He managed to hit three of them but one grabs Bea by the leg and drags her against the rough concrete.

“Son of a- get your dirty hands off of my Dr. Martens. My girlfriend bought me these!”

A swift kick to the face shut the blonde up real quick but she manages to recoil and send the man sprawling backwards into a row of barrels.

Carter guns him down and Bea finds her footing, pistol in hand and a thirst for revenge. But they never stopped coming.

Her and Carter were left battered and bruised, but alive. Their product was gone again though. But atleast they were alive. Carter told her that it was a theft mission primarily and neither of them were meant to die. But it only made Bea wonder who those people were.

And why were they kept alive?

***

“Beatriz Naomi Jackson what the actual fuck?!”

“Oh not the middle name…”

Bea tries to avoid Poppy’s killer gaze as she surveys the damage that had been done to her girlfriend’s torso, legs, and face.

The strawberry blonde could barely mutter a word. Her mouth opened and closed in brief shock before collapsing next to the injured girl.

Bea could see the tears flowing down her rosy cheeks, which contrasted her porcelain skin. “Poppy…are you crying? I..please don’t..”

“What do you expect me to do Bea? It kills me to see you hurt like this. Who did it? Tell me!” The blonde chokes on her own words as her hands hovers cautiously over Bea’s wounds, afraid to make her feel pain.

“No I can’t tell you. I mean…I didn’t expect this to happen. It was a setup and we were outnumbered-“

“We need to get you to a hospital Bea oh my god.”

The blonde knew that she couldn’t go there. Not with the cops on the scene of the shootout, and actively looking for the people involved. Aka her and Carter. He told her to lay low and heal up, but she didn’t expect Poppy to be sitting on her bed waiting for her when she got home. The initial look on her face made Bea regret ever choosing this life.

She regrets it ever since being with Poppy. But it’s like a drug, once you start it’s hard to stop.

“I’ll call my father, he has the best doctors available and we’re gonna get your the right treatment and-“

Poppy immediately cuts off, her eyebrows scrunching up until she realizes something. “Wait…what do you mean you were outnumbered Bea?”

Bea swallows heavily, praying that this conversation couldn’t escalate further, but that isn’t the case.

“Bea, answer me”

“It..it was just me and Carter. We didn’t think there would be an ambush. We had just gone there to get goods we lost.”

“And where is Carter? Does he know you’re like this right now? Did he leave you, I swear to god Bea if he left you…” Poppy’s voice cracks as her whole body shivers in violent waves.

Bea pulls her girlfriend in for a hug even though it causes every inch of her body to sting harshly. It was the comfort that she needed though. Watching Poppy breakdown over the sight of her was too much, and she began to contemplate everything.

“Pops listen to me, I cannot go to the hospital right now. There are cops looking for us.” The strawberry blonde stares at her until she understands the velocity of Bea’s words.

“Fine. But there will be a doctor that will come to treat you at my house. And you’re coming, I don’t want to hear it.”

Bea knew not to protest that. It was quite obvious this whole incident has left both parties distraught and she didn’t want to try and tell Poppy how to feel.

“Just tell me something. Are you in immediate danger? Is someone trying to harm you right now.”

The blonde chose her words carefully. Because even after coming home beaten to a pulp, she still couldn’t tell the love of her life the full truth.

“No Poppy, they just wanted the drugs. They got what they wanted. I’m not in danger.”

For now.

“I will be okay.”

I hope.

“Don’t lie to me Jackson. I can’t do this if you lie. You promised me you wouldn’t get to the point where you’d have to choose between me and the gang.”

“I know Poppy…I-“

“You promised.”

“And I’m going to keep that promise-“

“Yeah the hell you are. And you’re going to promise me that you won’t ever come home like this again. You’re going to get yourself killed before we even start our life together. Our future.”

Bea sucks in a breath which punctures her chest. She couldn’t tell if the injuries or Poppy’s words had caused that terrible ache. “Our…Wait I..”

“I love you Jackson. I…don’t care if you think it’s too early to say that. I don’t care if I sound too cheesy for a mean girl. I love kissing you and feeling the laughter run through your body when we hug. I love being the reason you smile. I love you. And you don’t have to say it back. I just..I needed you to know-“

“I love you too. Probably maybe from the moment I met you.”

Poppy’s eyes seemed to glisten once again and this time there was no sadness etched into the shape. She smiled a pure smile and wrapped her arms around Bea in a tight hug.

She captures her lips in a searing kiss that leads to a trail of kisses down the strawberry blonde’s neck, dip of her collarbone, and chest. Bea kisses her until her chest gives out from exhaustion and pain.

“Then you have to promise that this won’t happen again.”

“I promise.”

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

NOTES: They’re gonna be fineeeee, right guys??? Graduation next chapter woooo.

Tags: @samanthadalton @somewillwin @clowneryme @baexpoppy @poppysmc @doey-eyes8 @veenast @straightlikewetspaghetti @phoennixxsblog

#i came up with that middle name on the spot lmaooo #no bug motivation this time just pepsi #poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #mc x poppy

60 notes · View notes

adorethedistance · 3 years

Text

Baby Fever - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: swearing, discussion of reproduction, a child (no-)

Words: 2502

Summary: You and Owen spend a day at the zoo babysitting Baby Shada, and her presence sparks conversation about adding a new presence of your very own.

A/n: This was written in like three hours and I’m exhausted it’s skimmed at best but this is just something I’ve had in my mind and as y’all know by now, writing fics is how I retire my dreamland scenarios of romance. Enjoy my brain giving 82% of her all :)

“You ready, little one?” I bite back a laugh when I hear Owen’s voice coo from the back seat. Owen and I had been wanting to plan a zoo date for the longest time, but never had the opportunity to until now; when Jer and Carolynn needed a well-deserved day of rest, and Charlie was back in Dieppe for the next month, that left Owen and me as the next in line to take care of 10-month-old baby Shada. The two parents hadn’t decided on a name until after she was born, so the rest of our friends got comfortable with referring to her as ‘baby Shada’ or ‘CJ’ short for ‘Care and Jer’s’ kid.

Owen and I left the house at 8:45 sharp to get to the park in a timely manner. We weren’t too concerned with arriving when the park opened seeing as it was a Wednesday morning in the middle of February. Children should be in school, non-actors should be in the office, and surely other young babies and new moms should be attending mommy and me yoga classes or something.

“Do you have the bag?” I ask, surveying the car for any loose items.

“Yeah, it’s on the floor. Do you want me to carry the bag or the baby first?”

“You babysit first. I can handle tickets.” Owen nods and gingerly unbuckles the car seat to scoop up the currently calm child and slip her into the black baby carrier we opted for instead of a stroller. I put on the backpack with all her baby items and some of our essential possessions, and together we walk to enter the park. CJ is smiling brightly as she takes in all the different sights and sounds of the entrance. The image is just too adorable, I have to make Owen stop under the giant sign to take a picture of the two of them. I send it to both parents as the first update of the day, knowing they won’t treasure the photo as much as I will, because they aren’t in love with Owen in the way that I am.

Owen and I have talked about kids before. Once, on our first date when he asked me if I had any names picked out, which I didn’t. And second, when I informed him we would be entrusted with the care of CJ the following week; it was when we began brainstorming activities to do with her that Owen brought up having our own kids. It took me by surprise that he used the word ‘when’ instead of ‘if’. A small language thing to pick up on, but a huge life thing to process. He talked about making memories with CJ and being the first ones to take her to the zoo, with the consent of her parents. Truth be told, I don’t love kids or the idea of kids in the way that Owen does, so I was a little hesitant to speak my mind. But I didn’t miss the way he held his hand on my stomach as we fell asleep that night. And I didn’t miss the hopeful glint in his eyes when I’d asked his opinion on a few names I liked the next morning.

“What do you wanna do first, CJ?” Owen’s question elicits an excited squeal from her as a response which makes the two of us laugh. I quickly snag a map from the front stand and survey our route options before I feel Owen’s right hand come to rest on my lower back. I glance up to see him peering at the map over my shoulder. My movement prompts him to face me and give me a soft, comforting smile. I feel like spending forever looking into Owen’s breathtaking eyes, but the baby strapped to his chest has other plans. She begins flailing wildly to convey all the excitement coursing through her little body. We laugh once more and Owen presses a quick kiss to her head, which messes up her hat’s placement on her head. I shake my head, stepping in front of my fiance, completely ignoring him. My tunnel vision hyperfocus is set on adjusting the brim of the bucket hat to protect baby Shada from the sun.

“There we go.” When I look back up Owen is staring at me with the softest closed mouth smile I’ve ever seen, “What?”

“Nothing. Where to, Mamacita?”

“Mamacita? Whatever. I say we take this path that way we can start with the elephants and condors, and that’ll take us to the polar bear cove.”

“Lead the way.”

Owen slips his hand in mine, interlacing our fingers and giving me an affirming squeeze. As we’re walking to the elephant exhibit, CJ’s happy mood means she must wave her tiny hand at every person we pass. Other parents with babies her same age, being the majority of the crowd that’s free on a Wednesday morning, smile and wave back to her. Along the front street, the initial entrance crowd begins to dwindle and there are fewer people for her to wave at. Then, a woman who’s probably in her late forties, early fifties sees CJ wave to her. The woman is wearing black pants, a soft maroon top, and a name tag that reads ‘Linda’. Judging by the fact that she gets to wear red instead of the familiar forest green, I can conclude she’s a higher up when it comes to her position here at the zoo.

“You guys are such a beautiful family.”

“Oh, we’re n-”

“Thank you!” Owen speaks over my refutation. The woman then begins to approach us, and I look up at my serious boyfriend in confusion. He whispers, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun.” I mean, I’m not much of an actor but I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“How old is she?”

“10 months,” he answers seamlessly, using the back of his index finger to lovingly stroke CJ’s round cheek.

“She is just so darling, I’m sure you two must be very proud. They grow so fast, you know? I remember having little ones running around all the time and suddenly they’re off to college. Is she your first child?”

“Yeah, she’s the only one for now.” For now? Wow Owen, when you create a world you really live in it.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts. They’re only babies for so long.” Linda smiles down and CJ once more before bidding me and Owen goodbye.

“For now?” I ask, incredulously when the woman is out of earshot.

“Yeah,” he shrugs playfully, “CJ’s so well behaved I’m sure we can manage another one.”

“Uh-huh. Are you aware she’s not actually our child?” Owen sighs out a smile and takes my hand as he begins on our trek to the elephant enclosure. When he speaks again, I nearly miss it from how quiet he’s talking,

“S’wishful thinking.”

“What did you just say?” I’m curious to see if he’ll repeat it to my face.

“I said it’s wishful thinking.”

“To have a second child to our nonexistent first child?”

“No,” he nudges my shoulder with his own as we walk, “To have a child period.”

“Nice try. Your baby fever isn’t gonna rub off on me so easily.” He scoffs out a laugh,

“It’s still early. We’ve got the whole day to fix that.” Seamlessly pulling Owen to a stop, I don’t pause our conversation as I step in front of him. My gaze doesn’t meet his eyes as I straighten CJ’s hat once more.

“Well, bear in mind we’re basically on the clock here, and CJ is a tiny person before she’s a persuasion tactic.” I lunge one foot back to make sure the hat is even, and that the baby can still see from under it. When I deem her hat positioning satisfactory, CJ smiles up at me at the same time that paints Owen’s flushed face. He holds his hand straight out in front of his body for me to take, and when I do, he pulls me in to clasp both hands together and rest them on my lower back. Minimal visitors in the zoo is definitely a perk as Owen’s far more physically affectionate without others around. I rest my hands on the portion of his chest that isn’t occupied by CJ’s happy demeanor.

“I don’t know if I’m cut out to be the mothering type. I’m just not… good with kids.”

“I understand your reluctance… but I’m gonna get you on board by the end of the day.”

“Yeah okay, Joyner. Whatever you say.”

Owen smiles down at me with a love as infinite as the number of stars in the universe. CJ squeals between us and I babble back at her in a higher pitch than my usual speaking voice. She squawks again and we go back and forth like this for a little while until she sticks her tongue out at me in between a smile. My jaw drops in a surprised, amused, and simultaneously offended manner, and I take her chubby little baby foot in my hand and squeeze gently, causing her to screech through fits of giggling.

“When did you learn how to do that? Owen, did you-” The words die on my tongue when I see the expression on Owen’s face. He’s wholly enamored and yet so smug at the same time. I feel my face heat up a little bit; I don’t even have to ask what he’s thinking.

“‘I’m just not good with kids’ my ass.”

“There are impressionable ears around. And I do not sound like that.”

“She’s not gonna remember any of this in a week, and yes. You do.” I glare at Owen with an expression of intolerance but my facade is crumbled as I can’t mask the growing smile he elicits by mimicking my expression.

“Let’s go you two.”

After what felt like an eternity we’ve finally made it to the elephant exhibit. The herd of African elephants are spread across the enclosure, some playing in water, some feeding from hay baskets, and a baby closely following it’s mother as she walks across the paddock. When Owen appears beside me

“Do you need a break? We can switch off and you carry the bag.”

“Sure.” I set the baby backpack on the bench behind us and unbuckle the fastenings of the carrier to prop CJ on the side of my hip. As we wait for Owen to take the carrier off his body, I walk her up to the wooden railing that surrounds the elephants’ enclosure. Of course, the sight ahead excites her and she begins bouncing on my side as a means of conveying her feelings. She makes a sound that I interpret as an interrogative before pointing to the animals.

“You see the elephants, CJ?”

“Uh-huh.” She lifts her tiny baby hand into the air and waves the best she can at the elephants, none of which are even looking our way.

“Are we waving? Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave with her and gauge her smile to be even bigger than when she’d stuck her tongue out two minutes ago.

“Hi ephants!” I freeze mid wave in shock. Did she just-?

“Did you just? Owen!”

“Yeah?” he calls from behind us, still getting all our things in order.

“Did Carolynn or Jeremy say what her first words were?”

“Uhhhh, no. They said she hasn’t been speaking words yet, just consonant sounds,” Owen leaves the items unattended seeing as there’s no one else around, “Why?”

“CJ. Say ‘hi elephants’!” I wave at the animals once more, praying that that wasn’t a fluke.

“Hi ephants.” Upon hearing her speak, Owen’s face holds the same expression as mine did just two seconds ago.

“Should we video it and send it to them or pretend it never happened so they can be the ones that hear her first words?”

“Take a video, or take a secret to our graves?” He pretends to weigh the options as if this is the most perilous decision we’ll ever make.

“You’re right, you’re right. Will you grab my phone for me?”

“Where is it?”

“My back pocket that the baby is currently sitting on.” I turn around to let Owen grab the device and unlock it for me.

“Should I just get you guys in the video or the elephants, too?”

“What are you talking about? Get in the video!” I scold him for trying to worm his way out of this memory. “Make yourself useful and revive your long lost vlogging skills.” Owen rolls his eyes but flips to the front facing camera and hits record all the same.

“Say ‘hi mom, hi dad’,” I direct CJ and she merely waves at me, not fully understanding the concept of vlogging at the ripe age of 10 months. “Update number 2: we’re at the elephant enclosure and CJ made some friends. Hey,” I speak quietly to capture her attention. “Can you say ‘hi elephants’?”

“Hi ephants!” She screams and then laughs, throwing her head back to make sure Owen is still present.

“A new word!” I cheer as Owen lowers my phone to stop the recording,

“New skill unlocked.” He hits stop and proceeds to trade me CJ for the phone for a quick second so I can send the video to the not exactly new parents.

“They’re gonna love this.” I click my phone off and tuck it back into my back pocket. Retrieving the baby carrier from the desolate bench, I slip it on to strap myself in before CJ. Once secured, I look up to take her from Owen but blink in surprise that they’re no longer standing in front of me. I turn slightly to my left to see CJ stumbling forward on wobbling legs whilst Owen keeps her standing. He removes his hands from her sides and allows her to grab a hold of both of his index fingers in either hand. Slowly, he walks her closer to where I’m standing one tiny step at a time.

The sight in front of me is so sweet there’s a strange feeling culminating in my chest. A micro trace of baby fever crosses my mind at the thought of Owen teaching our own baby to walk. The smile on his face is unlike anything I’ve seen before and the prospect of having kids suddenly becomes less dreary. I’ve always been afraid of being a bad parent, or messing up someone else’s life, but with Owen, all those fears disappear. Becoming a parent is no longer bleak; the thought of raising kids with someone as loving and enthusiastic as Owen, the world seems all that much brighter.

“Y/n,” he calls to get my attention, unaware I’ve been watching for the past few minutes. When he looks up from CJ’s tiny body, and recognizes the familiar ‘baby fever’ look in my eyes, he smiles and utters a simple, “I told you so.”

***

A/n: lawd help me I have been putting off so many requests to write self indulgent bs pls don’t hate me.

Taglist: @caitsymichelle13 @kaitlyn2907 @itz-jas @crybabyddl @kcd15 @kinda-really-lost @calamitykaty @morganayennefertyrell @n0wornever @dream-a-little-bigger-x @mrstodorooki @vicesvsvirturesfanfic @curlybrownhairedboys @amazinggracy @kaitieskidmore1 @asdfghjkl-fanfics @ghostlygreenbean @juliefromaustralia @merceret @jemimah-b99 @ifilwtmfc @thesweetestsinner @imsydneywalker @lovesanimals @thebloodthirstyvampress @bumbleberry-pie @losers-club6 @tefilovesreading @dmcfarland1 @joynerxmercer @kexrtiz @talk-on-the-street @phantompogues @konciousdreamer @sunsetcurvej @warmnesss0ul @celestialmolina @lilyjoyner

260 notes · View notes

wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

Text

Because I Love You

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: You’ve fallen for the trickster god, and have no idea that he’s done the same. When his attempts to keep you safe fail, you get into a huge fight. Will you be able to tell each other how you really feel, or is the rift too wide? Warnings: mentions of blood; fluff and angst A/N: This idea has been floating around in my head for a while, and it really took on a life of its own. I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Hope you enjoy it just as much :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Oh, come on, Loki,” you pouted as you helped him load up the Quinjet for the mission he was about to leave for. “I can handle myself.”

“Yes, I know, darling,” he replied with a sigh. “But this is going to be dangerous. I would feel much better knowing you were here, safe.”

“Fine,” you pouted as he took the box you were carrying from your hands.

You’d been having this argument all week. For some reason, Loki had been blocking you from going on more and more missions lately, but he went above and beyond this time. As soon as it had been announced, you’d volunteered to go. But then Loki went and talked to Steve to convince him his magic was necessary for the job and, from what you can tell, persuaded Cap that he should take your place.

The God of Mischief had been your best friend ever since he came to Avengers Tower. It hadn’t taken you long to realize that you wanted him to be something more, though. With every brush of his fingers against yours, bored glance sent your way during meetings, and laughs shared as you talked late at night made you fall deeper and deeper in love with the god. But this was getting annoying. It was nice that he cared about you, though it also made you sad. No matter how much you wanted him to feel the same way as you did, it was pretty obvious that he didn’t. Even worse than that, you were convinced that he thought of you as just a kid.

“Oh, darling,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders as your eyes raised to meet his. “Please, do not be upset. The next not dangerous mission will be yours for sure.”

“Do those even exist?” you asked with a wry laugh.

“Yes. Ones where you will without a doubt be out of combat.” You frowned at him and opened your mouth to protest. He continued speaking before you could. “I am quite aware of what a fierce warrior you are, dear mortal. But you are also fragile. I will not let anything happen to you. You are my most dear friend, darling.”

“I know,” you sighed, unable to stay mad at him. “But you have to promise you’ll stay safe, too.”

“I promise, darling.” He kissed the back of your hand, making you flustered. “I will be just fine.”

As the jet pulled out of the hangar, you waved goodbye to Loki, praying that when he came back, things could finally change between you.

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

“I’ll do it,” you declared at the next meeting.

“Ok then,” Steve replied. “You, me, and Nat then. We leave tomorrow at noon.”

It was a little nerve wracking to be going on a mission with two of the best fighters on the team, but you were sure it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle. Loki was still on his mission, so there was no one to block you from taking this opportunity. You hoped so, anyway.

The final preparations were made, and you looked at the file in your bed that night. It should be a relatively easy mission; silently infiltrate the hydra base and download the intel from their computers. It was a small base, only a handful of enemy operatives should be there. Well, that was what you were planning on, anyway. Of course, there was always a chance things would go awry.

Suddenly, your phone rang. You plopped the file down on your comforter and checked the caller I.D. It was Loki. You worried that he’d caught wind of your plan to go on the mission tomorrow. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another couple of days, plenty of time for you to go without him interfering. That’s why you hadn’t told him yet. But if he already knew, he would certainly do everything in his power to stop you from leaving.

“Hey, Loki,” you said, nervously picking at the string on your sweatpants. “Are you ok? How’s the mission going?”

“Splendid, actually,” he replied, a smile in his voice. “So well, in fact, that I will be returning home early.”

“Oh! That’s, uh, great news.” You were trying to sound excited. It wasn’t working. “When exactly are you going to be back?”

“Tomorrow,” he replied. “I was wondering if you wanted to do something when I get back? Perhaps watch a movie or read together in the library?”

“I’d love to, Loki, really. But I’m going to be a bit busy tomorrow. Maybe if we meet later in the day?”

You were always tired after a mission, but you should be back in time to do something with Loki. And if you were just going to be reading, it would be relaxing. If you were lucky, you may even fall asleep, and he would carry you back to your bed. That had happened a few times before, and you’d woken up in his arms as he brought you back. You didn’t tell him, though. Instead, you just enjoyed the sensation of being in his arms, feeling safe and happy. It also reminded you of just how strong he was, being a god and all. You supposed that’s why he worried so much about you; you were just a mortal. His strength was contrasted by the way he carefully tucked you in and caressed your cheek. Your heart had beat wildly as you wondered if he might kiss you. He had not.

“Oh? What are your plans, then?” he inquired. “If you do not mind, maybe I could join you.”

“I, um, would of course let you, but Nat and I are going to be doing a special training routine all day,” you lied. “It’s supposed to just be the two of us. Sorry.”

“That is quite alright. We will just meet later. I look forward to it.”

“Me too. I’ll see you then, Loki,” you said, hoping to hang up before you felt guilty enough to come clean. “I better get some rest.”

“As should I. Goodnight, darling.”

You tossed the phone next to the file and sighed, covering your eyes with your arm. You hated having to lie to Loki, but you’d never go on another mission if you didn’t. Besides, he said you could go on one that wasn’t too dangerous, and the chances of getting hurt tomorrow were pretty slim. It would be fine. At least, you sure hoped it would.

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

“They are where?” Loki asked, his voice rising in panic. “Doing what?”

