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metalandmagi · 10 months

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Romance Anime Starter List

I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sick and tired of seeing “Top ___ Best Anime of All Time” lists that are nothing but shounen. So, with "My Happy Marriage" getting a little attention from the anime community, I wanted to put together a list of some romance anime that I consider good “starters” for the genre. Because if I were just now becoming an anime fan, I’d think all there was to offer was shounen action series.

And by “starters” I mean basic stuff that’s not too…out there, and actually involves the characters getting together instead of just harems or using romance as a side plot (sorry Ouran High School Host Club and My Next Life as a Villainess).

So if you’re new to anime and want stuff that’s not just guys beating the shit out of each other (which is also fun, don’t get me wrong), here are some basics.

Taisho Maiden Fairy Tale- When the pessimistic Tamahiko Shima loses all function in his right arm, his family sends him away to live in the mountains with the cheerful, hard working Yuzuki Tachibana…who was purchased by the Shima family to pay off her family’s debts and basically act as a caretaker/future bride for Tamahiko so they’d never have to deal with him again. It’s a more cheerful version of My Happy Marriage (without the supernatural stuff), except in this one, the guy is the one who has massive self-esteem issues and an abusive family. There are still very serious themes, but ultimately it’s not meant to make you cry every episode. I swear it’s so good, but nobody watched it!

Horimiya- A slice of life in which pretty and popular high school queen bee Hori, finds out her quiet, unassuming classmate Miyamura is hiding piercings and tattoos that could get him expelled. The two gradually find out more about each other and get together in the most realistic way I’ve seen depicted in an anime. It’s also fucking hysterical and genuinely emotional.

Recovery of an MMO Junkie- Another slice of life that focuses on two adults who meet in an MMO game without realizing they also know each other in real life. I don’t want to say much more than that. It’s adorable, and the main character is so relatable it hurts.

Love with Yamada-kun at Level 999- Speaking of MMOs, this is a newer series about Akane Kinoshita, a college first year who’s reeling from a bad break up. In an attempt to get back at her ex, she winds up meeting Akito Yamada, a popular gamer who happens to be in her guild in the MMO they both play at an IRL meetup. The two go from acquaintances to something more as they keep running into each other. Even more relatable main characters and just wholesome relationships all around.

Snow White With The Red Hair- A fantasy in which an apothecary named Shirayuki (meaning, you guessed it, “snow white”) runs away from her home in order to escape becoming the concubine of her town’s prince. While fleeing, she is rescued by Zen, the prince of a neighboring country, and she ends up becoming an herbalist to repay him. It's super cute with some genuinely swoon worthy moments and a couple that just works so well together. I have a habit of comparing this to Akatsuki no Yona, even though the two aren’t really that alike. This is more romance driven while Akatsuki no Yona is more of a serious historical fantasy with romance elements (Yona manga is amazing, but the anime barely scratches the surface, so that’s why I didn’t include it).

Sasaki to Miyano- When the shy, easily flustered Miyano meets Sasaki, a cool “delinquent” upperclassmen, the two end up bonding over manga…specifically BL manga. That’s right, Miyano is a fudanshi, but due to his small stature and somewhat feminine appearance, he’s constantly trying to convince others that he’s not interested in having his own love story where he’d be reduced to a stereotypical doe-eyed uke. But as Sasaki and Miyano spend more time together, they realize that what they have is more than friendship, and they have to come to terms with their own perception of gay relationships. This is my favorite romance of all time. It’s a slow burn, but boy is it worth it. Their relationship is so natural and realistic, just like Horimiya. Just two people hanging out and bonding over things the way people do in real life!

Given: The story of some boys in a band with trauma. Enough said. It's great. Go watch it.

Bloom Into You- Yuu Koito is a high school girl who’s been waiting her whole life for her own perfect romance to start…but when she receives a confession, she realizes she doesn’t know how to respond when she’s just not into the guy. And then she gets another confession…this time from the cool student council president Touko Nanami, who basically jumpstarts her lesbian awakening. Very cute story about how we perceive the concept of love vs actually feeling it. Also has a canonically aro/ace side character, so that’s a win for me. Another show like this is Adachi to Shimamura (but I honestly don’t remember much about it. It just didn’t stick with me as much).

Ore Monogatari- Takeo Gouda is a tall, bulky high school first year with a sensitive heart of gold. He wants nothing more than to find his own true love, but most girls are intimidated by his enormous stature, and they end up falling for his conventionally attractive friend instead. That is, until he meets the tiny, adorable Rinko Yamato. He falls in love instantly, but he’s sure she’s interested in his best friend like everyone else, so he vows to help get them together, even though his heart is breaking. Peak himbo behavior. Pure of heart, dumb of ass.

Yuri on Ice- Yes it’s the gay figure skating anime everyone knows. And yes it’s a fucking romance, okay? I will die on this hill. The romance between Viktor and Yuri is just as important as the plot!

Kaguya-sama Love Is War- Two insanely smart high school students both have a crush on the other, but since they’re…you know…high schoolers, neither of them wants to admit it first. So they come up with increasingly convoluted plans to get the other to confess first. This will go down as one of the best of all time. It’s a hilarious yet poignant modern classic.

Fruits Basket- I’ve talked about it before and I’ll talk about it again. A romance “comedy” that slowly morphs into a drama about a girl named Tohru who finds herself living with the mysterious Sohma family after her mother dies. Little does she know, the Sohmas are the victims of a (somewhat silly, but ultimately tragic) curse that she must fight to break. Even though I’m more into it for the family drama, the romance is still top tier and plays an important role in the story. This is my second favorite anime of all time, and it’s a classic for a reason. If anyone hasn’t watched it yet, GO WATCH IT! IT WILL RIP YOU TO SHREDS!

And now for some honorable mentions that didn't quite fit into the regular list:

Ride Your Wave- A movie about a surfer who falls in love with a firefighter……and I’m not going to say any more than that. Go into it blind. If you like stuff like Your Name, this is a good one to watch.

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun- A comedy about a high school girl who finds out the upperclassman she has a crush on is actually a shoujo manga artist, and no matter how she tries to confess to him, he just never gets it.

The Ice Guy and His Cool Female Colleague- A slow burn slice of life that focuses on a guy with ice powers who has a crush on his coworker. That’s it. That’s the show. When I say slow, I mean SLOW. It’s perfectly cute and fluffy, but my god does it take forever to get anywhere with these two.

Skip to Loafer- A high strung, small town girl decides to go to high school in Tokyo, where she meets a variety of classmates, including the laid back Sousuke Shima. The unlikely pair become friends, and soon enough, she starts to feel something more than friendship. The only reason I didn’t include it in the main list is because they don’t get together by the end of the first season, but it’s still really cute (also canonically trans character for the win!?)

So that’s my starter list. And no, I didn’t include Toradora, even though it’s a classic. I know it’s blasphemous, but I like it more as a comedy than a romance. It kinda lost me with the ending. But anyway, maybe someone will find something they like. Or maybe you'll just want to roast me and my picks 😅

#yuri on ice #kaguya sama: love is war #fruits basket #ore monogatari #bloom into you #sasaki to miyano #snow white with the red hair #yamada kun to lv999 no koi wo suru #horimiya #recovery of an mmo junkie #taisho maiden fairy tale #skip to loafer #unfortunately not much bl or gl since a lot that I've seen is too...out there for this list...#now bl manga on the other hand...#why did i make this lol?#because i finally got to the confession scene in akatsuki no yona of course and now i'm dead #I kinda want to include doukyuusei too but it's just a little bit steamier than what I was going for with this 😅

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oliviajdjarin · 2 years

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Ruhn Danaan: Personal

Pairing: Ruhn Danaan x fem!reader

Summary: Ruhn thought fake flirting wouldn’t get under his skin. He was wrong.

Warnings: Major jealousy, reader seduces a male, reader gets felt up by a male, reader wears a tight dress, reader has her hair done, Ruhn shatters a glass, allusions to sex, reader is alluded to having curves, LOTS of swearing, Queen Bryce is here too, ruhn bleeds, let’s pretend the White Raven didn’t *spoiler* explode. Set during the events of HoSaB (sort of), spoilers!!, I apologize if things don’t line up with canon.

A/N: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this man since I finished HoSaB, so I thought I’d try something new. I hope you enjoy :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be very appreciated <3

SJM Masterlist

(I found this drool-worthy art on Pinterest. Absolute full credit to the owner).

You had known the powerhouse that is Bryce Quinlan for over a decade.

And yet, no matter how much time seemed to pass, her stubbornness never seemed to dwindle.

“I’m going Y/N.”

“You’re mated, Bryce. To the Umbra fucking Mortis. They’ll smell it.”

“So? You would be surprised how little that matters to the right male.”

She placed her hands on her hips as she said this, and your eyes trailed down her body. Her skin-tight dress brought out the best parts of her, and the red of her hair was even more vibrant against the dark shade of black.

Beautiful, as she had always been.

“I’m being serious, Bryce,” you responded. “You’re Starborn. You saved this city. If this male has real, usable information on the rebellion, he’s not going to tell you.”

“And he’ll tell you?” she questioned back.

“Yes,” you responded breathlessly. “You would intimidate the Hel out of him, while I am a random female buying him drinks. If I get him drunk enough, he’ll spill.”

Bryce gnawed on her bottom and lip and fidgeted with her rings. A faint pink began to show beneath her freckled face.

“I don’t like this Y/N.”

“I know Bryce,” you responded, “that’s why you’re coming with me.”

“Still,” she replied, “if you get pulled into a separate room, how will I know you’re okay?”

“You know I’ll be okay. I can handle myself,” you said, and moved a bit closer to her. “Whoever this male is and whatever information he has, it’s not worth you being in danger.”

“Danger?” said a voice behind you, deeper and more gruff than either you or Bryce had ever made your voices.

A shot of electricity shot down your spine, and your mouth instantly dried.

“Ruhn,” Bryce mumbled with a roll of her eyes. “Seriously? I want my key back.”

Ruhn Danaan

Half-brother to one of your closest friends, and the hottest male you had ever laid your eyes on.

You turned around with a gulp, reeling in the feeling that his voice gave you no matter how many times you had heard it, and squeezed your hands at your sides.

And there he was. Ruhn Danaan. The Crowned Prince of the Valbaran Fae, and your decade long crush.

Holy Hel did he look good.

It was obvious he had just gotten off from the Aux. His tight black leathers covered him from his back down to his legs, and his tattoos bulged on his forearms. His hair had been the same since the day you met him—long and shaved on one side—but it never failed to do his sculpted face justice. His lip piercing was just visible enough, and the Starsword strapped to his back showed just how broad his shoulders had become over the years.

He was intimidation personified, so much so that it felt like you were standing in his shadow, and you could not take your eyes off him.

You must have been crazy, stupid, insane, but the blue eyes that stared at you every time you closed your eyes didn’t seem to want to leave you either.

You were dressed similarly to Bryce—tight dress, glittery heals, hair and makeup done more so than usual, and fancy perfume emulating off of you— which was making you feel like you should sink into the floor.

Had he ever seen this much of you?

You weren’t embarrassed, you could wear whatever the Hel you wanted, but his slow gaze over you from your feet up to your face sent beads of sweat dripping down your back. He had to have been able to smell your fear—and, of course, other things.

You were so fucked.

“Danger tends to follow me,” Ruhn replied, “but it seems that I followed it this time.” His eyes didn’t leave yours.

He wasn’t talking about you. No way.

Bryce huffed in annoyance. “The only danger here is Y/N thinking she can seduce a rebel sympathizer into leaking information.”

Ruhn’s eyebrows raised. “Seduce?”

You swallowed. “If need be.”

“‘If need be,’ of course you will have to,” Bryce mocked. “It has happened every time you’ve done something like this.”

“Every time?” Ruhn questioned, and folded his arms over his chest. “So you’ve done this before?”

A hint of mischief coated his irises, and your heart had never beat so fast.

“Only out of necessity,” you responded with the best smirk you could muster.

Ruhn huffed out a laugh. “Well Bryce, it seems like Y/N is more experienced in this field.”

“You’re my brother,” Bryce responded. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’d really rather not see you get targeted by the rebellion because of your star Bryce,” Ruhn said, gesturing to her chest.

“I’ll hide it.”

Both you and Ruhn gave her an unimpressed look. You both knew it tended to shine whenever it wanted to.

Bryce groaned in annoyance. “You’re both the worst.”

“Either way I’m going with you,” Ruhn said, tipping his chin up with pride.

“Not in that outfit you’re not,” Bryce responded, and you chuckled.

“And what would you prefer me wear Y/N?” he asked with a tease. Heat began spreading from your cheeks down to your neck.

Nothing.

“Something without a literal target on your back.”

Ruhn laughed through his nose.

“Fine. I’ll meet you ladies at The Raven,” Ruhn said, floorboards creaking as he backed out of Bryce’s apartment door.

You couldn’t miss the hint of excitement coating his eyes, and the heat pooling in your lower stomach.

~*~

The last thing Ruhn expected to see when he entered Bryce’s apartment was you looking the way that you did.

And holy Hel did you look good.

He had known you since you and Bryce were sixteen years old, and as soon as you laid eyes on him, a girlish film went over them. He remembered it. Vividly.

You had obviously found him attractive, and he viewed it as one of Bryce’s silly little friends with a silly little crush.

Until, he was lucky enough for Bryce to reconnect with him. And that was when he saw you. Really saw you.

It knocked the wind from his lungs to see how you’d grown up, and the female you had become. The more he got to know you, the more he realized how self-assured, confident, and fucking smart you were.

And seeing you in that dress. Gods. It cracked the little control he had left into a million pieces.

He had his eyes on you now. He wanted you, badly.

In the beginning, he thought it was just a physical thing, but as the months developed, so did his feelings.

These quote-on-quote “feelings” made him feel like the sixteen year old. He thought he knew his way around women and females, but you tended to send him right back to square one.

And he was about to watch you, potentially, feel up a random man for information.

He brought his drink to his mouth and took a large gulp. He savored the burn of it in his throat.

“There she goes,” Bryce mumbled next to him, and the two of them watched as you slowly made your way closer and closer to the male target. His heart quickened with each step you took.

Bryce and Ruhn were seated at a table far enough from the bar to be subtle, and Ruhn had changed into a plain grey T-shirt and jeans. His hair remained down, and he sure as Hel wasn’t opposed to revealing more of his tattoos.

He saw how you looked at them. He didn’t want you to stop.

“I should be the one doing this,” Bryce mumbled. The male had finally taken notice and introduced himself to you.

“Relax, Bryce,” Ruhn replied. “She’s going to be alright.”

“You just want to watch this. Pig.” Bryce threw back a shot of some sort of clear liquid.

Ruhn raised his eyebrows and took another sip of his drink.

Maybe.

You leaned against the wooded bar in such a way that your curves were highlighted in the party lights. The makeup you chose brought out your eyes perfectly, and the male was becoming more and more interested in the way your hair curled over your shoulder.

Your eyes flickered over the male, and you leaned closer and closer, inch by inch.

Ruhn leaned forward in his chair, watching your every move. Blood pressure rising.

The male leaned in closer, and brushed your hair from your neck. You tipped your head back to show that you enjoyed it, and the male took the opportunity to whisper something into your revealed skin.

You smiled, eyes closed, and the male’s large hand squeezed around your waist. Pulling you into his chest.

And right at that moment, right as your hands covered his chest and his hands moved down your body, it was as if Ruhn’s senses had been dialed to 0.

The music disappeared. The slight buzz he had disappeared. The flashing lights and dancing bodies around him disappeared.

There was only you, wrapped in the arms of another male, looking fucking incredible.

And smiling.

He expected to enjoy this, but he didn’t. Not at all.

Never in his life had Ruhn’s vision tunneled so quickly.

He felt his heart plummeting to his feet, so fast he felt the nausea hit him like a wave, and his normally even breathing quickened to an uneven pace.

Fake.

This was fake.

Don’t take it personally.

You brought your eyes away from the male’s face and down to his arms. Your fingers that were once splayed over his chest now moved to his bicep, tracing the intricate ink that Ruhn hadn’t noticed before.

It sure as Hel feels personal.

Ruhn didn’t realize how tight his jaw was until it started to grow sore, and he didn’t realize just how many times he had imagined you doing that to him until it wasn’t him.

He could make out Bryce’s faint voice next to him, asking if he was okay, but the lack of oxygen and blood flow through his body only allowed him to focus forward.

The male traced his finger down your spine, and Ruhn’s fae senses allowed him to pick up on the chills that erupted across your arms.

He felt his face begin to grow more and more red, and the grip on his whiskey glass become more and more relentless.

The male watched as you traced down his arm, smirking, and he brought his free hand to the side of your face. He tilted your head to the side, and whispered something in your ear once more.

You rubbed your lips together and nodded, and the male dipped his mouth down to where the tendons in your neck met your collarbone.

Ruhn’s nostrils flared.

And then, as if he had all the time in the world, licked a clean stroke all the way up to your ear, and you exhaled loudly from your mouth.

Ruhn heard it. As much as he didn’t want to, he heard it.

And the idea that he wasn’t the cause of it caused his control to finally snap.

The force of his grip on the glass became too much for the cheap material, and dozens of tiny glass shards rained over the table like a firework.

The liquid from the whiskey dripped onto the sticky wooden table, and the rest covered his hand to his wrist.

“Ruhn!” Bryce scolded next to him, shaking glass shards from her hair and brushing them off her dress. “What the fuck.”

He didn’t even turn to look at her. Or his hand. Even as he felt warm blood start to drip down his wrist as well.

No. He kept his eyes forward, like the trained leader he was, and felt your eyes meet his own.

The male next to you looked annoyed, but not shocked. Like he saw stuff like this all the time. He waved his hand to the bartender, gesturing to clean Ruhn’s table that was now covered in whiskey and glass.

But not you.

You kept your eyesight locked into his, and a thread of understanding stretched between the two of you.

You knew he had been watching you, you knew he shattered the glass, and you knew why.

Your lips grew into a toothless smile, and the thread of understanding pulled tighter.

He knew you knew, and he knew you liked it. He could smell you—what you were thinking.

A similar smile etched on his face.

The rest of the club, the city, the world disappeared as you looked at each other. Knowing how the night would end.

Tag list: (since this is a new character for me, I decided to start a new tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for Ruhn or for any of my fics, please let me know!)

@leahkenobi

#ruhn danaan #ruhn danaan x reader #prince ruhn #ruhn danaan smut #crown prince of the valbaran fae #ruhn Danaan angst #crescent city #crescent city fanfic #hoeab #hoeab spoilers #hosab spoilers #post hosab #throne of glass #acotar #sjm books #sjm #sarah j maas

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strawbxrryneptune · 3 years

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Level Two

Word count: 2.6K

Cw: pussyjob, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, oral (fem!receiving), infidelity if you squint, unedited.

This fic and the fics following will contain monster fucking, cucking and threesomes!! If you are not comfortable, try out some of my other works, and Miggi's creations, but if you wish to proceed, remember, sharing is caring.

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@miggiisdumb

From a young age you were taught to keep your emotions in check. Queens must never show weakness to enemies. Crying and screaming were to be left in private, so that you came off as cool and collected. The Mushroom kingdom needs someone level-headed. They need someone they know won't act rashly.

You came to a conclusion that you were the one they needed, the Queen that could handle herself in any situation. You could get a husband, rule a kingdom, maybe even raise some spawns of yourself. You were convinced you had the bag, but now, sitting on a boulder at the falls and watching two sweaty, bulky men wrestle and growl at each other, you weren't so sure.

You had been trying to keep your emotions in check the whole week. Kirishima was constantly inviting you to hang with him and Bakugou, and you didn't know how much you could take. Kirishima's kisses had you on fire,, his big hands grabbing at your ass and tongue sliding against yours, but Bakugou's heated stares and occasional touches had your head spinning in confusion and arousal. He had a weird thing for grabbing and kneading at your hips, and it was starting to get to you.

Kirishima had invited you to join him and Bakugou in a swim at the falls, the water there crisp and beautiful, said to bring years of youth to whoever was worthy. Of course, you agreed. Any princess would jump at the opportunity to swim in a magic body of water with her suitor and his dreamy friend. Kirishima had shown up in blue swim trunks, an extra change of clothes cradled in his strong arms and some sandwiches to munch on later. Bakugou wore a black loin cloth, bigger and a little longer than the one he usually wore. His choker and bracelets were laid out in the grass next to Kirishima's clothes and the food, but he didn't look any less intimidating. If anything, he looked even scarier, hair drenched and falling down around his eyes, glowing red as he growls and bares his fangs, pouncing on Kiri and snarling out threats.

"M'gonna destroy you, Red."

"You have to catch me first, Bro!"

Kirishima dives under the water, Bakugou following shortly after, and you chuckle to yourself.

Soon, though, you start to get worried, cause it's been almost 2 minutes and they haven't come back up.

Calling their names, you shrug your cover up off and get in the water, shivering slightly at the chill. As you get deeper and deeper, water up to your chest, you start to panic.

"Kiri? Bakugou? If this is a joke it's not-ah-!"

You scream in surprise and slight fear as you're suddenly lifted onto a broad, scarred chest. Your thighs are on either side of it, and tense up when you feel the vibrations of a deep, raspy chuckle, and you fight the urge to thread your shaky fingers in ash blonde hair.

"Bakugou, put me down."

You try to keep your voice leveled but he picks up on the tremble, big, warm hands reaching up to grab at the fat of your hips, lifting you up further onto his chest.

"That wouldn't be fun now would it Princess?"

You gasp, glancing down at how your cunt is inches away from his mouth, drool spilling around the corners as he struggles to keep his eyes on yours.

“Seriously, y-you gotta…” your voice wavers as you meekly push at his drenched hair, momentarily losing your train of thought when he’s tongue lolls out, sticky with saliva and long. “What if Kiri sees us?”

“If ya keep quiet, he won’t.” The fleeting look of hunger and a nip on your thigh is all the warning you get.

Bakugou guns for your cunt before you can answer and you act like he shocked you by the way you lurch forward, jaw slanted, clinging to his curved horns, entire body shivering from the firm laps on your mound. Even with the bottom half of the swimsuit on, you could still feel every lick in pin point detail, every nudge of his hot muscles between your folds, just barely pressing into your hole and tongue flicking over your clit. Bakugou can feel it too- the way you're throbbing on his tongue, can even taste the mix of his drool and your arousal seeping through quicker then he was lapping. It drove him wild.

He groans, eyes a little crossed to watch his handy work, hoists you higher and shakes his head further between your legs and your eyes roll back when he starts sucking on your entire pussy. Too hard for you to keep quiet. Too hard for the slurps not to sound exactly like what it looks like.

“B-Bakugou, it’s too much!” You pant, quick and shallow, yet use your weak grip on his horns to hump his face desperately. “I think I’m g-gonna… gonna…!”

He growls, literally growls like the beast he is, and you almost do cum just by his fiery look up at you with a mouthful of your twitching cunny, unlatching with a wet pop that has sticky strings of your slick smacking on his chin.

“Take it off.” He demands, words coming out muffled because he’s already back on your cunt. “Wanna taste you cummin’ in my mouth. C’mon, Princess. Lemme drink you up, baby.”

A shaky hand slips between the two of you, pulling your bathing suit to the side, and the next moment you’re squealing to the heavens above when Bakugou curled his tongue into you, spreading your walls apart on his tongue. His eyes flickered closed with a deep moan at the sensation of you spasming around him, juices nearly flooded into his mouth, but he gulps it down greedily, Adam’s apple bobbing and cheeks hollowing.

You have no idea how long you stayed arched in his mouth riding out your orgasm, unable to tell if you were seeing clouds or if your vision really went that blurry. For one last time, Bakugou shook his head on your cunt and pulled back with a “puah!”, hot huffs of his breaths panting on your drenched up sex. God, you tasted better than you smelled. Bakugou would live between your thighs if he could, make you moan and squeal like you did, make you flush and look completely fucked out, so pretty as you stare down at him with lidded, hazy eyes, plump lips parted to catch your breath, gentle fingers raking his hair and the base of his horns that sent shivers down his spine.

He’d have you forever if he could. If only you weren’t promised to-

“Bakugou, you drowned or something? Where are you, man?” Kirishima’s voice comes from behind some boulders a small distance away from where the two of you are and your heart skyrockets to your throat, the sudden tightness in your gut clenching all of you up in dread. Bakugou on the other hand just slid you down into the water, trying to keep any splashing sounds to a minimum, though both of you had to swallow back a sound when you brushed over his bulge on the way down.

Bakugou swims by you in time to Kiri finally rounding the rocks, brows creased and a little pout on his lips, and you relaxed a bit when you realized he was upset over swimming alone all this time. His eyes flick from Bakugou to you, pout disappearing as he perked up a bit in surprise.

“(Y/N), when did you get into the water?”

You open your mouth but don't get a word out. “Came in lookin’ f’us.” Bakugou says nonchalantly, glances over his shoulder to you and you don’t miss the heat of his stare bouncing up your form for a hot second. “Clearly worried over nothin’.”

Oh, this bastard…

Kirishima hums as he swims your way, gives you his million dollar sweet smile with a gentle cup of your cheeks. “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Your bottom lip puckers in a pout even though you’re already long since mad, specially with his thumb brushing drawing circles on your cheek. “Just warm me next time. Thought you idiots drowned yourselves…”

“Sorry sorry.” He laughs and pecks you a few times all over your face, until he’s kissing you on the lips, a kiss that goes on longer than expected as he slots his mouth with yours and moves his lips with passion and adoration. Your mind gets fuzzy, consumed by Kiri’s kiss and body still reeling from your moment with Bakugou, your thighs clenching underwater because your insides craved for more.

When Kirishima pulls away, you catch a fleeting glance over to Bakugou, a heavy and solemn look on his face, conflict in his eyes before he turns away too late once he caught you staring and it all comes rushing down on you- the clear weight of guilt on your shoulders. The worst part is that you don’t know what it’s aimed at- for going behind Kirishima’s back like this? Or for making Bakugou see you with someone else while he gets scraps of affection?

You tell Kirishima that you’re alright when he asks if something is wrong, then go back to growing when he turns to resume wrestling his friend.

Way to keep your emotions in check, huh?

The rest of the morning goes by fast, the guys wolfing down their sandwiches and still being hungry, Kirishima offering to run into town quickly and grab some more food.

You agree, standing up to go with him but being surprised when he pushes you back down, a look you can't place in his eyes as his own flicker to Bakugou, who's uprooting weeds next to you.

"Stay here, 'kay?"

You nod, dazed, and watch him disappear into the bushes, stealing a glance to Bakugou.

"Bakugou…"

"M'sorry."

You tilt your head at him, but he won't meet your eyes, a scowl on his face as heat creeps up his neck.

"I said I'm fuckin' sorrry. I went too far. You belong to Kiri, it's not m'place to-mmpf!"

You cut him off with a searing kiss, sliding yourself in his lap and grabbing his hair, making him stutter out a moan into your mouth, big hands gripping your hips and lifting you onto his abs, grinding you against him.

You furrow your brows, the feeling of his abs rubbing against your puffy clit feels heavenly but you wanna touch him. You felt him when you were in the water earlier, throbbing and pulsing against you. You wanted him in your mouth.

He snarls against you, demanding attention back on him as he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours, panting heavily as his hands flex against your hips. You try to slide down a little more, moving your hands to rest on his meaty pecs and getting distracted by his puffy nipples.

They were so plump and flushed, they looked so sensitive it probably fucking hurt. You pull away from his mouth with a whine, trying not to smile when he chases your lips.

"You sure about this, Princess? If Kiri finds out he'll be-fuck, baby, Whaddya'doin?"

You don't answer, just give him a look under your lashes as you suckle on his nipple, eyes closing in bliss as the smell of him envelops you, fresh and crisp from the water but still musky and smoky.

You scrape your teeth against him gently, then lick over the reddened area and moan as you suck once again.

You notice he had gone almost deathly still, and you look up at him only to almost cream yourself at the sight.

His eyes were rolled back in his head, fist in his mouth and drool spilling around the corners, dribbling down his flushed face and neck. He was trying so hard not to moan, cause he knew if he made a sound it would be loud enough for the whole Mushroom kingdom to hear.

He fucking loved getting his nipples played with, but virtually no one knew and he tried to play it off but fuck, you had him melting.

"Yhew don' like it?"

Your words are muffled around his tit, saliva slowly trailing down his chest and forming a puddle in the divets of his abs.

"I-fuck, cut it out brat."

He tries to sound authoritative, but his voice is whiny, and you can already feel the bruises he's pressing into your hips. You hum, leaning back to look at his flushed chest, earning yourself a sigh of relief-quickly turning into a choked whimper when you switch to the other nipple, using one of your hands to tweak and pinch one while the other hand threads into his hair, grazing the sensitive base of his horns and knocking his eyes back, mouth dropping open and hands coming up to silence himself, allowing you to try and shimmy your way down onto his lap.

His unoccupied hand grips your hip even tighter, trying to keep you up and away from his cock.

"Bakugou-! Wan' yer cock"

You slur, grinding your hips onto his stomach, covered clit rubbing against his bushy pubes.

"You couldn't handle it sweetheart. We shouldn't even be doing this."

You roll your eyes, popping off his nipple and withdrawing your hands from him, reaching down to pry his hand off of your hip.

"Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot handle? You don't know what-oh."

You're cut off when he drops you down, cock sliding through your folds even over the bathing suit, so big and veiny you could feel every pulse and twitch through your bottoms.

You immediately push your swimsuit to the side, rubbing your slit up and down his dick, clit getting caught on various ridges and occasionally twitching when a throbbing vein rubbed against it. You couldn't keep your sounds down even if you wanted to, leaning forward to moan into Bakugou's ear, feeling a shudder rip through his spine.

You were making his mind foggy, he couldn't stop his hips from rutting up, knot starting to swell even though he tried to hold it back. He couldn't do this right now, even getting this far dangerous, he was way too close to his rut and couldn't risk getting you pregnant, no matter how much that thought made his head spin. Fuck, he couldn't stop thinking of you slamming those perfect fucking hips down onto his knot as you begged him to give you his kids, pleaded with him to make you a mommy-shit

His head falls forward and sharp teeth dig into your shoulder, a snarl vibrating your body before your thighs, pussy and stomach are drenched with thick cum. He can't stop, hips jerking and thighs shaking as he roars into your skin, knot still swollen and sensitive but the burning need inside of him is satiated for now.

Before he can even lift his head up to say something, he catches a whiff of arousal, and strangely enough it isn't yours. It smells more woodsy, intense with a sweet musk, somewhat...manly?

Oh fuck.

Kirishima.

Bakugou scrambles to get up, looking at you in horror and then looking over to the trees, catching a glimpse of dark red eyes before they disappear behind a nearby tree.

"Clean yourself off in the water, Kiri will be back soon."

You stare dreamily up at him, confused as to why he looks so uneasy all of a sudden but obeying nonetheless, standing on wobbly legs and feeling dense and gooey cum drip down your legs in long streaks, a nagging feeling in the back of your fuzzy mind telling you how much of a waste it was that none of it was inside you. You make your way back to the water, unaware of two sets of red locked onto you.

#bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut #bakugou smut #katsuki bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #kirishima eijirou smut #bakugou x reader #bowser!bakugou #mario!kirishima #kirishima thirst #kirishima smut #kiribaku x reader #kiribaku smut #neptunewrites🪐#galacticcollabs #prettymiggi🪐

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luna-writes-stuff · 2 years

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Chapter XVII

A Kili X OC fanfic

Previous chapter // Next chapter

Tw: Thranduil being a bitch (Luna, ruining your favorite Tolkien characters since 2021), Bilbo and Raewyn being adorably caught up in rather uncomfortable misconceptions of cultures. Raewyn threatens to kill herself, but it’s merely words, don’t worry. Mentions/description of an isolation cell. Mentions of hanging someone. Lot of skips, but it will make sense in act III. Raewyn's hair gets cut involuntarily.

——————————————————————————

Accusations, lies and unintended actions….a filler, but not so much

“Who?” Raewyn uttered, narrowing her eyes at the elven king.

“The former queen of Greenwood.” He immediately revealed, now standing in front of the Asha.

Raewyn’s eyes widened at his words, truly confused by the sudden revelations.

“I think you are mistaken.” She argued. “I have not once met any Silvan elves. Let alone wander through these woods. I could not have encountered your queen.”

“And you did not,” Thranduil confessed. “But your kin did.”

“My kin died.” The ranger shot back, spitting the words out like venom.

“And they went unpunished.”

“They died!” Raewyn fumed.

“Your kin cannot stand trial for their deeds, so you must.” The king finalized. “Either you stand trial and perhaps manage to walk out of here alive, or your final breath will be taken in these halls.”

Raewyn gaped at the king, shaking her head as she tried to look around for any form of sympathy. Yet, upon noticing none with an apologetical face, she turned back to the king, frowning when she met his eyes.

“How can I defend myself for something I did not even know happened?” She ranted.

“You cannot.” The king agreed. “But Oakenshield insisted on a trial.”

At those words, she let her eyes wander the room, landing on Thorin, who offered her a mere nod.

“Shall we begin?” Thranduil announced, causing a feeling of pure dread and fear to run through Raewyn’s stomach. And even though Thorin had stalled for time by demanding a trial, she already knew there was little, to no chance of her ever escaping these halls. All she could do now, was talk around the subject for as long as she could.

——

In the dungeons, the dwarves wallowed away in silence, trying to find any form of distraction or comfort. Fili had been anxiously biting on the inside of his cheek, running his tongue over his teeth every so often, casting occasional looks towards the empty cell in front of him.

In the cell next to him, Kili was inspecting a polished black stone. The red-haired elf from earlier walked through the dungeons, keeping an eye on every single one of the dwarves, when her eyes caught Kili flipping the rock in the air, catching it halfway. She paused in front of him, looking down at the object.

“The stone in your hand, what is it?” She asked.

“It is a talisman.” The dwarf began. “A powerful spell lies upon it. If any dwarf reads the runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed.” As he spoke those words, he held the stone in front of him, showing the runes to the elf. She took a step back in shock, looking back at the floor.

“Or not,” Kili quickly shot as the elf prepared herself to walk away. “Depending on whether you believe that kind of thing. It’s just a token.” He shrugged, smiling at the elf, who kindly smiles back.

“A runestone.” He clarifies. “My mother face it to me so I’d remember my promise.”

“What promise?”

“That I will come back to her. She worries. She thinks I’m reckless.” The dwarf spoke.

“Are you?” The elf wondered.

“Nah.” Kili scoffed, tossing up his runestone. When he reached out to catch the object, it tipped out of his hand, rolling out through the bars on his door. As the elf reached down to grab it, Kili dared to look up, now focused on the sound coming from the halls of Mirkwood. Dread immediately filled his system as he thought of Raewyn, who was up there now for her supposed death trial. The possibilities about what the elves were cheering about were enough to send his mind reeling.

“What will happen with Raewyn?” He asked the elf, who was staring at the runes on his stone. She looked down at the dwarf, almost frowning in sympathy.

"The Asha?" She questioned, to which Kili frantically nodded.

“I fear I cannot tell you that.”

“Why not?” Kili prodded. “Can you not at least tell me what she is on trial for?”

The elf looked down at her feet, debating on whether or not to walk away. But when her eyes met the dwarf’s, desperation was written in them. And she could not deny him that answer.

“She murdered Greenwood’s queen. That is what she is on trial for.” She revealed.

And for once, Kili did not know what to say. Sure, Raewyn had quite the reputation for her, but she would not kill any queen. If anything, she had told him to have never even set foot in Mirkwood’s forest. She always walked around.

“She could not have.” He whispered.

“She did not. Smaug did.” The elf conceded. “When the fire drake flew above our forests, her family was running from the beast. They came to us for shelter, but Thranduil refused.” She now whispered, almost as if she was scared someone would hear her. “It was the queen who pitied them and ran after them to welcome the family. That’s when the dragon struck.”

Silence struck the two. Tauriel was not quite sure on what to say anymore, knowing that the elves would never believe a word the dwarf would utter, if he did dare to speak. And Kili was simply too stunned to speak. Raewyn was on trial for something she never did.

“He can’t do this.” Fili now protested, having heard the entire conversation from the cell next to his brother.

“Why would he shove this onto Raewyn?”

“Because she is the last Asha to live,” The elf sighed. “And the king has never been able to forgive himself for what happened. So he blamed it on the family she ran after.”

“No,” Kili mumbled, shaking his head. “You cannot let that happen.” He pleaded, standing up from his spot.

“Does she get a fair trial?” Fili asked, now also standing up in his cell.

“I did not know she even got a trial until a few minutes ago.” The elf confessed. “Primarily, they were going to execute her the second she stepped out of her cell.”

“That does not answer my question.” Fili demanded.

“No.” Tauriel sighed. “I would not count on it. Thranduil was very keen on hanging your friend once he heard she was in our dungeons.”

“You have to stop them!” Kili urged, slamming his frame against the bars, as if it would genuinely help him escape.

“I am afraid I am in no position to do that.” The elf objected. “And you are in no position to tell me what to do.”

“Raewyn did nothing wrong!” Fili exclaimed now. “Your position does not matter. You must recognize injustice when you see it. She cannot die for things she never did!”

“You cannot let her die!” Kili agreed.

“You are our prisoners. I cannot betray my king for the words of dwarves in our dungeons.”

“Please.” Kili pleaded. “You could travel with us if your king comes after you."

“We could!” Fili announced desperately.

“What would you do when people behind bars ask you to betray the one person who welcomed you in their kingdom?” The elf returned.

“What makes the most sense.” Fili answered nearly immediately.

“You must see that your king is wrong!” Kili objected.

“I am sorry.” Tauriel apologized, dropping the stone back in Kili’s cell.

She began to walk away, casting one last pitiful glance to the two dwarves, staring after her as if they were waiting for a miracle.

“But I fear I cannot help you.”

——

As Tauriel wandered off from the dungeons, one of the elven guards ran up to her, ready to report. “Orcs.” He huffed, seemingly having run all this way down.

“Orcs at the gates.”

Tauriel frowned at his speech, not having dealt with orcs for a long while.

“Should we send out scouts?” He asked her.

The captain of the guard, took a quick look behind her back, looking at the dwarves, which had been extremely silent since she had passed them. Her eyes fell back on the Durin siblings, who seemed to have admitted their defeat. And then there was this little voice at the back of her head, suddenly calling louder than it had ever called before.

“We should tell Thranduil.” She decided, already taking her place on the stairs.

“My captain,” The elf protested. “He is busy with the Asha trial.”

“It can wait,” Tauriel spoke. “Orcs do not.”

—

With heavy footsteps, Tauriel entered the main hall. Thranduil had been seated on his throne, looking down at the ranger, who was glaring at the elven king, quiet as ever.

“My king, the orcs have reached our borders.” Tauriel spoke, her voice steadfast, not sparing a second look at Raewyn, her eyes set on the taller elf on top of the throne.

“Are you not captain of the guard, Tauriel?” Thranduil questioned.

He would not risk that final chance of redemption for a couple of orcs near his borders. They would be dealt with later. This trial had to happen now.

“Yes, my lord, but-”

“Get rid of the orcs. That is your job.” The king interrupted, waving off Tauriel’s words.

“My king,” Tauriel protested. “Does it not make you wonder how many more orcs might lie in our forest?”

“We shall discuss this later.” Thranduil concluded, silently ushering for her to leave. A final look was taken towards the ranger, who was subtly looking around the room, as if looking for something. When she looked back at the king, the elf bowed her head slightly, taking her leave in defeat.

——

“Raewyn Asha, your kin murdered Greenwood’s queen; Êlúriel Nenluin. Do you deny this?” The king began as Tauriel abandoned the room.

“I can neither deny nor confirm your words.” Raewyn sighed, knowing lying would not get her anywhere to begin with. Not anywhere good in any case.

“No.” Thranduil agreed. “But I can, and I will, for I saw it with my own eyes.” He explained, leaning down on his throne, nearly taunting the smaller ranger. “Which gives me the distinct advantage.”

“Is there anyone here who can testify for that?” Raewyn spoke, boldly, staring directly at the two guards beside Thranduil’s throne.

“Raewyn…” Thorin warned under his breath.

“Will you not take my word?” The king smiled, knowing he had the woman cornered.

“You are the one sending me to my death for something I did not know happened, so why don’t you think?” Raewyn dared.

In truth, she had been terrified, but she would not give Thranduil the satisfaction of frightening the ranger. She would stand tall for as long as she could. And right now, she felt as if she was on the right track, for he did seem ticked off by her proclamations.

“You make great accusations for someone of your stature.” Thranduil sneered.

“And you give small threats for someone so tall.” The Asha countered, glaring up at the blond elf, not letting any sense of fear slip past her eyes. And for a second, it seemed to work.

“I would not say death is such a small threat.” The elven king defended, now standing up from his seat.

“Death?” The woman scoffed. “She’s a family friend.”

“Need I remind you that insulting a king can result in punishment too?” The king retaliated harshly, marching up to the woman.

“A fate worse than death? I do wonder what that could be.” She tested, raising her head proudly, keeping her eyes on Thranduil’s.

And with those words, the elven king smirked, halting his steps. He observed the ranger for a quick minute, before his eyes got caught on something shiny. Something silver, stuck at the bottom of her hair. Without any hesitation, he swiftly grabbed the dagger of one of his guards, slicing the braid halfway, letting the locks of hair with the bead fall onto his hand.

Raewyn’s heart felt heavy when she heard the knife slicing through her hair, cutting the strands that held her family bead together off. Even Thorin swore he could see the sudden pain behind her posture. He could only imagine what it must have felt like. And for as far as he could come, it was not a pleasant feeling.

“As do I.” Thranduil spoke, observing the silver bead in his hands, hanging it in front of Raewyn’s face proudly. “But I intend to find out, ranger. Three days in isolation before your execution would do you well.”

The ranger swallowed thickly, staring at her own jewelry, that which had been passed down from generation to generation, dangling from the king’s cruel hands. “Oh yes,” She coughed, before speaking sarcastically, “three days on my own does sound quite terrible.”

“We can make it four.” Thranduil sneered.

“Make it five.”

“What are you doing?” Thorin whispered, though Raewyn chose to ignore him.

“I would let you rot down there for years, but I would be forced to hear your annoying nagging and sorrowful exclamations for many moons.” The king revealed. “Your execution will take place in four days. And your company will be there to witness it.”

“Five days.” Raewyn pushed.

“Four days.” The king stated, untangling the braid in his hand, letting the bead fall into his other hand as he mindlessly dropped her hair onto the floor, missing the looks it gave the Asha and the dwarf in front of him.

“Five days.” Raewyn swallowed. “Or I will kill myself before you can.”