“I just told you, Reindeer Games,” Tony replied, a knowing smirk on his face. “They’re on a mission. What? Did your little lovebird lie to you?”

“That is preposterous for more reasons than I can count. They are only my best friend, but still they would never lie to me. I would have known if they had, anyway.”

“Well, maybe your judgment was clouded because you-”

“I swear if you say I love them,” Loki interrupted, “there will be a dagger buried in your side faster than you can even comprehend.”

“Yeah, sure. Right,” Tony said, unconcerned. Loki never made good on his threats to his friends, bar a tiny prank here or there. Whether it was because he actually cared about them or was just worried he’d be locked up again, no one was really sure. “All I mean to say is if you stopped preventing them from going on missions, maybe they would tell you the truth.”

He hated how right Tony was. His judgment was clouded, and though he didn’t want to say, it was because he cared about you. But loved? Did Loki even know what love was? He really wasn’t sure. Regardless, he should have been taking you on missions with him, protecting you from any danger. He’d seen you fight a great many times, you were good at it. But all that needed to happen was one tiny slip-up, one small mistake, and you’d be dead in a matter of seconds.

“Maybe, but do not tell me you have never gone to extremes to protect someone you care about,” Loki snapped back.

“You’re right. I have. For the people I love.”

“Oh, never mind!” Loki said, desperately trying to avoid a conversation about his emotions. “Just tell me which bay they will be returning to so I can go wait for them.”

Tony obliged, and Loki anxiously paced the floor, fidgeting with his hands as he anticipated your return. What seemed like, and very well could have been, hours later, your transport pulled in. He wasn’t sure if he was going to hug you or scold you first. It would probably be the first option. Sure, you’d lied to him, but he wasn’t blameless either. All that mattered was you were safe.

“Clear the way,” Steve shouted, as he and Nat helped you hobble out of the jet.

Loki’s heart plummeted to his stomach as he noticed a deep red staining your shirt, right below where your liver was. Sweat glistened on your brow as you struggled to stay up. He ran up to you and took you in his arms, running towards the elevator before he realized he could just teleport. He was at the med bay in seconds, screaming for help.

“Bring them here,” one nurse said, wheeling a gurney. “We’re prepared for them.”

He said a silent prayer of thanks for whoever had called ahead. There was nothing left to do but stare on helplessly while they took you away. He whirled around as Nat and Steve finally caught up.

“What happened? Tell me,” Loki demanded to know.

“There were more agents than planned,” Steve explained. “But they took the bullet so we could complete the mission.”

“And that makes it alright?” he shouted, completely bewildered.

“No, it doesn’t,” Steve tried to pacify him.

“But it was noble,” Nat added. “And they’re going to be alright.”

Loki stayed in the waiting room for the next couple hours, running his hand through his hair as a nervous tic. The other Avengers came and went, Thor begging his brother to at least sit for a little as it got late. But he refused. He would not rest until he knew you were alright. But what was this tight feeling in his chest? This painful feeling of anxious despair? Could Stark be right? Could he love you?

He loved you.

“Mr. Laufeyson?” a nurse said, approaching him.

“Yes,” he immediately responded, a slight edge to his voice. “Are they ok?”

“They are. The wound wasn’t as bad as it looked; they just lost a lot of blood. You can go in and see them now if you want.”

“I do. Thank you.”

With a nod in her direction, Loki was racing towards the room she’d directed him to. Before he just waltzed in, he calmed himself down enough to knock on the open door, drawing your attention away from the window and to his face. A smile instantly lit up your features as you saw him, sparking in him an intense hatred at the thought that he may have never seen that again had today gone differently.

“You lied,” he said, his voice even yet menacing. He surprised himself, for that wasn’t what he had been planning on saying. But now he felt angry enough to shout at the top of his lungs. “You said you would just be training.”

“Look, I’m sorry about that. I am.” Your eyes flicked down to the floor before meeting his again. “But I know you would have tried to stop me. You didn’t leave me with very many options.”

He let out a wry laugh. “I was protecting you!” Now he was shouting. “You do finally go out on a mission and look what happened!”

“I’m fine now, Loki,” you shouted back, seething. “That’s what happened! I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Do you have any idea what I would have done if you died?” You recoiled at his blunt, harsh words, making him instantly regret them. Besides, they were slightly manipulative. He didn’t want to do that, not to you. He wanted to change the direction of the conversation. Still, he carried on with his rant, having lost control. “Your behavior is reckless at best. I insist that you stay at the Tower, even once you are done healing.”

He knew he’d overstepped as soon as the words left his mouth. Even if he hadn’t, the murderous look in your eyes would have clued him in. Before he could apologize, take back what he’d said, you were talking again, your voice now a dangerous growl.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me. I am not a kid, I don’t need you to protect me. I don’t need you.”

Your hands flew up to cover your mouth, not quite believing what you’d just said. Loki just flinched like a kicked puppy, tears stinging at the back of his eyes. It was his fault. He’d pushed you away. Why did he say those horrible things? Why did it take so long to admit to even himself that he loved you? Why didn’t he just tell you how he truly felt?

“You are right,” he replied, his blue-green eyes glued to the tile beneath him. “You do not need me. I will leave you alone now.”

His heart ached in his chest as you called after him. He wanted to go back, but now he could see he was no good for you. Or at least his latest actions weren’t. Had he really made you think he viewed you as a child? Based on what you said, it sure sounded like he had. What a fool he was.

He sullenly walked to his room and took in the space with fresh eyes. He thought of how many movies you’d watched together there on the tv he had installed specifically for that purpose. All the times you’d stayed up talking, comforting each other. Would he truly never have that again?

He wanted to scream, to cry, but mostly he just wanted to sleep. He should make amends, he knew, but he just wasn’t sure he had the strength to. Not if you truly didn’t need him, and to hear that you meant it would be more than he can bear. Loki closed his eyes and fell into a slumber riddled with dreams of you and all that could have been.

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

A month. He hadn’t talked to you in a month. Every time he was ready to talk to you, you were avoiding him, and every time you were ready to talk to him, he was avoiding you. It was frustrating, to say the least.

You were still healing a little, but had made a fairly quick recovery. Despite praying for the same to be true of your relationship with Loki, it was still as damaged as ever. But sometimes he’d still make you a cup of tea on the mornings he knew you’d need it most. You couldn’t tell if it was out of habit or if he still cared for you. You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

Checking the time, you realized you were going to be late for a meeting. You knew you weren’t supposed to run, lest you re-injure yourself, but you wanted to make sure you got there in time to get a mission assigned to you. It would be your first time back in the field since the accident. Maybe that was an odd thing to be excited about, but you were. Or maybe you just wanted something to distract you from the whole Loki situation.

“There you are,” Steve greeted. “We were just about to start.”

As of late, you and Loki had been sitting as far away from each other as possible. Today, due to your late arrival, there was only one seat left. Your old one, right across from him. With a gulp, you took it, looking everywhere but him. As Cap began speaking, you dared a glance at Loki out of the corner of your eye. He was staring right at you, as if willing you to look back. He must not have been though, because when you did turn to him, he looked like a deer caught in headlights and looked away from you. The light blush coloring his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by you, and utterly confused by his behavior, you turned your attention back to Steve.

“Ok,” Steve said, turning to you. “I’ve got another intel mission for you, but only if you’re up for it.”

“Of course,” you replied, willing the nerves in your stomach away. “When do we leave?”

“Well, it’s not ‘we’ exactly,” he said, clearing his throat.

You glanced around the room. All the best fighters were already on a mission, and if you were going, it was probably to deal with the computers, not be the muscle. Bruce was still here, but if he was going to come, it wouldn’t be a stealth mission. Thor and Tony didn’t really specialize in stealth either, but it was more probable. And then there was Loki.

“So who am I going with then?” you gulped.

“Loki.”

“What?” the god exclaimed. “Why me? Cannot Natasha go? Or my brother, perhaps?”

“Nat’s on a mission,” Steve replied. “And anyway we need your magic.”

“Ok, well what about me? I can sit this one out,” you chimed in. “Tony is plenty good with computers, too.”

“Yes, but you’re stealthier,” Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Listen,” Tony chimed in. “It’s true that I’m amazing with computers, but Capsicle gave you the mission, not me. I don’t know what little lovers’ quarrel you two are having right now, but you need to put it aside for the good of the mission. Whatever’s going on, you’re still teammates.”

“Fine,” Loki said through grit teeth, snatching his file from Steve’s outstretched hand. “I will go.”

All eyes in the room turned to you as Loki stormed out. With a sigh, you nodded your head yes and took your own file. You flipped through and saw you’d be leaving tonight.

As soon as the meeting ended, you went to your room to pack. You considered trying to find Loki and talk through your issues, even going so far as to walk up to his door, but you chickened out at the last second. Sitting on your bed and flipping through the file, you were reminded of the last mission you went on. But not memories of getting shot; you thought of your phone call with Loki. You’d been doing so well with not crying, but you finally broke down. All you wanted was to be able to sob into Loki’s shoulder, be held in his arms. But no matter how helplessly in love with him you were, you were certain he could never feel the same.

That night, you cried yourself to sleep.

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

The ride over to the hydra base was hell. It was just you and Loki, not even a pilot since the jet could fly itself. You spent the whole flight in silence, stealing glances at each other. With nothing else to do, you reviewed the file again. The plan was to have Loki cover you both with an invisibility charm, and you’d sneak into the computer lab. From there, he’d keep lookout while you downloaded the information. Once that was done, you should just be able to stroll out under the invisibility spell. Ideally, there would be no combat. Not like “ideally” went so well last time.

“Ready?” was all you said to break the silence as you landed.

“Yes. You?” he replied.

You nodded, and he handed you your bag. Stepping out of the cloaked vehicle, Loki cast his enchantment over you. Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as he took your hand. You could still see each other and, and you softly smiled up at him.

“The spell will work better the closer we are, darling.” He seemed to rethink the use of the pet name, but it had slipped out before he could stop it. “I will let go once you set to work.”

“Oh, yeah,” you replied somewhat dejectedly. “That’s fine.”

He kept his word and held on until you reached the room. When he let go, it seemed to be somewhat reluctantly, or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“This shouldn’t take long,” you reassured him.

“Take your time,” he said with the most genuine smile you’d seen him have in over a month.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, but Loki was standing so close to you that your mind kept straying. It was like with every second that passed, he crept even closer to you. When it got to the point that he was practically standing on top of you, you couldn’t hold your tongue any longer.

“Can I help you?” you snapped.

“Pardon?”

“Why are you standing so close? Do you need something?”

“Yes. I need you to be safe. If there is a bullet fired today, I can assure you, you will not be taking it.”

“Loki, I thought I told you. I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Did Natasha need you to protect her? Did Steve?”

“Well, no, but-”

“And yet you did anyway,” he cut you off. “Because it is something that you do when you care. And I care deeply for you, my darling.”

Your mouth hung open a little in shock. You supposed you shouldn’t read too deeply into it. After all, he didn’t say in what way he cared, and he had been your best friend before all this. It was probably just that. But the way his thumb was caressing your cheek as you leaned into his hand made you think differently. Before you lost your nerve, you surged forward and kissed him. He returned it immediately, though he seemed a bit surprised. His lips were soft, and you wanted to drown in the sensation of him. Your arms wrapped around behind his neck, and when you pulled away from the heated moment, you brought your hands forward to rest on his shoulders.

“Darling,” he whispered.

“Yes, Loki?”

“There are a million things I wish to say to you. But they will have to wait until we are done with the mission and back on the ship. Safe.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, pulling away sheepishly. “That.”

You finished the data transfer and were on your way back out. Loki held you even closer than he had walking in. A couple of agents passed you, and despite your urge to fight, the god held you back while the charm did its work. Loki hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath until you made it back to the Quinjet safely.

“So,” you said after a minute of flying in silence. “Are you ready to talk then?”

“Yes, darling. I am.” He moved, so that he was sitting next to you, holding your hand. “I made a mistake, I understand that. I was overbearing and lost my temper without even trying to talk things out. I am sorry.”

“Loki, I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I said some awful things that I didn’t mean. Plus, I lied to you, my best friend. I miss you.”

“All is forgiven.” He pressed a quick kiss to the back of your hand. “I miss you, too. And there is something else. What you said in the hospital wing? About me treating you like a child? You do not actually believe that I think of you as such?”

“I, well, sorta,” you stammered, a panic building in you. Maybe that kiss was unwanted, after all. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then, darling, I am sorry for that, too. It is not true.” He got up from his seat and knelt before you, never letting go of your hand. “Because you mean so much more to me than that. Because I love you.”

You launched yourself into his arms, kissing him again. He laughed in delight as the sudden force of it knocked him over, both of you landing on the ground, you on top of him. You didn’t even bother to get up.

“I love you, too,” you said before peppering his face with a thousand tiny kisses. “And I need you. I’ll always need you.

When you were done, he looked into your eyes for a second before kissing your lips again. It was heaven. Neither of you even noticed that the plane landed and ramp opened until you heard a wolf-whistle. You looked over to see Tony standing there.

“Well, Reindeer Games,” he smirked. “Looks like I was right, you two do love each other.”

You felt rather flustered as you and Loki sat up. Before you could come to your defense, Loki spoke, eloquent as ever.

“Yes, Stark, you were right,” he said, with eyes only for you, getting ready to kiss you again. “And I could not be happier.”

330 notes · View notes

flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

Darlingg, (can I call you that? I'll stop if you don't want me to) have you seen the latest sneak peak? With Eris and all? I crave your thoughts on the sneak peak and I honestly have no idea what to think about it

Hi!! I have, and let me say, my feelings are mixed.

You know that sound, when you’re in a coffeeshop, and the espresso machine expunges steam? Like a muted, nicer, kettle shriek? That’s the noise my brain made seeing the sneak peek.

List, because it sparked a whole wildfire:

1. Nesta glowing!! Nesta dancing! Nesta, who conquered Death! Just the implication that she’s okay, that she’s feeling strong again? Hope, reignited.

2. Cassian on the sidelines actually makes me...very happy? I want them together eventually, but the fact he’s just watching? So good. So, deserved? He can’t go from creepily following her, telling her she’s unlovable, being complicit in her banishment to Partner. He’s got to earn it, and frankly? I hope it aches.

3. Autumn. When the cover came out there was that whole, orange = autumn court thing? The other covers in that style aren’t super plot indicative, but it did seem weird that it wasn’t red. Repeatedly, red is Cassian’s color. (Hello, love triangle Morrigan wearing nothing but the color of his siphons and power, never, ever Azriel’s blue or black).

Nesta sticks to cool colors: purple (feeling strong as a mortal, going toe to toe with Cas), blue, black (severe and powerful against the high lords), flat grey (in the depths of misery), silver (for her power).

SJM does use consistent color for character cues in acotar so it seems...off? Interesting, at least.

Which, just to divert into setting, are they in Autumn in this scene?? Are we somehow going to go from banishment > fight/healing > Nesta, being the actual Night Court emissary after they threw her away?

The plot is not what I thought, and that is both intriguing and confounding. But yes! Nesta finally...doing a thing? hopefully of her own volition? Devouring the moon? Gimme, that’s the Nesta that was always there, finally out.

4. Eris.

Okay, so before I even talk about how I..don’t really care for this character, let’s recall what is actually canon, about Eris:

He was engaged to Morrigan. They...I think, never met before that? Mor tried to escape the betrothal by sleeping with Cassian, invoking the ire of her family who brutally tortured her and left her for dead with a note NAILED to her body on Autumn land.

From canon, with specificity that I think implies some kind of understood rules between Courts: Eris did not touch her.

We seem to be meant to understand that if he had, he would have been forced to take her in, to bring her into the Autumn Court. He doesn’t do that- which is perhaps both a single moment of kindness that kept them both from being trapped and, conversely, QUITE LITERALLY, leaving her for dead.

He was aware of, if not directly involved in, the death of Lucien’s lowborn lover. There’s some handwavy detail stuff over who did the the murdering, but Lucien seems to hate him for it and the feeling is definitely mutual. We don’t know what he actually did.

He wants Beron��s throne. He’s not??? Heir?? (there seems to be some sense that since Lucien was the most powerful it was feared he’d inherit because Lordship = magical destiny) But he also seems fairly sure that with proper allies and Beron dead he could seize control? We don’t know enough for this to make sense.

What we DO know is that he hates his father. Sound familiar?

He’s on his second round of alliances with Keir, and now assured by Rhys, to come after Beron. (Which makes the Morrigan marriage thing even more suspect. If shes ‘the most powerful of her bloodline’ how does marrying her out benefit Keir? If Eris just wanted her power, why did he reject the marriage? My nascent theory is switchroo? Keir helps Eris take Autumn, Autumn helps Keir reclaim Night for his bloodline. Mutual heirs inherit two newly crowned kingdoms...so again, WHY did Eris not want Mor?)

He’s a bastard, a villain, a fucking rat...and we actually know nothing about him. HMMM?

He’s the monster in Morrigans nightmares. Because she saw him, when he found in the forest, and watched him leave? Because marrying him meant, in a very real way, doom? He makes it easy: he’s rude as hell to her, and clearly despises her right back for ??? reasons.

It would have been SO SO easy to leave him there, the monstrous asshole son of a particularly monstrous, hated High Lord.

But the books keep bringing him back. Rhys is willing to make deals with him. Our entire main cast is now tied in with an Autumn coup in the making.

Why?

Because sjm loves nothing more than taking a bad, bad man, and cracking him open like a walnut to say: look, I’m a monster. I know I’m a monster. But I did it to survive. For love. For a just cause. Because a greater power made me and I wanted to live.

And it’s echoed by a female character going: no, you are, but I see you.

And wiping it all away, even if the bad actions continue, because it was a Mask. A Game. See: Rhysand. Tamlins shitty forgiveness plotline. Az and Cassian’s Court of Nightmares cosplay.

And Eris just...is not the character I’d have ever picked for redemption? (Or fucking Tamlin, for that matter) Because a weird thing happens where male asshole characters are Redeemed Through the Gaze of Love feat. inappropriate flirting and female characters who aren’t nice (not even villians! just, you know, not nice), need to apologize. To change.

Yes, I’m talking about Nesta. Because this is her book!

It’s a wildcard, but retrospectively, it’s set up in the text? Not my fav. At all.

When we all said hey, wouldn’t it be really, really good if Nesta had a friend separate from the IC, maybe from another court? We did not mean the catchall IC boogeymen everyone maybe? justifiably wants dead.

5. Canon outside canon. Sjm has been previously, totally open with the fact that in the original/early drafts, Nesta was actually meant for Lucien. See: the fire on her drawer. She’s always been interested in an Autumn matchup for Nesta.

We know that the villain of Nesta’s story is the Queens.

Does Eris come in because of Lucien, who is spending all his time, hey, with one of the only Queens who isn’t evil? Does Nesta get dragged into the coup? Does Nesta involve herself in the coup because there was some question as to whether Beron might have been colluding with Hybern + ish the Mortal Queens?

6. Guys, I love a ball scene. I love this simple show of power and grace- does Nesta trust Eris or does Nesta simply, finally, trust herself? Either way, she’s killing it, and it is FUCKING CASSIAN UP. This who we always knew existed- Nesta who can play the game. Who can do the courtly bullshit, even if she has no time for it. Who is beautiful and powerful, and I hope, wearing the Most Incredible Dress. (I hope it isn’t red).

The more I think about it, the more these Nesta, Eris lines in the text revoltingly add up? Ugh. The Older Vilified Sibling who was doing their one Rebellion Against the Shitty Parent, misconstrued. Team: wow, Mor Hates Us, huh?. Team: You don’t know me, or what I’ve done. Everything We Did in War retroactively Doesn’t Matter Because We’re Assholes. Fire and Brimstone. Maybe we were fucking trapped and You Don’t Get to Judge the Escape.

Cool cool cool, I kind of hate that. Please let it be a spite dance.

In sum: the snippet both wildly renewed my interest and also I keep going ERIS?? ERIS?, but maybe it won’t be as bad as it seems. It is, after all, a very short little section and it proved at least once thing: Nesta’s going to be strong again, seemingly healthy again, and that’s all I wanted.

p.s. (Darling is the nicest, of course you can. I call everyone kind of any iteration of ‘lovely’ or babe’, but if that ever makes you uncomfy let me know!)

14 notes · View notes

wildernessuntothemselves · 4 years

Text

You’re Mine, You

Genre: Is disturbing a genre? because this is disturbing, also smut of course

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Your boyfriend of a few months has always been attentive and loving, albeit a bit too possessive, but it was nothing that could've prepared for how obsessed he'd turn out to be.

Warnings: yandere!wonpil, mentions of murder, dubcon, choking, implied forced pregnancy.

Based on this ASMR and this song.

If you know the maker of this gif, let me know so I can credit them.

You turn on the light as you walk into your bedroom, and almost jump several feet in the air as the light flickers on and see a figure sitting perfectly still at the head of the bed, legs crossed and hands folded neatly in his lap.

“Jesus, darling, you scared me.” You laugh breathlessly, pressing a hand against your rapidly beating heart. “Why were you sitting in the dark like that?”

“I was waiting for you.” He offers no further explanation, and you feel a strange sense of dread prickle at your skin at the way he remains eerily still, his expression stony and unreadable. “You’re late.”

“I got held up at work.” You lie nervously, your muscles tightening up at an ill-defined sense of danger your conscious mind can’t trace the source of.

Why were you getting so anxious? You may have not been telling the truth but it’s not like you were hiding anything salacious. It was merely a little white lie to save you both any unnecessary headache.

You haven’t been dating Wonpil for long, but you were already aware of how incredibly jealous he got over the smallest things. You’d frequently have to spend hours assuaging his worries and reassuring him that you love him and that he has nothing to worry about. So, tonight–feeling exhausted enough from work–you decided to just lie and not tell him that the real reason you were late was because you had gone out to dinner with a new coworker of yours so you’d be spared having to spend the rest of the night dealing with your boyfriend’s unfounded insecurities.

Wonpil stares at you for a second longer before his face melts back into that familiar warm smile, “Well, hurry up and get changed so we can go to sleep.”

And on the surface, everything seems fine. He’s back to being your sweet, loving boyfriend that always exudes calming energy in excess, but this time they feel different, like you were suddenly aware of something you hadn’t been aware of before and instead of feeling soothed and reassured, you start wondering if maybe this sweetness wasn’t a coverup for something more ominous that you’ve only now caught a glimpse of.

“Something wrong, love?” He wonders cutely, and you shake your head. “No, I’m just tired.”

“Go on, then, my arms are open and ready for cuddling.” He prompts, smile as wide as his embrace.