“You think it matters to me how you die?” Thranduil boomed.

“You would let your only chance of revenge slip from your fingers like that?” Raewyn was quick to counter, surprising nearly everyone in the room.

The king merely stared at her, his expression unreadable, as if it had been set in stone.

“Five days.” He spoke, before gesturing towards the two smaller creatures.

“Take the dwarf back to his cell, and put the Asha in isolation. Do not let her pass the dungeons.” He ultimately commanded his guards, turning around as to face his back to the small crowd, obviously done with his ‘trial’.

The two elven guards marched up to Thorin and Raewyn, grabbing them harshly as they shoved the two forward, making both dwarves stumble in their steps, trying to regain their balance.

“Walk.” One elf ordered rudely, shoving Thorin forward again, who begrudgingly followed their words.

As the four walked down all those stairs again, Thorin could not help but look at the ranger every so often. She had appeared so calm and collected throughout the whole ordeal. She even managed to test Thranduil’s nerves, while he would have been calling him out for what he truly was. He could not quite grasp how Raewyn managed to act like that. Even more when she insisted on five days of isolation.

“What was all that for?” Thorin mumbled, catching Raewyn’s attention. He knew she was looking at the half-cut strand of hair, but he would not mention it to her. Not now.

“That, Oakenshield, was proof that Thranduil can be negotiated with.” She revealed in a hushed voice. “Even with something this important to him.”

“When will we ever need that information?” He muttered back, making sure the elves could not hear him.

“When you get out.” Raewyn answered, her voice now almost quiet, as if it had not even been there to begin with.

“Do you not understand? We will not get out of here.” Thorin whispered harshly.

“Will you not?” The ranger almost smiled. “Tell me, Oakenshield, where is our master burglar?”

——

Bilbo had been sneaking around the halls of Mirkwood the second the dwarves entered the dungeons. While his company was locked up, the hobbit had busied himself with finding the keys to get them out. Until he ended up in the same room as the elven king. No one had noticed the hobbit yet, but Bilbo could not help but worry. Something about the demeanor of the Mirkwood elves had intimidated him. Even as he grew invisible.

So when the king called out into the darkness, Bilbo could not help, but feel as if he had been talking to the smaller creature hidden out of sight.

“I know you’re there.” He began. “Why do you linger in the shadows?”

Much to Bilbo’s relief, a red-haired elf, whom he had seen earlier, appeared from behind a pillar.

“I was coming to report to you.” She spoke, walking up to the elven king.

“I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed not two moons past.” Thranduil remarked, referring to the earlier occurring spiders.

“We cleared the forest as ordered, my lord, but more spiders keep coming from the south. They are spawning in the ruins of Dol Goldur.” The elf defended. “If we could kill them at their source-”

“That fortress lies beyond our borders. Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures. That is your task.” The king ordered.

“And when we drive them off, what then? Will they not spread to other lands?”

“Other lands are not my concern.” Thranduil decided. “The fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but here, in this kingdom, we will endure.”

Silence struck the two, which Bilbo almost took as his leave. Almost. Until the king spoke up again.

“What of the orcs?”

“We fend them off. But their count was merely three. I suspect more are on the lurk.” Tauriel revealed, shaking her head lightly.

“My lord,” She spoke, her tone now more hesitant. “Why punish the Asha?”

And those were the words that truly gained Bilbo’s attention. He had heard of a trail happening, but he had taken that chance of distraction to capture the keys. However, it could be no coincidence that the two were talking about his friend shortly after the whole trial.

“You question my decision?” Thranduil asked, turning around to face the captain of the guard.

“No, my king.” She muttered, bowing her head.

“But?”

“She did not kill our queen.” Tauriel spoke. “She does not know what came to pass all those years ago.”

“She is as guilty as her kin was.” The blond elf announced, his voice sterner than it had been before. “When you grow up in a family where murder is a reasonable solution, you cannot expect the child to behave with common courtesy and well wishes. Will that be all, Tauriel?”

Bilbo silently hissed at the words, no longer expecting any other speech about his friend. The only thing that soothed his mind about their words, was the fact they spoke about Raewyn in present time and not past, for that would have held even more ill thoughts above his head.

With lead in his feet, he snuck down to the dungeons, trying to find the guards who were sure to hold that key he had been so desperately looking for. He wandered through the countless halls and stairs, hoping to find some familiar place he had walked before, but everything just seemed entirely new to him. Even as he turned back around at a wrong turn.

Eventually, he had reached one of the deepest levels in the Mirkwood halls, landing in something that seemed to have been a wine storage.

“We’re out of drink.” One elf slurred, alerting Bilbo. Slowly, the hobbit turned around, looking at the two elves sitting at a table, participating in what had appeared to be some sort of card game.

“These empty barrels should have been sent back to Esgaroth hours ago. The bargeman will be waiting for them.” The second spoke.

“Say what you like about our ill-tempered king, but he has excellent taste in wine. Come, Elros, try it.”

“I have the dwarves and Asha in my charge.” The elf argued, dangling the keys in the air, before hanging them on a hook in the wall.

“They’re locked up.” The drinking elf debated. “Where can they go?”

——

“Raewyn?” Bilbo spoke hushed, walking past all the cells with closed doors. Doors where no one could look into. For as far as he heard from the elves, Raewyn was locked in one of the isolation cells for four days, though Bilbo did not know which one. So he tried every single door; knocking on it gently as he called her name.

“Raewyn?” He tried again, knocking on the next door. When no response was heard, he sighed, moving towards the next one.

“Raewyn?” He wondered at the fifth door, but once again, he was answered by silence.

“Bilbo?” Someone suddenly called from a few doors up front. The hobbit’s ears perked up at the sound, an immediate smile making its way onto his face. He quickly ran towards the voice, knocking on the door to make sure it was indeed his friend.

“Are you in here?” He asked, laying his ear against the wood.

“Yes!” The ranger answered excitedly. “Can you open the door?”

“Y-yes.” Bilbo returned, fumbling with the keys in his hand. “I think so, yes.”

With every key he tried in the lock, his heart raced more. Only a few keys were left, and he could not leave his friend in the dark. Not now. And so, he desperately began looking for the correct key, trying to make as little sound as possible.

“Bilbo?” Raewyn asked from the other side of the door.

“I have the right key, give me a moment.” He pleaded, now turning the keys faster.

“I trust you,” she ensured. “But you don’t happen to have found my armor laying around somewhere, have you?”

The hobbit frowned at her words, his tongue slipping past his lips for a second, focusing on the annoying pieces of metal in his hands.

“I have not.” He answered truthfully. “The king must have stored them elsewhere, but we don’t have the time to look for them.”

With a final twist of the key, the door finally opened, light streaming into the cold, and insanely dark room. Quickly, Bilbo took the ring off, storing it in his pocket before his friend could see the object. Raewyn’s hair was tousled around, as if she had been tugging on it, and her cheeks appeared rosier than they had usually been. Had Raewyn not ran at Bilbo with such an alarming speed, he might have seen the red eyes she had, and the wet skin around them, but he did not.

Raewyn had already lifted the smaller hobbit off the ground, scooping him into a hug. Bilbo hesitantly accepted the hug, his feet dangling over the floor, yet his arms found their way around Raewyn’s shoulder.

“I am sorry I took so long.” He apologized.

“It is okay, men umrai.” She soothed, lowering the hobbit. “I knew you would not leave us.”

“Even after you told me to leave?” Bilbo asked confused.

“Especially after I told you to leave.” Raewyn confessed, a smile climbing onto her face. “However my heart would be happy knowing you were somewhere safe, it pleases me to see that you decided to come back for us.”

The hobbit nodded towards her in thanks, as the ranger glanced at the keys in his hand.

“Walk with me. I know where the rest is.” She announced, already taking the lead.

“Raewyn, wait!” The hobbit called after her.

When she turned around to face him, he gestured for her to come closer, making her lean in closer. Bilbo swiftly raised his hand, gently flattening it against the top of her head, before letting them run through her hair, trying to smooth out the pieces that had appeared so disheveled. The Asha froze under his hold, not entirely sure on what to do. Did Bilbo even know what he was doing?

“Ehm…. Bilbo….” She began, hesitating slightly. “I-I’m not quite sure how to tell you, but I don’t…” She muttered. “You see, you’re not my…”

“What’s wrong?” Bilbo asked, completely oblivious.

“W-what do you know about dwarven culture?” Raewyn stuttered out.

“Not that much, but just-” And then, the gears in his head finally began to turn, his eyes widening in realization.

“Oh, dear.” He uttered. “You are a good good friend, but-”

“No, I’m not…. I mean, you are not really….It’s okay.” Raewyn interrupted.

“I am so sorry.” Bilbo apologized, taking a step back to give Raewyn more space.

“It’s alright. It’s just, you’re not my one, so it’s really-”

“It’s weird…. I am sorry for that. I might have forgotten-” Bilbo went on.

“No, it’s fine. You are a dear friend, it’s okay.” The Asha tried to calm down.

“No, but I overstepped. I’m sorry.” The hobbit mumbled, looking down at the ground in shame.

“Bilbo, it’s okay.” Raewyn managed out. “Just give me a warning next time.”

“Okay.” Bilbo whispered, now too flustered to look back up. Raewyn noticed his struggle and quickly flattened her hair.

“What about now?” She questioned, ushering Bilbo to look back up. When his eyes met hers for a short moment, he gave her a nod.

“You should…” He instructed, wiping his own cheeks, as if wiping off tears.

Raewyn quickly caught onto his meaning, following his instructions.

“Perfect.” Bilbo agreed, holding one thumb up. “We should really go.”

“Yes.” The ranger spoke, turning around, before flattening her hair once more.

“Let’s go.”

——

Regarding Êlúriel Nenluin: It never was clear what happened to Thranduil’s wife. She might have been alive during the hobbit for all we know, but Bilbo just chose not to mention her. Therefor, for the storyline, especially later on, I have decided that in this story, she has died. Once again, this is not canon, but canonically, we do not know what happened to her. Êlúriel was the name of the queen, Nenluin was the nickname Thranduil gave her. She is often mentioned with both names next to each other, hence why I used it here. I hope this makes sense.

Men umrai: My friend in Khuzdul (Dwarvish)

Taglist: @errruvande @justnerdystuffs @spidergirla5 @chaoticpaintsplatter @fallenangeloflight @m-sterboggins @radbarbariancupcake @writingawaymylife @the-cranck-hobbit @deathofafangirl01

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littleredwing89 · 3 years

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CLUB TROPICANA

CEO!Roman Sionis x Reader

Summary: You soaked up the rays, feeling the stress dissipate out of your pores. You had been right about a vacation. This was just what you both needed. Sun, sea and tranquillity.

Warnings – Language. NSFW Smut. Fluff. Mild jealousy.

Word Count: 4,563

A/N: This is a one shot following the series ‘The Intern’. Pretty much picks up where they left off. I just couldn’t resist revisiting them. I hope you all enjoy. I am working to finish FAMOUS completely before posting. Apologies for the delay my loves xoxo

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The sound of the waves lapping against the shore, carrying the salty smell of the sea in the breeze made you relax instantly as you rested against the balcony railing. You pushed your oversized sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose and smiled, soaking in the early morning sun rays.

You looked out across the horizon, watching the glowing orange sun rising from the crystal blue waters. The light sparkled over the waves, making it look like tiny sapphires blinking at you. It was serene. Like nothing you’d ever seen before.

The coconut scent of your sun lotion lingered in the air and you arched your back, stretching out. You adjusted the strap of your halter neck bikini, untwisting it so it sat comfortably against your sun kissed skin.

A wolf whistle startled you, “Well, what a view”, a deep, gravelly voice rasped behind you, as the glass door slid open.

You turned to see Roman smirking cheekily at you. He clearly wasn’t talking about the gorgeous sunrise as he eyed the white bikini bottoms you were wearing. The material clinging to your curves perfectly.

“You picked a beautiful location”, you smiled, letting your eyes trail down his bare chest, a line of dark hair trailed down from his naval, disappearing into his shorts. He was bronzing nicely in the Mexican sun.

“Only the best for you darling”.

“Smooth”, you giggled and turned your head back out to the sunrise. The sky looked like an artist's palette, colours streaking across majestically.

Moving close behind you, Roman slid his hands up the backs of your thighs before running his finger under the edge of your bikini bottoms.

“You look absolutely stunning”, he whispered into the shell of your ear, his lips brushing against it. You shivered and pushed back against him, feeling his hard cock through his beach shorts.

He growled and snapped the material against your ass. Sliding his fingers around your front, he brushed over your clit. Teasing slowly. You whined loudly before biting down on the inside of your cheek. Suppressing any more noises. You were out on the balcony, anyone could hear you both. And see you.

“Rom…”, you murmured, resting your head back against his shoulder.

“Shh”, he nipped along the side of your neck, letting his tongue soothe over your skin, “You don’t want to attract any unwanted attention, do you darling?”.

His fingers slipped your bikini pants to one side, dipping them through your silky wet folds. Roman cursed under his breath and muttered, “Always so ready for me”.

“Rom…please don’t tease”, you purred and circled your hips, catching his thick cock with each movement.

“You want me to take you out here for anyone to see?”, he teased, nibbling your shoulder, thrusting his clothed cock against your ass, “Is that what you want darling?”.

“Yes”, you moaned, frustration seeping into your tone as Roman languidly rubbed over your clit, making the coil in your stomach twist slowly.

“Please Roman…don’t make me beg”.

You heard him shuffling behind you, shoving his shorts down enough to free his throbbing cock. He teased it through your sopping folds from behind and grunted, “Fuck, you’re so wet”.

“I always am for you”, you whispered airily, wanting to play him at his own game. If he was going to tease you, you’d do it back.

“Darling…”, he warned and gripped your hips, the metal loops on your bikini bottoms pressing against his calloused skin.

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as Roman eased his length into you inch by inch. The delicious sting of him stretching you sent waves of desire up your spine.

“Oh!”, the soft moan left your lips without thinking and Roman clasped his hand over your mouth.

“We’ve got to be quiet”, he growled and drove into your pussy hard, enjoying the way your wet walls fluttered around his cock.

You licked the flesh of his palm and let him stifle your sobs of pleasure as Roman fucked you from behind, pressed up against the balcony railings.

“Fuck”, he pressed his face into your hair and inhaled deeply. The subtle smell of coconuts and pineapple filled his senses. He groaned against you, angling his hips so the head of his cock would hit your g spot.

You cried his name into his hand and wrapped your hands behind you, fisting your fingers into the back of his hair. You tugged as you felt your orgasm beginning to burst.

“Go on”, the deep timber of his voice rattled in your ear, “Cum for me darling”.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as his thick cock continued to drive into your wet heat. The orgasm ripped through you in a short, sharp burst making you sting buzz with desire.

His hand captured all of the sweet sounds he drew from you. The sounds he normally drank in. Your skin rippled with goosebumps, soaking in the early morning heat from both the sun and Roman.

Feeling the way you contracted around him, Roman groaned loudly into the skin of your neck and released his hot seed, deep into your pussy. His breath fanned down your flesh, scorching as it went. He hummed in delight and moved his hand from your lips. Roman let his palm travel down your chest, over the curve of your breasts before settling on your toned stomach.

“Nice way to start the morning”, his voice was more gravelly now. Your fingers threaded through his dark hair.

“Mmmhmm”, your mind still reeling from your climax, you couldn’t form your words properly. You pressed backwards into his solid chest and sighed happily.

----

The midday sun was blazing, surrounded by a clear, dazzling blue sky. You soaked up the rays, feeling the stress dissipate out of your pores. You had been right about a vacation. This was just what you both needed. Sun, sea and tranquillity. You sighed happily, sinking further into the double sunbed. Roman’s hand rested on your knee, drawing patterns into your flesh.

“Do you want another drink?”, you twisted your body to his, letting your knee press against his thigh.

“I’m good darling”, his gravelly voice rasped as he stretched his arms above his head, yawning softly.

“I’ll be back in a minute”, you leaned across, kissing his cheek.

“Mmhmm”, he hummed.

Leaving Roman lounging back against the soft, plush white sunbed, you strolled across the pool side towards the tiki hut style bar, thankful for the brief shade and fan above your head.

“What can I get you miss?”, the bartender gave you a warm smile, hands resting on the wooden worktop.

“Aperol Spritz please”, you swept a lock of hair behind your ear before sitting at one of the stools. The bartender turned quickly and began preparing your drink.

You tipped your head back gently, looking across the pool towards Roman. He was still sprawled out across the sun bed, his arm bent above his head. The sun oil you’d helped him apply earlier made his body glisten in the rays, his muscles even more defined. You bit your bottom lip, tugging it between your pearly teeth, sinful images flicking through your mind.

“Well, I’ll be damned…”, you heard a deep voice behind you, startling you from your train of thought, “Of all the hotels you had to walk into, you had to walk into mine”.

Well fuck.

Oliver fucking Queen.

You turned your head towards the voice, your eyes meeting him. He stood leisurely against the bar, a bright grin plastered across his face. You could hardly believe it. Seriously. Of all the people, in all the places. It had to be him. You glanced over his figure briefly, noting the pair of forest green swim shorts he was wearing. They complimented the tanned glow of his skin. His dark blond hair was messy, dropping down into his reflective, aviator shades, hiding his usual sparkling eyes. You remembered, momentarily, why you’d agreed to go on a date with him.

Until he bailed at the last minute.

“Someone’s seen Casablanca one too many times”, you rolled your eyes playfully, a smirk tugging the corner of your full lips.

Oliver moved closer slightly, the scent of his aftershave was strong as it surrounded you, along with the mix of sun cream, “Gotta make sure I'm suave for the ladies”.

You laughed, “Very suave of you to stand up dates”.

Above the top of his shades, you saw a slight crease in his eyebrows, “Are you still mad about that princess?”.

“Considering, I dodged a bullet? Not really”, you looked down at your freshly manicured nails, the deep red really was an excellent choice on the technicians behalf.

He sucked in a gulp of air loudly, putting his hand over his heart dramatically, “Ouch! You wound me”.

You poked the tip of your nail against his chest, before imitating a shooting gun with your thumb, “I only do what you deserve”.

Oliver captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips before kissing it playfully, “You know I was sorry about the whole thing princess…”.

“Oh I'm sure you were”.

“I just wish you’d given me a second chance”.

You were grateful for the heat which already had your skin flushed, hiding the blush rising to your cheeks. You tugged your hand back before occupying it with your drink the bartender had left for you.

Even though he was wearing shades, you could feel his eyes burning into you. Drinking in every inch of your bikini clad body. You suddenly felt incredibly naked under his gaze, shuffling slightly on the stool.

“Eyes up here champ”, you pointed to your face, trying to cool down the situation.

“Can you really blame me when you’re wearing that?”, he retorted, hand waving over your body as he whistled appreciatively.

You were about to reply before you noticed his entire body stiffen. The easy going manner radiating off him was replaced with something more business-like. Oliver straightened up, taking a step back from you.

You looked over your shoulder and spotted Roman striding across the pool side, his face knitted with an irritated scowl. Sunglasses propped up on the top of his head. Even in a pair of board shorts, Roman still managed to look intimidating. The second he reached you both, he immediately wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you away from Oliver.

“Is everything ok?”, you pressed your palm to his chest softly, looking up at him as he towered next to you.

“Everything's fine”, he dismissed before turning to Oliver, “Never expected to see you here, Queen”.

Oliver’s demeanour had changed drastically, he shrugged and looked around the resort, “It is one of my hotels, gotta make sure they’re running it smoothly from time to time”.

Roman’s fingers gripped into your hip, “You better get to it then, huh? Don’t want your business failing, do you?”.

Oliver looked directly at Roman before glancing down at you, huffing under his breath, “Enjoy your stay princess, if you need anything, give me a call…you still have my number”.

Surprising you and infuriating Roman more, he leaned down and kissed your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your lips. He gave you a sly smirk before heading out of the bar towards the hotel lobby.

Roman was rigid next to you, so you snuggled closer into his side, fingertips tracing the vein on his forearm. As his posture softened slowly, he turned and pressed a rough kiss to your cheek, his stubble grazing your skin.

You giggled quietly, “You don’t need to be jealous”.

“I’m not jealous”, he growled.

“My hip's gonna bruise if you keep holding it like that”, you murmured.

He retracted his grip instantly, “Sorry darling”, his thumbs rubbed circles over the marks as he pressed his nose into your hair, the tropical scents soothing him.

“It’s ok, you can turn caveman mode off”.

Roman moved his hand to your ass, cupping the swell of it before squeezing it.

You laughed under your breath, “You know you have nothing to worry about”.

“Can't I just feel you up in public? Is that a crime now?”, he pressed a kiss to your temple, hand still resting on the curve of your ass, fingers occasionally dipping under the fabric of your bottoms.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, “You know Ollie isn’t watching us anymore, don’t you?”.

He huffed bringing you in front of him and wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing your warm body into his. He never got tired of the way your frame fitted against his. How you sank into him naturally, like you’d always meant to be his.

You slipped your arms around his neck and toyed with the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes closed as he soaked in the bliss taking over his circuitry.

“How about…”, you whispered, “We spend the afternoon back in our private villa and I’ll make us some cocktails?”.

He ghosted his lips over yours, the faint outline of a smile playing on his mouth, “That darling, sounds like a very good idea”.

Your hands travelled down the front of his body slowly, before entwining in his, pulling him back towards your villa, “Let’s go handsome”.

----

You dropped your beach bag by the side of the villa door as you both made your way into the house, before stepping across towards the mini bar.

“Sloe sazerac?”, you looked over your shoulder at him, quirking an eyebrow up.

“Perfect”, he rumbled, leaving his phone on the kitchen worktop, watching as you sashayed away.

The ice cubes clinked as they hit the bottom of the glass, the sound oddly satisfying. You hummed under your breath, grabbing the bottle of whiskey, pouring a generous helping into both chasers. You could feel his stare boring into you, scorching your insides. His presence looming as you dropped the curled lemon into the alcohol.

“You’re hovering, why don’t you go make yourself comfortable?”.

Within seconds, you felt his hands gliding over your thighs, up and down, inching higher with each stroke, “I think the drinks can wait darling…”.

“But I’m making your favourite”, you protested.

Roman stayed silent, waiting for you to finish the cocktail, running his palms over every inch of skin he could reach. You shivered at the feel of his rough hands, sucking in steadying breaths whilst you finished your drinks.

You left his drink on the bar whilst you sipped at yours, watching him intently, eyes burning with want.

“Aren't you going to drink yours?”.

His gaze, practically black, flickered before Roman grabbed the drink, pouring the deep orange liquid over your chest. You gasped at the icy cool sensation of the alcohol dripping over your body.

“What are you - oh!”.

Dipping his head down to your chest, Roman dragged his tongue over your flesh, groaning at the distinct taste of whiskey mixed with you. He discarded the glass carelessly to the side, focusing his attention only on you. His thumbs catching in the metal loops of your bikini bottoms.

You gasped and grabbed his hair as he slid down your body, his lips mapping you, the bitter lemon infused with the burn of the liquor. He settled on his knees, looking up at you with lustful eyes. Roman pushed your bikini bottoms down your long legs before tracing his tongue to your core. He blew over your clit, enjoying the way your body reacted. Goosebumps spreading like wildfire over your skin.

You fisted your hands in his hair, moaning quietly. Roman smirked, lifting you up onto the mini bar, pushing your thighs further apart. His growl was primal when he saw the slick glistening between your folds.

Letting your head fall back, you closed your eyes, whining his name softly, “Rom…”.

“I know darling, I’ve got you”, he nipped your inner thigh, soothing his hot tongue over the light sting from his bite.

“Rom…please…”.

Hearing you say his name, in that breathy little voice, made the front of his shorts tighter and his ego soar.

“That's right”, he laid a soft kiss to your clit, “You’re mine”.

“A-Always”, you stuttered out, feeling the desperation bubble in the pit of your stomach. You needed him. Craved him.

Roman growled against your core before delving into you, his tongue licking long stripes through your folds. You whined, drowning in the overwhelming desire flooding your veins. Pleasure wracked your body in sharp pulses with every flick of Roman’s skilful tongue. You sobbed his name and tightened your thighs around his head, keeping him pressed into your pussy.

He smirked against your core, groaning deeply when your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging sharply when he hit all your sensitive spots.

Whining his name, you rolled your hips, eager to have him impossibly closer. You cried out when Roman slipped two fingers into your pussy. He thrust them in easily, enjoying the slick noises from your core.

“Oh fuck! Don’t stop! Please!”, you begged, eyes clamped shut tightly.

His lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue over it. He free hand bracketed your hip, holding you in place.

“Oh god!”, you screamed, fisting your hands tightly in his hair as you hit your peak. Roman growled against your pussy, lapping up your slick. His fingers slowed as he pulled back from your folds, looking up at you darkly. He loved the way you looked after you’d just orgasmed.

“Rom…”, you murmured, trailing your hands down his cheek.

He gave you a smile before kissing back up your inner thighs. Hands caressing up the outside of your thighs.

“What - oh!”, you gasped loudly and tipped your head back as Roman’s lips connected with your clit briefly.

“I think you’ve got another one for me darling”, the deep timber of his voice rattled up your spine.

Still shaking from your last orgasm, your body broke out in violent tremors as Roman focused on your clit. Both of his hands wrapped around your hips, gripping hard enough to leave finger shaped bruises.

“Fuck! Fuck! Roman!!”, you sobbed.

It was too much but not enough at the same time. You wanted to push him away but pull him closer. The intensity of it firing deep in the pit of your stomach. You shattered, his name a mangled prayer from your plush lips. You felt your body buzz from the euphoria. Panting, you heaved oxygen into your lungs, chest rising and falling heavily.

Briefly, you were unaware of your surroundings until you felt Roman standing between your spread thighs, littering kisses across your bare shoulder.

Shakily, you wrapped your arms around his neck, nails dragging up it, teasing the bottom of his hairline.

“I’m not done with you yet”, he murmured into the junction of your neck, grinding his hard, clothed cock into your pussy.

Tightening your legs around his waist, you hauled yourself up against his heated body, pressing into it, hands gripping his back, “What are you waiting for then?”.

Roman could feel the cocktail still staining your skin, giving it a slightly sticky quality along with the gleam of sweat from the humidity and your orgasm.

He gave you a wink before wrapping an arm around your lower back, lifting you off the bar completely. He grabbed your chaser glass then headed you both into the master bedroom, nibbling your lips along the way before dropping you down onto the thin cotton sheets.

You watched him place the practically empty glass on the bedside table, you frowned a little unsure what he was up to. Your thoughts halted as he knelt on the bed, his bulky form towering over you. Roman encased your body with his, his large frame covering you easily. He kissed you with a fiery passion, tongue dancing along yours.

You whimpered into his mouth, letting him swallow the sounds. His hands traced up the sides of your body, stopping when they found their prize. He grinned against your swollen lips as he tugged the bikini tie free, ripping the offending material off your body. Your breasts bounced free and Roman grunted feeling your hardening nipples scratch across his bare chest.

Tearing himself from your sinful lips, he reached up past your head and you heard the familiar clink of ice cubes. You felt the coil in your stomach twist with anticipation and desire. When Roman settled back down between your spread legs, you noticed a rapidly melting ice cube pinched between his long fingers.

“Close your eyes”, his voice was thick with lust as he openly admired your naked body.

“Yes Sir”, you whispered, letting your eyelids flutter shut.

The first touch was hot. Roman’s heated mouth peppered your collarbone with searing kisses. You moaned, letting your hands explore the muscles of his back.

He pulled back and you instantly missed the feel of his kisses. You huffed in protest and he chuckled.

The next touch had you arching off the back of the bed, gasping loudly. Bitter coolness dragged down the top of your breast, following the curve of it before circling over your nipple. Your skin erupted in shivers and you could stop the purr from your throat.

Your nipple pebbled, the ice cube numbing your skin.

“Roman!”, you mewled and writhed on the bed as he replaced the ice cube with his scorching mouth.

His teeth tugged your nipple, releasing it after a moment before flicking his tongue over it. Roman repeated the action on your other nipple, growling against your skin at your intense reactions.

You shuddered, goosebumps spreading over your preening flesh. The dire contrast between the blazing heat and the bitter ice was euphoric. Your mind felt fuzzy from the overload of stimulation. You could feel the slick dripping from your core, aching to feel his cock driving into you.

“Roman…Ah! Please!!”, you pleaded as you felt the ice trail down the valley between your breasts, along your stomach and over the dip of your naval.

Roman followed the watery path with his tongue, stopping every so often to press kisses to your body.

“Please Rom…”, you begged, your voice husky with need.

“Please what?”, his voice was smug, enjoying how he’d made you a whimpering mess with a tiny ice cube.

Frustration seeped into your bones and you opened your eyes to look at Roman.

He had to admit, the fire burning behind your eyes made his stomach twist. The debauched look curling the beautiful features on your face. You tried to glare at him as much as you could, but the overload of pleasure made it difficult.

“Tell me what you want darling”.

The ice cube had melted into the last remnant of water, letting Roman’s calloused hand caress your bare skin.

You whined, “Rom…please, I need you, I need you now”.

“Need what?”, he cooed playfully, nipping the flesh below your navel.

You moaned loudly and shivered. You hated but loved the way he teased you. Drawing out the deepest of desires from within you.

“Fuck me Roman, I need you to fuck me”.

Sliding back up your body slowly, he shuffled effortlessly out of his swim shorts, his thick cock springing free. There was a soft pap as it bounced against his abs. He fisted his shaft several times before teasing the head through your sopping folds, causing you to moan unabashedly, throwing your head back against the soft pillows.

He thrust into you easily, bottoming out instantly. He grunted into your ear, his hot breath fanning down your neck, “You feel so fuckin’ good darling”.

You purred his name and wrapped your legs around his waist tightly, locking him in place before coiling your arms around his neck.

“You always take my cock so well”, Roman growled, biting your earlobe. His hot lips travelled to the sensitive spot behind your ear, kissing and sucking to leave his marking.

You didn’t reply, words lost in your mind. If you’d tried to speak, it’d have been incoherent murmuring. Something which would’ve further fuelled his already inflated ego. All you could focus on was the feel of his pulsating cock stretching your pussy.

He continued to drive into you, harder with every thrust, groaning your name against your neck. You mewled in response, legs gripping him tighter as he angled himself deeper, hitting your sweet spot over and over.

“Rom! Oh! Oh fuck!”, you sobbed, nails digging into his shoulder blades, dragging down his back.

He smirked and picked up his pace, hammering into you wildly. Roman knew he’d have your scratch marks streaking down his back but he didn’t care one little bit. He’d happily wear them with pride for the rest of the vacation.

“Are you going to cum for me darling?”, he teased, his hand snaking between your glistening bodies to rub over your throbbing clit.

You whimpered, your velvet walls fluttering around his thick shaft. You could feel the brim of your orgasm ready to shatter.

“You want me to fill that pretty little pussy?”, Roman ground out, fucking you with a brutal pace, growling when he saw your eyes behind to roll into the back of your head.

“P-Please”, you managed to force out of your lips before you felt the euphoria bursting through your body. Your vision blurred as your climax hit you with a delirious intensity, shudders took over your body.

The way your body reacted to him pushed Roman over the edge into his own powerful end and he released his hot seed, deep into your core. He cursed loudly and grunted your name before stilling, resting the weight of his body on his elbows.

----

Soaking in the afterglow, you threaded your fingers through his sweat matted locks. A content rumble vibrated from his chest before he planted delicate kisses along your collarbone. You purred happily and leaned into his touch instinctively, enjoying the way he made you feel.

After a few more moments, he dropped onto the bed, tugging you onto his chest, pressing you tightly into him.

“We should come on vacation more often”, he rasped, curling a strand of your hair around his finger carefully.

Your hand stroked over his chest, and down his stomach tracing the dark line of hair, “I told you, you’d enjoy it - you should know by now my ideas are always right”.

“I suppose”, he teased, kissing your forehead softly.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but Roman caught the smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“I think next time, we should go to Switzerland”.

“Not a chance”.

“Why not?!”, you looked up at him with a scandalous look. Only seconds ago he’d agreed that this was a great idea!

“Because”, he rolled you over, trapping you underneath him, “I can’t fuck you outside there”.

----

Special Thanks: @offendedfishnoises @internalsealpanic @batarella - thank you both for proof reading you beautiful hoes xoxo

Tag List: @offendedfishnoises @internalsealpanic @batarella @batarella-mini @lucy-roo @illzarr @pricetagofficial @jadedhillon @vvipgot7be @clementinesandstars @thedeadlythoughts @fantasticwizardnerd @power-of-words23 @vintagexparker @l-inkage @fourteengemstones @ficrecsideblog @insane-without-delirium @so-now-what-huh @imjeralee @geekonaleash @dairydragon84 @dragonchildyuki @ediwdac @fxrchxldws @hyperfixationsandhecticness @chelinn @maniacproffesor @8ether @the-abyss-of-fandoms @babymango-writes @indigowcrds @catxsnow @lostoctaviaaugusta @empower-bi-women @jd-loves-everyone @xatanna-troy @blondekel77 @awsomebatlover @mora-miserium @badbiddie055 @more-cardigan-than-woman @jasonsthots @phoenixhalliwell - Drop me a message if you want to be added to my tag list. Please let me know if the tag list didn’t work again, lots of love xoxo

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#ceo!roman sionis x you #roman sionis smut #roman sionis imagine #roman sionis x reader #roman sionis x you #black mask x reader #black mask smut #black mask x you #black mask imagine

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intercoursefluids · 3 years

Text

The Impromptu Sleepover Part 1

“Alright! The adults are asleep what do you guys want to do?”

Alya being Alya, decided to take over the sleepover to celebrate Marinette’s friends finally realizing (or in most cases finally speaking up) about Lila’s lies.

“Swordfight!”

“Movie Marathon!”

“Let’s play truth or dare!”

Different ideas all resound from the girls currently huddled in Marinette’s room, all the boys trying to pretend they didn’t exist.

Only nine people were there, Adrien had wanted to come to the sleepover, but his dad wouldn’t let him.

These 10 were the only ones from her class to come back to her and apologize once they realized who the real victim was.

Marinette almost couldn’t believe her eyes when Alix, Alya, Kagami, Chloe, Nino, Kim, Max, Nathaniel, and Marc came up to her asking for her back.

The only ones who had actually believed Lila’s lies were Alya, Max, and Nathaniel but the others still apologized for not speaking out for her.

This group apology and cry session that immediately followed ended up with them holding a sleepover to celebrate their reconnection.

One thing Marinette forgot about though. Was the fact that Chat Noir would come to hang out with her on Fridays.

Which is why, when pebbles started hitting her window. She damn near had a heart attack when everyone else noticed immediately stopping their conversations.

“Mari, Love, Darling dearest. Who, might I ask, is throwing pebbles at your window?”

Every single one of her friends look at her with shit-eating grins as Kim blinks up innocently at her like he didn't just confirm for everyone there was in fact someone outside throwing a rock at her window.

Persistently.

With a deep sigh, Marinette grabs a lightsaber and spray bottle from the back of her closet.

"Alya, I am giving you permission to film this. I am NOT, however, to post this to any social media, and no one except for those in this room are to ever see the footage unless I give explicit permission otherwise. Understand?"

Alya nods frantically pulling out her phone as she and Marinette climb up to the balcony.

"Oh, Romeo Oh Romeo. Where art tho Romeo?"

Chat Noirs sarcastic call sounds from below with a bouquet of Alstroemeria, Amaryllis, and Blue Irises.

Alya hides behind the railing, just out of Chat Noir's sight as she films the interaction.

With a deep sigh, Marinette turns to Chat with regret and sorrow written all across her face, making Chat pause.

"Princess? What's the matter-"

"I'm sorry Chat Noir. But it's over."

The stricken look on his face almost makes Marinette feel sorry for him.

Almost.

"I don't understand? Did I do something wrong?"

With another deep sigh, Marinette runs a hand over her face.

"It's over Chat."

Faking tears, Marinette ever so slowly pulls the lightsaber from behind her back turning it on making the red illuminate half her face.

"I have the high ground."

Marinette sniffles for good measure as Alya finally catches on. Turning her phone back to Chat to see him looking like he was about to cry before it finally clicks.

His face goes blank as he stares up at one of his best friends.

"I hate you so much."

Marinette cackles as he pulls out his baton, stretching up to her balcony to be face to face with her.

"I can't believe that guy calls you 'Angel'. Your halo hides your horns too well and- Ladyblogger? What are you doi- Eep!"

He cuts off abruptly as Marinette squirts him in the face with the spray bottle making him reel back with a yowl.

In his haste to get away, he knocks himself off balance starting to fall over backward until Marinette grabs his bell yanking him forward.

"Okay, that is it! I'm going home and I'm telling Ladybug you're picking on me."

Marinette wheezes, trying to get her breath back and just giving up. Climbing down her skylight to collapse in a pile of giggles.

Chat and Alya both follow her down. Alya pushing her off her bed so Kim has to catch her before she hits the floor.

"Please Alya. PLEASE, tell me you got his reaction on film."

Alya smirks showing the video currently saving to her phone.

"Of course I did. Now we have a new guest here now assuming that Chat wants to stay for the sleepover."

Chat's eyes widen, looking every part the excited kitten.

"Can I?! I've never been to a sleepover before!"

All of the girls gasp in horror, surrounding Chat as they search through drawers and Marinette's closet.

Marinette, always one step ahead, runs to chat.

"Go in the bathroom, detransform put these on, and come back out. I'm assuming your Kwami eats camembert cheese since you constantly smell like it. I swear no one here is going to find out your identity or even try if they don't want me to put them on blast with all of the dirt I have on them. Now go!"

Chat is shoved into the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him. Doing as he is told in fear of Marinette, Chat detransforms catching Plagg as he cackles in the air.

"Oh, I like her! She'd make a great kitten, with how easy it is for her to cause chaos, just how I like it!."

Shaking his head at his cackling Kwami as he got dressed. Putting the mask Marinette made him on trying it securely around his head. Stepping out to find Marinette coming back with a LARGE tray of food and everyone else huddled around Alya's phone.

Chat can't help the startled yelp he lets out when Alix pulls him down to her, gently petting his hair as she glares at Marinette.

"You're a monster Marinette. How could you do that to him?! Look at his face! His little baby face! He looked heartbroken!"

Marinette snorts at the playful scolding.

"Let him go, Alix. Go find your own stray."

Alix snorts as Marinette pulls a blushing Chat to her hugging him close. Marinette sits down dragging him with her as he buries his face in her hair. Too embarrassed to speak.

He doesn't have a babyface. Does he?

"Awe come on Mari, you found the cutest one the least you could do is share him!"

Everyone laughs as Kim makes a grab for Chat just for Marinette to pull him closer to her.

"Noooooo, this is MY alley cat! Go find your own!"

Chat Noir would never admit how hard he had to fight down his purr when Marinette started petting his hair.

You know. Before he lost that battle and a purr sounded loudly through his chest.

"Please stop. It's not fair and you're embarrassing me. Mariiiiii! Stooooooop."

Everyone laughs when Chat complains for Marinette to stop, even as he starts to melt into a puddle on her lap.

"One of these days I'm going to tell M'lady on you and she's gonna dangle you from the Eiffel Tower."

Now, under normal circumstances, everyone would be worried, but it's hard to be serious when one of Paris's superheroes is melted in a puddle in your friend's lap with a purr so loud it's hard to understand him.

"I'm pretty sure Ladybug would dangle YOU from the Eiffel Tower for being in a girls room this late, without letting her parents know. Even more, so that you detransformed in front of us. Still want to tell Ladybug on Marinette?"

Everyone turns to Marc, Nathaniel's adorable spouse as they radiate badassery.

Chat's purr stutters before starting up just as loudly again.

"I will no longer be telling M'lady."

Marinette snorts leaning back on her chaise as Chat adjusts himself so he's laying between her legs with his head on her stomach. Facing the rest of the class as Marinette plays with his hair.

"Are you guys dating?"

"Of course they are Cesaire. Ridiculous-!"

"Utterly ridiculous!" "Ew! No!"

Are the two different responses that cut Chloe off. The group finishing Chloe's catchphrase as Marinette and Chat Noir look at the rest of the class in disgust.

"Okay, first of all. Chat what the HELL do you mean 'ew'? Marinette is a babe, and everyone in this room has had a crush on her at least once before. How dare you say 'ew' like you would never date her you would be incredibly lucky if she even considered you."

Alya states with a finger in Chat's face.

Alix, Alya, Kagami, Chloe, Max, Kim, Nathaniel, Marc, and Nino all looking incredibly offended for Marinette even as she blushes and tries to hide her face.

"Guys, stop! And what do you mean all of you? Half of you are dating each other!"

Chat snickers at her distress, pulling out his burner phone and snapping a picture of her face.

"Okay, there may or may not be a literal 'Queen Marinette Club" or 'QMC' for short. We even have several social media accounts dedicated to giving you the credit you deserve. Before you ask this started that one time we went to Gotham and you answered all of the Riddler's riddles and yelled at Nightwing and Robin for their poor fashion choices and called Batman a furry when he tried to stop you."

Surprisingly Nathaniel is the one who answers instead of Alya as she pulls out her phone.

"We didn't even start the club! It was some people in Gotham who did. Max is the one who found out about it."

Sweet Marc, sweet sweet Marc never knowing when to stop before Marinette popped a blood vessel from blushing so hard.

"Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, Cat Woman, The Riddler, the entire Batfamily (Batman included), and even some of the Waynes follow the accounts. Not to mention the other celebrities you've befriended like Mr. Stone and Ms. Nightingale."

Max reads off of his phone, seemingly proud of Marinette's followers.

"Even my mom follows you, Mari. That says something."

Chat looks up cackling as Marinette tries to suffocate herself with a pillow, Plagg rolling around on her hair as he clutches his stomach.

"Dang! Pigtails has some, what's it called? Clout! You're famous, kitten!"

Marinette whimpers from behind the pillow, her face practically radiating heat.

Chat snorts before turning back to the group.

"Number one I am well aware that Marinette is awesome and that I would be the luckiest man in the world to have her as my girlfriend. However, she's basically my little sister, same as Ladybug. Sorry to burst your bubble, Alya. Number two, she already has a boyfriend, has for a little over a year now, and he scares me. I am not testing if I really have nine lives cause he would take all of them. Number three, can you show me the 'QMC' accounts I want to follow them."

The room is silent as Marinette glares at Chat.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that? Princess? It's not like this is new informa-! They didn't know did they?"

Marinette reaches under her, pulling out a very nice-looking dagger from under the cushions of her chaise.

"Say goodbye to eight of your lives Chat. I need a new black fur hat."

Chat yelps scampering away from Marinette on all fours as she lunges for him with Plagg chasing after them laughing.