You smile back and nod, fetching your things quickly and walking into the bathroom. However, the sense of uneasiness doesn’t leave you as you finish freshening up and getting ready for bed. It stays with you as you head back into the bedroom, turning off the light and slipping under the covers. It only lifts slightly when Wonpil wraps his arms around you and, for a moment, you feel ridiculous for making yourself worry so much over nothing as you drift off to sleep in the safety of your boyfriend’s loving embrace.

But it doesn’t last for long.

You’re pulled back from the edge of slumber when you feel Wonpil’s lips on your forehead, starting off with small, cute little kisses that have you giggling and snuggling deeper into him, but they slowly turn more heated and firm, travelling down your face and along your jawline until he captures your lips with his own, and by then, the kisses have turned entirely too hungry.

“Pili,” You whine against his lips that seemed to be trying to devour you whole, “I’m too tired.”

“You know I love you right?” He asks suddenly, completely ignoring your protest and catching you off guard by the unexpected question.

“Of course.” You frown, confused. Where was this coming from?

“And do you love me?”

Oh, there he goes again. “Wonpil…”

“Answer me.”

You couldn’t see him in the dark but you knew by the stinging frost that freezes the air and crystallizes in your lungs that that strange expression was back on his face.

“O-of course, baby. You know I do.”

“And you’d never lie to me, right?” His voice rang in your ears, as soft as ever, but instead of the delicate little songbird it always reminded you of, images of treacherous sirens and deceivingly dulcet songs come to mind.

“Wonpil, I…” You choke, all too aware of the weight of his arms around you, your feet already caught in the undertow. And he seems to know it too.

“You what, baby?”

“You’re scaring me.” You try to appeal to him, hoping that this was all just a misunderstanding and he’d snap out of it as soon as you make him aware that you felt unsafe.

But this nightmare was just beginning.

“What, you’re scared of me? Why?” He asks incredulously, and you’re entirely too conscious of the fact that his hands don’t fall from your figure. Instead he pulls you closer and rubs your back in a way that would’ve been soothing if it weren’t for his next words. ”The only reason you’d need to be scared is if you had lied to me, but you didn’t. Right?”

Your body stiffens under him and he feels it. “What’s wrong with you, baby? Why are you acting so weird today? You said you got caught up at work and I believe you.”

But you knew he didn’t. Even with the way your body had solidified into stone with fear, you could still feel the barely contained rage brewing underneath his paper-thin disguise.

“Work doesn’t always have to be in the office. Sometimes you need to sort things out over some nice dinner and a few drinks, right?” He asks innocently, but nothing was innocent about his insinuation. He was telling you that he knew where you actually were tonight and that he’s not happy about it.

“How did you…?” Your voice came out hoarse and weak, befitting of the statue you had become.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” He raises his hand and you flinch, thinking he was going to strike you but he just brushes your hair behind your ear and laughs at your reaction.

“What’s wrong, baby? Are you scared of me?” He pouts cutely, “You have no reason to be scared. I’m not mad at you, darling. You said it was a work thing and I believe you. I know you wouldn’t lie to me. You’re smarter than that.”

You try to say something but it comes out garbled stutter and indecipherable, and Wonpil coos at you as if you were a cute baby struggling to put her words together and not a grown woman scared shitless of the strange man who seemed to have stolen her lover’s identity. “Aw, my baby is so flustered, it’s adorable. You’re so pretty, honey. And all mine, right?”

One of his hands slips under your top and slides up to your breasts, cupping and massaging them gently, as soft as his voice is.

“Y-yes.” You manage to croak, voice so small you wonder how he even heard you.

“That’s right, you’re all mine.” He whispers, kissing you as he continues playing with your breasts, and you hate yourself for how he still manages to get that familiar heat burning in your belly despite how terrified you were of him right now.

“I know you wouldn’t do something as stupid as to go out with another man and then lie to my face about it.” He smiles tightly, his fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples none too gently. “You don’t want poor Dowoonie to suffer the same fate as your meddlesome ex, huh?”

Your heart shrivels up with dread. How did he know what your coworker’s name is? And what does he have to with your missing ex?

“Come on, love, you don’t really believe what the police said about him running away, right?” His mocking question answers your unspoken ones as he easily reads you the way he always does.

You always thought you were so goddamn lucky to be with a man who could understand you without you having to say a word, but now you wish you could keep your thoughts hidden from his sharp, all-seeing eyes.

“I mean he tried to run, but he didn’t get very far.” Wonpil smirks–a strange look on such a kind face.

“No, you’re lying.” You shake your head violently, denying his words. “You couldn’t have hurt him. You… you…”

“Why are you crying?” He grumbles, annoyed at your reaction. “Are you actually sad for that piece of shit? He was trying to tear us apart, baby. He wanted to take you away from me so I carved his rotten heart out.”

“No, it’s not true. You’re lying!” You sob, covering your ears so you wouldn’t have to hear any more of his chilling confessions. You wish to go to sleep and forget any of this happened, to wake up in the morning in the arms of your sleepy boyfriend who gives you a tired smile and groggily tells you that this was all a bad dream and to go back to sleep. But this nightmare was never ending, and Wonpil wasn’t interested in playing the part of the sweet boyfriend anymore.

He grabs your arms and pins them over your head, an ugly scowl distorting his face. “I don’t like seeing you cry over another man. So stop it or I’ll really give you something to cry about.”

Then he proceeds to clamp a hand over your mouth and, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch your nose, he cuts off your breathing completely. “I said, stop it.”

You struggle against his hold, thrashing wildly on the bed, eyes wide with terror and fingers clawing at his arms to no avail. You realize with dismay that the small, gentle boy you fell in love with was neither of those things and that he had fooled you with his soft disposition into underestimating the things he was capable of doing, and now you were paying the price for your gullibility.

Your vision starts to get hazy as you feel the life slip out of your body, but one thing remains in sharp focus: Wonpil’s unblinking eyes that stare down at you, waiting for you to either stop crying or stop breathing.

Somehow, someway, you stop crying first–probably because of all the adrenaline pumping through your body at the moment, drying up any droplet before it even leaves your eyes–and Wonpil, finally, lets you go.

You feel like you were born again–not in the clean, pure way it’s portrayed in poetic prose, but painful and teary and visceral as you gasp for air and force it into lungs that don’t know how to handle it, the alveoli almost tearing at the unfamiliar stretch while your blood vessels sing at being once again flooded with air.

And Wonpil… he just laughs at your struggle.

“You’re so silly, baby. I really thought you wouldn’t stop crying there for a second.” He says nonchalantly and, taking advantage of the way your head was thrown back as you continue gasping for air, he buries his face in your neck and kisses you, biting and sucking harshly on the sensitive skin.

“God, seeing you like this is turning me on so much.” He groans in your ear, his hand going between your legs to rub you through your clothes.

“Oh, what’s this?” He pull back with a smirk, biting his lip hungrily. “Why are you so wet, baby?”

You feel a wave of nausea wash over you at the realization that you are wet, that he got you wet despite revealing himself to be an absolute fucking psychopath. What the hell is wrong with you?

“You’re soaking through all your clothes.” He remarks with wonder, beyond delighted at your body’s response. “Did you like getting choked this much? Should I do it some more?”

He wraps his free hand around your throat and you immediately break down into tears again. “No, no, please, no more. I don’t want it ever again.”

“Really? Then why are you so wet, darling? Are you lying again?” He asks you in a baby voice, pouting that you’re not playing along.

You press your lips together tightly and shake your head, pleading with him through teary eyes to have mercy on you. He must’ve liked that because he smiles sweetly at you, “I get it. It’s being reminded who owns you that got you this hot and bothered. It’s okay. I can remind you in other ways.”

Wonpil sits back and tugs on the leg of your pajama pants, “Take this off.”

You remain frozen with dread. You didn’t want to have sex with him despite what your body was showing. He’s a monster.

“Huh? Are you rejecting me?” He scoffs, “Stop messing around darling or I’m going to get angry.”

His toothy smile resembles a snarl more than anything and you know that he’s ready to sink them into your flesh if you don’t obey so you hastily take off your pants and lay down again, waiting for his next move.

“Open your legs, darling.” He prompts, nudging your foot. “Yeah, open them wide for me.”

You do as told, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of your bare heat. “Shit. Why are you so pretty, baby?”

His fingers run smoothly up and down your dripping slit, and Wonpil can’t hold back the hunger within him much longer. Bending his head down to your heat, he orders you to keep your eyes on him.

His tongue laps at you, nudging your lips open ever so slightly so he could tease you, only allowing a small strip of your pussy some pleasure, and you find yourself involuntarily opening your legs up wider and pushing your hips up towards his mouth, seeking more from the man who aroused you as much as he terrified you.

Pleased with your eagerness, he rewards you by eating you out properly, his lips kissing and sucking on your pussy while his tongue strokes up and down firmly–all the while his eyes continue to stare up at you, so big and bright and kind that you almost forget all the sinister things hiding behind his pretty eyes.

“Fuck,” He drags his teeth ever so slightly over your clit then opens his mouth wide to suck greedily at your pussy when your hips buck up into his face. With his fingers teasing at your entrance, he mumbles against your heat, sounding and looking as fucked out as you are, “Is this all for me?”

“Yes! Only for you.” You reassure him right away, scared that he wouldn’t believe you despite it being the truth.

“So needy.” He hums, pushing his middle finger inside you and biting his lip at the way your walls clench eagerly around it. “You’re so good for me baby. I love you so much.”

He puts his mouth on you again, moans and gasps slipping from the both of you as his tongue laps up your juices and his finger pumps in and out of your sopping pussy that just keeps dripping more, filling the room with the most obscene noises and goading him on. His actions turn crude and sloppy, and his endless moans permeate your sensitive skin and stimulate your nerve endings directly, pushing you over the edge.

“Ah, Wonpili, oh god, ah, don’t stop.” You cry out, your hands automatically reaching out to grab his hair as you cum on his mouth and fingers.

Wonpil happily lets you hump his face as you cum, and gradually slows down his ministrations as your body calms down. Sitting up, he pushes his pants down with his dry hand then proceeds to jerk himself off with his cum-soaked hand. “Baby, I can’t wait anymore. I have to have you. Can I, baby?”

You close your legs, not to deny him your heat but to rub your thighs together, still so needy even after your orgasm, too fucked out to care how twisted this is.

“Greedy little baby,” He drawls, forcing himself between your legs and lining his dick with your entrance. “Let me take care of that.”

He pushes in slowly– so, so slowly– letting out the breathiest moans with every inch that goes in, all while his hungry eyes eat you up, and you’ve never felt more aroused nor disturbed before. But the feeling of him filling you up so completely, your walls distended from the stretch, feels right and you’re scared that you won’t be able to experience a feeling so intense with another man. Not that Wonpil will let you. So when he tells you how good you make him feel and how much he wishes he could stay wrapped up inside you forever, you can’t help but whimper your agreement.

“You’re so pretty, my baby. I love you so, so much.” He gasps, barely moving his hips and yet you know he feels as overwhelmed as you do. “Do you feel me inside you? Feel how hot and hard I am, just for you?”

He pulls his hips back ever so slightly then thrusts forward, the engorged head of his cock hitting so deep inside you, you don’t know if it’s painful or pleasurable, but your legs automatically close around his waist and pull him closer to you.

“Want me to start moving, baby?”

“Yes, please.”

“Ah, shit,” He groans as his cock slides out of you, but he’s quick to silence your cry of protest as he pushes back in quickly, making you feel complete again. “Shh, baby, I’ll give it to you good. I’ll remind you who you belong to.”

You shudder at his words and his eyes seem to darken at your reaction, getting hazier the more scared you appear.

“You really drive me crazy, you know that?” He moans, thrusting faster. “You feel so, so good. Do I make you feel good too?”

You hastily nod, knowing better by now than to make him wait.

“Good. You better remember that because if I ever catch you doing something like this with another man… well, let’s just say that it won’t feel very good for the both of you.” He smiles wickedly at you, his hands going to push your shirt up and play with your breasts. “Only I can do this to you.”

Leaning down, he plants wet, sloppy kisses all over your chest, a contrast to the way his hips thrusts into you with deep, deliberate strokes.

“Who do you belong to, baby?” He growls, one of your nipples stuffed in his mouth still and you shudder at the gravelly vibrations. “Who owns you?”

“You do.” You shudder, clutching onto his hoodie helplessly. “I’m yours, Wonpil.”

“Fuck, yes, you are.” He grunts, his thrusts losing their pace as they get rougher. “Say it again, baby. I want to hear you say it again.”

Wrapping both hands around your neck, he positions his thumbs over your trachea, not pressing down but letting you he will if you refuse.

“I’m yours. I’m only yours. I belong to you, Wonpil.” You cry out, repeating what he wants to hear so he’d have mercy on you, but he ends up liking it so much he inadvertly chokes you anyway as he presses his weight forward so he can speed up his pace, nearing his end.

“Fuck, yeah, you are.” Wonpil stares down at you struggling against his hands, but he either doesn’t see or doesn’t care, not letting go until his cock jerks inside of you and his hot seed distends your pussy even more.

And that’s when you cum too, your whole body burning up as the orgasm tears through your oxygen starved body.

Wonpil pulls back to take in your ruined body, his eyes lingering on your neck that was savoring the imprints of his fingers and on your pussy that was overflowing with his cum. Scooping some of the cum that trickled down your ass, he pushes it back inside, blinking and letting out a heavy breath at the squelching sound they make.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy.” He laments, as if he wasn’t deranged already. “I love seeing you dripping with my cum. I wanna fill you up every day and every night until everyone knows who you belong to.”

He falls over you, and by now your body expects the breathlessness and scorching heat he brings about, and welcomes it.

And yet, Wonpil still manages to surprise you.

“Oh and baby, one more thing…” His tone is nonchalant against your ear but you could hear the wicked smile in his voice and it chills you to the bone. “I swapped out your birth control pills for vitamins.”

Your heart drops down your chest and into his hand that was caressing the skin over your lower belly lovingly. “That way our baby can grow big and strong inside you.”

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

A/N: This was the fastest fic I’ve written in like a year lol so please let me know what you think.

#moe talks #wonpil smut #wonpil angst #day6 smut #day6 angst #day6 scenarios #day6 fanfics #day6 imagines #wonpil scenarios #wonpil fanfics #wonpil imagines

509 notes · View notes

letmetellyouaboutmyfeels · 4 years

Note

My dearest darling partner in crime, you know I have a mighty need for "Shannon actually divorced her husband instead of leaving him hanging for two years" S2 FWB Buddie if you are so inclined...*bats eyelashes*

Aha okay so this is now a multi-chapter mess. I have no plan. I don’t know where this is going or how I’m organizing this. But these stupid stupid boys won’t leave me alone, so here we are. Part one of what is sure to be an annoyingly feels-filled saga. You can also read it here on Ao3.

Onward!

The first thing Buck thinks when he sees the new guy is oh no, he’s hot. The world seems to go into slow-motion. He swears he hears music.

The second thing Buck thinks when he sees the new guy is what the fuck is he doing in my station.

Okay, so maybe he’s a little cranky because with some encouragement from Maddie (who arrived in town yesterday) he and Abby had a proper talk for the first time in weeks and officially broke it off. Buck’s not exactly inclined to listen to Maddie on all things, since she did up and be good as gone from his life for years—thanks, Doug—but she was only telling him what his mind had already been whispering.

Doesn’t mean that the break up doesn’t hurt.

So he’s cranky, sure. And Eddie Diaz (that’s the fucker’s name) is confident, and handsome, and funny, and fine as hell, and daring, and pretty, and dedicated, and sexy, and…

Ahem.

It’s a lot for a guy to handle, okay?

Buck’s spoiling for a fight, and the confusing dance his stomach does whenever Eddie looks at him gives him the perfect excuse to be a brat, and even though Chim and Bobby and everyone else is giving him the side eye, he just can’t seem to stop. He fell in love, really in love, for the first time in his life and once again he was abandoned, and he just wants someone to yell at. And if it provides the added bonus of Eddie’s near-constant attention, well. Icing on the cake.

Except Eddie’s not playing back. He’s not posturing, he’s not snapping. Buck feels almost like a dog getting rapped on the nose with a newspaper. In the gym, Eddie doesn’t lose his cool. He seems almost amused. Like he knows what he’s doing to Buck, like he knows Buck’s drowning and just swinging his arms wildly to see who he can punch, like he knows his stupid pretty face is making Buck’s entire body squirm and heat up.

Maybe he’s being a bit of a jerk. Just a little.

A bomb isn’t exactly what most people would call a meet cute or a place to bond, but Buck can tell Eddie warms to him after that. And he can’t help but feel a bit warmer himself, basking in Eddie’s smile.

“You can have my back any day,” Eddie says, and Buck knows it’s probably nothing, but it sounds like more—or maybe he just wants it to be more, since he’s lonely and hasn’t had sex in months and he’s realizing he likes Eddie being pleased with him.

“Or you could have mine,” he blurts out, throwing in a bit of sauciness, just to see, just to test.

Eddie’s gaze flickers, maybe—just maybe—his eyes get a little darker, and Buck wonders if maybe there’s another way to get out all his frustration.

___________________________________________________________

“Another story to tell the family, right?”

They’re stripping down in the locker room, and Chim’s rolling his eyes because they all know how he used to steal their stories for Tatiana.

“I don’t think Karen will want to know about this one,” Hen says, grabbing her stuff. “Have a good night!”

Buck waves at her, then turns to Eddie. “What about you? Anybody to impress?”

Eddie shakes his head. “My kid’s too young to hear about that kind of thing.”

A kid. Buck glances down, tries to be subtle. No wedding ring. “You got a kid? I love kids.”

Eddie pulls out a picture of a smiling, golden-haired boy. Buck can feel himself grinning. He really does love kids and this guy’s adorable. “His name’s Christopher.”

“He’s cute.” Buck hands the picture back. “What about his mom?”

Eddie tucks the picture away and grabs supplies for the showers. “She’s… not in the picture. Divorced.”

“That sucks, man.” Eddie’s single Eddie’s single Eddie’s single—

“It is what it is.” That’s a shut door if Buck ever heard one, but he’s an expert at prying things open. After all, he’s a firefighter.

Eddie heads for the showers and Buck…

Carpe diem.

Buck follows.

“So nobody to brag to, huh?” he asks, quickly stripping off his clothes so he doesn’t get them blasted with water.

Eddie glances over his shoulder, and the look on his face seems to be trapped somewhere between are you fucking kidding me and oh this is adorable. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who uses heroic stories to get into people’s pants.”

Not anymore. “Nah, I just bat my eyelashes.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet that works wonders.”

“Y’know, I do know sarcasm when I hear it.”

“Do you?” Eddie turns to face him fully and it hits Buck like a delayed webpage loading that oh, yeah, they’re both naked.

Go big or go home. “So are we going to do something about…” He gestures between them. “This? Or are we going to keep ignoring it?”

“What, the obvious alpha male posturing?” Eddie asks. “Or the fact that you want to sleep with me? Because I’m gonna tell you I got enough of the former while I was in the military and as for the latter, we’re coworkers.”

“Nothing against coworkers having a little fun.”

“I have a kid.” Eddie puts his hands on his hips and oh, okay, nope, eyes up top, Buck. “I just moved here. The last thing I’m looking for is complications.”

“Well lucky for you I’m a simple guy. As anyone around here will tell you.” Yeah, he’s aware of the joke about his intelligence, but whatever. “I’m great at keeping things uncomplicated.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, then reaches for him. Buck’s heart races—

—and then skips a beat as he’s blasted with cold water. He yelps, ducking out of the way as Eddie finishes turning on the showers.

The look of smug satisfaction on Eddie’s face is not attractive. At all.

“Real funny.” Buck wipes his face off and gets the water out of his eyes.

“Oh, hilarious,” Eddie agrees seriously. His eyes crinkle up at the corners when he smiles.

Buck stands there, not quite sure what to do. The water’s warm, now, feels good, and it sure as hell looks good, sliding down Eddie’s body. Eddie’s not saying or doing anything, but he’s not kicking Buck out, either.

He debates for about ten seconds before he thinks, fuck it. He did the mature thing and waited for sex and did everything right and it still got his heart dashed to pieces. Why not be a little reckless? “You saying you’d object if I wanted to blow you?”

Eddie inhales a mouthful of water and splutters fantastically for a few seconds. The look he gives Buck when he’s finished is impressive. “You really have no shame, do you?”

Buck shrugs. “Don’t have the time for it.”

And he really wants to get his mouth on Eddie’s cock. Like, that’s kind of all he’s been able to think about since the grenade.

Eddie’s eyes narrow, and for a second Buck’s certain he’s going to get hit with a talk about sexual harassment from Bobby in the morning, but then Eddie plants his hand on the tiled wall and says, oh so casually, “Well, if you’ve got your heart set on it.”

Oh hell yes.

Buck’s been very diligently restricting his ogling to Eddie’s face and shoulders (what, they’re great shoulders, broad and tan and perfect for biting during sex), so it’s not until he sinks to his knees—carefully, the floor’s tiled and this is the only pair of knees he’s got—that he looks at Eddie’s cock and realizes it’s hard.

Ha.

Playing it cool and casual and this whole time he wanted Buck just as much as Buck wanted him. Buck is never letting him live this down. He looks up at Eddie through his lashes, a trick he’s learned works wonders when he’s about to eat someone out. “And here you are acting like it’s such a big chore to get your dick sucked.”

“Maybe I just like the idea of your mouth being too full to talk.” Eddie’s hand comes around to cradle the back of Buck’s head, his fingers combing through the short hair, tugging oh so slightly to get Buck’s head in place.

A shiver works through him. Jesus, that feels good. He hasn’t had a dry spell like this since he first discovered what sex was, and just the intimate touch of another person has his cock rising and his blood singing.

He leans in, nuzzling Eddie’s thigh, savoring the scent of another person, the feel of skin beneath his mouth again. And maybe he’s, ah, delaying things just a little, as he eyes the rather impressive dick in front of him, because. Well.

Here’s the thing that Buck kind of didn’t mention to Eddie.

He’s never given a blow job before.

But like hell he’s going to let it stop him now that they’ve reached this point. And besides, he knows what he likes, so it’s just a matter of remembering what that is and replicating it. This’ll be a breeze.

“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Eddie asks.

Buck glares up at him. “Have so.”

“You sure you’re twenty-seven? Because you sound like a five-year-old right now.”

Buck promptly takes as much of Eddie’s cock in his mouth as he can. He nearly takes too much and just barely saves himself from gagging, but Eddie makes a choked noise above him in response and that’s all that fucking matters.

“Ten points for enthusiasm,” Eddie mutters, and oh, it is so on now. He’s going to blow this guy’s mind.

Turns out, sucking dick is simultaneously eager and harder than he expected. Easy? Sucking. Holy shit. He could do this all day, he’s eaten ice cream cones that were more trouble than this.

Figuring out what exactly he’s supposed to do with his tongue? Difficult. Very difficult. It’s not until he has the bright idea of, hey, what if he treats a dick like a really big clit, that he starts to get the hang of it.

He’s never had a woman complain about his oral skills, after all.

Eddie’s hand tightens in his hair and he swears under his breath. “Again,” he orders, a bit breathless, and Buck repeats the little twist he did with his tongue against the slit of Eddie’s cock. He shivers at the order, at the implications of it.

“Oh.” Eddie’s voice is like a revelation. “Oh, you like that. You like when I tell you what to do?”

He can’t really nod right now, so he hums.

Eddie’s grip tights further. “Suck.”

His voice is a full-on growl and Buck’s cock jerks in response, electricity zapping every one of his limbs. Jesus, turns out there’s one place he really does like to be given orders.

“Jesus Christ, you should see yourself.” Eddie’s still growling, and now his hips are thrusting a little into Buck’s mouth, and Buck just lets his jaw go slack, lets Eddie use him. Eddie swears violently at that and speeds up, just a little, like he’s trying to hold himself back so he doesn’t hurt him, doesn’t go too far.

Buck feels like there’s a cat in his chest, purring, like he’d wag his tail if he had one, on his knees and being good and giving someone what they want. His jaw aches and his mouth is stretched but it feels so good, and if he’d known he would like sucking dick this much, hell, he’d’ve done it years ago.

He can feel Eddie tense up, his cock jerking against Buck’s soft palate, and Buck tries to open his throat to get ready—only Eddie pulls Buck off his cock and turns, spilling into the spray of the shower, the evidence washed immediately down the drain.

Buck’s voice is raw when he tries to speak. “I was gonna—you didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t want to assume.” As if he’s trying to make up for showing some softness and consideration, Eddie hauls Buck to his feet, a sly look in his eyes. “Now, what are we going to do with you?”

There’s a promise in his voice that Buck really, really hopes he’ll deliver on. He shamelessly plasters himself to Eddie’s front, lets Eddie feel his erection, and combs his fingers through all that thick, dark hair. Buck would kill to be able to run his fingers through it when it’s dry. Eddie’s hair always looks unbearably soft.

“Fuck me?” he says hopefully, grinding slow against Eddie’s hip. “I mean. I get recovery time, so… we can just make out until…”

Eddie’s hands find his waist and Buck whines, trying to catch Eddie’s mouth in a kiss. He wants that tongue counting his teeth, dammit.

“I’d let you,” he says, because oh, God, he would, he really would. Even though it’s reckless to let a guy you just met fuck you when you’ve never done it before. Buck’s gotten pretty far by being reckless.

“You’d let me,” Eddie says, something sparking in his eyes, and the next thing Buck knows, he’s been turned around and pressed face-first against the wall.

“You really think I’d fuck you here?” Eddie’s voice is dark and utterly filthy and Buck’s fucking trembling. “Hell no. If I fucked you, I’d do it right, get you all laid out on a bed and really take you apart. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Buck’s nails are scabbling at the wet tile, trying to find a purchase that isn’t there. He’s never felt this raw in his entire life and he vaguely wonders if this is what drugs feel like because if it is, he understands how people get addicted.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s lips are right at the shell of his ear now, his voice a heated whisper. “One look at you, boy, and I fuckin’ knew it. You just want someone to destroy you.”

Fucking yes he does.

Eddie bites at his ear right as his hand find’s Buck’s aching cock and oh, oh fuck. Eddie’s pace is brutal, going from tight and hot to feather light, the tips of his fingers dancing up and down, drawing Buck to the edge and then leaving him there.

Buck’s real glad that he got good at being quiet because of Abby’s mom, otherwise the entire station would probably hear him moaning and begging right now.

Eddie’s plastered to his back, his free arm around Buck’s waist like a band of iron, and Buck feels like everywhere they touch is on fire. “Jesus.” Eddie sounds half in command, half in awe. “You really fucking need this, don’t you?”

“So do you,” Buck fires back. “Or you wouldn’t have said yes to me.”

Eddie growls and bites his neck, like a wolf holding down another so he can mount him, and Buck goes lightheaded with lust. He twists his wrist on the upstroke, sucking on Buck’s skin, grinding against Buck’s ass like he might actually fuck him after all, and Buck comes so hard he goes deaf for a second, his ears going silent and then buzzing like a nest of hornets.

Buck rests his forehead on the cool tile and Eddie licks apologetically at the spot he bit, his grip loosening. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on with you, why you want someone to put you in your place, but next time, maybe try talking to a therapist instead of propositioning your coworker.”

Buck snorts. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

He turns, leaning back against the tile, as Eddie grabs the soap. “Does that mean I can’t come to you? After you made all those promises about… what was it… taking me apart?”

The look that Eddie gives him is incredulous. “You realize what would’ve happened if someone walked in here, right?”

Buck grins. “Ah, but nobody did walk in here.”

Judging by the eye roll he gets in return, his comment is not appreciated.

“This?” Eddie gestures back and forth between them. “Was a one-time thing. We’re not doing this again.”

Buck nods, swallowing the disappointment that’s hot and acrid in his throat. “Sure thing.”

______________________________________________________

Well, obviously by ‘again’ Eddie meant ‘in the station’ because one week later they’re in the back of Buck’s car and Eddie’s mouth is attached to his neck like he’s a fucking vampire.

A car isn’t exactly the best place for maneuverability, so Buck’s not getting the fucking he was sort-of promised last time, but he doesn’t really care when he’s got a leg wrapped around Eddie’s waist and they’re grinding against each other like teenagers in the high school parking lot.

He rucks up Eddie’s shirt, gets is hands on all that smooth, warm skin on his back, and digs his nails in as Eddie gives a particularly hard thrust. He’s so fucking turned on he’s seeing stars and he should probably, y’know, suggest they take this somewhere else but he can’t, he can’t—his cock’s trapped underneath Eddie’s body, inside his pants, and Eddie’s mouth, and his hands, he’s—

His orgasm gives him vivid flashbacks to the less-than-glamorous trysts he got up to as a sixteen-year-old, but he doesn’t care because it feels so damn good. Eddie groans and thrusts harder, frantic, and he once again bites, this time Buck’s chest, as he comes.

Buck’s lying down, but he’s still dizzy. “I demand a proper bed next time.”

“There’s not gonna be a next time.” Eddie’s authority is somewhat diminished by the fact that his face is mashed into Buck’s shoulder.

The next moment, Eddie’s leveraging himself up and off of Buck. “We shouldn’t even have done that this time.”

“Why?” Buck follows him, sitting up, and nearly bangs his head on the roof of the car. “We’re two guys who don’t have time to date—I don’t even want to fucking date right now—you’ve got a kid—why not just use each other, y’know? I’m here, you’re here, I’m hot, you’re hot, our schedules line up, I’m not seeing a downside to this.”

“Of course you don’t see a downside,” Eddie mutters.

They regard each other for a moment, and Buck knows this is a serious conversation, but also his pants are soaked and they’re gonna start feeling tacky and gross any second now. “Look, I get it, you want to be smart. But I’m offering you a no-strings-attached-free-sex-whenever card so.” He shrugs. “If you ever decide you want to help me test out my new mattress, you know where to find me.”

Eddie’s dark eyes watch him for a second, his fingers tapping on Buck’s knee—Buck’s pretty sure Eddie’s not aware he’s doing it—and then he pulls back. “Yeah, I do know where to find you.”

He backs up and out of Buck’s car, and it’s a good thing Buck didn’t have any dignity to start with, otherwise he’d be feeling pretty undignified right about now.

#mads answers things #mads writes stuff #buddie #buddie fanfic #911 fox #911 fanfic #how dare you encourage me into this #and how dare they be so hot and so stupid #this is going to be a complete trainwreck #but a sexy trainwreck #extasiswings

81 notes · View notes

deliasbabe · 4 years

Text

Dancing Through Our House With The Ghost Of You

Billie deals with her own ghosts. Kind of a Character study, I guess. Inspired by the song “Ghost of You” by 5SOS. Part 2 coming soon!

Words: 2,148

Warnings: Language, Major Angst

As Billie stepped out of the taxi and grabbed her luggage, she glanced up at the place she at one time called home. It still was home, in the general sense. All her things were there, all her pots and pans and picture frames. But could she really call a place she hadn’t stepped foot in in almost a year home?

Ten months and sixteen days, to be exact. She kept count. The trip was only supposed to last six months, just a quick visit to some of the most haunted places in Europe for her new special. But the longer Billie was gone, the more she realized she didn’t want to return, not that there was much to come home to anymore. She kept extending the trip, using the extra funds from you not being there to do it. Then, once Lifetime’s funding ran out, she financed the trip herself, dragging her new assistant, Amanda, along with her.

As the medium stepped through the threshold, she could have sworn she heard the familiar humming of that one NSYNC song you always played on loop, the one Billie relentlessly teased you for. It put her at ease, sent the butterflies in her stomach swirling about, only to be crushed moments later by reality. There was no humming, no NSYNC song, and most importantly, there was no you.

“I can take your bags to your room for you.” Amanda offered, breaking Billie out of her trance. She didn’t know how long she had been standing there, but it must have been a while.

She shook her head, still dazed. “No, sweetheart. That’s ok, I can do it. Why don’t you…” Billie trailed off, too lost in her own thoughts to say a proper command.

“Get dinner started?” Amanda asked, Billie nodding in return, “Stir fry ok?”

“Yes darling, that’s fine.” Billie said, Amanda quickly reaching for Billie’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, but all it did was make the woman’s veins run ice cold. It was wrong, so so wrong. In the absence of you, Billie had so carelessly fallen back into her old ways, and in turn, Amanda had fallen into her bed. She hated to think that the girl she had showered with affections only days before now repulsed her, but the woman had to face the fact that Amanda was only a placeholder, a European flame, although Billie knew her assistant thought it was more, thought she was more.

Billie carefully walked up the steps, hating the hollow sound her heels made when they came in contact with the refinished wood. Everything about this was harsh, even the silence. Her home always used to be so soft, comforting, like her own personal safety blanket. Nothing had changed, the house was still the same, and Billie had to wonder if maybe it was you who kept the house alive, kept its heart beating and warm blood pumping through its veins. Maybe, maybe not. Maybe the house was just a house, maybe you were just you, but something told Billie the chill in the air wasn’t thawing anytime soon.

Billie threw her suitcase on the perfectly made, king sized bed and kicked off her heels. It didn’t feel right to call it her bed anymore, not when she could still smell your perfume on the comforter, not when the echoes of your giggles radiated around the room. Billie had always been sensitive to energies, lingering presences that had been etched into the walls and woven into the fibers of the 1000-count sheets, and yours was everywhere. She untucked her silk button down and unzipped her pants, changing into her favorite pajamas that she had for whatever reason decided to leave behind. She wasn’t the type to change right after arriving home, you had spent countless nights teasing her about wearing her heels until the moment she climbed into bed. But something about the way the silk felt on her skin made her want to scream, and truthfully with the way the night was going, she wasn’t sure she would be awake much longer. With a sigh she sat on the bed, unzipping her suitcase and pulling out the contents, ready to put each article back in its designated spot and erase all of Europe from her memory. She heard the soft padding of bare feet on the stairs, glancing up to see you, dressed only in her striped button down and leaning on the doorframe. It wasn’t real, she knew it wasn’t, but she couldn’t help but indulge herself for a moment, memorizing the kinks in your mused hair, your gleaming smile and the way you gripped tightly to her favorite coffee mug.

“Thought you might want some coffee.”

That was the morning after the first night you two had spent together, and it was a moment Billie wanted to burn into her brain for eternity. Still, she hated to torture herself like this, and she forced herself to look away from your form, shaking her head to clear the vision. She glanced back at the open door to see it empty, and breathed a sigh of relief, or despair, she wasn’t sure which.

When the smell of dinner began to waft into the bedroom, Billie decided to head back down. Despite her being fully aware that she was leading Amanda on, she felt obligated to keep the charade up for a little longer, if nothing else than to keep Billie away from her own thoughts, which seemed to be quickly spiraling. The unfamiliar feeling of her own bare feet on the wooden steps gave her a sense of grounding, or so she thought. Things were different, she was different, and there was no use being swept up in the past.

She heard the familiar song before she had even made it to the ground floor, her heart pounding wildly as the tune blended with the sizzling of the stove.

“And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills…”

Billie’s steps lightened, sneaking up to the entryway of the kitchen and indulging herself for a moment. You always sang while you were cooking. Frankly, there really wasn’t ever a moment you weren’t singing or humming or making noise in general, and Billie loved it. She loved hearing you from rooms away, loved knowing you were always there, loved always having you on her mind. She watched you push the vegetables around the pan and she smiled softly, but something felt wrong, and the smile quickly dissipated. It didn’t sound like you, it sounded like…

“Billie? Billie?” Amanda asked, snapping the woman out of her trance, “Are you ok?”

“Yes, I’m fine dear.” Billie said, glancing down at the floor as her heart dropped, reality settling in once again. This was wrong, all of this was wrong.

“Are you sure?” Amanda asked as Billie glanced back up, “You’re crying, love.”

The medium swiped her thumb across her cheek, catching a single tear with the long nail. She didn’t even know she was doing it, and she let out a small, frustrated grunt. Her gaze returned back to the floor, “Why don’t you head home sweetheart? I can finish this.” She didn’t dare look up, not wanting to see the disappointment stamped across the redhead’s face. She knew Amanda thought she would be staying, there was hardly a night she didn’t end up in Billie’s bed, but even the idea made the woman’s skin crawl.

“Are you sure? Because I can…” Amanda said, Billie glancing up only long enough to see the realization sink in and her jilted lover’s face harden, “Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, Billie.”

Billie knew she wouldn’t be back. It would be just like all the times before, all the times where she had so carelessly thrown her flings to the curb. All of the women before you, probably all of the women after. Her resignation would be a text, effective immediately, once it finally set in that she was just like the rest, one of the many. She wouldn’t be able to bring herself to call, not that Billie blamed her. She knew what she was, what she always had been. A womanizer who loved the chase, but couldn’t ever get serious. The longer the chase was, the longer the relationship would last, but she really didn’t have to say much to get Amanda into bed, and so really, the game was over before it had even begun.

You were different, or at least Billie thought you were different, right up until she did the same to you. But you weren’t easy to catch, and maybe that was why she held on so long. You weren’t wooed by her shameless flirting, you had no interest in her games. She actually had to work for you, fight for you, and you weren’t an easy girl to trap. When she finally got ahold of you, she swore it would be different. But if it was different, you would still be there, you would have gone with her to Europe, not Amanda, just like you two had planned.

Then again, maybe it was different. Billie knew she wouldn’t think twice about letting Amanda go, in a week she wouldn’t even remember her name. She would be a face, one of the many, that would fade quickly. But Billie had spent the past ten months thinking of you constantly, wishing it were you and not her. That had never happened before. She certainly didn’t see ghosts of her past lovers floating around the halls, just you.

Forgetting about dinner entirely, Billie decided to tackle her demons head on. She wanted to get it over with, despite knowing it would be brutal. She didn’t want to see flickers of you every time she entered a new room over the next few days, didn’t want the constant reminder, so she grabbed a bottle of wine and moved through the rooms one by one, choking down tears. There you were, begging her to dance in the living room, studying at the dining room table, standing in her office covered in paint. Each memory was like taking a dagger to her chest, one after the other. There wasn’t a single room in the house where she didn’t see you, didn’t feel an ounce of your presence. One bottle of wine quickly turned to two, trying to numb the aching feeling that was spreading from bone to bone, nerve to nerve. It was harder than she thought, brutal in every way. You were smiling at her from the balcony, whispering to her in the bathroom, you had even left your mark in the laundry room, and it hurt, it really fucking hurt.

By the end she was stumbling, the second bottle dropped and shattered somewhere on the second floor. She didn’t care, because as she fumbled down the stairs, she was hit with the sucker punch. You were standing by the doorway, bags packed and gauze covering your forehead, hiding the numerous stitches underneath, the ones from the car accident. Your cheeks were tear stained, red rimmed eyes staring back at her filled with hurt and betrayal.

“Bill, are you sure you want to do this?”

Billie dropped, tucking her knees to her chest as she let out a guttural sob. She didn’t want to do it; she knows she didn’t. Hell, she knew then, but she couldn’t stop herself, and she did. She let you go, all because she was scared. That accident almost killed you, and the medium realized she couldn’t bear the idea of losing you. She hated that she was so attached, and once you said those words, she snapped. She ended things and they ended badly, and she never gave a reason, but you knew, you knew her better than she knew herself. She pushed you away because at least then it was a choice, and Billie needed that choice.

The woman looked up and you were still there, your eyes boring into hers as you shook your head.

“Bye, Billie.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Billie sobbed, dropping her head into her knees, hoping if she didn’t look, she wouldn’t see you walk out that door, never to return. But Billie couldn’t run from this, couldn’t pack her bags and head back to Europe, not anymore. But this house wasn’t home without you, and Billie wasn’t Billie without you, and you were gone. She hurt you, broke your heart in two, and now she had to pay the price.

She sobbed and sobbed until her lungs burned, never lifting her head. She heard the front door open, instinctually turning away from the noise. “Amanda,” She squeaked out, “I told you that you could go home.”

There was no response, and Billie thought she must have imagined it, that was until she heard a familiar voice.

“Billie?”

#wow I kind of hate how this turned out #the first third is good but the rest is trash im sorry #I should have just finished it last night #billie dean howard #billie dean howard x reader #AHS #ahs imagine #ahs murder house

103 notes · View notes

wri0thesley · 5 years

Note

pls water my crops with some werewolf jonathan fucking

tw for: werewolf fucking! afab reader! fem pronouns (reader is referred to as ‘wife’!). breeding!!

(no knotting, for once!)

There are all manners of rumours that float around about the Joestar son. Without taking into account the other boy that Jonathan Joestar's father took into his home, people have always gossiped about how Jonathan is confined to the house for one week a month, about how certain invitations at certain times of the month are always declined, about the howls that echo through the Joestar estate some nights, though people say that there are no wolves anywhere near where George Joestar chose to have his ancestral home--

Well. Rumours have never concerned you. Rumours do not concern Jonathan much anymore, either; not when he has you by his side and no need to travel to fancy society parties or attempt to ensnare himself a wife.

For Jonathan, his future is set out - you are beside him, and Dio will soon leave his home with his own wife, and one day all of this will belong to him. One day it will belong to both of you.

For the first time in his life, Jonathan is content. His curse does not hang over his head like a warning; "you will never be loved."

Because Jonathan has found that he can be loved in spite of it.

In fact, Jonathan has found that perhaps it's not as much of a deal-breaker as he once thought it was.

"You wouldn't hurt me," you murmur, your fingers curling in Jonathan's dark hair. "I know you wouldn't."

"Darling," he replies, his own voice breaking a little. "If I ever did--"

"You won't," you say, insistent. "I know you, Jojo. Don't lock yourself away from me again. Please. I want to see you. I want to appreciate you in every sense of the word. . ."

"You'd hate me," Jonathan argues, though the way you're stroking your fingers against his scalp and the soft whisper of your breath on his bare skin make his words and thoughts tangle in his head. "You'd never want to see me again. And if I did hurt you--"

"Which you wouldn't," you insist. "You've told me! You've told me that you would go out running in the grounds with Danny, and you never hurt him--"

This much is true, Jonathan's inner voice - the one that he tries not to listen to, because it is far too close to the wolf that he tries to keep dampened down - whispers. He never hurt Danny. And perhaps his lupine nature does remember! He always wakes up tired but sated after a transformation, but as far as he knows he's never actually hurt anyone - despite what the legends might say.

"Please," you breathe, and your lips ghost across his cheeks at the same time as you press the warmth of your body against him, your heart beating wildly against his arm. He's enveloped in your scent; some of it sweet florals and vanilla that he's bought you as gifts, and some of it unmistakably human and unmistakably you.

He thinks of the stone structure out in the grounds, with bars over the doors and chains, in that part of the estate where nobody is allowed to go but him and his father. he thinks of chains around his wrists and his ankles. He thinks about how, when it had been made, he had drilled into himself: for my own safety.

"I'll never forgive myself," he whispers, hoarsely, pressing his nose against the junction where your neck and shoulder meet and breathing in deeply. "If it does seem like I might hurt you . . . will you run, my darling?"

"Yes," you breathe, and you turn his face and kiss him.

Jonathan tastes like sweat and salt, but you have no complaints. You have no complaints about how his big hands come to cup your hips, holding your body against his. You have very few complaints when it comes to the match you've made; Jonathan is gorgeous and kind and sweet, a lion among men, and though you have a complication to deal with that most do not - well, does it matter, when Jonathan's lips are on yours and he kisses you so sweetly?

You break the kiss as you tug on his hand, a coy smile thrown over your shoulder in his direction.

"The library is all very well," you say, "but don't you think that things are rather better if they're carried on in the bedroom?"

He cannot argue with that - so he doesn't. Night is falling around the two of you, and he can already feel the whisper on his skin that the time is nearing. He'd expected to begin to feel . . . hungrier, now. More ferocious. He does not, though - the only ache in him that he's aware of is the one between his thighs. This ache murmurs that he wants to have you in a different way.

The curtains of your lavish bedroom are already open, and Jonathan pauses a moment before he steps into the place, the moon's first weak lights already illuminating all of the velvets and the bedspread. He swallows as you move ahead of him, letting yourself fall onto the bed with a soft thump, and rolling over to look at him and smile. He thinks, briefly, of how much he adores you.

And then he steps into the room, and the moon dapples his skin, and all is a blur.

At first, when Jonathan moves and you notice the way his skin seems to shift and change, you feel a hot surge of fear and regret. You should not have asked for this. You should have heeded his warnings. He very well might tear you to pieces on this antique bed, and you will have deserved that fate - but then, you notice other things. That he pauses. That his eyes go very large and dark.

You watch with fascination as Jonathan shifts. His body elongates, his muscles ripple, and before you can process things properly Jonathan is before you in a way you have never seen him. He is still . . . partly human. He is still bipedal, and when he reaches forward with hands that are now claws it is the same way that Jonathan reaches for you. His mouth is full of razor sharp teeth. You know this creature could rip you limb from limb.

But he reaches forward, and waits, and you know what he is waiting for.

You nod your assent.

The beast - Jonathan, you remind yourself - moves with all of the grace of any predator to pin you beneath its bulk on the bed. Teeth scrape adoringly against your neck - fur brushes your bare arms. And a voice that is almost Jonathan's, if your beloved husband where to have gravel in his throat, whispers to you;

"Mine."