They keep running around the room until they pass Kim and he reaches out and grabs Marinette, trapping her in his arms.

"Okay, nice knife. Not sure where you got it nor do I want to know. Second of all, what's this about a boyfriend?"

Everyone surrounds her as Alix pulls the dagger from her hands putting it back under the cushions.

"Why haven't we heard of any boyfriend? Are you out of your mind?"

Alya's calm tone is very misleading as Chat hides behind her.

"He didn't want anyone to know just in case people claim for me to be a gold digger. Scratch that, I didn't want anyone to know so he didn't get sued for assault if anyone called me a gold digger and he found out."

Chat snorts.

"Yeah, you, definitely a gold digger. You know, since you didn't even realize who he was for the first 5 or 6 months of your relationship."

Marinette's glare does nothing as a blush covers her face.

"We don't speak of it Chat. I can and will still skin you."

Everyone looks at Marinette in shock.

"Okay, so all we know is that they are a he. He is rich enough to make people assume Marinette, Marinette of all people, is a gold digger and they are in a secret relationship. Who is it?"

Max looks up from his phone, where he is no doubt taking notes.

Marinette looks at the ground mumbling something that no one but Chat can make out thanks to his super hearing. He laughs and walks over to her phone unlocking it as Marinette finally answers.

"Damian Wayne."

Everyone looks at Marinette in a mix of shock and confusion before Chloe bursts out laughing.

"Only you Marinette. Only you would get over your crush on a millionaire heir to fall for a literal billionaire heir without even realizing it."

She breaks off into hysterical laughter as everyone turns to chat who is now on Marinette's computer connected to her phone as a facetime call takes place.

It answers on the second ring to someone who is most definitely NOT Damian Wayne.

"Hey Pixie Pop! Sorry, but I had to steal the phone from demon spawn. He was trying to kill me and Dick with a spoon and lunged for his phone as soon as it started ringing. Me and Dick were closer so we grabbed it and are now trying to find somewhere to hide so he doesn't actually kill us. Dick wanna say 'Hi'?"

Everyone hears a shout of 'sure' from someone out of the frame before the phone is passed over to someone who looks much like the first, except they are older and have no white streak in their hair.

"Hey, nettie! How's school?"

Chat smirks, covering Marinette's mouth as she tries to reply. A door slams shut as the two guys hunker in the near darkness, a lock clicking into place.

"School is great thanks for asking. Could be better but we are all getting by."

Two faces appear on screen looking a mix between worried and angry.

"I swear to god if you are holding Pixie Pop for ransom you will have the rage of all of Gotham fall upon you."

Chat just looks confused before remembering that he's wearing a mask and is holding Marinette's mouth shut.

"Oh! No, I'm not holding her hostage, we're friends. Chat Noir, Parisian superhero at your service. I just wanted to prank her boyfriend, she's having a sleepover and I was invited."

Their expressions immediately relax.

"Oh good. I was worried about what would happen when everyone else found out. Especially Damian."

Both boys shudder and smile as everyone else in the room comes into the frame.

One of them opens their mouth to speak before a loud bang comes from the door. Two equal looks of fear take over their faces.

A second later a loud bang fills the air as the door basically explodes open, high-pitched screams of terror fill the air before all is silent a new face filling to screen.

"Sorry Habibti, my brothers are imbeciles with death wishes. What do you need?"

"Wow, Habibti? I didn't know you felt that way about me Damian, or should I give you a pet name too?"

Chat's grin SCREAMS mischief, as Damian looks down an ice-cold glare in place.

"Let go of my girlfriend before I fly down there and skin you alive regardless of her wishes."

Everyone shivers at the pure venom in Damian's voice as Chat lets go holding his hands up in the air as he grins.

"Sorry, sorry. Letting go."

Marinette and Damian both glare at him before turning to each other, both looks immediately softening.

"Sorry, Shaytan. I'm having a sleepover and Chat outed our relationship and decided it would be funny to call you."

His smile is so gentle it shocks the rest of Marinette's friends.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault the Cat is a moron. I miss you. When do you think you can come back?"

Both of them choose to ignore Chats highly offended 'Hey!' as well as everyone else in the room with Marinette.

"That depends on when you want me there and when I can catch a flight."

Damian sits down at a table pulling a laptop to him as he sets up his phone so she can still see him.

"Well I want you here now, and I can have you a flight soon enough if I ask Father to get the family jet ready. If I work fast I can have you here by tomorrow morning, if not sooner."

Marinette looks shocked.

"You can't just ask your Father to get a plane ready just for me Damian!"

He glances back at the phone before going back to his computer.

"Why not? Everyone here loves you and if you're worried about the cost of it I can assure you a single minute of your time is worth far more than a measly plane ride."

Kim and Alya make cooing noises at the two from the sweetness of it all as Kagami steps up wrapping her arms protectively around her.

"Before you make any more trip plans you are going to tell me what you plan to do with Marinette in the future. I will not allow her to be some temporary girlfriend if you aren't serious about her."

Damian turns back to the phone looking past Marinette to acknowledge the others for the first time since the call started.

"I can assure you I don't want Marinette to be temporary. I plan to marry her and I truly couldn't care less if any of you have a problem with it."

Marinette's face invents a new shade of red as everyone coos over how cute that is. After getting over their initial shock of course.

"Habibti, do you want them to be able to come with you next time you come over? I can have father speak to their parents if they don't agree right away."

"Are you sure that would be okay?"

Marinette's timid voice makes Damian look away from his computer.

"Why wouldn't it be? If you don't want them to come with you then they don't have to, I know that you have some trouble with a few of your classmates. Seeing how late it is there I would have thought these were the ones who didn't turn on you or came back once they realized how idiotic they were to leave in the first place."

"Rude, but true."

Damian chooses to ignore Alya.

"No I would like for them to come, it could be fun! I'm just worried about space and where everyone would sleep."

Damian snorts.

"You have nothing to worry about, if you don't want them to stay in a hotel they can stay with us in the manor, there's plenty of space. And if there isn't enough space you can just sleep with me in my room."

He finishes off with a cheeky grin as Marinette sputters.

"You can't just say stuff like that Damian! It was bad enough that you said you planned to marry me, you don't need to add sharing a bed to the pile!"

Damian has the audacity to look confused.

"What do you mean? I never hid my plans to marry you nor my feelings, I don't get what the big deal is about sharing a bed anyway. It's not like Alfred would let us do anything and we wouldn't even have the chance with the circus monkeys I call brothers."

Several offended voices with 'I heard that!' 'Excuse me?' and 'You love us and you know it!'s all sound from his end.

Alix and Kim are basically collapsed onto each other as they wheeze at his bluntness.

Marinette sighs resting her head on her hands with a 'why do I even bother?' before looking up again.

"Fine, how is next weekend for everyone. I know Adrien will want to be included and I don't think he has anything going then. It will give me enough time to convince everyone's parents if need be and pack."

Everyone agrees and they end the call. Damian and Marinette saying their respective I love yous and Goodnight/Good mornings.

"I'm going to duel him."

"Kagami NO!"

Kagami looks Marinette dead in the eyes before smiling.

"Kagami yes."

#maridami #daminette #marinette x batfam #dc x mlb #Fluff interactions

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givemea-dam-break · 3 years

Text

All the Things I Wish I Could Say

a/n: so we're going back to my sad roots, but this time for the one and only annabeth chase because why the hell not? annabeth is a queen and i needed to write something for her lolz part two (here) and part three (here)

Warnings: sad boi hours Words: 711 Gender-neutral reader

All the things I wish I could say. You stare at the writing at the top of the page, suddenly unable to put your pen back down to paper. There is so much you wish you could have said, so many things that send your mind swirling out of control, but, now, they won't come out. Now, they are just thoughts. What you had been planning to be a therapeutic session while trying to get over the - sort of - recent breakup that turned your life upside down turned out to be as hard as getting out of bed in the morning or finding the energy to shower. It was draining, exhausting. It left your mind reeling and everything feeling heavy and weighted. Five minutes ago, there was so much you could have written on this piece of paper. Five minutes ago, you would've spilt your heart out with the I love you's you had never said, or the you make my heart race's that would have left you red in the face and smiling. Think of a random word, Annabeth would have told you. Then write everything you feel about that one word. She had used that method on you countless times when you were struggling to write essays for school (it was usually used as a warm-up, not the subject of your actual essays) and it had been one of your biggest helpers for years. Using that method now felt wrong, though. Even if you were able to put pen to paper, the whole concept of it would feel stolen. It was Annabeth's. Come on, you tell yourself. It's just a few words. She won't even see it, ever. It was obvious now that the Fates had it out for you. First, they send you on dozens of life-threatening quests (at least that was with your best friends), then they (and, probably, Aphrodite) make you fall in love with your closest friend, only to have her break your heart after a year and a half - well, a year, six months and thirteen days, but you certainly hadn't counted - for reasons she never disclosed. Then, to top it all off, she got in a relationship with one of your mutual friends just after the Titan War - mere weeks after your breakup. And, yeah, a lot of people said dating as a teen (even as fifteen-year-olds at the time) was pointless and unnecessary, but you had wanted to go against that. Annabeth does, too, but with someone else. Why wasn't I enough? you want to write, but your pen won't touch the paper, no matter how much you force yourself. The longer you try to write how you feel, the more you think about Annabeth and the way her hair curled around her tanned face, or how her eyebrows scrunched up as she read her favourite books. You think about all the picnics you'd shared in Camp Half-Blood's strawberry fields, the walks along the beach, the museum dates. Did that all mean nothing to her? How long had you liked him? Was he the reason you left me? You shouldn't be feeling this way at sixteen or, at least, that's what your dad says. But, it's so hard when you see Annabeth with him almost every day. Now, you don't have a problem with Percy. You've been friends with him ever since he arrived at Camp Half-Blood, in fact, he was your next closest friend after Annabeth and Grover. He'd always been kind to you and did anything to protect you, but this almost felt like a stab in the back. Had they been talking during your relationship? Stop it, you tell yourself. You're overdramatising things. It's hard not to when there are so many questions. So many questions, yet none of them will be written down on the page in front of you. "Y/n!" your sister, Katie, calls. "Come on, you'll be late for archery." "Just coming," you shout back. You take one last look at the paper set in front of you, pushing the cap back on your pen. As you stand, you grab the sheet and crumple it up, throwing it in the bin by the door. Some things are better left unsaid, you decide, and that's okay.

#annabeth chase x reader #annabeth x reader #pjo x reader #annabeth chase #pjo #pjo fanfic #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson #x reader #fanfic #givemea-dam-break

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snowbellewells · 3 years

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Self-Promo Sunday: “Into the Unknown With You”

Another one shot from my assorted collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” - this one playing with some of the ideas I would rather have seen in 6x10 and 6x11, it certainly diverges from canon at that point...

Summary: As Emma searches for a way back home from the Wish Realm, help comes from a surprisingly welcome source...

{One more Author’s Note: The “awfully big adventure” bit is a tiny nod to J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan.}

Can also be found on AO3 or ff.net

“Into the Unknown with You”

by: @snowbellewells

‘No, no, no!’ Emma’s mind reeled horrifically as she stared at the spot where only moments ago the portal had been whirling, her way home to her son and her pirate wide open. She wanted to scream; it couldn’t just be gone, and yet, a second too much hesitation, and the chance was lost. She looked to Regina anxiously, her fists clenched so tightly she felt the impressions her nails cut into her palms. It was all she could do not to rail at Regina, this whole twisted world, and her own bad luck.

‘What now?!?’ she wanted to demand, wanted to shake her former nemesis turned tentative friend, but one glimpse at the other woman’s stunned, disbelieving face staring across the shoreline at her presumed dead True Love, and Emma knew it would be a lost cause. Having stood beside a grave in grateful stupefaction at her own love’s miraculous return to life not so long ago, Emma couldn’t find the heart to remind Regina just yet that she had spent the last day preaching that none of their surroundings or those they encountered in the Wish Realm were real, and hurry her along. She too found herself blinking dazedly at this other – very convincing – version of Robin Hood for a few moments.

Even if her heart was still crying out for her home and her family, for Henry’s soft hair tickling her nose when she placed a kiss to the top of his head, and Killian’s arms enfolding her, she didn’t know where to go in this topsy-turvy version of the homeland she had never actually lived in, and so she had to wait – more impatiently by the minute – until one of these two, either queen or thief, snapped out of their spell and led the way…

As it turned out, Robin Hood was not the sort of outlaw who would truly do harm to two ladies passing through his territory. He wouldn’t have even made to steal their jewels and furs once the same trance that had overcome Regina seemed to strike him mute as well, but Regina offered him a pouch of coins that had been strapped to her waist and a ruby ring, pressing it into his calloused palm with a quirked smile and the assurance that “she insisted, she was much more partial to his cause than he knew”.

Emma wanted to snort at the ridiculous understatement those words were, and she only barely managed to hold back a roll of her eyes, which she sensed the thief saw but let slide with a conspiratorial wink.

Before she could make an argument for trying to catch up to Gold – or Rumplestiltskin here, she supposed – or ask where they were going to find another bean, it was evening, they were entering a forest in the gathering dark, and soon they had been welcomed to sit around a roaring fire with Robin’s motley crew, and even been offered the ale and venison passed around the circle as if they were part of the merry band.

“Now,” the archer began, seated beside Regina, his boy nodding drowsily on his lap. He looked around her to meet Emma’s gaze head on. “You must be thinking that I owe you an apology. Clearly you were about to leave this place, and because of me, you missed your ride.”

She tried to shrug it off nonchalantly, not wanting to get them kicked out in the cold, or to lay blame on him for something he couldn’t have known, but instead, to her own mortification, she felt hot tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. Though her sight grew glassy, Emma refused to let them fall. “So,” she tried for flippant, even if it fell horribly flat, “does that mean you know where we could get a replacement bean and want to help us get it?”

“Actually, Princess Emma,” Robin winked, a knowing sort of mischief in his eye, “I just might.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

The following morning dawned misty and cool, but fair, and Robin greeted Emma at the simmering coals of the previous night’s campfire with a welcoming grin, Regina at his side on the stump they used for a seat, looking as soft and at ease as Emma had ever seen her, her head resting on his strong shoulder seemingly still half asleep. She and Regina had talked at length the night before, and at long last Emma had accepted that Henry’s adoptive mother wasn’t returning with her yet. “I know he isn’t the same Robin, that this whole place is built on a whim, but I’m not losing him again,” she had whispered vehemently. “There has to be another way to get back…one that he could take as well…if he wanted to…” The emotion welling in Regina’s dark eyes had been raw enough that Emma finally consented to go on without further fighting to change her mind, only giving a nod in affirmation when Regina had asked, “You’ll explain to Henry? Tell him I mean to return as soon as we both can?”

“Ready, your Highness?” the sandy-haired outlaw asked, breaking into Emma’s recent memories once more and looking down at her from where he now stood at the ready. “We should make the harbor by noon, if we set out now.”

“The harbor?” Emma asked breathlessly, dazed for a moment by what this could mean. Her heartbeat kicked up in both anticipation and dread. Surely he wasn’t here too…was he?

“Yes,” Robin answered her spoken question with an amiable nod as he kissed the back of Regina’s hand in farewell and turned to head off with Emma on his heels. “I happen to know a pirate with whom I sometimes trade my less than lawfully acquired goods. He might have just the sort of thing you need to return home…”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

The sound of gulls crying and wheeling overhead and the creak and groan of the wooden docks as they reached the edge of the shore town and neared the sparkling blue harbor was enough to take Emma’s breath away. Robin took a step forward to lead her down the docks, already offering to make introductions, but Emma stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

There before them, as recognizable as always, was the Jolly Roger, bobbing proudly at anchor. Though most might be intimidated by the sight, Emma drew in the first full breath she’d had since remembering herself in this strange realm – as if she had gotten her first real glimpse of home at last. He might still be the vengeful Captain Hook in this reality, but somehow she wasn’t afraid. He would never truly hurt her – and she only wanted to be at his side again without further delay.

Reassuring Robin that she could take it from there, Emma bid him goodbye. Though he looked uncertain, the archer took her at her word and left her with his best wishes. If she clutched his hand a moment longer and a bit tighter than would be normal and bid him be safe a little too fervently – well, she didn’t have to explain herself to anyone here…

At her first step onto the gangplank, a shudder of recognition ran through her, as if the vessel itself was welcoming her back aboard, shivers skittering along her spine. At first glance, the ship seemed deserted, her crew perhaps gathering supplies or unwinding at the nearest tavern, but the air around her wavered, charged suddenly, letting her know she was not alone. Emma felt even before she heard heavy footfalls on the planks or that deep, commanding voice at her back, asking who went there, that she had not gone undetected by the ship’s captain.

Turning, her eyes found him, hungrily drinking in the details; altered, but still without doubt the man she loved. The dark hair was windblown and unruly, practically begging for her fingers to delve into its soft abundance and brush the fringe back off his forehead. Though the strands might be shaggier and generously shot through with grey, it made him no less attractive to her starving eyes. In fact, she only wanted to stare at him all the more, to catalogue every difference, trace the deeper crow’s feet around his eyes and the added lines on his forehead. Those fathomless blue eyes were lined so liberally with the kohl she hadn’t seen him use for some time in their modern Storybrooke life that she almost wanted to chuckle at the effect until she registered the way the blue of his gaze also looked paler – as if washed out by too many tears shed alone and without comfort, or dulled by pain held back because he couldn’t afford to let it show.

Brandishing his moniker, and that dastardly, flirtatious mask he had long since let drop around her, to full effect, Captain Hook stepped well into her personal space. “And who might you be?” he questioned, breath warm on the shell of her ear as he leaned in, hook lifting the heavy rope of her golden braid and tucking it back over her shoulder. It was an achingly familiar gesture and he stood much too close for calm comfort, sending her pulse fluttering again, and yet no recognition lit his gaze as he studied her; the fond devotion she had come to rely on more than she could say was utterly absent, making her heart ache and crack in her chest.

“Princess Emma of Misthaven,” she answered as sturdily as she could, raising her chin and meeting his eye with as much confidence as she could muster. “I had hoped to speak to you on a delicate matter of some importance.”

“A delicate matter, is it?” he asked, his enunciation and the way his tongue caressed his words seductively had not been altered or diminished in the slightest, whatever else had changed. He stood back to his full height, fingers in his waistband, hips thrust forward and looking every bit as sinfully irresistible as he ever did, complete with that wide-open, chest-exposing red vest she had witnessed once in their trip to the past through Zelena’s portal. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might have been fooled by the bravado, but knowing his heart as only a True Love could, she saw the emptiness behind the lascivious look, the pain within the façade – the proper, honorable lieutenant he had been, hating the persona his course had forced him to adopt. Even as he ran his tongue across his lower lip, letting his eyes trace her curves from head to toe almost lewdly, she could see the regret clouding the pupils and the wistful longing – as if he could sense what might have been.

Unable to stop herself, Emma reached forward impulsively, grasping both his hook and hand tightly as she spoke, “Yes, very…but just maybe…I was meant to find you. Maybe you’re the only one who would believe me.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

Another hour found them below deck in his cabin, seated at the scratched, weathered wooden table which had served him in his lonely meals for ages, Emma’s hand still clinging to his hook where it rested on his thigh, but the other reaching up tentatively to trace that faded scar she knew so well beneath his eye. Hook – though more and more her Killian with every passing moment – had scooted closer to her on the roughhewn bench, blinking in awe as she saw hope returning to his face. He appeared both afraid to believe her words, but also desperate for them to be true.

“So you’re telling me that all of this around us – this whole life – is an illusion?” he asked haltingly, not daring to move his eyes from her face, as though he thought she might disappear as quickly as she had come to him.

“Well, yeah, basically,” she tried to explain. “Or more like…it’s a possibility that didn’t actually come true. There’s this v-villain in my home, in the real timeline that I come from, who made a wish that reset things, and I was sucked into it. I have a son, family and friends, a-and another version of you…who’s my True Love…there missing me. And I have to get back to them.”

“There’s another me?” he breathed, and where anyone else would have been skeptical, he looked merely stunned, wanting. “And…we’re…together?”

“Yeah, we are,” she whispered, laying a hand over his rapidly beating heart and drawing comfort from its rhythm. She already felt stronger, more certain, even with this iteration of her pirate. Her watery smile quirked up into a bit of a smirk at one corner, “And don’t worry, he’s still devilishly handsome.”

Her captain’s eyes fell to their joined hand and hook in his lap, huffing out a laugh at her words. “More so than I, I’d wager,” he murmured.

Emma hummed under her breath, reaching out to run her fingers along a grey streak in his longer hair. “I don’t know about that,” she offered. “There’s something pretty appealing about this model, grey hair and all.”

“You flatter me, Milady,” he teased, that voice still a sinful purr rumbling from his chest as he lifted her hand to press a kiss to its back. Still, emotion welled up beneath the flirtation, making his magnetic gaze all the harder for her to escape. She was blinking, nonplussed and floundering for some audible response, when he straightened and pulled her to her feet with him. “Enough lollygagging then! I’ll prepare the old girl to set sail. It’s time we got you back where you belong!”

For a moment, Emma was stunned anew. This full-on piratical version of her True Love, who didn’t really even know her and had no reason to do anything she said, had not only chosen to believe her story, but was going out of his way to help her – just as he had ever since he turned his ship around to take her to Neverland. The lump in her throat was almost too much to speak around, but Emma managed to croak out, “You really would give anything to help me, wouldn’t you?” even as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Aye,” he affirmed, looking a bit like he was marveling at that fact himself. “I am not sure I fully understand, nor can I explain it to you, but I sense that I would – that I am almost compelled – to help you in any world or time you would appear to me.”