"Yours," you repeat, your voice faint, but the growl is pleased as claws dig into velvet and brocade and you feel yourself divested of your expensive garments. Cool air hits your bare skin. Jonathan drags his tongue over your throat, making you shudder in pleasure - lower and lower and lower, over your nipple until it peaks beneath his ministrations, and then the other. His teeth tease at bare skin but do not break it.

You were right, then. Jonathan knows you. Jonathan is part wolf, now, and he's not the learned and lovely man you fell in love with . . . but something about the animalistic way he holds you beneath him and the sound of his growls and the way his claws and tongue and teeth are appreciating your body makes your thighs feel slick with desire.

He recognises you as his mate, you realise, as his snout - cool and wet - nudges at your inner thigh, and you spread immediately to display your aching sex for him.

"Mine," Jonathan repeats, leaning forward, and you're rewarded with another swipe of his tongue. There's a roughness to it, a largeness that you're not used to; but it does not effect the bolts of electricity that zip through your spine as he laps up your slick. He growl-groans against you, tasting you - and he delves in again with his tongue, as if you are a fine ambrosia. You whimper, grinding your sex against the tongue, your clit aching and swollen to be toyed with - but as the first buzzes of darkness begin to edge your vision, Jonathan pulls back.

He pulls himself onto the bed, his body caging yours beneath him, and you blink up with blown-out pupils into eyes that unmistakably belong to Jonathan. They have his sympathy and his kindness, that same shade that you have stared at on a hundred balmy evenings; but there's something animal in there now that you know, as your eyes wander down to see that Jonathan still has something that - thankfully - looks human, is lust.

"Please?" Jonathan manages, the word crunching against his teeth. You bare your throat.

You trust him. He has Jonathan's eyes.

"Please," you say, and he howls.

You're not expecting the howl, but you cannot bring yourself to be afraid of it as you feel familiar warm heat press against your inner thigh. It seems appropriate, actually, as you two become one in the light of the moon that has haunted Jonathan's thoughts for so long. As you feel his cock press against your entrance, slick with both his enthusiastic lapping and with your desire for your husband, stoked anew by his animal nature. As he pushes inside you, slowly, slowly--

If he'd been worried he would break you were his full humanity not returned to him, he was mistaken. Even so lupine in nature, Jonathan holds you like something delicate that could break apart at any moment, and he eases his cock inside you slowly. The fit is snug even after all of the nights you have spent together; still, you cannot imagine anyone but Jonathan ever fitting so well inside you. He rubs every spot of your inner walls like he was made to fuck you, and your hands scramble to find purchase on his back - more fur than skin is found, but at least it gives you something to hold onto.

When he begins to move, his pace is still slow, and you cling to him. He does not feel exactly like Jonathan usually feels under your fingertips, but that does not mean it's a bad feeling; he feels warm and real and right.

"Jojo," you whisper, as he begins to find a more even pace. "Jojo, Jojo--"

He recognises his name even this far gone. He does not say your name in reply, but he nuzzles against your cheek, breathing in your scent. His tongue licks a slow line over your ear and you find yourself shuddering, the movement sending a zip of electricity down your spine and making your sex pulsate.

He rocks against you, and you whimper. With each thrust, he seems to go deeper, stoking parts of you that remain unplumbed by anyone aside from Jonathan - but somehow, with Jonathan like this, it feels so much realer. This union feels primal and deep and correct. You run a hand over his brow, staring into his eyes, fingernails scratching over his ears. He makes a pleased, deep rumble in the back of his throat that makes you vibrate in turn.

In. Out. In. Out. You can hear how lewd the sound of his cock driving inside you sounds, echoing through the high ceilings. Your hips stutter against his in a silent plea to fuck you harder, please, you will not break and you can take it. Jonathan's breath comes out hot on your face.

"C-can I?" He asks, and you nod - his claws come to cling to your hips, lifting you almost off the bed, though your back is allowed to remain on the blankets. Your hips are supported only by him - and as he begins to thrust wildly against you, you wouldn't have it any other way. The combination of his strength and the animal way that he's fucking you converge on one point--

You try to hold on for longer, embarrassed by just how good it feels to be manhandled (should that be wolfhandled? You cannot bring yourself to care), but it is not to be - your mouth opens and a wail of Jonathan's name escapes you, and you come, shivering and shaking, your body pulsating and constricting where Jonathan is buried deep inside you.

He does not slow as you come, your body still rocked by his thrusts even as the aftershocks are rolling over you. Your hands, arms slung somewhere above your head from how he had moved you, fist in the bedsheets as you feel the tell-tale signs of a second orgasm, bare moments after your first body-trembling peak - and Jonathan growls, low in his throat, in a word that has your own heart beating in double time;

"Mate?"

Your face flushes. He may not be capable of many words right now, but you recognise what he is asking with this one. You're breathless, still teetering on the edge of your second precipice, but you manage to whisper out;

"Jojo . . . of course."

He fucks into you with wild abandon now, and you stop trying to hold back the moans and the whines and the desperate groans - there is nothing in your bedroom but fur on skin and the sounds of your wetness, Jonathan's rasping growl, your noises . . . And then, Jonathan's hips rock into yours twice, three times, harder than they have been so far, and you feel him come. Ropes of his warmth are pushed into you as he fucks through the final shakes of his orgasm, and you lie there, letting him use you--

"Oh--" You breathe, as Jonathan pulls out, and your channel feels horrifically empty. You can feel Jonathan's seed hot and warm inside you; the position that your legs are gently guided into by claws that should not be so careful does not allow for any of what he has given you to slide out.

Jonathan's fur and muscled form moves silently to one side of you, protectively curling about your sweaty body, where your breaths are still coming in heaving. He nuzzles the side of your face affectionately and then, like a cat, rests his head on your shoulder.

You are still breathing heavily when the first of his soft snores reaches your ears.

Well.

He certainly did not kill you.

Though you’re not sure how long it will be until you can walk properly again.

#writing #not sfw #breeding for ts #jonathan joestar #afab reader #fem pronouns #Anonymous

226 notes · View notes

tragedybunny · 4 years

Text

The Blade’s Edge - A League of Legends Fanfiction - Chapter 14

Happy Valentine's Day! I have been pushing myself to get this chapter out on the day of love! As always your playlist song:

Like A Prayer

❤TragedyBunny❤

They had a simple arrangement. She was the weapon to be used on his enemies. Things get more complicated when emotions bleed into what should simple. Now the two of them find themselves on the precipice of something that was entirely unexpected.

Thunk. The dagger hits the target, perfectly dead center. I’m hanging upside down from a ceiling rafter, throwing at targets scattered around the room, concentrating despite the dizziness starting to make my head spin. Behind me, I hear the whine of the opening door. None of the servants would dare interrupt me, not even Gwen. “Kitten, are you still not talking to me?”

I listen to his steps as he draws closer to me. I glance to my right and let a dagger fly in his direction. It buries itself in the wall next to him, he doesn’t flinch. “I’ll take that as yes.” We both know that I wasn’t actually aiming at him. He sighs, now the negotiating starts. “How about we go to the theatre tonight and then to that little cafe you like so much?”

I throw a blade at another target and ignore him. I want to see what concessions he’s willing to make. “I’ll buy you something shiny.” Hmm, there are a few pieces at the jeweler’s that I’ve had my eye on.

I throw again, another perfect hit. “Fine, do whatever you want to do with the blasted garden.” He almost sounds pained saying it. I feel a smile tug at the corner of my lips, I hadn’t expected to get exactly what I wanted. That’s what the whole argument had been about, he’d been staunchly against the expense.

“All of the above.” I sit up onto the beam and drop down next to him. I almost let out a gasp when I get a good look at him, he looks so very tired and worn. He’d left before the sun was even up this morning. I’d barely fallen asleep after chasing a target most of the night when I’d felt him stir beside me. There’s been growing unrest in the south, sparking bands of rebels to spring up and need to be put down. I feel a bit guilty for all the theatrics just now. I lean up and brush my lips against his while wrapping my arms around his neck. “Darling, we don’t have to go out.”

I watch his eyes stray to the now faded handprint on my wrist. The past couple of months since that terrible night he’s been overly indulgent, giving into nearly every request or whim of mine. It’s bittersweet, I no longer believe what we have means nothing to him, but he still will not tell me otherwise. Is it pride, fear, or am I imagining things? He leans his cheek on the top of my head. “No, it’s fine.”

The way I’m pressed against his chest I can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, strong and reassuring. “I'll leave it up to you.” I feel his arms tighten around me. I’m tempted to say more, but it’d make him cross if I fussed over him.

When we first started going to the theatre we were the subject of extreme interest. Those same whispers that followed us at the Solstice revels consumed the theatre crowd. Winter was fading away and we were falling back into a routine after what happened, he found me idly sketching and stated he was bored and we should go out. I told him he never wanted to go out, which earned an annoyed huff. I’d had to kiss away his irritation before he’d let me agree to his suggestion. It became a bit of a regular occurrence as spring arrived full force, the two of us, ensconced in his private box, bantering and debating in hushed whispers, trying to keep as quiet as possible. As if anyone would actually admonish the Grand General for not keeping quiet at the theatre.

“You really are spoiling me.” I twirl and show off the latest of his gifts, black lace and tulle, voluminous skirt yet somehow very revealing.

“I would say it’s worth it.” His gaze roves over me appreciatively before his hands close around my hips and he pulls me close. “You’re stunning.” The way his voice drops low and he whispers those words in my ear, I can almost feel my cheeks going crimson. I hate it when he does that.

“We will be late if you continue this.” I hesitate for a moment, we could just stay home. Eventually, I pull myself from his grasp and climb into the waiting carriage. “You may further compliment me when we return.”

It’s opening night for some unheard of playwright who’s managed to get the backing of a noble family. These productions that buy their way into a theatre are usually vanity pieces for their patrons and almost always end in spectacular disaster. Tonight is no exception, an overwrought affair based on an old myth, with glaringly obvious current parallels. “Really? Comparing me to Mordekaiser. I’m not sure if I should be insulted or flattered.”

“I would say flattered, but the dialogue is so insipid I’m going to go with insulted.” I make a mock gagging noise.

“We could just leave. That would cause a bit of a stir, walk out right now.”

“Tempting but whoever bankrolled this would probably think that was a victory. Oh, I know, let’s ask to meet the author. I heard he’s here. That will terrify him.”

“That is evil. How do I sleep next to you at night?” He puts his arm through my mine, bringing us closer.

“I always assumed very lightly.” I lean my head on his shoulder, relishing the moment.

He laughs in that subdued manner that’s typical for him, control to him is everything, and then squeezes my hand ever so slightly. I’ve come to know that gesture for what it is, his way of asking for affection, even if it is more proof of that constant need for control. I tilt my head up and brush my lips against his cheek anyway, I’ll not deny him. “I’m glad we came out tonight.” I’m taken aback at the unexpected honesty. I return my head to his shoulder and feel him ever so lightly kiss the top of my head.

“Me too.” Some intuition grips me and I realize there’s something he’s not telling me. I can feel the tension in his body as I lean against him. Between that and the tiredness lingering in his eyes, I’m troubled.

I don’t really pay attention to the remainder of the theatrical debacle playing out before us, instead, we whisper back and forth and exchange soft kisses when we run out of words. When the whole dreadful thing has finally concluded neither of us is invested in our malicious scheme from earlier. We attempt to slip out of the theatre quickly before any of the high society crowd can attempt to small talk to us. “Madame Katarina, Grand General!” Coming around a corner into an open foyer we almost run down the owner of the cultured, smooth voice.

“Rowan!” We stop short and I lean in to give them a quick peck on the cheek. “What a wonderful surprise.” I hear Jericho very quietly huff behind me, he knows why I'm so elated at the coincidence.

“Am I missing something?” They clearly sense the opposing forces at work here.

I met Rowan at a gallery show for Alrich about a month ago, we ended up deep in conversation and kept in touch after. It was only after our first meeting that I realized they were, in fact, the newly elected Head of the Mage’s Council. Jericho referred to it as quite a fortuitous connection, always politics with him. “Since you asked, there’s a small favor I need to beg of you.” Gardens don’t really grow in normal Noxian soil, you either import it or have it enchanted or better yet, both. “Could you recommend the best green mage of your acquaintance?” I give deep emphasis to best, the cost isn’t a concern.

“Planning to play in your garden a bit?” They give me a wry smile, they’ve heard my ambitions on this subject before. “I’ll see to it as soon as possible my dear. I hope you'll forgive my haste but I'm late to an engagement." He inclines his head politely to Jericho. "Grand General, always an honor, Sir. And do stop by sometime, the both of you, I owe you a tour.”

“We’ll look forward to it.” We kiss cheeks again, Jericho returns their nod, and they fade into the now pressing crowd.

Pushing through to the exit we finally find ourselves out in the mild spring night. I take his arm as we walk the short distance from the theatre to the cafe. “What’s troubling you, and don’t tell me nothing, I know better.”

“You are spending too much time with me. I had planned on having a discussion with you shortly. But first, other pressing matters. You are aware there is an intelligence briefing tomorrow, correct?”

“Yes.” This again, I keep my tone purposefully terse.

“And you know what time it is set to begin at?” I nod silently. “Then don’t be late again. Veera already thinks your position should be rescinded, stop giving her excuses. And please actually try to be in uniform.”

“She’s never going to like my being there anyway.” This is really the last thing I want to talk about.

“I’d imagine that has something to do with you breaking her nose up north.” His tone is flat.

I pull away from him to gesture wildly. “You know what she said! How was I supposed to know she was Intelligence.”

“You could’ve not let her bait you like that. However, she’s your Superior and you will have to deal with her for now.”

“Until I’m promoted. That’s what you’re planning on, isn’t it?” Thinking of fucking Veera and High Command has me silently seething. I didn’t even want this position in Intelligence, it was regretfully forced on me as soon as I became Guild Commander. “Remember when she had the nerve to ask if I could even read High Noxian like I’m some sort of uneducated child. The Grand Whore apparently can't understand our official language."

He surprisingly chuckles quietly. “You spent a whole meeting only speaking to her in Old Noxian. It was quite impressive actually, I didn’t even know you spoke it.” Now he finds it amusing, he was irritated at the time.

“I suppose it’s typical. People usually think killing is all I’m good for.” With that thought, melancholy starts to bleed into my rage. I trudge on in silence but he catches up and takes my arm again. He doesn’t speak though, giving me a moment until we reach our destination on the edge of an open plaza. There are a few cafes scattered amongst the now darkened shops that remain open for the crowds coming from the theatres, opera house, and galleries, but there’s one in particular I favor.

We’d started coming here shortly after we began having theatre nights. I’d frequented it before on my own, but one night we’d both needed sobering up and weren’t ready to go home. There had been a painfully boring diplomatic dinner that had impelled us both to decimate our host’s wine cellar. Well, impelled me anyway, I may have drug him along with it. It makes me smile a little to think of myself being a bad influence on the Grand General. We’d scared the owner Tavi, a Shuriman immigrant, half to death. He had no idea what to do with Jericho seated at one of his outdoor tables, sipping coffee with his mistress. He has since thankfully calmed down a bit when we show up.

We find our usual table, tucked into a darker corner of the veranda, affording us at least some privacy, as Jericho prefers. Sahar, one of Tavi’s daughters brings out coffee with a polite greeting before we even ask. They always have the best Shuriman brew here. You can tell by the number of Tavi’s fellow immigrants clustered inside, looking for a taste of home. Moments later Sahar reappears with a smile and one of Tavi’s famous flaky crusted pastries. “I saved one just for you, Madame, I know you are fond of them.” She’s a flatterer, but that’s what I pay for.

“Many thanks, Sahar. ” The scent of strawberries and roasted nuts wafts up to me and as soon as she’s out of sight I ravenously stuff a large forkful in my mouth.

Jericho smirks at me from across the table. “If only I knew before that all it took to mollify you was a decent pastry.”

I feign being indignant “It’s the strawberries, they’re my favorite, and someone wouldn’t let me have them all winter.”

“No, he said stop spending a fortune on them when they have to be imported.” He pretends to be stern with me.

I play the brat and pout. “You were mean about it and I didn’t get any.”

“My poor Kitten, that must have been torture. Although I know full well you had Cress buying them and hiding the cost. How many bottles of wine did it cost me for you to bribe him?” He sits back looking triumphant, he’s won our little back and forth.”

“No fair, you always know everything.” I blow him a kiss and finish enjoying my pastry. With the last bite dispatched I turn my attention back to what’s bothering him. The silence that’s stretched between us seems to be alive with whatever it is, it’s heavy and oppressive, erasing the pleasantness of a few moments ago. “So.”

“I suppose I owe you that discussion about what’s been on my mind.” I nod, hoping to just get it over with. My every sense is telling me to dread his words. “You know there’s been unrest in the south. Thus far the forces sent have failed to stamp it out entirely.” He pauses and once again tension fills the space between us. “I intend to go settle it myself.”

My heart freezes, I forget to breathe. He’s going to war. Part of me cries out to beg him not to, but that’s not the Noxian way and he’d despise it. Instead, I steady myself and bury that impulse. “Do you want me to go with?” That would be acceptable, I could make myself of use, like in the North.

He shakes his head. Of course, he won’t want it construed that he needs to take his little pet everywhere with him. “No, but the situation has given me much to consider and there is something I need to ask of you.” Another moment of terrible silence. I stare down at the cup in my hands that I hadn’t realized I was clutching tightly. Will he just get this over with? “It occurs to me I could use someone to watch over my interests while I’m away. Not with official power, of course, but to keep my allegiances strong and prevent my enemies from growing too bold.”

“And?” I urge him on, gesturing impatiently.

“I would want you to have the respect due to you while acting on my behalf. And I’d like to make it clear in that case that anyone acting against you is acting against me as well.” I take a sip of coffee, completely lost. “All this is to say, I think we should get married.”

A raspy cough escapes me as I choke on my coffee. “What!?”

“You and I, we should get married.” He says a bit more slowly as if it somehow makes it any less absurd.

“Honestly, I’m a little surprised you’re even bothering to ask and not just ordering.” The shock leaves me defensive and lashing out. Get married, be his wife, this is lunacy.

Now he’s the one who turns his eyes away and contemplates his cup. “Fair enough. Although I would argue things have changed over time.” He reaches out to take my hand, thumb running along my knuckles. His voice drops into that soft tone that always persuades me to his point. “You would agree, right?”

Damn him for being charming. “I suppose they have a bit.” I give his hand a soft squeeze.

“You have to admit it is a solid notion. I know Darius can be depended upon and Argos is very capable but has not been in his position long. And soon enough we’ll have a new Commander of the Capitol Guard.”

“I didn’t realize she was finally retiring.” I interrupt.

“Not quite.” The insinuation is unmistakable. “I’ll need you to see to it personally. Back to the point, I’ll get what I need while I’m gone and if I should not return, you’ll be a very wealthy widow.”

I roll my eyes at that last bit. “Don’t be ridiculous, something’s far more likely to befall me than you.”

He looks up brows furrowed. “Don’t say that.”

“Can I think about this whole thing?” I’m at a loss. All my work to accept the way things are between us, and he wants to complicate it all over again.

“If you insist, my Warbands have been summoned though, and I plan to leave within the week.” Why am I the last to know about this whole thing? “Keep in mind, we can always get divorced if you find it disagreeable. In fact, since you have no assets of your own, I’m technically the only one at risk.”

It’s such a clerical way of looking at it, just what I’d expect from him. I almost wish it hurt, but I’m too used to how he is. So instead I simply rise and stretch. “I’m ready to go home.” I start walking away before he’s even out of his seat.

“Right.” He leaves some coin on the table and hurries to catch up with me. I feel the weight of his coat drop around my shoulders and inhale the scent of him that clings to it, leather and parchment and that cologne he pretends he doesn’t wear. “There’s a chill in the air.” There’s not but it’s an unusually soft gesture so I let his little lie slide.

“Still trying to persuade me?” I slow my pace a bit so that we fall into step with each other.

“Perhaps.” He takes my hand. “Is it working?” I only roll my eyes at him again, this time with a smile though.

Thankfully he lets the subject drop the rest of the way home. Once Gwen has helped me out of my dress, I slip on my robe and take a precious few moments to think while running a brush through my hair. How can I even begin to contemplate marrying him? It’s absolutely absurd, and he’s arranged it all with the same cool detachment of ordering his soldiers into formation. And yet he asked, admitting when he did that things are not as they once were between us. With that admission comes the stinging awareness that for whatever his reason, he’d rather it remain unacknowledged. As usual, I’m expected to obey his wishes and follow along with his silence. But isn’t that what I’ve accepted time and again?

Nothing is clarified by the time I slip next door to find him hunched over his desk, pen in hand. “Are you seriously working right now?”

He puts a hand up. “I’ll only be a moment.”

I stalk over and drop myself into his lap, he doesn’t get to propose to me and then spend the rest of the night obsessing over the Empire. “No.” He tries to write around me. “I want your attention.”

I lean in and kiss his jaw just where it meets his neck, he shudders. My lips travel upward, I nip and pull his earlobe between my teeth, sucking for a moment. He gasps, pen clattering down onto the desk. “You are insistent on making a nuisance of yourself, aren’t you?” He wraps his hands around my hips.

“If that’s what it takes to get what I want.” I can feel that tension in him again and I’m reminded of the reason for his proposal. There must be some concern about this rebellion within High Command if he’s going to take on the task himself. He still hasn’t rooted out the conspiracy he knows is working in the shadows, no doubt that weighs on him as well. I kiss his neck and let my teeth graze it, he digs his fingers into my hips and thrusts lightly against me. I feel the heat of desire build inside me. “You’re so tense though, let me take care of you.”

I push his hands away and slide down to the floor between his legs. I trace my fingers along the growing bulge in his pants, causing more small noises from him, before opening them. He sighs when I grasp him and work my hand up and down his length. I feel his fingers dig into my shoulders when I run my tongue over his head and take him into my mouth. His hand grips my hair, pushing me forward, urging me to take all of him. Tongue pressed against him, lips tight, I move up and down, listening to his soft moans. When he can no longer stand my deliberately slow pace, he holds me still and drives into me, relentlessly using me.

I hear his rapid breathing and know he’s taken himself close to the edge. I break away, clambering back into his lap, straddling his hips. I let my robe fall to the floor and lean down for a rough kiss, my hand once again wrapped around his cock. “Don’t tease me.” He growls.