“Thank you,” was all she could really say in response, her wondering smile nearly blinding him with its brilliance.

“Come then,” he offered her his arm, his speech all business again, even while the pointed tips of his ear flushed, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude and praise. “Above deck, and we’ll be off. I know someone who deals in nigh impossible to procure objects.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

Standing beside him at the helm just a few short hours later, wind in her hair and the salt spray on her face, it struck Emma that though she was desperate to get home, to make sure her son, her family, and her Killian were alright, she didn’t want to simply abandon this pirate captain beside her. She didn’t know what would happen to him, if he would find something to live for, something to be part of, or if she was dooming him to his quiet desperation…even if he might simply vanish into nothingness with the rest of this ill-fated wish. She didn’t know what happened next, to be completely honest. Laying a hand on his forearm, she gazed up into his face, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what becomes of you, or this realm, when I leave here and go home,” she admitted. “I’m not sure if you all just go on like it never happened, if you cease to exist, if you wander here aimless forever…I just…I don’t know…”

Covering her hand with his, he guided the ship with no more than his hook rested capably on the wheel. “Worry not, Princess,” was his confident response, fervent resolve painted over his strong, careworn features. “We shall still set things right, as they should be. Whatever comes after this – infinity or oblivion – will be an awfully big adventure.”

Tagging: @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jennjenn615 @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @artistic-writer @stahlop @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @wefoundloveunderthelight @apiratewhopines @lfh1226-linda @xsajx @ineffablecolors @drowned-dreamer @thisonesatellite @kday426 @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @hookedonapirate @blowmiakisscolin

#self promo sunday #cs canon divergent ff #season 6 divergent one shot #into the unknown with you #wish realm fix-it fic #of a sort?

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sassooda · 3 years

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Worlds Away / Chapter 40 - One in the Same 🔞

w/c - 6,476

“Love…”.

As Satoru positions himself back on the bed with a heavy heart, he wonders how long he’ll be without her voice. Elska lies there unconscious, in her own queen-sized bed a few feet away from Naoya who is also in the same condition but in a separate bed. The room Satoru mentioned to everyone before has become their new quarters but with his own personal flare. The five walls are a deep blue-grey, the trim a dark red, all decorative furnishings either that same red or a bright light blue. The sheets both of the sleepers are wrapped in resemble the color of love. This was all designed and put together as a surprise but things haven’t exactly gone as planned.

As he situates himself next to her, Gojo finds that he desires the comfort of her heartbeat. Laying his head on her chest, he relives the horrors of when he and Choso arrived to find them. He’s weighted with guilt, having become too distracted by his mother to focus that day. ‘What did they have to go through?’, he can only imagine having seen the scene himself. Although he wasn’t particularly bothered by the gore, Choso’s reaction said it all as normal people would easily have been mortified. Gojo’s heart also sinks from the sin of dealing with the woman who gave birth to him, even if she was monstrous herself.

“My love…”, his voice is broken from emotion as he whispers to her caringly, “Please come back to me.”. He’s been informed by Nanami and the others that Toji once found her in this same state, taking 6 days to wake up previously. This information doesn’t comfort him however after perceiving the devastation her, Naoya and Toji must have experienced. ‘…and we still haven’t found him yet.’. Satoru knows for a fact that if she wasn’t mentally compromised from the attack, not having Toji will certainly destroy her.

He positions her arms to lay over him, as if she’s wrapping them around his own. Gojo is still reeling from his own experiences that day on top of everything else. The heartache that dwells within him after killing his mother plagues him as if she still existed, only differently. “Love, I didn’t know it would hurt.”. A tear spills from each of his darkened eyes, remembering the vexation that woman caused him for his entire life. There certainly wasn’t any love lost between them but a piece of him died with her and he can’t explain why. In this moment, he only needs to be held by his love. As he listens to the rhythm in which her heart pumps, he feels like he’s brought to a point of necessary, although temporary ease. Bringing her even closer lowers him deeper into security, feeling safe and nurtured by her touch alone. Her and Naoya have only been out for roughly 18 hours at this point, leaving him to also dread how much time he’ll be without her.

**KNOCK, KNOCK**

Without moving at all, Satoru calls for them to enter and sighs as he feels close to losing his composure. He decides to not hide his despair for lack of current ability.

Choso quietly strolls in and takes in Satoru’s depression. He’s apprehensive about how unstable Gojo’s been since coming back to the academy but appreciates how much the man is going through. A slight grin appears across Choso’s face though as he looks over Gojo’s clothes, they’re both wearing their group-matching pajamas. Upon approaching Naoya, Choso pulls back the covers to further evaluate him, wanting to be sure all wounds were healed. He says to his friend, “You are one fortunate man…”, and pulls the sheets up with a smile. He then takes Naoya’s hand with relief on mind, understanding that Naoya will likely be happy at the fact that he was turned. Choso has reservations about this but they’re not strong enough for him to speak on.

Megumi now enters and walks straight over to Elska, on the opposite side from Gojo. He’s still in a state of shock after being filled in on the aftermath. He’s in a foul disposition not knowing where Toji is and is even further upset with how messed her and Naoya looked upon being retrieved. When he reaches out to take up Elska’s hand, his is swatted away, causing him to lower deeper into his anger.

“Leave her alone.”, Gojo growls from Elska’s chest. He immediately feels bad for snapping at Megumi but that was the only warning he was capable of. The hurt displayed on his former student’s face that he catches out of the corner of his eyes prompts him to sit up a little. “I’m sorry Megs, I just… she’s mine.”.

Megumi is feeling disheartened by his current fears on his father’s whereabouts and feels almost completely alone as he drowns in his thoughts. The territorial stance made on Elska causes him to snap, “She is her own person, you’re fucking delusional!”. As his breath catches in his throat, he waits for Satoru to respond maliciously but becomes confused when he doesn’t. ‘I just want to make sure she’s ok…’.

Choso walks over to Megumi and speaks with purpose, “Please let Gojo have time with her, he’s been through a lot…”, and nods as if to reiterate there still are things Megumi is unaware of. Choso sees the discontent on Megumi’s face and can feel the boy’s presence fluctuating so he continues, “And we will find Toji, I promise you. He loves you, you know…”. He watches Megumi’s eyes become glossy as he tries to fend off the tears so Choso hugs him. “I’m sure he’s ok, we just have to get to him…”.

Megumi usually wouldn’t accept the embrace but he feels so incredibly small and useless. He finds Choso’s need to comfort him endearing and wishes he’d been kinder to the being in the past, knowing now how well he means. “I…I miss my dad…”, he meant for it to be a statement but the clarification is muddled by the sorrow in his voice and it only strengthens as Choso continues to try and soothe him.

“Just come back later Megs…I know you’re worried too…”, Satoru doesn’t make eye contact but his voice is genuine. “I just need to be with her right now…”. He now curls back up into Elska and sighs deeply. “She would be angry if I kept everyone from her…”, and Satoru knows this is a fact but is still not budging on the current meeting.

Megumi wasn’t expecting Gojo to offer time up so he doesn’t know how to respond. With a fake scoff he replies, “I will then.”, and heads towards the door. Before leaving he stops and turns around to face them once more, “Shoko is awake now and she wants to see you Gojo.”, then shuts it behind him.

Satoru is aware that they have a prisoner underneath the school and Shoko likely has important information to give to him, he just hasn’t the motivation to move. He buries his face into Elska further, wanting to escape his current duties and pretend they’re just napping together. “Please come back.”.

After a few seconds, Choso exhales, “I’m glad Shoko’s alright.”. After being teleported to Elska’s location, he had to carry her back through his portal while Gojo grabbed Naoya. Choso immediately began to heal Naoya after they returned to the academy but they were soon met with Nanami who requested him to see to Shoko’s head injuries as well. Choso recalls that while he was navigating through his shadow realm that Elska’s energy once again lingered behind them and even seemed to stain some of the surroundings. He’s always been curious as to why hers behaves differently than everyone else. While lost in his thoughts, he’s jolted back to the present as Gojo begins to cry next to Elska.

“Gojo…”, Choso was caught off guard but feels he needs to allow privacy as he doesn’t know what to do. The terrifying Silver Shaman condenses before him, leaving a new wave of misery within his very being. Choso’s still shaken up by the events that took place with everyone and has yet to properly deal with the emotions flowing through him. He glances over to Naoya for a second and then internally declares he will return later. He hears Gojo plead for him to wait so he turns around and utilizes patience as Satoru collects himself.

“We…We have to find Toji.”, Satoru finds himself worried with the possibilities that could be his friend’s fate. Choso nods so he says, “Please, please search for him.”. Gojo looks down at Elska who has yet to show signs of waking, “For both of their sakes, we need to get him back.”. Now darting cold eyes to back to Choso, “I will kill whoever I need to. I will fucking explode every last one of them. This is what they deserve.”. Satoru’s eyes narrow as he thinks of who this Genghis is and how that man is likely responsible for organizing the horrific event. ‘He at least helped Getou…’.

Choso felt a chill crawl down his spine while listening to Gojo. ‘He very well means it.’, crosses his mind but he’s actually reinforced by the statement because he has his own revenge that occupies the same goal. He straightens himself while looking at Satoru, “We will find them and we will end them.”. Choso now brings his gaze to Elska for the first time and finds his dark thoughts fading, beginning to feel consumed by irrational emotions that stem from her condition as well. He has this completely visceral knot that tells him to remain near her but he can’t justify why so he thinks its best not go far at least. “I’m going to try some mapping but I’ll be nearby if needed…”, Choso now reluctantly opens the door and leaves.

Snuggling back into Elska, Satoru closes his eyes and tries to steady his breathing. “Everything’s so fucked up, love.”, he regretfully informs her as she sleeps. Wanting to be even closer to her, he now takes her right leg and hoists it over himself. He pulls down the front of her slip but only so he can her skin against his cheek. “They will pay for this…”, he seethes as he thinks about the new trauma her and Naoya had to live through at the hands of the Titers. “Genghis and Getou…”, his partnered enemies. He opens his eyes to slight movement. “Love?”. Slowly she begins to stir more, moving her legs and arms to in an attempt to regain awareness. Satoru hurriedly sits up and looks down to her with endearing hope.

Elska is coming to already and smiles sweetly once she opens her eyes to see Satoru. “My sweet Sati…”, she raises her arm to hold his cheek, only now detecting his anxieties. This realization triggers her though as the ominous memories play back in her mind. She instantly screams at the top of her lungs and is sent into a hysterical state once again. She doesn’t know that she’s flailing around during this until she feels Satoru anchor his body around her to prevent her from harming herself. She struggles against him though as she continues to wail. “THE CHILDREN!”, rips through the room and Satoru understands kids must have been present in the attack.

Satoru whimpers regrettably and holds her while her heart breaks. As her cries echo the otherwise silent room, he feels his heart responding, “My love, I’m so sorry…”. He rests his chin above her head as she begins to settle, although her sobs are still incredibly fierce. Her breath can be felt against his chest and neck as she heaves air in this dismantled state. He squeezes her tighter and reminds her, “I’m here love, I’m here. You’re safe now…”. He begins to tear up too as her voice goes silent and strains to make a high-pitched, fading squeak, the fact that she’s as broken as he assumed absolutely wrecking his confidence on the matter but he repeats, “You’re safe now.”, and kisses the top of her head. Satoru notices how strong her presence is and thinks that the whole campus should be aware of her waking.

Choso heard and felt her so he runs back into the room. “ELSKA!”, he continues his pace to the side of the bed where Megumi was and sits down. The sounds that leave her compel him to place a hand on her side as she’s still overlapped by Gojo. She seems to respond to him and calms down slightly but with wide and teary eyes he looks to Gojo who’s just as unnerved by the situation. He hears her say, “They made Toji…kill. They crushed…Getou…he crushed the children…”, and to these words, a tear falls from the beings face. ‘Getou has no qualms with killing innocents…’, but he keeps this information to himself while deciding he should share the tragedy of his brothers eventually.

Elska is slowly comprehending that the horrible sights behind her eyes are of the past but is still riddled with mourning. Understanding that the men have no idea of what all happened she forces herself to compose the best she can and tries to sit up. Satoru only took a second to understand so he is soon helping her. She remembers everything from the attack, which is different than how it’s happened in the past. With weary and swollen eyes, she looks at the two before her and says, “They tried to kill Naoya…”, she glances between Satoru and Choso, “His heart actually stopped.”, the fear of her prince dying reclaims its stance. “He blocked the spear meant for me…”, she looks over and sees him there laying motionlessly and begins to panic.

Choso can see her apprehension as her eyes drift to Naoya and says, “He’s right there Elska”, and grabs her hand as he can only imagine how awful that was, “He is stable and with new energy.”. Her eyes light up but then become watery again as she quietly speaks, “But they took Toji with t…them couldn’t protect both…”, and feels his lips quiver as she deteriorates before them again. Choso’s hand is now on her leg so he brushes the spot to provide additional security. “Knowing that helps, I will find him Elska.”.

Satoru feels Megumi and Itadori approaching the room so he yells, “NOT RIGHT NOW!”, and becomes satisfied when they stop. Looking back to Elska he grabs her shoulders and kisses her forehead, “Love I am going to fix all of this.”. He lifts her chin to him and with complete determination radiating from his eyes, “Everything is going to be ok. I will show no mercy.”, and she seems to be consoled by the darkness exuding him. He kisses her cheek and whispers, “We will paint the city with their blood.”.

Elska feels like his dark nature is nurturing her very soul. In a strange wave of reassurance, the calamity within her lessens so she finally begins to settle into him. While closing her eyes and taking a deep but jagged breath however, the familiar voice ricochets through her.

‘FEED FROM THE HYBRID’

Her eyes jolt open and she slowly turns her head towards Choso who’s still sympathetically rubbing her leg. She questions if she should but understands there is a reason she’s being prompted to do so.

‘YOU WILL SOON BE WHOLE’

With a mousey voice, “Sati?”, she feels through his chest, his “Yes my love?”, and pulls away from him, “I need to feed from Choso.”.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea love, why would you say that?”, Satoru is afraid that she will repeat history and is adamant about making things better not worse. He looks over to Choso who shares his reluctance and eyes him in a way to warn that it isn’t going to happen. “Love what if you lose control?”, he doesn’t understand what she could be thinking but fears it doesn’t matter as her eyes begin to glow. “Love…”.

Elska adjusts herself to her knees and holds her own body, “I think the other me is me.”. When she looks up to them both she can tell they’re confused by that but she proceeds, “I have to do it.”. She launches herself over top Choso and pins his arms down, “Choso I’m so sorry!”. She sees that Satoru has warped to that side of the bed in an attempt to reach her so she growls. He seems to be hurt by this so she adds, “JUST TRUST ME!”, and feels less anxious as he slowly pulls his hands away from her.

Choso’s in shock beneath her, not being sure as to why this is happening or if he should fight her or not. He darts his scared eyes to Gojo fearing that this won’t go over well but is confused as the Silver Shaman seems to retract. He now looks at Elska and can tell she’s not liking how she placed him in this position and suddenly feels at ease. ‘Was this why I wanted to stay?’. He nods to her and lays back down into the bed as her fangs pierce him shortly afterwards. Choso instantly moans and latches onto her, feeling one of his bent legs touching the floor kick out reflexively. She whimpers near his ear and it causes him to melt in place while she pulls from him. After a few seconds her left hand laces into his hair and grips the strands to pull his head more to the side, him closing his eyes and complying. She soon is grinding against him, exuding pleasurable noises which would have been his main focus if her presence wasn’t darkening so rapidly.

Gojo is cautiously monitoring the situation and feels he should stop it when her gestures turn sexual. Hearing her moan seductively into Choso leaves a bad taste in his mouth but remembers he chose to trust her. He knows this is the other Elska now but her words haunt him, “I think the other me is me.”, bringing him into a new state of contradiction as he thinks about how he’ll handle this if shit hits the fan. As he watches her free hand sail from Choso’s chest to underneath her he can’t help himself, “LOVE!”.

Elska grabs Choso’s member and squeezes it. She hears him quietly yelp and hums to his growing as she begins to fondle him further but eventually stops and closes the being’s puncture marks. ‘FOCUS’. Sitting herself over him she inhales deeply before looking down, “It’s incredible, how arousing your blood is…”, and manically looks down to his flushed expression, “…but it makes sense.”. She can tell Satoru reaching out behind her so she quickly grabs his wrist and flings him overhead and onto the bed next to Choso. She relishes in the shaman’s surprise to her strength and chooses to say in the lowly voice, “My favorite human…”, and grinds on Choso again instinctively, meaning the gesticulation for Satoru. Before either of them can say anything she continues, “She is right, we are one in the same…”. Still feeling overcome with desire she takes Satoru’s left hand and forces it upon her breast and whimpers when he grabs it. ‘FOCUS’, cascading through her mind. “They took my beloved but I believe they were meaning for me. I became too confident and played with the Titers, I was having fun.”. She feels the anger race across her expression as the failure surges within her again. “When the mind was repressed, we split into two in order to salvage as much as possible.”, she looks to Satoru with devious eyes, “We would’ve slowly gone mad otherwise.”. Neither of them are speaking, giving her the floor so she turns her glowing gaze to Choso, “You and I are almost exact in product, we were just born differently…I am half curse as well.”.

Choso’s eyes widen to this immensely as many pieces fall into place. Her energy that lingers, her ability to sense the darkness within him, the fact that his blood fuels her. He breaks his gaze with Elska to turn to Satoru who seems to be thinking but isn’t overly sharing his true feelings on the matter. Her presence increases rapidly again so he quickly looks back to her and becomes afraid as she licks her lips at him. She says, “If Sati wasn’t here, I’d take you right now…”, and he feels her hand caress the side of his face but holds his breath not knowing what that exactly meant. ‘Does she mean…’, and looks down at his lap as she sinks her weight into him. He cries out, “Elska NO!”, but feels himself being pinned by her again.

“Elska…”, Satoru is not sure as to what is going on but knows he should tread lightly with his disgust of her harboring secret desires for Choso. She looks to him expressionlessly but the attention was enough, “…Love, I’m sorry for doing this to you.”, he feels the shame in his heart and almost as if she could read his mind she says, “This was a war waged far before you were born sweet Sati. My ancestors and those of the Zenin and Titer clans started this centuries ago. A tragic love story…”. While still remaining her eyes on Satoru, “A Zenin once loved a woman from the Oda clan but their union was rejected for her clan’s lack of status. Oda’s were not inherently shaman and suffered in servitude to the major clans for this and many other reasons. An intelligent and unusually empathetic curse heard their plight and decided to offer them a deal. The Oda’s would evolve, allowing them capabilities of harnessing cursed energy. The heartbroken woman accepted without understanding what would be waged allowing the curse to manifest itself into fragments to take form in every Oda. The Titers, who were then one of the major clans, saw this as a threat and manipulated the time continuum to relocate the Oda’s to a place where they would not have to fear their dark powers.” She exhales, “The curse’s stipulations were for the Oda’s to end humanity by turning them into similar but lesser beings which would eventually allow the curse to take physical form once again.”. Gojo is left in awe by this explanation. ‘A Zenin?’, and turns his head to Naoya and contemplates on the unexplainable connection Elska and Naoya have always had. He realizes something and tells her, “The Zenin’s want you apart of their clan this time…”, his eyes unfasten completely, “…The Titers do too now.”, he thinks of his mother’s words that confirmed they want to breed with her.

“Yes but they foolishly misunderstand their place. The Titers never have and never will be able to control me. Their thoughts otherwise on this are contrived.”. Elska now thinks of Suguru. “I drank from Getou and learned a great deal, he’s merely their powerful puppet. I believe I placed enough doubt in his mind though, if he’s worth anything he will realize his own will.”. Choso and Gojo both wear expressions of mortification that she ignores, “If he ends up agreeing with his clan then I’ll be forced to act however.”, She grins frenziedly, “They do not properly comprehend that their fate rests on my whims.” Her eerie smile fades, “What they’ve done however, I will require lives to pay for it.”. She looks over to Naoya and winces to the reminder that he suffered greatly, “My prince will soon awaken. His DNA synthesis rapidly took course and it was unlike anything we’ve ever seen…”. Merely gazing upon her blonde lover quells her strength, “He has an adverse effect on my existence, he drains me of my ability to stay in this form…”, she looks back to Choso, “…which is why I need to become whole. You can make this possible.”.

Gojo is trying to make sense of this new information and is categorizing his brain for this purpose. When her eyes meet his own again she grins and says, “I will have you too when the time is right. You’re a variable in all of this, the Gojo’s have never had a turned amongst their ranks and with your innate power, I am hesitant to expose you to this needlessly. In theory I will be your master but your soul particularly is already so darkened that I am forced to question what your nature will be.”. Satoru has never discussed becoming like her but a small part of his heart is mended knowing that he’s not left out of her collection. “Love, I would be willing if you saw fit.”, he removes his hand from her breast and brings it to her face. She seems to like being addressed this way which cements the fact for him that they really both are Elska. ‘She refers to me as Sati too.’.

Elska abruptly dips back down into Choso’s neck and bites him again. His cursed blood reanimates through her veins and feels herself growing even stronger. The thought of wiping out the Titers and rescuing her beloved mix with the sensations the being gives her causing her to moan deeply. She feels him growing more underneath her again and smiles into him and wishes that she didn’t need his permission to turn him.