“Never.” Wet and aching for him, I impale myself on him and moan as his hips buck up to meet me. Again I start slow, rocking my hips against him, taking him as deep as possible. His hands hold me loosely, a sign he's given over control to me. “You feel so good inside me.” I quicken, moving with urgency, breath coming rapidly, feeling the bliss of being filled with him. I feel myself tighten around him, pleasure exploding inside me, crying out as I’m spent. I’m pliant as a moment later he pulls me down roughly, taking back that control, and finishing with a few deep thrusts.

I lean my head onto his shoulder, suddenly exhausted, and feel his arms wrap around me. He means so much to me, will I lose him if I don’t do what he asks? Will he find someone else to play the part? I’m out of choices again it would seem. “You’re right, it’s a good idea.”

I leave it at that and wait for him to respond. “Look me in the eyes and tell me yes, if that’s your answer, Kat.”

I oblige and sit up, staring into those unyielding dark pools. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” I brush my lips lightly against his to seal my promise.

#swain #katarina #swain x katarina #League of Legends #league of legends fanfction #jericho swain #katarina du couteau #the blade's edge

7 notes · View notes

chaoticneutralwriter · 6 years

Text

Unorthodox

You can’t tell whether you’re fortunate or not to have a guardian demon who thinks it’s funny to go around looking like your idol crush BTS’ Park Jimin.

Writing Prompt; Everyone has a guardian angel except you. You have a guardian demon. He deals with things in a much more violent fashion, but much more effective.

guardiandemon!Jimin x reader

genre: fluff, a little light, a little anxiety inducing though given what will happen, minor mentions of death and blood but nothing too graphic

word count: 3.7k

Related works: Genuine | 3AM Demon | The Grinch Who Stole New Year | Distance and The Heart

A/N: I thought this prompt was so good for Halloween but....late to the party again.... LOLL Also this is a bit of a mental gymnastic but don’t think too hard on it. Also, BST!Jimin is forever the look™ and I’m still not over it.

“Oh my God Jess that’s so bad!” You laugh as your friend finishes her story. The rest of your group laughs along with you, sharing their own off handed comments on the whole situation she was put in. Eventually, you had to quiet down and reel them back as you had caught stares and looks from the other patrons in the cafe you were all in.

It’s a Saturday afternoon and granted the place was busier than usual, you still managed to be the loudest bunch, getting a little too carried away with the volume of your voices. You shoot any lingering miffed gazes an apologetic smile as does some of your friends who noticed, but you can’t help yourself. It’s been so long since you’ve all got together to just hang out, everyone so caught up in their lives that time had become a luxury and any free schedules overlapping becoming as rare as a blue moon.

So it’s times like these that you cherish, seeing everyone after so long of just the occasional instant messaging that your worries seem to fade. Eventually, your group has decided that perhaps your rambunctious energy needed to be taken elsewhere lest you wanted to disturb the people again. Seeing as how the weather outside is lovely, you all head out to do some city strolling.

You all chatter amicably with each other, bouncing from one conversation to another. Your group makes it to a park, unanimously settling down under a tree.

“Did you see BTS’ new song MV?” gasps one of your friends and you return her enthusiasm, eyes alight.

“Yes! The song was so good! And how they look?!” You pause to inhale, heart palpitating at the memory of the video you watched earlier before meeting up. It was such a good way to start off your day that, as you left your house, you felt nothing could possibly ruin it.

Or so you thought.

Amongst the excited conversation, your gaze wanders, taking in your surroundings. It’s no surprise that you see many people walking about and relaxing or having fun in their own way and for a moment, nothing seems out of place until your eyes land on an all too familiar face. You pale, feeling your blood run cold despite the heat of the afternoon sun at the figure lounging just too casually for your taste on the bench with a vantage point straight at you.

Even from the distance, you see his lips quirk up into a smirk, eyes crinkling in the slightest and you just know that he’s been watching you way before you had even spotted him. You hate this feeling, this sensation of breaking out into a cold sweat when such a face, under any other circumstance, would have brought you a whole slew of other emotions except absolute dread. And you hate him all the more for it.

“Y/N? Hey, you don’t look so good. You okay?” You hear your friend call but to you, it sounded so far away from the blood rushing through your ears.

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I just— I-I think I’m gonna go use the washroom real quick.” You manage to stutter, shooting a shaky smile their way before shooting up to your feet and walking off, not giving them a chance to squeeze in another word.

You walk the distance heading towards to the washroom but after making sure you’re far enough from your friends’ line of sight, you divert. You circle around to make your way back to the bench you saw him in, only to see that it’s devoid of the occupant you’re looking for. Your mouth gapes in confusion as you scan your immediate area but failing to find the dark cladded figure.

“Looking for me?” His husky tone breathes so close to your ear that it has you jumping. You whip around to find unmistakable dark eyes gleaming back at you with amusement and mischief.

“God!” You gasp, nerves still rattled by his sudden appearance. He grimaces a little at the name you called out but you could hardly care, the initial dread transforming into annoyance. “What do you think you’re doing here?!”

“I don’t think you know how this works, darling.” He replies back coolly, hands stuffed into the pockets of his well-pressed trousers as he leans his weight on one hip.

“I don’t think you know how this works.” You hiss back, brazenly pointing an accusatory finger at the taller male, your eyes darting about quickly to make sure as few people witness this exchange as possible. He goes to open his mouth but you grab a hold of his wrist to pull him behind a large oak tree. He peers at you in disdain, finding your actions over the top and no doubt unnecessary but he lets it slide; he never understood humans and you’re the weirdest one he’s encountered.

“You can’t just go around so casually looking like…. that! “ You continue, wildly gesturing to his person.

“I’m sorry if my taste in clothes are far superior for your small human mind to comprehend.”

“Not what I mean.” You say through gritted teeth, refraining from outright knocking him over the head (he’d probably end up burning you to a crisp, contract be damned). “I meant looking like a Korean idol that the whole world knows! You’ll be spotted!”

“And here I thought you’d be rather pleased that I look like this.” He replies in mock exasperation, running a hand through lush silvery locks as if to further emphasize his point. You find yourself holding your breath, cursing at the butterflies unintentionally fluttering in your stomach. You forcefully remind yourself that no, this is not the person who you think it is despite looking exactly like him.

In fact, he wasn’t even a person to begin with.

“If this isn’t what you wanted, would you rather I go for something…. more natural?” The ruby lustre taking over his eyes as well as his sudden drop in tone startles you into action. You nearly tackle him to prevent any sorts of supernatural events from happening in such an open, public space.

“No! No, no stop! Not what I meant either!” Your hands grip at his arms, heart thrumming a little in panic at his small threat. He smirks triumphantly at you, causing you to narrow your eyes in a glare before releasing your hold on him in a huff. You never realized dealing with a demon could be such a headache. Rubbing at your temples, you exhale through your nose.

“Just— Can you not follow me around? Or like, not be so out in the open about it? Again, you literally look like a Korean idol…. that actually exists.”

“So?”

So?! You think incredulously. You reel yourself in before you explode again. “So…” You reiterate with much effort, “You’re technically famous— a celebrity. Which means people will lose their minds if they see you and on top of that, if photos of you gets out on the internet, your cover is going to be blown because how can anyone explain why Park fricken Jimin of BTS is here, in North America, when he’s also half way across the world in South Korea?!”

You’re practically whisper screeching from working yourself up, all the while the carbon copy of one Park Jimin (only that he’s not) watches you with mild interest, looking as impeccable as a marble statue. You stop your tirade to pin him with another seething glare and all he does is quirk his lips. To your astonishment, he throws his head back to let out a bark of laughter. If it was actually Park Jimin, you would’ve swooned and keened at the sight but it makes you glance around nervously to see if it has drawn any attention, thankfully no one seems to notice and was stilling milling about, minding their own business.

He comes down from his spiel, having the gall to wipe at his eyes too.

“Oh my sweet cherub,” He breathes and you frown at the pet name, “You actually thought I would waltz around to parade this beautiful face for all to see?”

You give him a pointed look, one that clearly says, ‘Yes you would, knowing you’. He kisses his teeth; hands on either side of his hips and you’re ready for an incoming sassing.

“What I’m saying is that you’re more stupid than you look and it offends me that you would think I would be stupid enough to do that. Of course I’m aware.” He huffs indignantly. “Which is why, for your information, demons have cloaking spells; which means you might be able to see me but anyone else won’t.” He then peers down at you like he was explaining something to a child. “Happy?”

“Could’ve told me sooner.” You snap back in defense, like how were you supposed to know any of that beforehand? Not like he gave you a Demon 101 booklet when you first met.

“Yeah, but I thought it would be funnier to make you look crazy for talking to thin air.” He sniggers back. At that, you whip your gaze around again, immediately landing on a couple and a family watching you warily from a distant. You feel your face heat up in embarrassment, thoughts running a mile a minute, wondering just how long he actually had this cloaking spell on and was just messing with you.

Your gaze flits back around, ready to give him a piece of your own hell, only to find empty space. You swear you could physically feel your blood pressure rising and perhaps, to your twisted delight, you would die before having to experience the full extent of what it means to have a demon as your metaphorical guardian angel.

—

The day goes on with not seeing so much as a hair from the demon with an angel’s face. You breathed a sigh of relief knowing that. You’d spent the rest of the day hanging out with your friends, eventually grabbing dinner together and by the time you’d all said your goodbyes, the sun has long gone down.

You swiftly make your way down the streets to the nearest subway station, figuring it be much cheaper and faster considering Ubers were much harder to grab on the weekends and in a busy downtown area. Also, the ride wouldn’t be that long anyways.

Besides, you’re only worry at hand is actually getting to a station; they were practically at least two blocks apart and the chill the night air brings does nothing to settle your growing nerves. Downtown was lovely during the day but at night it’s like all of the shadier things make themselves known. You’re on edge, eyes darting around every so often to be aware of your surroundings as you pick up your pace.

Vaguely you hear a man’s gruff voice call out to you but you determinedly ignore it, catching sight of the station’s sign just ahead of you. You make your way down the stairs, heart starting to beat a little erratically as you press your metro pass to the gate and slide through. Once you’ve descended the second flight of stairs leading to the tracks, your nerves starts to settle down.

The train hadn’t arrived yet, a quick glance up at the monitor informed you that it would be in five minutes, leaving you with no choice but to wait. You heave a breath to yourself, taking out your phone to plug your headphones in. Taking a quick glance around, you find that you’re probably one of three people in the tunnel; a man sitting hunched over on one of the benches looking a little worse for wear and an older lady way down the other end from where you were.

You think nothing much after, and before you know it the train is pulling up on the tracks. You shuffle in, easily finding a seat given the lack of passengers in your car. Another sigh; you’re halfway to getting home and so far, there’s no hiccups. You relax at the notion, settling into your seat as the train takes off and you wait again until your stop arrives.

It was about two stops away that things start going south. It starts when the compartment door to your cart slides open, startling you to look up and see the man at the station before you boarded. You duck your head down, not wanting to draw any attention and hoping that he’s just passing through. Luck wasn’t on your side however, as he stumbles and then takes a seat right across from you, the scent wafting from him nearly makes you choke.

You’re determined to fixate your gaze on your phone, pretending to be scrolling through the same apps you have open, but even then you could feel his heavy gaze on you.

Please, please hurry up!

You steal a quick glance anxiously at the map above you, a small LED light indicating which stop you’ve just left and how far away yours is. It’s then that you hear a gruff voice call out through your headphones. Still, you pretend you didn’t hear and it worked until his voice grew to a volume that it startles you. Nervously, your eyes flit to meet the man and warily take out an earbud.

“Fuckin’ kids goin’ deaf.” You hear him say under his breath before he roughly grunts, “Got any change on you?”

You shake your head, quietly replying, “No, I don’t. Sorry.” And you silently prayed that would be the end of that but before you can put your earbud back in, the man speaks again.

“Where’re you goin’ so late huh?”

“Just— home. Excuse me.” You keep your answer clipped, shooting up from your seat with the decision to get off this cart at the upcoming station and try to get back on in one where there were other people on. The station the train pulls up is one short from your actual stop but you don’t think you can handle being in the same cart alone with this man, even if it’s just for one more station. You get off, trying to keep yourself from trembling to be as subtle as possible. You’re best bet was that you a) get on a cart that has people or b) he won’t follow you at all and you can possibly catch the next train.

Unfortunately, neither one happens because out of your peripheral you see his looming figure exit the cart, walking down your way. You pick up your pace, heading more to towards the front of the train but the chimes signaling the doors are about to close catches your attention and you gasp. You bolt into the closest cart and hope that you were much quicker than the man.

Heart racing, you glance around, finding an empty cart. You’re not sure whether that’s a good sign or not but you’ll take it.

Just one more stop.

You chant it like a mantra, too antsy to take a seat now as your mind had taken precautions that if you see any signs of the man again, you would head through the compartment leading to other carts.

Your station name rings over the PA and you almost jump in joy. As soon as the doors slides open, you’re out of there. You make quick work of the steps, leading up from the tracks and then exiting the station. The orange tinge of the streetlights offer little comfort to you as the prospect of having to clear one more block before getting to your house looms at the forefront of your thoughts.

You steel yourself and walk at a faster pace than usual, head down and clutching your bag in a vice grip. You round the corner of the convenient store, a checkpoint. You’re nearly there.

“Hey, girlie.”

You spoke too soon, so hyper focused on just getting home that you miss out on a group of guys hanging around off the side of the store (doing God knows what). Your strides, though fast, were not long enough to outpace the figure coming up beside you.

“Where you going so late?”

You shrink away from him, trembling as you try to maintain as much distance as you can without having to put yourself out on the road. You think, quite frustratingly, why do they not have anything better to do as you stubbornly ignore his advances, and very close to straight up running.

“Shouldn’t be out here on your own like this.” You catch the sentence too close for comfort and that was the final straw to push you into a run. You don’t get far however, as a large hand roughly grasps you by the elbow, jerking you off balance.

“Hey! I’m talking to you. It’s rude to ignore someone who’s—“

“Don’t touch me!” You shout, voice bordering hysteria. You rip yourself from the man’s hold with as much force as you can and it causes you to stumble a little. For the first time, you catch sight of three figures, the one speaking being closer to you compared to what you assume are his friends, trailing not too far behind but you don’t care to put a face to your harasser.

“What the fuck! Why you gotta be such a bitch for?!” The hand makes a grab for you and snags your bag. The force this time gives you a whiplash, shoulder pulled painfully and you whimper, feeling tremors go through your body uncontrollably now with tears threatening to overtake your sight.

Your mind flies into a panicked state, seconds away from abandoning your bag altogether and just making a run for it when the street lamps overhead flickers. All at once, they go out along with any light source within the area because suddenly everything is so dark.

It all happened so fast.

The weight is lifted off of you, a chill settling over and then you hear an ear-piercing shriek. You can’t tell if it’s your own or something else as a cacophony of noises fill your ears.

Indecipherable shouting.

Scraping.

Crunching.

Gurgling.

Disembody voices.

And then silence.

It felt like you had been trapped in a whirlwind, shaking violently from the aftermath of it and so disoriented you hadn’t realized you’ve curled in on yourself with eyes shut tight until a soft voice coaxes at you.

“Y/N….”

It’s familiar, you’ve heard the lilt many times before and it so easily calms your hyperventilating. Despite the comfort it brings however, the strangeness of hearing such a voice so close to you creeps back in. A warm hand brushes against your own held to your ears and though the touch is gentle, you still flinch. The hand retracts momentarily before the voice speaks to you again.

“Y/N…deep breaths and look at me, Y/N.” It’s a soft command and you do as you’re told, breathing in deeply and exhaling a couple of times before finally peeling your eyes open.

Your vision is slightly blurred from unshed tears, but you make out his handsome, young face and silvery locks in the orange dim of streetlights. His deep ruby eyes bore into yours steadily, expression stoic if only for his gaze to betray the concern reflecting in them. He blinks and they’re back to being a deep brown.

“That’s my girl.” He praises with a small smirk, voice no louder than a murmur as his hand engulfs yours in a warm hold. An overwhelming urge to be close to him takes over, as if your body and mind is crying with relief at the sight of a safe haven and before you can think straight, you rush forward, collapsing into him with hands feebly finding purchase on his black button down shirt.

“Jimin….” You croak out, care and logic thrown out the window because you so desperately need something to anchor you down right now and his was a face that your mind knew could do you no harm, like it was second nature. He doesn’t seem to mind; gathering you in his arms all the same and gently cradles you.

“Easy now…shhh easy.” You hear him coo as you bury your face into his neck until your senses flood with his scent; a surprising combination of lavender, vanilla and spices. His hands rub soothing circles around your back until the shaky breaths you exhale return to normal.

He helps you to stand slowly, minding the small tremors that erupt every so often from you and the way he’s treating you like he’s handling delicate glass is so unlike how he normally is that it makes you want to double-take.

“Are you hurt?” He pulls away from you slightly if only for that moment to ask, though he takes the liberty to look you over himself anyways without waiting for your reply. You shake your head no, voice still feeling as if it’s stuck in your throat. As he’s wiping away a stray tear, you bring your gaze to take a good look at him, eyes drawing up to take in his full height. His silvery coiffed hair is still immaculate as ever and his face is picture perfect, flawless except….

You reach up in spite of your shaky hands to decipher what it is that marred his otherwise porcelain complexion when he stops you. He gently guides your hand away before reaching up with his own to swipe at his cheek. Your Jimin doppelganger tsked at the sight, indifferently wiping his soiled fingers onto his shirt.

“Nothing for you to worry about, darling.” He says, smiling at you so angelically. You blink, perplexed until slowly, your mind starts to catch up with the events that transpired.

“W-Where—?” You make to turn your head around, looking for your assailant but again, he stops you by taking a hold of your chin and directing it back to him.

“Ah, ah, eyes on me sweetheart. Like I said, there’s nothing to worry about anymore. You’re safe.”

“But—“

“Shh... Sleep.” His hand gently cups your cheek and with his whispered words, your mind is overcome with a sudden haze and your eyelids droop shut.

He catches you mid-fall, scooping you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing more than a feather. He kisses his teeth again, annoyance rolling off of him in waves as his eyes narrow down on his also soiled shoes.

Whatever.

At least you didn’t notice that.

Nor the streaks of blood leading to the dumpster.

1K notes · View notes

not-close-to-straight · 5 years

Text

Heart Emoji (Two)

PART THREE

***********************

“Okay, this is my favorite store.” Natasha held the door open and waved Steve and Tony through. “Not only is everyone who works here a literal darling, but Bound is also twenty one and over only store because they give free shots of tequila while you’re trying things on, which means you don't have to deal with barely legals thinking they have any idea what to do with all this stuff.”

“Eighteen year olds have sex, Nat.” Tony pointed out and Natasha sent him a positively evil smile.

“Oh not like this, they aren't.”

“Uh--” Steve wasn’t so much speechless as he was absolutely flabbergasted by not only the size of the store but also the contents. And not just the contents but also the sheer amount of whatever the hell was on the walls and the shelves and draped across various surfaces and oh god the pictures were enough to make him turn a horrible shade of tomato red. “Tony, get me out of here right now.”

“Yikes, Tash.” Tony ducked when he nearly put his eyes out on an enthusiastically nipply mannequin. “I consider myself fairly adventurous but this is a little much even for me. It’s going to severely cramp Steve’s good ol boy persona.”

“Nonsense.” Natasha waved when one of the sale associates called her name. “This is where I buy most of my stuff and I know for a fact they have virgin section.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Steve protested, hands firmly in his pockets, sunglasses firmly on his face to avoid any errant nipples as well as to hide the fact that his eyes were wide as saucers. “I’m not!”

“Aw.” Natasha patted his cheek sympathetically. “In here you are.”

“But Thor is super adventurous!” Steve insisted. “I even wear a--” nearly whispering-- “a ring with him sometimes. You know, one that goes around my--” he inclined his head towards his pants. “You know?”

“Ooh!” Natasha waggled her eyebrows. “A cock ring? What a fancy little deviant you are! The Pope would be horrified.”

“Okay, lets maybe not talk about major religious leaders while I’m staring at a--” Tony pulled a dildo off the wall and hefted it. “--at a cock the literal size of my arm. Who uses this sort of thing? Is this fun for people? How do you walk afterwards? How do you even get this--”

Tony placed the base of the dildo on the ground and stared at it suspiciously, standing up on his toes and spreading his legs and tilting his head as he tried to figure out how the fuck--. “I mean, you wouldn't be so much bouncing on this as impaling yourself on it, right? What do they even call this thing? King Kong?”

Natasha giggled and Tony tried again, “King Dong?” Steve made a sound like his very soul was being set on fire and Tony tried a third time-- “Andre the Giant?”

He checked the packaging tag for the name of the toy. “Oh. Vlad the Impaler. That seems rather appropriate.”

“Tony.” Natasha elbowed Tony and pointed over at Steve, hiding a laugh in her hand. “Look at Spangles.”

“Oh god.” Tony rolled his eyes when he saw Steve staring slack jawed at the wall of nudie magazines. “Those aren't even the bad ones. How long do you think it will be until he finds the--”

“AH!” Steve jerked away, covering his still sunglassed eyes with his hand.

“The kink mags.” Tony finished. “He found the kink mags. Is he having a seizure right now?”

“I think his hands are just shaking.” Natasha countered. “Wait until he realizes the bench he is leaning against is actually a--”

“AHHHH!”

“-- yep. A spanking bench. That’s a spanking bench.” Natasha sighed when Steve whipped around and sent them a terrified look. “Alright, bring him back towards this section. Massively over sized dildos are about as tame as this store gets.”

“Steve.” Tony motioned for him. “Steve, come here.”

Steve was frozen in place though, hands up in the air so he wouldn’t touch anything, sunglasses askew, mouth open in shock.

“Steve.” Tony took a few steps closer and thwapped Steve in the face with the rubbery--and hilariously flexible-- tip of the silicone cock. “Steve. Wake up. Stop making Vlad dick slap you and--”

“Stop that!” Steve snatched the cock and pointed it at Tony in an attempt to look threatening, the attempt entirely ruined by the way the veined thing wobbled and wibbled and bobbed in the air between them. “Get me out of here. Now. I wanted pretty underwear not--not--” he looked around wildly. “Not whatever that is!”

“A spreader bar.” Natasha confirmed. “Keeps your legs where they need to be. Or keeps someone else’s legs where they need to be. Clint is so flexible we hardly need one anymore but--”

“Annnnnnnnd he’s gone.” Tony broke in, pointing to the spot where Steve had been standing, nothing left but a discarded dildo flopped on the floor and a vaguely Captain America shaped path through the racks of fetish wear.

“Okay okay okay.” Nat pulled a hundred dollar bill out of her bra and shoved it at Tony. “You win that bet. We probably should have started out at Victoria’s Secret.”

“Little bit.” Tony stuck the money in his pocket. “Shall we have a shot of tequila before we track down our All American Virgin?”