‘HE IS NOT READY YET’

Despite her current ecstasy, she yanks her head up and huffs with annoyance before closing the wounds. “Sometimes I grow fucking tired of your voice.”.

‘Who is she talking to?’, Choso feels his brow furrow as he recalls the other times she seemed to speak to no one. He’s reading that she’s now agitated and wonders if he shouldn’t make a break for it soon. He thinks about Naoya and Toji, how they would be losing their shit if they were witnessing this and doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Gojo’s wrath either.

“You need not run…”, Elska sighs to the obvious hesitation from Choso and maneuvers herself off of him and stands. “I will not turn either of you right now for our efforts should be placed into retrieving my beloved.”. Gojo warps behind her and spins her around and she feels his arms embrace her. With confusion she asks, “Do you not fear me, Sati?”.

Satoru chuckles into her hair, “Oh I fear you…I just love you as well.”, and is surprised when this dark Elska relaxes into him. ‘She loves monsters because she is one too…’. He knows this thought would likely terrify anyone else but he feels a new bond has been created between them in this moment and reminds her, “I know you feared me but you also never let me go.”. He inhales her scent begins to sway them, “You’re my love.”. He wonders as well who she meant that random statement to but doesn’t feel the need to press her for more information as he’s still working through what was just laid out.

Being so close to Satoru, feeling his body heat and breath brings Elska back to her arousal she’s been fighting for the sake of communication. She bites his chest through his shirt and rakes her nails down his back as he whimpers. She can taste his own excitement and decides that enough was said.

Gojo feels himself being pushed onto the bed and watches Choso jump up to standing. Elska straddles him and tears her slip open before glaring down and demanding, “Remove your shirt.”. He hastily does as he’s told while admiring how frightening her mannerisms are. When she leans down to kiss him, she lifts her weight from his lap and growls, “Your clothing is still in the way.”, to which he shimmies the waistband to his thighs, allowing his hardened flesh to make contact with her bare skin. He quickly finds Choso who is standing a few feet away with his jaw slacked open, “Cho-…”, she covers his lips and aligns herself with Satoru’s erection and says, “Do not concern yourself with him whilst I fuck you.”. He then feels her wet warmth slide down his shaft and groans loudly into her palm as she felt amazing. She pins his arms over his head against the mattress and proceeds to thrust herself into him passionately. When she gasps to using him, he feels a long-forgotten desire to tame her. Suddenly Gojo experiences his own switch as she continues to bounce herself on him. He breaks an arm free and sends his hand to her throat, squeezing it as he pulls her face down to his. When she bites her lip with arrogant eyes, he understands that she’s hoping he’ll fight back for dominance and whispers into her lips, “I will have you begging me to stop.”.

Elska grins to the confirmation but all of the sudden finds Satoru is no longer below her. “Try your best, you will not break me.”, she teases in her lowly voice as she recognizes his presence behind her. She hears Gojo say, “Choso, find me something to tie her up with.”. She looks to Choso who seems to not understand why so she smiles, “Do as he says.”. Satoru now wraps a hand around her throat again and pulls her back to where she’s on her knees and feels his erection rubbing against her. She tries to angle herself so she could feel him again but fails. She huffs disapprovingly but is soon met with his grith spreading her, leaving her crying out in lust. He leans down by her ear while he seats himself completely, “Love, is that what you wanted?”, and snickers as he rams her a few times.

Choso is finding the request made of him to be completely outlandish. ‘She shouldn’t be tied up!’, he now hears Satoru thrusting into her and feels uncomfortable with witnessing it in person. What he cannot ignore though is his own throbbing while he scurries to find anything that can be used for restraints. While searching through the drawers he comes across a scarf and quickly throws it over to Gojo without looking at them. His eyes take to Naoya in the other bed and he frowns to the situation at hand but knows there’s nothing he can really do to stop Elska. It was clear to him that she initiated and wanted to further down this adventure with Satoru. He looks over to them finally and looses his breath as he’s met with her alluring eyes. ‘Does she want me to stay?’, he questions internally hoping he was wrong. “Elska?”, he asks in a small voice, becoming mesmerized with how she’s staring into him.

Gojo pushes Elska down into the bed and brings her arms to fold neatly behind her back. “Like old times…”, he teases wantonly as he secures the scarf around her forearms and wrists. He nudges her body forward so he can sit on his knees behind her and admires her body as he postures himself over her legs. With his left hand he grabs himself up to rub into her folds, moaning to the visible evidence that he’s going to be able to go wild. He notices Choso run out of the room and chuckles while gliding into her fully, “I guess he didn’t want to watch. Smart move.”, and begins pound into her relentlessly as she moans into the sheets. He grabs her throat again with his right hand to pull her back towards him and says, “That’s right love, you will take this dick and you will fucking like it.”, and slaps her ass with his left. “I am going to conquer you all over again…”, he hisses as he pulls on her waist to make sure there’s not a single inch of him missing out. She cries out, “YES!”, which causes him to tighten his grasp on her throat from the rush it sent through him while he delivers deep thrusts. He whimpers to how she feels contracting around him and takes notice to her body’s response as he continues through her orgasm. “Already, huh?”, the accomplishment fills him with pride and he expresses it by still crashing into her as she falls apart. After a harsh few minutes, he slows down in an attempt to caress her internally. “Mmmm…”, he hums to how slippery her walls have become as she pants in front of him. “Perhaps my love wants to be controlled?”, he slaps her rear again with his left hand before regaining his grip on her hip. She lowly gasps, “Please try!”, which makes him say, “I am going to destroy you…”. He decides to warp in front of her and watches her body fall into the mattress. He grabs her hair and assists her in lifting her head while tilting his chin to the side and mocking, “The scary little Elska…”, she opens her mouth so he sends himself down her throat, “…gagging on my dick.”. He works his hips into her as expected tears roll down her face. When he removes himself to allow her air, he sighs to her saliva coating her breasts, causing them to glisten every so often. To his surprise she seductively moans and challenges, “Is that all you’ve got?”, which causes him to grunt as he traces her lips with his tip. He replies, “You should know me better than that.”, and proceeds to thrust into her mouth again. When she chokes on him, he throws his head back and furrows his brow while gasping, “My sexy little Elska…”.

Feeling his grip in her hair as he harshly stretches her throat fills her with exhilaration. There are reasons as to why he is so special to her and this depravity he harbors is one of them since it mirrors a part of her nature. She looks up to him the best she can as her muscles convulse to his motions and loves the dominating way in which he treats her. ‘Nobody has ever been so brave.’, she thinks as she gags. He removes himself from her mouth again but drags his member along her face which makes her whimper with anticipation. He says, “I can’t finish until I’ve opened everything.”, and she shivers to his voice as it was chilling, knowing he’s going to take her in every way he can. He warps behind her again but is maneuvering her to lay on her left side. She tries to adjust in a way that makes her arms more comfortable but he slaps her thigh and says, “Don’t squirm now love, it’s too late for that.”.

Satoru bends her legs up towards her chest so he could have unobstructed access. Spreading his kneeing stance, he leans over her to grab her throat again while he begins to nudge her second entrance. “You are mine to fuck and so is this ass.”, and groans down to her as he feels himself slowly making progress. He loves how her face morphs into pleasure the deeper he goes and wonders, ‘Has she liked this all along?’, but is soon taken out of thought as she gasps to being further parted. He releases her throat to lean back and stabilize himself with her hip, wanting to watch himself submerge into her. “Look at you love, taking me so well…”, she cries out heatedly and he bites his lip as he backs out to start the process over. He drops some of his own saliva down where they meet and works himself in deeper, becoming completely swallowed by her. “Such a good girl…”, he breathlessly whines as their eyes meet. “…Take it all…”, and begins to set a rhythm. As he increases his force she cries out “YES SATI”, and smiles with parted lips as she’s forced to endure him. He’s watching her skin ripple and wave out from his impact and it nearly makes him come undone having the knowledge that she’s enjoying this. He pulls out of her to take in the sight of her mess and rolls her onto her stomach. After making his way back in, he leans his body to hover over hers while he continues to pound through her.

Elska is completely under his control but is rather thrilled by how rough he is being. Through her moans she tries to tell him that it’s coming but before she can, the pheromones release into the room. She turns her head and sees Satoru’s face next to hers as he fills his lungs and moans, his motions halting while he does. She hears him say, “You must love it when I fuck you like this…”, and picks up his pace again. While gasping she’s able to say, “I want more!”, and her eyes roll back when gives her exactly that. She can tell by his breathing that he’s nearing his end so she arches her back underneath him as if to present she was ready to be a pretty display. His thrusts after that became full and deep with each stroke until she feels him twitch and begin to settle. He opens her legs to guide her onto her back while remaining inside of her. The look on his face is breathtaking and she can sense his relief as he slowly nudges through her a few more times.

While holding her ankles and leaning his hips into her, he brings his gaze from her face to where they’re connected and grunts to how pleasing the sight is. He leans down to kiss her feverishly as he comes to terms with his affections for Elska as a whole and says, “I love all sides of you…”, into her lips. He leans back up so he can watch his contents spill from her after he pulls out and moans when it’s even more beautiful than he imagined. Rolling her back onto her stomach he reaches down to undo her binds and finds their lips meeting as soon as she was free.

She slides her tongue into his mouth passionately and they moan into each other again. When she breaks away she says in her lowly voice, “I don’t have much time left like this but one day I will be whole. Let’s see if you can overpower me then.”, and brushes her thumbs across his cheeks. “I will be a blend of all attributes but I can promise I’ll want more of this.”. Her eyes feel heavy now as she feels her state diminishing, “I will have to sleep again but I will return to normal when I wake. Will you…”, she hesitates, “…will you bring me to sleep next to Naoya?”. She’s taken back by his kind smile as he lifts her up into his arms. They sway as he uses his knees to bring them to the edge of the bed and they nearly fall over as he works to swing his legs out to the floor.

They laugh together as he awkwardly finds his balance but he feels her sincerity as he walks them over to Naoya. “You can rest easy love and I’ll clean you up…”, he tells her as he lowers her down next to the sleeping Zenin. Her eyes are quickly losing their glow as she lays there and wraps her arms around Naoya’s left one, so he knows she’s going to be out here soon. “Love?”, she brings her hazy gaze to him, “We will find Toji, I swear it’s my priority.”. She smiles and thanks him before saying, “I’m glad to know he’s important to you as well Sati. Please, locate my beloved…he needs me…”. While he was forming his next words she closes her eyes and falls asleep instantaneously. “Love, I will make this world work for you…”, and leans down to kiss her once more. He stands upright again to find something to wash their wonderful experience with. After wiping her down he crawls in the bed and uses the slightest bit of space given to make his own spot, wanting to be next to her. He ponders on what she said earlier about the curse’s will to replace humanity and smiles into her neck, “I don’t much care for humans either…whatever your endgame is, we will succeed.”.

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tearsofgrace · 4 years

Text

never enough

15.18 coda

it’s not happy...

word count: 1.5k, tags: cw suicide, spn spoilers (obvs), mcd, angst, deal with the empty, idk it’s just sad guys

also on archive

It took him hours to notice it. He hadn’t felt it in the moment. Hadn’t felt the Cas’ hand stick slightly to his shoulder as it pushed him away, leaving him to face the Empty alone.

But now that he’d noticed it, it was all he could look at. That bright red handprint standing out starkly against his jacket. It was perfect, really. Not a drop out of place. Just a handprint and nothing else. That was all he had left.

The handprint where Castiel had “gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.” And now he’d saved him one more time. Same shoulder, same placement, same sting when Dean looked at it.

It was poetic in the cruelest of ways. And if it weren’t for everything, he would have thought this was Chuck’s writing. But, no. Castiel was the only part of Chuck’s story that he couldn’t control. Because Cas had fallen.

Cas had fallen in love with him. And Dean loved him back. Of course he did.

But he’d been too cowardly to say it back. How could he? When his best friend in the entire world looked at him with an expression that could only be described as pure unadulterated joy and said the words Dean had been longing to hear his whole life… how could he say them back?

So he hadn’t. He’d begged Cas not to do this. Not to be taken away. But Cas hadn’t listened. It had been too late anyway. His joy was sealed, and so was his fate. He didn’t need to hear it back to be happy.

“I love you too,” Dean whispered to the empty room.

His eyes were dry now. He’d ran out of tears a few hours ago, but the sobs had continued for some time. Gasping, heaving, no room for air in his lungs because all he could feel was crushing disappointment, sadness, anger, self-loathing.

He’d had the chance to give Cas everything in his final moments.

And they were his final moments. He had no delusions about that. Cas was never coming back. Ever. There were no deals, no resurrections, no last ditch efforts to save him. He was just gone. The love of Dean’s life was gone.

Sam hadn’t called again. He probably assumed Dean was dead. He might as well be. Or maybe Sam was dead, Jack too.

The back of Dean’s gun dug into his side and he almost reached for it. His family was gone. So he might as well join them in eternal damnation.

But something stopped him. Some hope instilled in him by Cas’ words, even though now he was gone.

Cas had loved him. He had made Cas happy.

He looked down at the handprint again and fit his hand into it. It shouldn’t have still been wet. Not now. But it was, sticking slightly to Dean’s fingers.

He leaned his head back against the wall, the cold floor becoming uncomfortable beneath him. He wouldn’t leave tonight. He could stay alive. If only to stand up to Chuck when he had nothing left.

I love you, the words rang in his ear and he dry sobbed again, wishing there were tears left to fall.

Why hadn’t he just said it back? He’d meant it. He loved Cas. Maybe he always had. And not like he loved Sam. It was just Cas, only Cas, Cas was gone.

Distantly, he heard the bunker door open and close. At least Sam or Jack had made it out. Then again, that could be Chuck coming to drag him away. Coming to gloat that the flaw in his plan, the hiccup that Cas had caused again and again was gone.

Without Cas, they couldn’t win. Cas was what Chuck wasn’t expecting. He’d fought for Dean over and over. He’d shown his love over and over. And Dean had been too stubborn to see it, too stubborn to accept it.

Cas, the one Dean had abandoned and betrayed.

Cas, the one who came back ever single time.

Cas, the broken angel who had fallen too far.

And he was dead.

Dean pulled his hand from the handprint and looked to the ceiling. Searching for a sign, an answer, any comfort to remove the pit that had settled in his stomach weighing him down. He’d never felt like this. Not when Sam had died. Not when Mom had died. Hell, not even when Cas had died before.

This was different.

This was floating face down in a pool, weightless because everything was crushing inward. This was drowning, lungs filling up with pain that left no room for anything else. This was falling off a building willingly, death just inches below him, but not quite being able to reach it because he didn’t have the energy to die. This was a fate far worse than death.

He didn’t look up when Sam came into the room, Jack right behind him.

He barely reacted when Sam looked around frantically, crouching by his brother and shaking his shoulders, trying to see if he was okay.

He didn’t move until Sam asked in a quite voice, as if he was afraid of the answer, “Where’s Cas?”

Only then did he look up at his brother, his eyes rimmed red but completely dry. Sam’s eyes fell to the handprint on his shoulder and he knelt next to Dean. Jack stood over them, his head tilted curiously but something on his face saying he knew exactly where Cas was.

“Dean, what happened?” Sam said, resting an arm on his shoulder. Not the one with the handprint. Not the one that mattered. Not the one that stung with loss.

“He’s gone,” Dean said hoarsely. He’d have to tell him at some point. He’d have to get it over with. He’d have to let his soul open up and let out his darkest secret.

“The Empty?” Jack asked quietly, and Dean jerked his face up to look at him. Jack had known. He’d known about the deal. Of course he had… it was to save him.

Dean nodded mutley and his hands started shaking again. Gone, gone, gone. Cas was gone. Alone. Forgotten. In love with no clue that it was returned.

“What the hell?” Sam said, shifting to get more comfortable.

“He made a deal,” Jack supplied. His voice was tight with emotion. Dean risked a glance up at him. He looked just as alone as Dean felt. His father had been taken from him. “To save me,” he continued. "When he experienced a moment of true happiness, he would be taken.”

True happiness, Dean thought bitterly. It had been happiness enough to tell him. He’d seen that on Cas’ face. The joy, the freedom, the relief. He’d been carrying this for years.

“Cas wasn’t happy?” That was all Sam said. Disbelief written across his face, hanging in his voice.

He could have been.

“Dean,” Jack started, and Dean looked back at the floor. He knew what was coming. He’d been prepared for this. But he still couldn’t do it. “What made him happy?”

He couldn’t look at the kid. Not now. So instead he looked up at Sam, his eyes broken, pleading for him to understand. To understand why he was sinking lower and lower as every happy thought left his body. To understand why he would never be truly happy again. To understand that today, he’d lost everything.

Sam’s eyes widened just a fraction and then he nodded once, slowly. And Dean thought he was going to drop it there. But he understood even better than that. He understood that Dean needed to say it. “What did he say?” he asked softly.

“He said,” Dean took a deep breath. “He said he loved me.” He started crying again. No tears, just shaking shoulders and desperate gasps for air that wasn’t there. “And I-” he cleared his throat, trying to gain control. “I didn’t say it back.”

This time Sam reached across and pulled him into a tight hug, Dean shaking as he cried silently into his shoulder.

“He knew,” his brother said simply. “Of course he knew.”

No one spoke after that. They just sat there, reeling in shock. Cas was gone. Cas was what held this family together, what gave them a chance, and he was stuck somewhere completely alone, eternal emptiness finally laying its hold on him.

Dean wanted to shout to Sam that it didn’t matter if Cas had known. Because Dean hadn’t told him. Because Cas had seemed like he didn’t know. Because Cas had said that happiness was just in being. Was just in saying it.

But he didn’t know.

How could he know?

Happiness would have been waking up next to each other. Happiness would have been going on walks hand in hand, soft smiles exchanged between breathless kisses. Happiness would have been getting into stupid arguments and laughing when they were finally resolved. Happiness would have been being with each other, completely, entirely. Giving themselves over wholly, not to God and his angels, but to the other. Happiness would have been 3 AM movie parties and midafternoon cuddle sessions. Wiping away each other's tears and kissing away the pain.

So, yes. They could have been happy. Could have had it all.

But they didn’t.

And now they never would.

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#spn spoilers #cw suicide #destiel #mcd #spn fic #destiel fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #spn fan fiction #destiel fanfic #deancas fic #destiel ficlet #my writing

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shedobewritingalittle · 3 years

Text

Hurt

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: In a post-snap world, the reader and Steve are falling apart.

Rating: R

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Talks of death, talks of a dead child, infidelity, depression

A/N: this kinda just a fucking bummer. Sorry.

Almost an entire lifetime ago, Director Fury himself had told her that marriage and children only complicated life. At the time, Y/N had brushed it off. She was going to be an SHIELD agent, so she wasn’t going to have time for a spouse and children. And she was completely fine with that at the time.

Now, a part of Y/N wished that she had listened to her boss as she glances down at the shiny granite headstone.

Y/N didn't mean to fall in love with her teammate. Steve and her had a great friendship and it just sort of transitioned into an equally great relationship. Life happens and all that. They had gotten married shortly before the Accords caused the team to fall apart. A year into Steve, Sam, Natasha, Wanda, and Y/N being on the run, a smaller, tinier person joined the team.

Steve and Y/N were over the moon about the new addition to their family. Their son James (named after Steve’s best friend) was the sweetest little boy and had both of his parents wrapped around his tiny finger. They quickly adjusted to being parents, managed to balance their new roles and being on the run almost effortlessly. Sure it wasn't ideal, but they had to make do with the situation they were in. Things were fine and the little family was happy.

And then Thanos showed up.

Everyone had lost someone the day that Thanos snapped his fingers. No part of the universe was left untouched. Both Y/N and Steve were still reeling from the losses of their friends and teammates as they rushed back towards the royal palace. They had left James with Queen Ramonda and both of them needed to make sure he was safe, needed him to be okay. Death and destruction was all around them and dust hung in the air was they moved their legs faster and faster.

Instead they were met with the Queen Regent's sobs and a pile of dust amongst James's toys. It was an image that would be ingrained in Steve and Y/N forever.

Once both of them settled into a new apartment in Brooklyn, Y/N had joined a group for mothers who lost children in the Snap. Upon entering the meeting for the very first time, she was met with the glares of every mother in the room. Each one of their gazes seeming to scream at Y/N "This is your fault. You're the reason why our babies are gone.". The leader of the group took Y/N aside and asked with faux sincerity if the Avenger could leave. She couldn't blame them. Y/N would ask herself to leave too if she was in their shoes.

Y/N never told Steve what had happened. She knew he wouldn't understand. No one would ever turn Captain America down, no one would feel uncomfortable by his presence. Y/N on the other hand? Well she wasn't a cherished hero. She was just on the team.

Y/N didn't mean to distance herself from her husband, but it just happened. The day that James turned into the dust, a part of Y/N died. It was hard for her to put her feelings into words when everything just hurt. Y/N tried to talk about it, but her throat would just tighten with emotion as she tried to gather her words. Her days would blur together and Y/N would find herself unable to leave her room. She tried not to sleep, knowing that if she did all she would see is that pile of dust amongst his toys. Steve was patient at first, letting her take her time. Yet as one year without their son turned into two, his patience grew thin.