“How much you wanna bet he took off running and is currently hightailing it down the freeway?” Natasha mused. “By the way, not a virgin remember? He even wears a ring down there sometimes for Thor.”

“Oh god.” Tony sighed. “Alright, lets go find him.”

*****************

From Thor: THIS IS THOR ODINSON OF ASGARD

From Thor: I AM IN THE LIVING ROOM AND WISH TO HAVE A CONVERSATION BUT DO NOT WANT TO LEAVE MY CHAIR

From Thor: I WISH TO JOIN THE GROUP TEXT

From Clint: Uh, what’s up big guy? You don’t have to text all in caps you know, it sort of sounds like you’re yelling.

From Thor: I AM NOT YELLING, THIS IS SIMPLY A TEXT. YOU CANNOT HEAR MY VOICE, WHY WOULD YOU SAY I WAS YELLING.

From Bucky: Yeah, you’re not going to win that argument Clint. Thor, what brings you to the group text?

From Thor: I REQUIRE HELP FOR GIFTS FOR MY BELOVED FOR THE UPCOMING HOLIDAY. ASGARD CELEBRATES DIFFERENT DAYS, I DO NOT UNDERSTAND SOME OF YOUR CUSTOMS

From Clint: You don’t know what to get Steve for Valentines Day?

From Bucky: Alright look, I don’t want to be the one to suggest this, but I don’t want to hear Clint say it either, so I’ll just say it-- just hammer dick him Steve he’s droolin. He'll be all stupid after wards and wont even remember what day it is. Sick face emoji.

From Thor: HAMMER DICKING IS OUR NIGHTLY OCCURRENCE, I WISH THIS DAY TO BE SPECIAL. THE USUAL LOVING WILL NOT SUFFICE.

From Clint: Idk if I’m laughing harder over ‘hammer dicking is our nightly occurrence’ or Bucky’s sick face emoji.

From Bucky: Murder scowl emoji

From Clint: You mean frowny face?

From Thor: WHAT IS AN EMOJI

From Clint: Okay. First of all. Thor do you see the up arrow on your phone keyboard? Tap that until your letters aren’t in all caps.

From Thor: This seems less interesting. I am a god, a near eternal being, I require to be heard and seen above others. This smaller texting is not ideal.

From Clint: And yet it’s better for everyone. Second of all, Bucky, just use the frowny face emoji.

From Bucky: I use what I want. Tongue sticking out smiley face.

From Clint: Why is this my life? Someone save me from all these old men who don’t understand literally anything about technology.

From Thor: Clint, you have been complaining much lately, has your wife not been loving you regularly? A man with no outlet is a frustrated man indeed, are you aware that you can self soothe? Tis not ideal, but there is some joy to be had in knowing your body in such an intimate way.

From Clint: … thank you? For that advice?

From Bucky: Clint. Did you know you can self soothe? Did you know that? Hm?

From Thor: We can discuss Clint’s lack of sexual prowess later, I need ideas for a perfect evening with my beloved. What are typical Midgardian St. Valentines Day customs?

From Clint: MY LACK OF WHAT

From Thor: WHY IS HE ABLE TO USE THE CAPITOL LETTERS

From Bucky: Good Christ, no one use the capital letters. Clint, you have no sexual prowess, every bit of sexiness in that relationship is Natasha.

From Clint: WHAT

From Bucky: And as far as Valentines Day, it doesn’t have to be anything special, just the usual stuff, Thor. Chocolate hearts, flower bouquets, wearing pretty things. Stevie’s real easy, you could just compliment him a bunch and he’d get all goofy and dumb for ya.

From Thor: Chocolate hearts. Chocolate in the shape of a human heart?

From Bucky: No.

From Clint: OH MY GOD YES EXACTLY LIKE THAT IN THE SHAPE OF A HUMAN HEART

From Clint: PROBABLY FILLED WITH JELLY TO MAKE IT REALISTIC

From Clint: THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE

From Bucky: Oh my god.

From Thor: Clint, you will help me then? You seem to know the intricacies of this celebration, and despite my lack of faith in your bedroom abilities, your bride is almost always pleased.

From Clint: Yes. I do in fact know the intricacies and for the record my bride is ALWAYS DEFINITELY pleased. I will help. I am the best man for the job. Ignore whatever Bucky says after this.

From Bucky: I got nothing. Just gonna get some popcorn and watch the chaos. Thumbs up.

From Clint: Okay dude, we have got to talk about your issues with emojis at some point.

*************

“Hey.” Tony stood on his toes to give Bucky a kiss and the soldier put his plate down immediately to gather his boyfriend even closer. “Hey.” Tony said again, giggling against Bucky’s mouth. “What’s up?”

“Something’s gotta be up for me to want to kiss you?” Bucky murmured, the plates in his left arm whirring and tightening until Tony gasped as their bodies rubbed together. “I’m not saying I’m not up, but--”

“Bucky.” Tony smothered a laugh in another kiss, too head over heels in love to even care that he looked completely ridiculous with his feet not touching the ground. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I’m excited for Valentines Day.” Bucky admitted, running gentle fingers through Tony’s hair. “Holidays with you are so fun, sweet thing. I can’t wait to spend another one with you.”

“You definitely can’t wait to spend it with me.” Tony confirmed, kicking his feet in the air and grinning when Bucky held him higher. “I got a suite in a ridiculous hotel and we are going to have the best food you’ve ever eaten. I ordered a--”

“Hey hey.” Bucky shushed him. “Don’t tell me everything you got planned, sugar. I want to be surprised, and I want to see that goofy look you get on your face when you’re excited to show me something. That’s my favorite thing, did you know that? You’re eyes get all big and you try to keep your smile small but it never works and you end up grinning and sorta vibrating with excitement--” he smiled when Tony blushed. “--You’re gorgeous, Tony.”

“I love you very much.” Tony whispered, and Bucky whispered back, “And I love you very much.”

“Christ, they’re cute.” From across the kitchen, Natasha sipped at her coffee and watched the couple. “Look at them. It’s almost gross. They started out with Tony jerking Bucky off because Frosty was horned up enough to die and now they are smooshing noses and saying they love each other and it’s just so cute.”

“You’re cute.” Clint murmured into her ear, holding her a little more securely on his lap. “And sweet. And so sexy…” his voice trailed off into a moan as he nibbled along her throat. “So sexy, Nat. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, my love.” Natasha smiled indulgently, snuggling into his chest. “But surely after our past few nights together you aren’t quite so needy, hm?”

“I will always be needy for you.” He insisted, crooning the words into her ear and twining their left hands together. “That’s why I put a ring on it, remember?”

“Vividly.” Natasha allowed, admiring the glint of her modest-yet-gorgeous wedding band. “I remember why you put a ring on it vividly, husband.”

“I have a surprise for you this Valentines Day.” Clint buried his nose in Natasha’s hair to breathe in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “Do you want to get a hotel or stay here that night?”

“We can just stay here.” She answered, gracefully turning in the chair so she was straddling him, pushing their foreheads together and sighing when Clint lifted beneath her, asking-- “We were together this morning, husband, aren’t you tired of me yet?”

“I’ll always be needy for you.” Clint repeated. “Whether we're together every minute of every day or not.”

“I love you viciously.” Natasha pressed closer. “And I bought something to wear that will make your brain explode.”

“I got something to wear that will make your brain explode.” Clint countered and Natasha laughed in delight. “I don’t know why you’re laughing wife, I’m being very serious.”

Bruce was sitting at the kitchen island reading through the news paper when Sam slid onto the stool next to him and elbowed him in the side.

“Um, ow?” Frowning, Bruce folded the paper and tucked it away. “You couldn’t have just said hello? You had to assault me?”

“Stop whining, Brucie.” Sam waved him off. “I just wanted to make sure you’re still feeling legit about our bromantic non date and in case you weren’t--”

He raised his voice when Bruce started to interject. “-- in case you weren’t feeling great about our Valentines Day plan, I invite you to take a gander around the kitchen and see how the various couples are acting without actually having Valentines Day yet, and just imagine how bad things will be after Valentines Day without someone--” a quick point to himself. “-- to crack terrible jokes and make gagging noises at the sheer amount of love crap that will be happening.”

“Well, I mean--” Bruce glanced around the kitchen, first at Bucky who was still holding Tony off the floor as they kissed, both of them giggling and teasing each other, then at Clint and Natasha who had given up any and all pretenses of talking and were just trying to apparently eat each others souls through a tongue slurping, lip biting kiss that was wet enough that Bruce actually pushed his tea away with a grimace.

“And you know, Thor and Steve aren’t even here.” Sam raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “And they’re gross just on normal days.”

“Yeah alright.” Bruce nodded. “Yep. Bromantic non date sounds amazing. Are we still on for that thing late Thursday night?”

“So on for it.” Sam high fived Bruce happily. “We are good to….” his voice trailed off as he looked at something over Bruce’s head. “Uh, hey Cap. Everything alright?”

“Hey.” Steve was scowling, rubbing at his shoulder as he dug through the freezer for an ice pack. “What are you guys doing?”

“Just… just hanging out.” Sam took a closer look at Steve’s shoulder. “Is that a hole in your shoulder? Steve, why do you have a hole in your shoulder?”

“OH, I’m glad you asked!” Steve slammed the freezer door and Bruce jumped. “So glad you asked Sam! Would you like to know why I have a hole in my shoulder?”

“Well I mean--” Sam shrugged a little. “I asked you twice already and you’re sort of bleeding on the floor so--”

“Thor shot me in the shoulder with a goddamn arrow!” Steve shouted and everyone in the kitchen turned and stared.

“Did Spangles just swear?” Tony asked quietly, and Bucky nodded slowly. “What is happening?”

“THOR SHOT ME IN THE SHOULDER WITH A GODDAMN ARROW!” Even louder this time, and Natasha leaned away from Clint, eyeing her husband suspiciously.

“Easy does it, Stevie.” Bucky said cautiously. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident at all.” Steve scowled, dabbing a towel over the wound. “We were sparring, then he suggested target practice, yelled something about Cupid being in the room and literally put an arrow into my shoulder.”

Across the kitchen, Clint made a noise that landed somewhere between a snorting laugh and a strangled sort of wheeze and Steve’s eyes narrowed in his direction. “Clint? You don’t happen to know anything about this, do you?”

“Oh no.” Bucky muttered a curse. “Oh no no no. Clint didn’t--”

“I had nothing to do with this.” Clint insisted loudly. “I mean, Thor asked for suggestions for Valentines Day and all I did was walk him through several customs and sayings we have!”

“And how exactly does Valentines Day include--” Steve set his jaw angrily. “Cupid. You told him Cupid shoots people with arrows to get them to fall in love.”

“I mean,” Clint spread his hands innocently. “I might have.”

“Wait wait wait.” Natasha twisted around on Clint’s lap. “Wait. So Clint told Thor that Cupid shoots people with arrows, and then he turned around and shot you with an arrow? I know the big guy isn’t exactly on board with all of our lingo, but he’s smart enough to realize that he shouldn’t be the one shooting you, right?”

Steve sulked a little but didn’t answer.

“Yeah, Cap.” Tony wriggled out of Bucky’s arms. “No way Thor would have actually just binged an arrow at you because of some random story about a Cupid. What actually happened?”

Still no answer from Steve.

“Alright, let’s do it the easy way then.” Tony shrugged. “JARVIS can I have the video feed from the gym for the last hour please?”

“No no no no--!” Steve started to protest, but it was too late, a large television folding down from the ceiling and a video starting to play.

“Alright, there’s Steve.” Bruce pointed to the figure who was clearly Steve working a punching bag on the far corner of the screen. “And here comes Thor who is wearing… uh, what is Thor wearing, exactly?”

“Good god, and I don’t mean the Thunder God, I mean the god that would be horrified by what Thor is currently wearing.” Sam’s jaw was practically on the counter. “Is that-- is he-- I didn’t know they made diapers that big??”

“Clint, what exactly did you tell Thor?” Tony couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen, watching Thor wearing nothing but a diaper, carrying a bow and arrow creeping across the gym towards an oblivious Steve. “Tell me the exact words you told Thor about Cupid.”

“I told him that Cupid is a demi god that wears a diaper and carries a bow, goes flying around and shoots arrows into the hearts of people who need to fall in love. Those who fall in love thanks to Cupids arrow are destined to be together for life!” Clint was still trying not to laugh. “I didn’t know he was actually going to--”

“Oh god, look at him trying to fly.” Bucky broke in, and everyone turned to in time to see Thor launch himself into the air, ready an arrow and send it flying towards Steve.

“I turned at the last minute and it caught me in the shoulder.” Steve grumbled, and the video cut out just as on-screen Steve started shrieking and Thor started running over to check on him. “Clint, I’m going to kill you. I swear I’m going to kill you. Gonna kick your ass from here clear to next--”

“Steve, my love.” Thor rushed through the kitchen door and the kitchen went completely silent when they all saw him slicked up with baby oil, swaddled in what looked like an XXL Depends, still carrying a bow with a pair of hilariously small wings set on his back. “I am so sorry, I never intended to harm you or to--”

Natasha broke first, laughing out loud and then screaming as she inhaled a terrible amount of ungodly hot coffee and Clint was cackling too hard to even help her. Bruce flipped his paper open, holding it high enough that he didn’t have to see the room anymore, Sam sat with his mouth wide open and Tony and Bucky just-- well they just stared because honestly what the fuck.

“Is your shoulder alright?” Thor fussed over it quietly, gathering Steve close and cursing when his hands slipped slick on Steve’s skin. “Forgive me. I assumed you were wearing something of armor, thought it would be just a symbolic gesture and nothing more, something to make you laugh.”

“You could have not used real arrows.” Steve pointed out, steadfastedly ignoring the chaos behind him. “You could have not used real arrows, Thor. You could have used the prank ones with little plungers on the tips.”

“I suppose so.” Thor nodded gravely. “Next time I will not use real arrows.”

“Next time?” Steve yelped, throwing his hands up as he stomped from the kitchen “What do you mean next time? Why the hell is there going to be a next time?!”

It took ten full minutes for everyone to stop laughing, for Sam to wipe the tears from his eyes, for Natasha to quit pinching at Clint, for Tony to stop guffawing at the top of his lungs while Bucky wondered how hard it would be scrub his eyes with bleach so he wouldn't have to think about Thor in a goddamn diaper ever again.

Bruce just very calmly turned to the ‘housing’ section of the newspapers and began circling ads for roommates wanted and homes for rent.

Life in this place was absolutely ridiculous.

****************

From Clint: Natasha my ridiculously hot wife who owns my very soul and each breath I take, are we all set for tomorrow night?

From Bucky: Okay well lets never let Clint talk like that every again, please and thank you.

From Clint: So what, Thor can wax stupidly poetic but I can’t?

From Thor: THAT IS CORRECT HAWKEYE

From Tony: Thor texts? And also, why does Thor text in all caps?

From Thor: A GOD DESERVES TO BE HEARD BY ALL

From Tony: I honestly don’t know what I was expecting. Carry on Hammer man.

From Thor: I SHALL

From Natasha: Clint, you could have just texted me. This might shock you but not all of our conversations need to be group texts.

From Bruce: Oh thank god, someone finally said it. Clint please take your wife’s advice. Please stop making every conversation a group text.

From Sam: Brucie bear, I just don’t really see that happening. Everyone in this place loves to gossip way too much.

From Steve: Sam’s right, and I hate to be the one to say this especially considering how much I hated these damn things in the beginning, but I do think the group chats have brought us closer as a group. I’ve started to enjoy the insights into everyone’s relationships and being able to ask for advice without having to feel awkward about it is very refreshing.

From Natasha: Captain Rogers, does this mean you forgive Tony and I for the arm length dildo dick slapping session?

From Steve: It means nothing of the sort, after Valentines Day I’m going to do something really awful to both of you to make up for it.

From Tony: That’s absolutely fair.

From Clint: Okay, no wait

From Bucky: Uh Tony, obviously there’s a story you haven’t told me yet?

From Tony: I had to buy something named Vlad the Impaler. Its-- it's a long story.

From Thor: Steven, I thought dick slapping was off the table for us? Yet you let Natasha and Tony manhandle you in such a manner?

From Sam: Whoops, where did the all caps go, Thor?

From Thor: A subject just as this felt like it should be whispered about.

From Sam: Right, that seems like it makes perfect sense. But also, I definitely need to know what happened between Steve and Nat and Tony and who’s wang was doing the wapping.

From Bruce: This is literally the worst conversation. I thought the ones about dicking down and sexy shenanigans were bad, but nope. This is it. This is the worst.

From Steve: Bruce is right, let’s just move on.

From Clint: NO NO NO. Cap just got done talking bullshit about how these things draw us closer as a group, and now you’re not going to share? SHARE Captain. Let’s grow through this experience together.

From Natasha: Well said, my love. Captain should I tell the story or do you want to?

From Steve: I am NOT telling this story and neither is anyone else.

From Tony: You literally are the worst wet blanket in the entire world and I cannot believe we are best friends.

From Steve: Thanks for that Tony.

From Clint: ANYWAY. Natasha is everything set for tomorrow night?

From Natasha: Yes, my love. I have all required supplies, enough protein to get us through the night, I pulled our saddle out of storage, and our box from Costco was at the post office this morning.

From Clint: We get boxes from Costco?

From Natasha: I was trying to spare everyone else. It’s actually from Castle Mega Store.

From Clint: YES! WHOO! BOXES FROM SEX WAREHOUSES! YES!

From Steve: I take back what I said about group bonding, lets stop doing this right now.

********************

#ncts fics #valentines day #thundershield #winteriron #clintasha #sam wilson #bruce banerdt

158 notes · View notes

cruelzy · 5 years

Text

(i.) ∂υѕт тσ ∂υѕт

/ nines

something is wrong.

(the sky is blue, but not quite the right shade. it’s as though the world has shifted ten degrees to the left, a faint dissonance bitter on the back of your tongue.)

you follow the odd sensation: chase it up your calves to the tips of your fingers, feel the pulse of it roar in your ears and rush over the top of your scalp–

“curious.”

–and then you’re jerking upright, pulling and scratching uncontrollably at your throat because you aren’t breathing.

your fingers try and fail to press into your wet skin, slipping slick down your chest as you gasp and spit out black water. the overwhelming scent of sulfur burns behind your eyes, forcing you to gulp harsh intakes of air between the bouts of hacking.

as the last of the liquid drains from your mouth, your hysteria scatters temporarily – just enough to actually register your environment.

you’re kneeling in a river.

you blink down at your hands.

moments before you must have been entirely submerged – a fact quite adamantly insisted by your still spasming lungs.

a whimper begins to build from somewhere deep inside you.

(stop.)

rivulets of ink drip down your face to collect in the crook of your lips, your collarbone. your nails dig into your palms, as though that will stop the shaking.

(hold it together. focus on something small; something simple.)

your chest heaves.

(breathing. you can do that.)

and so you breathe.

in, out, in; slow, insistent repetition. you curl and uncurl your fists in tempo with the mantra, clearing your mind.

okay.

who. you dig crescents into your wrists. who, what, when, where, why.

who is easy enough, you decide. you are you afterall. a quick body check – roll of the shoulders, twitch of your ankle, a glance updown – proves that everything is absolutely fine. the same as it always has been and forever will b–

you’re naked.

okay.

you think you should laugh. people normally laugh at these things, yes? at things that are uncomfortable. you should do that. it would probably help.

(you don’t laugh.)

what is next, and maybe this is simpler than who, because you’ve already come to the conclusion that you must be in a dream of some sort. any other possibility is quickly shut down lest you dive into panic again.

when, where and why flash by in a heartbeat. if what is unknown, how could you possibly answer these? maybe you could–

could–

god.

god, why are you naked?!

something brushes by your leg.

you screech.

the notion that you are, indeed, dressed shiny smooth as the day you were born is a jarring one, but not near startling enough to wrench you from the dirt you sit in. no, you think wildly as you scuttle backwards on your elbows, not even close.

there is something in the water.

the first you see are the eyes.

all six of them focused entirely on your form, luminescent gaze stained black with kohl. every muscle within you freezes. the head continues to rise, revealing porcelain skin and a threaded circle of thorns sitting on top raven hair.

three sharp rows of teeth grin at you from the blood in the water.

“oh,” you say.

you can feel your mind trying to frantically piece together what your eyes are seeing into something you can understand. somehow, you are aware your reaction should be worse than this. the point is moot. any and all comprehension has deserted.

“oh,” you say again.

(the heart is a muscle, yes? it must be frozen as well with the rest of you.)

four of the eyes disappear.

“curious.”

the mouth that just opened is all at once, normal. the voice leaving it is anything but: a smooth, deep vibration that echoes in your bones and rattles your teeth in your skull. there’s a huskiness scraping along the edges - as though it hasn’t been used in years.

“mortal,” the word is a cold, drawn out hiss.

yup, that’s me, you want to say. good ol’ mortal that apparently popped out in your river for a quick bath. dipped and got your toes wet, yup, nice, thanks you’ll be going. river water is in places river water should not be.

the words stay silent in your throat, buried with the rest of your confidence.

“hello,” is what comes spluttering out instead.

curious, he–(it? he?)–had said, twice now actually, but he didn’t look curious at all. the cold grey blue of his eyes glint like gun metal, everything about his expression screaming disdain. particularly disinterest in you.

“unprecedented. at this level ?” he seems to be talking to himself, or at the very least someone you cannot see. sparks light in your chest at the action. they rush down the current of your burnt out circuit, warm your gut and purse your lips.

he’s rude.

your brain immediately latches onto the thought, desperate to register something familiar. the human characteristic you attach onto him grounds you back to reality. your tongue loosens.

“i,” your voice aggressively cracks on a dry mouth. “i said hello.”

silence.

his eyes snap back to yours

and th

instantly, the temperature plunges down, squeezes a noose round your esophagus and yanks your ribcage right from your body--shattered bone and blood and flesh pushed up your lungs. something animal-like snaps across his face, half mad, and any intelligent thought deserts you, your very core reverted to the primal instinct of run, please you are sorry youaresososorry,

en he tilts his head owlishly, rolling his shoulders back.

“get out.”

it takes you a second to respond. there is a strange gap in your memory that wasn’t there before.

“getting out,” you agree, making no hesitation in wriggling up onto the river bank. the darkness around you presses to your figure, fitting so tightly against that it covers you as some sot of suit. you touch the sensation lightly, unsure of how to process the otherworldly material.

(definitely not cotton.

at least you’re wearing clothes.)

“’m sorry,” you ramble on, convinced if you stopped talking you would go insane. “for being in your river i mean. i-it wasn’t my fault though, or uh, at least i don’t think it was.”

when he doesn’t respond, you frown.

“thanks for not eating me i guess”–heaven help you why were you born without a censor–"but i kinda need to get going. see you later-”

“stay.” the command is short and curt.

you feel a surge of irritation raise your eyebrows before it is quickly drowned out by trepidation as he steps out of the water. his very presence floods the space. it’s like mercury sliding over sand, all encompassing with a quiet violence that speaks to the depravity within your own soul. there are shadows of large wings trailing the ground behind him, invisible silk and oil following gold dappled soles. he stops to tower nearly an entire foot over you.

“stay.” he repeats. his shoulders are tensed, the muscles rippling. “and curb your tongue, lest i relieve you of it.”

your hands tremble at your sides. it takes every scrap of your will to suppress a scream.

“and what if i don’t?” your self-preservation screams at you, but your curiousity far outweighs it. “will you stop me?”

a beat.

“you will leave without my aid, little human?”

something like dark amusement crosses his visage. it’s the first real emotion you’ve seen from him.

his stare burns into your very being. “then pick your favourite god and pray, because that will be your only deliverance.”

fear twists a knife in your gut. you twitch, heavy under the pressure of his stare, but refusing to back down. his lip twitches.

“be glad i was the first to find you, or you would be long dead,” he speaks icily, fingers idly beginning to twist and pull through the air, as though he was weaving thread. “mortals often slip through the veil during dream state, but none have ever fallen this far down. you are impossibly lucky not to have encountered any of this realm’s inhabitants.”

the timbre of his voice is bland, as though he couldn’t care less about what had happened to you.

“it is most likely the river styx that covered your scent. be grateful - you tread in places you do not understand.”

you squirm, ignoring the unease you feel at his words.

“great,” you croak. “a special snowflake, that’s me. can we please reach the part where you send me home?”

his motions come to a stop with a sharp yank of his index finger.

“of course.” he smiles, a slow, dark thing that makes your toes curl. pools of gold thread briefly appear out of nothing.

“you need only want me to touch you.”

you nearly choke on your own spit.

“excuse me?”

he steps closer, eyes glimmering silver. there’s something about the slant of his mouth that is positively sinful, that draws a long shiver up your spine. sharp incense floods your senses as your blood slows; thick and sugary, crawling through your veins.

“oh,” he murmurs. “oh darling.”

you barely hear your ragged inhale over the drum of thunder in your chest.

teeth flash in the darkness.

“truly, you did not think it would be that easy?”

@connorshero @the-darklings @deviantcrimes

#lets play the guessing game who thinks they know what nines is in this #detroit become human #dbh #im tired #nines x reader #rk900 x reader

117 notes · View notes

missnmikaelson-main · 5 years

Text

Tabula Rasa - Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries, The Originals or any related media.

Summary: 20.65 centuries… 206.5 decades… 2065 years… 24,780 months… 107,380 weeks… 18,089,400 hours… 1,085,364,000 minutes. It was a long time, so why had it passed in the blink of an eye? One minute she watched her husband die, the next she was lying on something very soft surrounded by strangers.

Warnings: Some Smut in this chapter

December 2012

It had been eight months since she had woken in the boarding house. The trauma of her final memory was fading away so it was getting easier; she no longer had the flashbacks whenever she saw a knife.

Her nightmares had stopped as well thanks to the crocus tea.

She ground the flowers down and dropped them in the bottom of a mug before lifting the kettle and pouring in the boiling water. She carried it over to the table and opened the laptop that she had spent the past month attempting to understand.

The tea steeped slowly as she typed in the deciphered letters. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe Kol because she did; she just wanted to read it for herself.

Ivanka doĭde pri men. Tya vyarva, che slukhovete na pŭtnitsite i sŭmishlenitsite sa verni. Tya otkri neĭnite, kazva tya. Tya zapechata vrŭzkata i sega tvŭrdi, che useshta vrŭzka s prirodata; neshto, koeto nikoĭ ot nas nikoga ne e poznaval.

The translation took less than a minute. When it finally came up in English she switched it over to Greek making it easier to read without hurting her eyes and mind.

Ivanka has come to me. She believes the rumors of travellers and soulmates to be true. She found hers she says. She sealed the bond and now claims to feel a connection with nature; something none of us have ever known.

“Good evening, Elena,” Elijah greeted while pulling a blood bag from the fridge.

“Hey,” she pushed the computer closed. Taking a sip of her tea she met his eyes; it was getting easier to be around him as well.

Elijah took a seat across from her at the table after warming the blood and placing it in a mug.

“Any luck with your memories?”

“No,” she smiled around her mug of tea. She had one foot in another chair so she rested her elbow on her knee and held her mug. “I don’t think they will come back on their own.”

“I could try contacting a witch if you like,” he frowned when she shook her head and smiled.

“No thanks,” she laughed softly. Her eyes sparkled when she saw his confusion. “I got the impression from my journal that my life was not… something worth remembering.”

“It’s your memory, Elena,” he tapped the table with a knuckle.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” she ran a finger around the rim of her mug; “I think I’m alright not knowing. I promise I’m fine.” Her eyes narrowed when she caught something flickering in his dark eyes. “Is there something you want me to remember, Elijah?”

“I just want you to be happy,” he cleared his throat before rising from the table, “and if you’re happy not knowing then…” he trailed off while rinsing his cup and putting it in the dishwasher. He pulled out his phone to answer the incoming message.

“Do you have to go?” She finished the last of her tea.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I’m terribly sorry, but I do have to leave.”

It wasn’t until she was lying in bed that it hit her. The reason he wanted her to remember and the look in his eyes.

“You ever wonder if anyone cares whether or not you live or die?”

Alenka snapped her book shut and turned on the daybed to face him. “Personally no,” she arched an eyebrow, “but I know for a fact your brother wants me alive. He’s rather insistent on it.”

“Ah, yes,” Kol scoffed, “Nik and his Hybrid Army. How could I possibly forget about that? Tell me, darling, has he started parading suitors past you?”

“What are you talking about?” She tilted her head and pulled his book from his hands; it wasn’t like he was actually reading it.

“He wants another doppelganger,” he shrugged, “which roughly translates to: Elena Gilbert will have children.”

“Not that,” she waved her hand, “I meant the other.”

“My flippant attitude over the worth of my life?” Kol mirrored her nod. “I just mean nobody would care if I were to die, or were you not there when Nik was torturing me.”

“He’s your brother Kol,” she dropped the books onto a table, “he would care. They would all care.”

“They didn’t the first time,” he rolled his eyes and leaned back on the daybed, “why should it be any different now. Nobody would care. My own mother has threatened to send me back.”

“I’d care,” she squeezed his arm and reached for her buzzing phone. “Who else would introduce me to terrible music?” She nodded towards the gramophone.

“This is wonderful music,” he bumped her shoulder.

“It’s wailing,” she snickered. “My phone makes a better sound.”

“Speaking of,” he rolled his eyes when he saw the missed call and text message, “it looks like you’re needed back at the compound.”

“We want to bring Hope home,” Klaus gestured wildly with his hands, “this is how we can do it. We could ensure New Orleans is safe; I could ensure it.”

“By enslaving my people?” Hayley glared at him.

“Not to mention the strain it would take on Elena,” Elijah crossed his arms and leaned against the book shelf.

“Of course,” Hayley muttered, “it’s all about Elena.”

“Excuse me?” Elijah’s brows rose.

“You’ve been mooning over her since she got here,” Hayley growled. “You immediately rushed out after her when it looked like she was lost. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got someone keeping an eye on her whenever she leaves the house.”

“That’s actually what I’m doing,” Klaus lifted a finger, “I get Josh to follow at a distance. Apparently she likes the cemetery and the botanical gardens.”

“She’s a manipulative bitch,” Hayley threw up her hands, “and is probably faking the memory loss, and those ‘nightmares’ she was having as well.”

“I assure you, little wolf,” Klaus cut off her rant, “that nightmare was very real. I saw part of it and she was within her rights to be afraid.” He backed away when a set of footsteps echoed outside the door.

“Hello?” Alenka froze when she was greeted by three sets of dark eyes.

“Hello, love,” Klaus grinned, “I find myself in need of your blood.”

Her eyes flickered between everyone in the room; they settled on Hayley when she scoffed.

“I don’t like it.”

“Have you got a better idea?” Klaus snapped. “One that doesn’t involve marrying a man you don’t love.”

“Just admit it,” Hayley rolled her eyes, “you don’t like Jackson.”

“I like Jackson well enough,” Klaus sighed, “but not as a step father for my child.”

“How much blood do you need?” Alenka swallowed when she saw the disapproval in Elijah’s eyes.

“You’ll give it just like that?” Hayley dropped her shoulders and tilted her head.

“Sure,” she nodded.

“It would take too much of your blood,” Elijah stepped between her and Klaus. “If you are going to do this you need to take your time: one bag every two weeks.”

“Why?” Hayley sighed. “We can just heal her, or better yet drain her dry.”

“Vampire blood has no effect on me since taking the cure,” Alenka cleared her throat, “and if it’s all the same to you I’d rather not be bled dry. How long will this take?”

“Two months,” Klaus pulled the equipment from the drawer, “if we’re following Elijah’s specifications. It will take two months to get enough.”

January 2013

“You know what you have to do.”

She lifted her head to regard him carefully. Her fingers ghosted over the aged paper of the grimoire that hadn’t seen the light of day in a century. She had a feeling she knew what he was talking about, but the thought was somehow wrong.

“What do I have to do?” She crossed her arms and leaned against the table. She tilted her head and watched Kol’s face. Not for the first time she wondered what he truly looked like when he did not inhabit the body of Kaleb; did he resemble one of his brothers more than the other. Whatever he truly looked like she knew his eyes always held that twinkle.

“You have to sleep with him.” His usual smirk was not present. His lips had fallen into a small line. Why did the thought of her in his brother’s bed upset him so? He knew the answer, but that didn’t make things any easier.

“Why would I have to do that?” She leaned back.

“Hear me out, darling,” Kol caught her wrist. Absentmindedly he rubbed small circles over the back of her hand. “You were reborn in the body of a traveller; a cursed group of witches.”

“I’m aware of my legacy Kol,” she inhaled.

“The difference is that you remember being a witch,” he continued. “You remember all of it. You remember what it was like to feel that connection to the earth. There is one way for a traveller to break their curse and that is to seal a bond with their soulmate.”

“You think he’s my soulmate?” She stared at his hand. His fingers stroked her soft skin and sent tiny tingles up her arm.

“Don’t you?” Kol sighed. “You told me months ago that he bore the face of your dead husband. Fate seems to be throwing the two of you together, darling. Seal the deal and you get your magic back; you’re a witch again.”

She sighed and chewed her lip. How many times had she thought of it? How many nights had she dreamt of lying with her husband again? The dreams had grown stronger when she’d come to New Orleans and met him. After months in the same house as him she found her dreams were lessening. He was kind it was true, but the thousand years he had spent wandering the world had changed him; he was not the man she remembered. He was different.

“I’d feel like I was using him,” she shook her head. She’d done the reading with Kol and she knew he was right. She knew that sealing a bond with her soulmate would lift her curse.

“I thought you loved him?” Kol watched her distant eyes.

“I barely know him,” she replied after a brief pause. She wasn’t sure what it was about Kol, but he had quickly become her dearest friend. It still surprised her that he was friends with her at all; after all, the woman that she was before had orchestrated his death.

She stood outside his door and hesitated. It was a foolish idea really, and she should march straight back and tell Kol just that. Kol was nothing if not set in his ways though; he reminded her of Elias that way.

And yeah… okay… maybe she was playing on his emotions. Maybe she was using the knowledge of his feelings for who she had been before waking up. Maybe she was being a selfish bitch, but the separation she felt from nature was unbearable.

Like Kol had done by running with witches for centuries, she was willing to do anything to get her power back.

She was starting to think that there just might be more than one person in the world for everyone.

Steeling her nerves she took a deep breath and knocked. Idly she wondered if this made her a whore… using her body to get what she wanted. She shook that thought off when he opened the door and stood before her.

Slowly she lifted her gaze from his sculpted chest to his inquisitive brown eyes.

“Elena?”

The name rolled off his tongue. And it was definitely wrong, but she was going to do it anyway. He didn’t know the truth about her mind. Only Caroline and Kol knew what had happened when she took the cure. Only they knew that Elena Gilbert had ceased to exist. Only they knew that she had woken up in her reincarnations body, and only Kol knew her true name.

“Elijah,” she swallowed. She contented herself with the knowledge that at least her name meant the same thing, and it sounded reasonably close to her true name.

“Did you need something…?”

She could sense he was surprised when he didn’t immediately respond to her kiss. It took him a second before his hands left the door frame and pushed into her dark hair.

Her hands slid around his back while her tongue warred with his. Warmth spread through her when he pulled her body flush against his. She didn’t know if it was his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her shirt, or the suddenly vivid memory of the last time she had been wrapped in Elias’ arms; maybe it was a combination of the two.

She lost herself in that memory. Her mind was two thousand years in the past in a beautiful courtyard full of flowers. She snapped back to reality when the name fell from his lips.

“Elena,” Elijah sank into her wet heat slowly.

Her body was flushed and bare beneath him. She arched when he filled her and gasped. Her nails raked down his back. Her legs wrapped around his waist.

Every inward thrust sent tremors through her body. She thought he must have cared for Elena dearly. The beginning strains of guilt tore at her stomach when she saw the emotion in his eyes. She stretched up and kissed him while he rocked into her body. She couldn’t watch his eyes; while familiar to her they kept shifting to a soft blue.

She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out when the orgasms washed over her. She had the strangest feeling it wouldn’t be his name passing through her lips.

She rolled him onto his back and braced her hands on his chest as she rode him. Leaning down to nip along his jaw she felt his fingers press into her hips to guide her body up and down.

Pressing her lips into a thin line she stared at the circles under her eyes. It wasn’t the night spent in his bed engaging in carnal activities that had left the marks on her face. It was the early hours of the morning after he had fallen asleep with his arm around her waist.

She had thought she would feel immediately different. She had thought the connection with nature would instantly return to her body. When that didn’t happen she reasoned that it was because she was inside and as soon as she stepped on the soft ground things would change. When that hadn’t happened and she’d been unable to perform what should have been the simplest of spells, even Amara could have done it; she had broken down in tears.

Tags: @rissyrapp20 @elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn @morsmornte @fandomrulesall

7 notes · View notes

ceruleanoctober · 6 years

Text

A/A: Perfect Strangers (1/?) AU Fic ~Mature Readers

She saw him watching her. It made her feel a little weird, especially since he looked away whenever she tried to meet his eyes. She knew people’s views on breastfeeding in public varied wildly, from those who would commend to those who would condemn. The fact he was feeding an infant roughly the same age as hers put him somewhere closer to the acceptance side of things.

More like he was attempting to feed the infant, she thought. Once she actually paid attention, she realised he was struggling. As if on cue, the child in his arms let loose with an eardrum shattering screech that made everyone in the area jump. Her own child was startled off her breast and responded with a wail of her own.

“Shhhh,” she cooed. She shifted, fully exposing herself as she repositioned her daughter, pinching and rolling her nipple to encourage the latch. A few feet away, the man with the fussy child gave an exasperated sigh and leaned back, bottle in his hand, his body stiff with frustration, worry, and defeat.

She had seen him around the complex. She didn't know his name, but she was pretty sure he was a musician. And he lived with the nurse, Ann. Now that she realised who he was, she realised she hadn't seen Ann out with the baby for a few days. She'd assumed she'd gone back to work.

She looked down at her own child, her tiny fists pushing against her, refusing to relatch. She ran a finger over the baby’s cheek and found herself wondering what that guy’s story was. He obviously had no idea how to manage the baby by himself. He'd probably never been around kids. What was Ann thinking, leaving the baby with him?

It was clear Ainsley wasn't going to continue feeding, leaving April with her breast swollen. She didn't have her pump with her, but there was nothing to be done about it. Even if the other baby's crying was causing her to leak. That was why she had a padded bra. She put Ainsley in her carrier and put her bra and shirt back to rights. She didn't have anywhere to be, or really anywhere to go but home, but she realised she couldn't do that. Not without at least offering to help. The poor guy was obviously at a loss, and the baby in his arms was beet red from fussing and screaming and fighting. He looked like he wanted to cry too, and she honestly wasn't sure he wasn't going to start if she spoke to him.

"Hey." She moved from where she'd been sitting to sit next to him. He brought his head up to look at her. His eyes were a bright, almost emerald green up close. And shining with the promise of tears. She really hoped he didn't start crying, because how awkward would that be? "I take it you haven't had to feed her much before now?"

He shook his head. "No. Her mom..." He raised the hand that wasn't entirely supporting the child he held, but let it fall as his voice trailed off. "She was, you know. Feeding her." His hand moved again, gesturing toward her breast. "But she's..." He shook his head. Whatever had happened to the baby's mother, it was hard for him to say. Which kind of almost definitely ruled out the possibility that she had simply gone back to work.

"Has she ever taken a bottle before?"

"She drank a little last night. But I had some left from her mom. It's all gone now. This is formula. And I don't think she likes it."

April nodded. She felt for him. She really did. A million scenarios ran through her head, and they all came down to one thing. The baby's mother was gone, out of the picture. Maybe she left, or maybe she died. April had no way of knowing without asking, and she didn't feel that was appropriate. "Would you like me to try?"

He sucked in a breath. "I...yes. Please."

He shifted, holding the baby out so she could take her. "Hey, sweetheart," April said softly. The baby nuzzled against her, and it was obvious to April that she was rooting around for a breast. April took the bottle from the guy, she assumed he was the father, but she was also aware he might not be. Stranger things had happened. He could be an uncle, or a friend, or hell, even though he didn't look terribly old he could be the grandfather. It was possible.

"Here you go, honey," she cooed, and pushed the nipple to get a little milk to pool at the tip so she could rub it on the baby's lips and hopefully get her to take it. She seemed to go for it, but then turned her face away, grunting in frustration. "It's okay, darling. I know it's not what you're used to, but it's the best we can do." Even though her own breasts were leaking in response to the baby's fussing.

She tried again, with the same results. "Okay. This is going to sound crazy," April said. She looked at him, and his big green eyes. She really just wanted to hug him and tell him everything was going to be all right. "I don't even know your name. But here's the thing. Ainsley didn't finish and I've got more than enough anyway. I can feed her."

"You can do that? I mean, it's..." He frowned, struggling to find the words.

She held the bottle out to him and he took it, sliding it into the diaper bag at his feet. "It's pretty unusual, I think. But yeah. I mean, I don't see why not. They gave me information when I had her about an organisation that takes excess breast milk for infants in need. And I think this one is definitely in need. What's her name, by the way? I'm April."

"Lyric. And I'm Andy," he told her. He tried not to watch as she prepared to take Lyric to her breast, but he was unable to look away. It wasn't even that he'd never seen a woman breastfeed before. But he was mesmerized by it, and by her. She offered her nipple and Lyric latched on without hesitation.

The sudden silence was almost deafening. April stroked the baby's face with the knuckle of her index finger. "There you are, sweet girl. I know you're hungry. it's all right. Take as much as you need." It was kind of surreal to have someone else's infant at her breast, but she was happy to help.

She looked up at Andy. "Hey. It's gonna be okay."

He shook his head. "Is it, though? I mean, I really appreciate what you're doing. But what about when she's hungry again in a few hours and all I have is a bottle."

April shifted a little and reached her hand out to touch Andy's leg. It was a valid question and a legit concern. She wasn't sure how to answer, without getting a little more information. She looked into his eyes, and tried to hold his gaze. "Andy. Where's her mother? What happened to Ann? It is Ann, right? I talked to her a few times, when we were both pregnant. ANd I saw her with the baby a few weeks ago, but I haven't seen her lately."

"She was in a car accident a few days ago," Andy said. He looked down, unable to maintain eye contact. "She...she didn't make it."

"Oh, Andy. I'm so sorry." Was that better or worse than if she'd just walked away like Ainsley's father had done? One morning he left the apartment, and never came home. He sent a text telling her he was leaving town, and don't bother trying to find him, he was trashing the phone before she could even read the message. And that was that. "Listen. the girls are close in age. I think Lyric was born maybe two weeks after Ainsley. And we live in the same block of apartments, so, I mean. I can help out. They say the more you feed, the more milk you produce, so I can feed them both. If, I mean, is that something you'd want to do? I know you don't know me and I don't know you, but..." April looked down at the child suckling from her breast.

Yeah, this was a completely unusual situation. But it felt right. She had to help this guy and this innocent baby whose world had been turned upside down before she was even three months old. It wasn't her fault, and it wasn't Andy's either. He seemed like a good guy. And April sincerely wanted to help him and his little girl.

"I...you'd do that?" The shine of promised tears glistened in his eyes again.

"I mean, yeah. Why force her to take a bottle when she doesn't have to?" Part of her wondered what she was doing, but part of her knew she couldn't just walk away. Lyric and Andy were both innocent victims of a situation that was beyond their control. She had the means to help them, so she was going to help them.

Andy's gaze traveled down to Ainsley sleeping in her carrier seat. "She still wakes up to eat in the middle of the night. I can't ask you to come over and feed her at 3am."

"I have a two bedroom unit. Why don't you two come stay with me? I can move Ainsley into my room and you two can have her room. There's a twin bed in there, and we'll figure out everything else." She knew it was a risky offer. For all she knew, he'd killed Lyric's mother and lied about the car accident. But he seemed so pure, so genuine, so honestly distraught that she was willing tot ake the risk.

"I can't..."

April leaned forward just a little and reached for his hand. His daughter was still nursing at her breast, her face still splotchy from her crying earlier, but slowly returning to normal. "Would you do it for your daughter?"

She saw the corners of his mouth twitch. And a tear finally fell. His voice, when he spoke, even though he only said one word, was low and lilted with emotion. "Yes."

"That settles it then. When she's done here, we'll go to your place and get what you need for tonight. We'll worry about the rest tomorrow."

Andy nodded. "I don't know how I can ever thank you for this."

Her first thought was that he could thank her by not being a serial killer or something. but she just smiled and squeezed his hand. "Just let me help you. And maybe pay half the grocery and stuff. That's all I really need."

"I can do that," Andy said. He'd even offer to pay half the rent. It would be tight, unless he gave up his apartment, but it was way too early to think about that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Shameless pimping: Read all my fic at AO3

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My Prompt Table; Request via asks!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

#perfect strangers #my fic #april and andy #parks and rec #alternate universe fic #april ludgate #andy dwyer #ainsley ludgate #lyric dwyer #breastfeeding #wet nurse #april can't stand to see andy suffering #these two are always meant to be #i actually dreamed this scenario

7 notes · View notes