Y/N was trying her best, she really was. Sure it didn't seem like a lot of progress to just leave the house for short amounts of time, but it was just so hard. She’s lost people before, but none of those losses made her ache in such a way. Her arms felt empty with no child to carry and she felt so alone. Everything reminded her of James. A child laughing, the bounce of a ball, the crunch of the leaves underneath her feet as the seasons changed-everything reminded her of her son. She couldn't even look at her husband without her heart aching in her chest because their son looked just like him. She knew that Steve just wanted her to find a way to get through it and get over it. He had given up on helping her, spending more and more time at his meetings. Y/N just kept telling herself that they were helping him, so it wasn't a big deal if he was gone for most of the day. If he wasn't here, they didn't fight.

Before Thanos, they really didn't fight. Sure they would argue about stupid little things and make up almost immediately, but now? They fought about everything. Y/N asking if Steve could handle grocery shopping for the week would turn into a three hour long screaming match. Steve got pissed off about every little thing she did. Fighting with Steve was exhausting because somehow he always found a way to make Y/N feel shitty about anything she had and hadn't done. There wasn't anymore making up after their fights, no sweet kisses and I love yous. Only doors slamming shut and a lot of words that shouldn’t be thrown around so carelessly.

She tried to ignore it when he'd leave their apartment after they had a fight. Tried to ignore how loud the door would slam, how'd he'd mutter something under his breath as he grabbed his coat and keys. She even tried to ignore the smell of a perfume that wasn't hers when he'd come home, slipping under the covers without bothering to shower. Y/N even tried to ignore it when he left her alone on Mother's Day, stuck in the apartment surrounding by images of the son she had lost while he was out doing whatever he did before coming home smelling like that perfume.

Y/N knew exactly what he was doing and she didn't know if had it in her anymore to fight with him. She tried to pretend like it wasn't happening until she just couldn't anymore.

"He's cheating on me, Nat." Y/N told her friend over their weekly coffee date-a sign of her progress. Natasha was stunned by the confession and was even more shocked by her friend's tone. Y/N said it like she was talking about the weather, her voice lacking any sort of emotion. The red head sitting across from her slowly put down her cup of coffee.

Y/N has been trying to tell Natasha since it started, but she just didn't know how to say it. Steve was one of Natasha's best friends and Y/N didn't want to tear them apart because of what Steve was doing. However, Natasha was Y/N's friend too and she had no one else to talk to. Y/N was at a crossroad and both of them ended in disaster. It just finally got to the point where she just had to tell Natasha and Y/N knew she shouldn't feel guilty about finally saying it, but she did.

"What do you mean?-I-Are you sure?" Natasha questions as Y/N keeps her eyes down, just nodding in response. Nat's eyebrows furrow together as she continues, "When-When did it start?"

"Two months ago. He-He started to leave after we'd fight and he'd come back smelling like perfume. It's more frequent now. No fights needed." Her tone is so matter-of-fact that it makes Natasha's heart ache. There was no anger in Y/N's words, no resentment. Natasha hates how her friend has come to terms with Steve's infidelity. To Y/N, it felt cathartic to finally say what has been happening. She didn’t want Nat to go and knock some sense into Steve or anything like that. All she wanted was to finally say it aloud, to tell someone what was going on, even though it just made the whole situation real. Y/N turns her head to look out of the window, letting out a shaky breath as Natasha reaches out to hold her hand. Her other hand was left holding her mug of coffee, the gold wedding ring seemingly weighing a tons

An hour later, Y/N sees them as the cab she is in pulls up to the curb. Steve and a young brunette laughing and smiling as they walk out of the apartment building and it feels like Y/N is being stabbed in the chest. Ignoring the pain she's in, Y/N forces herself out of the cab, some sadistic part of her just needing to get out. The other woman sees her first, eyes widening. It takes a second for Steve to realize what had happened, the smile dropping from his face.

The three of them stand there for what feels like an eternity, Y/N still holding onto the cab door. Steve opens his mouth and closes it, not even knowing how to work his way around this. Y/N was seething, sadness quickly turning into rage. It was one thing for Steve to be sneaking around at night, for him to be hiding the fact that he was cheating. It was another thing entirely for him to be walking around with the other woman, not caring who saw.

Y/N knows that grief manifests itself in different ways, but this is straw that broke the camel's back. Steve had found a way to completely forget about their son and his wife, distracting himself with his stupid little grief circle and a young mistress. Y/N wants to scream at him and make a scene, but she just doesn't have it in her. Tears fill her eyes and as Steve moves to take a step forward, Y/N slips back into the cab, shutting the door behind her.

There's a chill in the air as she walks through the cemetery, wrapping her coat around herself a little tighter. It was freezing out and Y/N knows that she should've gone somewhere warm, but here she was. Her feet carried her where she needed to go, working on pure muscle memory. The hero comes to a stop in front of a small stone headstone.

Their therapist had told them that having a place to visit James would bring them comfort in a way. She had also said that burying him would ease some of the pain and help with the grieving process. Y/N didn't want to say that burying that tiny box filled with the dust they had gathered had only made her feel worse. Steve and Y/N had tried to visit as much as possible, even decorated his grave for each holiday, but then Steve stopped showing up.

There's a bouquet of wilting sunflowers in the little hole by his headstone, which she had left for James on Thanksgiving. They'd be replaced in a week or two by bright red poinsettias to signal the change of seasons and holidays. Another Christmas without her baby boy would turn into another year without him. Y/N's throat tightened as she realized that James has been gone longer than he was alive.

As she stood there, the cracks in their relationship became apparent. Y/N knew Steve wasn’t the perfect partner, but all of their big issues had been washed away by all of the good things. When they were dating, everything came before Y/N, which she understood at the time. Saving the world comes first and all that, but as she looks back on it, it wasn’t just saving the world. Others were just put in front of her and she had just chalked it up to Steve just being selfless. He’d miss dates and anniversaries, always giving her a half assed excuse and that thousand watt smile. Steve would always come apologize, holding a bunch of red roses. Each time, he’d look down at the flowers and say that he gotten her favorite flowers. She never had the heart to tell him that her favorite flower was peonies. When they were married, the search for Bucky always came first. Y/N hadn’t minded at the time because she knew how important Bucky was to Steve, but that mess quickly turned into the Accords.

Steve never told her that Bucky had killed Tony’s parents. Hell, he didn’t even really discuss choosing Bucky over the team with her. Steve had just assumed that Y/N was going to stick with him regardless and because Steve had assumed it, so did everyone else, so she was just forced to go along with it. She had been forced into a pair of restraints while Steve jetted off to Siberia with Bucky. Steve never asked if she even wanted to go on the run with him, once again he just sort of assumed. Y/N just fulfilled her role of the dutiful wife

When Y/N found out that she was pregnant, she wanted to take a plea deal like Scott and Clint did. A life on the run of was no life for a baby and Y/N knew it. She was on the brink of reaching out to Tony when she had told Steve that she was pregnant. The thought of her child having a normal life immediately disintegrated as Steve told her that they were going to make this work. The cracks just keep getting bigger and bigger, spreading further and deeper into their relationship. While she had originally thought there was just a few issues suddenly turned into dozens and dozens of red flags.

Time seems not to touch the cemetery, so she doesn't know how many minutes or hours have passed when someone walks up to stand beside her. Y/N knows who it is immediately, but she doesn't bother to greet him. Instead, her eyes just stay on the headstone and they stand in silence for awhile, Y/N slowly coming to terms with what she was going to have to do.

"I'm not doing this anymore, Steve." Y/N finally announces, forcing it through the emotion that currently strangling her. Her glove covered hands are shoved into her pockets, her wedding ring burning her flesh as she continues, "I want a divorce."

"Y/N, I-" Steve starts, his body turning towards her. Y/N simply shakes her head. She’s utterly exhausted and doesn’t have it in her to fight with him anymore. She feels like she’s aged three lifetimes in the past few years. Y/N loves the man beside her, she truly does, but she knows that she can’t just let this cycle of hurt continue. She couldn’t just forgive Steve and pretend like he hadn’t been cheating on her because there was just so many things wrong in their relationship. Their marriage was damaged beyond repair and Y/N couldn’t find it in herself to fix it. Somethings just don’t need to be fixed and somethings-well somethings shouldn’t be fixed at all.

"Don't. Not here." Y/N tells him cooly, not wanting to fight with him in the last place that is left untouched by their deteriorating relationship. Her eyes study the small Virgin Mary engraved on her son’s grave. They had so many choices of what to put on his headstone, but something had told her to choose Mary. A remnant of her Catholic upbringing, she had told herself at the time. Now she just hoped that the Virgin was watching after her son wherever he was.

“You can keep the apartment. I didn’t even want it. I-I’ll stay upstate with Nat.” She’s leaving no room for arguing, so Steve just nods in response, putting his hands in his pockets. Y/N wanted to tell him to leave, that there was no reason for him to be standing there with her, but James was still his son too, no matter how little he seemingly cared.

So the two of them stood in silence as the cold afternoon turned into an even colder evening in December, the sky darkening quickly. Lampposts flickered on in the cemetery, covering everything in dim, eerie glow. Their breaths came out in small clouds and their toes went numb in their shoes, but they continued to stand there, looking over their son until the sky tuned black above them.

#steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers

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pars-ley · 3 years

Text

Red thread of fate

Pairing: Vampire Seokjin x Female human reader

Rating: 18+ (NSFW)

Genre: Angst / Fluff / Smut / Fantasy au / Soulmates au / Vampire au /

Warnings: Mentions of blood / mentions of staking / oral f.recieving / foreplay with candle wax / bondage / blindfold / dead body / minor character death / self inflicted wound (not fatal and not a suicide attempt)

Summary: The red thread of fate leads you to your soulmate, when it's someone completely unexpected and completely against your upbringing, how will your family history impact on this match and will going against them come back to bite you.

Word count: 6668 (666 👀)

A/N: This is for my BTS writers group secret santa project for @crystaljins I messed up and it ended up being not so secret but I really hope you enjoy this! It’s a bit out of my comfort zone and even though it was stressful, I’ve enjoyed that challenge. Thank you for being so understanding too.

Beta read by @aroseforyoongi thank you for being a life saver! Thank you to @papillonsgf for your helpful advice, who else would I go to about old fashioned language use, you’re the queen. Last but not least @wheresmymoniat for her ENDLESS help and support! I will never be able to thank you enough.

Running along the beach at night with nothing but the moonlight illuminating your way, may be eerie to some but to you, something about the darkness brought you peace. It soothed your mind and silenced your thoughts.

You've been following this feeling for years, letting your feet lead you to the pulling sensation and yet never seeming to get anywhere closer to where it wants you to be.

You've ran across this beach almost every night for the past year, against the ingrained advice of your family, warning you about the demonic creatures that prey on the innocent, concealed under the blanket of night.

So far, the only thing you've come across, night after night, are the echoing sounds of despair, calling along the cool night breeze.

The noise frightened you at first but now, you grow curious about it. Where is it coming from? Who or what is it coming from? And why? What could fill someone with that must much distress, that they call out into nothing? Maybe, it's a cry for help. Who knows but you were determined to find out.

A shadow in the distance catches your eye, a silhouette, someone standing on the wet sand, the low tide pooling around their feet as they stare up at the full moon.

You slow your jogging to a walk, as to not alarm them, the sea lapping against the shore is the only sound you can hear tonight.

As you near, the person turns to you, a man with striking features and broad shoulders. He watches you bewildered as you close the distance between you. Your feet moving on their own, your body being pulled more forcefully than ever before.

Until you're here, in front of him. The one they all whisper about. Kim Seokjin. The town's resident vampire.

The many rumours of him insist he's lived here for more than 200 years, pacing the cliff edge each night, never changing and never aging. Most people laugh it off as nothing but myth but you knew different, you knew the rumours were true. And here you are faced with the man, the mystery, the legend himself. The legend who has slain every vampire hunter he’s come in contact with, another fact you were privy to know.

"It's nice to meet you Seokjin." You say confidently.

He smiles warily, an obvious glint of sadness in his eyes. "I see my reputation precedes me?"

"It does. But it's hard not to recognise the only vampire in town."

He laughs darkly. "Is that what they say?"

You watch him carefully, wondering what could be tormenting him so, a shroud of darkness covering him or keeping him hidden. "It is, but don't worry, I'm very good at keeping secrets."

"If you believe that, are you not afraid?" He turns to face you with a questioning brow and a menacing grin.

You shake your head. "No."

"And why not?" he asks, his face dropping back into a sorrowful mask as he returns his attention back to the inky sea before you.

You turn too, facing the view of the reflected moonlight shimmering across the water and shrug. "Something is telling me I shouldn't be, call me crazy but I can feel that you won't hurt me."

Glancing over, you see him staring down at your hand, wide eyed and open mouthed.

"What?" You ask, examining it suspiciously.

His mouth snaps shut, eyes darting back to yours as his face conceals all emotion.

"What are you doing out this late? Did no one tell you of the creatures of the night?" He teases a slight smirk curving his plump lips., so smooth, there’s not a single wrinkle creasing the skin.

You laugh. If only he knew, your family probably knew more than he did about the creatures in question. "I come along this beach every night."

He frowns. "Alone and in the dark...why?"

Will he think you're crazy if you tell him? No crazier than him being a vampire i suppose. "I'm searching for something."

He turns towards you, his body angled completely in your direction, capturing his full attention. "And what is that?"

You shrug, cheeks flushing but hoping the moonlight isn't enough to reveal your embarrassment. "I'm not sure."

He huffs a laugh out of his nose, the sounds of the air leaving his nostrils strong enough to be heard over the rolling tide. "You are a curious creature."

You raise an eyebrow at him, giving him a quizzical look and he laughs, a light now sparkling in his dark, guarded eyes.

"Touché. Would you care to walk with me?" He asks, stepping out of the surf and back onto the dry sand.

You nod, following the footprints he's already left behind as he heads off in front.

"You seem to know so much about me and I know nothing of you, apart from the fact you like moonlit walks on the beach every night." He looks sideways at you, waiting for you to elaborate.

"Ok, for every question you ask me, I get to ask you one in return."

His mouth stretches into a smile. "Fine but I start."

"Deal; but you have to be honest. No lying."

With a smirk he stops, gently taking your hand in his and bringing your fingers slowly up to his mouth, his eyes staring into you the entire time. "You have my word." He places a chaste kiss on the back of your hand and it's enough to make your heart hammer wildly in your chest. You wonder, embarrassingly, if he can hear it.

"Ok, what is your name?" He starts.

You tell him, leaving out your family name as it may raise more questions than necessary. A confrontation you're not quite read for.

"How long have you lived here?" You ask.

"Here on this earth, or here in this town?"

You smirk at his smart-ass response. "In this town?"

"Roughly, about two hundred and thirty years." He looks over at you, watching your expression carefully for reaction, all you can do is nod, keeping your face impassive. "What were you searching for on the beach?"

You grimace, knowing that question was coming but dreading it just the same. "I truly don't know...it sounds crazy…"

Shrugging, he says, "Try me."

Sighing you give in. "For years, as soon as I turned eighteen, things changed, something was pulling me, leading me. It led me to different countries around the world until eventually...back here. I feel like something's calling me but I have no idea what…" You watch him as he stares at the sand he steps on, a focused frown between his brows. When you get no response, you move on.

"Ok, how long have you lived on this earth?"

"Three hundred and seventy nine years."

He says it so matter-of-factly you mouth 'wow'.

"What countries did this feeling take you to?" He asks quickly, before you even have a chance to begin to process his last answer.

"Erm, France first, then Italy, Peru and lastly Finland. What do you eat?...or drink?"

He gives you a dark look and a mischievous grin stretches his mouth revealing his perfect white teeth. Are they sharp? "What do you think?"

"Don't answer a question with a question." You roll your eyes at him and he laughs, a low chuckle that feels like it vibrates your soul, warming you up from the inside.

"As you wish...I drink blood. Does that make you nervous?"

An involuntary swallow makes its way down your throat and your cheeks flush. "A little." You admit sheepishly. "Do you only drink from humans?"

"No, sometimes animals. Do you want children in the future?"

You choke on air at the strange turn in questioning, always feeling uncomfortable when kids are mentioned, always ready for the judgement your answer brings. "No, I'm not keen on them and they don't like me."

He laughs, the high pitched screech ringing out around you, bouncing off the cliff faces as you walk and you realise you’re smiling up at him in response.

"Do you kill the people you drink from?"

He reels at your abruptness but amusement sparkles in his eyes. "No, they go home unharmed and usually, do not remember a thing. Do you have a significant other?"

"No.” you ignore the tug of loneliness you feel at the reminder but try not to pause too long. “Is that one of your...gifts, you make people forget?"

He nods. "Of sorts. Have you ever been in love before?"

You feel hot under your shirt, the material suddenly too clingy and uncomfortable and the questions getting too personal but you can’t stop answering as you need to know more about him and you can’t explain why. "...no. Have you seen much of the world?"

"I have been to many places in my lifetime and seen many things, yes. Do you believe in love?"

You stumble slightly and his hand instantly wraps around your arm, steadying you with a firm and yet gentle grip. "Um, yes I do. Where's been your favourite places to visit?"

"I'm sensing you like to travel, hence the line of questioning. Well, most recently, I've been to France, Italy, Peru and Finland." He watches you from the corners of his eye and you frown, curious as to why, when his answer registers.

Your feet stop moving, they can't-won't move. You stare at his broad back before he slows and turns to you.

"When did you go there?" You ask into the heavy silence, no longer hearing the waves lap against the shore.

He looks out to sea, away from you. "I think you know the answer."

You did, but you had to hear him say it, you needed to hear the words. Your frozen form unmoving with wide, seeking eyes, your mind frantic as you try to make sense of this.

He sighs. "I left here three years ago and returned last year."

Your mind explodes with questions. How is this possible? And what does it mean?

"Let me ask this then, where is that feeling of yours pulling you now?" He asks, closing the distance between you and gently cupping your face. You find yourself leaning into it, his touch seeming to comfort your wild thoughts, if only for a moment before you remember he’s a stranger to you. You hear his question bounce around in your mind, realising alarmingly that you're not being pulled anywhere. You feel completely in control of yourself for the first time in a long time, completely at ease and at peace.

Your body feels lighter, your mind free of wondering.

Him. It couldn’t be...could it? If it is him...why?

He must see the question behind your eyes, he strokes his thumb across your wrinkled brow, smoothing the skin and forcing your muscles to relax.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of the red thread of fate?"

What do you do when you find your soulmate? The person, or vampire in your case, who is bound to you forever…

What could you do? No use fighting fate, you'll only end up being proven wrong.

You'd listened intently, when Seokjin had explained all about the red thread and told you many true stories of soulmates with both happy and tragic ends, until the sky was light and the sun was almost up and he had to retire back to his extraordinary house on the cliffs.

He had told you that vampires have sight for the thread, only attached to themselves and no one else but that they lack the ability to be able to follow it, unsure as to why, he insists it’s another way for vampires to be tortured.

You have a lot of information to process and want time alone to do so.

You lock yourself in your apartment the morning after meeting him. The one your soul is bound to. The one who will have your heart completely. Even as you think it, it feels odd. What are you having such a hard time with? If vampires are real, why not soulmates?

For days you keep yourself trapped inside, unable to keep your pacing legs still, as you incessantly wear a beaten pathway through the pile of your plush carpet.

The storm swirling in your mind, turning your thoughts into a twister of frenzied energy, you grapple with yourself in a constant battle to keep yourself grounded whilst also listening to your heart over your head.

This goes against everything you've been raised to believe. Vampires are predatory monsters, who crave on the pure and innocent to torture and outlive their perverted desires.

What would your parents say if they knew? You could envision a few choice words, at the very least but do you even care what their response would be? Definitely not. And yet, here you are, staring absentmindedly out of your window the view of the beach haunting you, possessing your mind with his face, his laugh, his voice. Your head feels torn, split in two, a crack right down the middle of your skull seeping out sanity as you cradle your head in your hands, a feeble attempt to keep it together.

Your clammy palms and racing heart cannot be calmed no matter what you try in the few torturous days you've spent inside. Something's not right, you feel it in your bones. That usual pulling feeling returns with vengeance, fighting the force on your vital organ makes you sick to your stomach.

You expected to welcome it with open arms, as you'd grown accustomed to it like an old friend, comforted by it sometimes but as you sit, wrapped in a blanket on your sofa, you feel frantic. A sheen of sweat dampens your brow, restless fidgeting of your feet and legs, an uncomfortable pit in your stomach, heavy as a rock. You can't resist any longer. You have to get out. You have to go to him. You swallow a harsh lump in the back of your throat, the need to scream rising with bile and you grab your coat, your legs leading you, running along the wobbly paths, taking you onto the beach and along the sea edge, back to the same place you stood a few nights ago.

When you see him standing in the distance once again, nothing but the moonlight on him, your legs gain power and charge you towards him. He is your only destination right now, the only end you seek, the only holy grail you desire.

His head snaps up to you as he begins to close the distance too. He's in front of you before you can blink, wrapping his arms tightly around your middle, clinging to your back in sheer desperation as you fling your arms around his neck and do the same. His relieved breath sounds in your ear As you feel all your stress and pain ease away, washing away with the tide that bleeds into your shoes and tickles your feet.

An overwhelming comfort encases you, emotion swelling in your chest and spilling from your eyes.

Trying to stay away from him had been a mistake, you realise, as you allow yourself to be drawn in and swallowed by him. No more resisting.

"The last few days have been unbearable." He whispers.

And with his words, you know, everything you feel, he feels too.

You unwind yourself from him, pulling back to witness his beauty and fathom his expression. His brows knit together tightly as his eyes mirror yours, searching for answers in the depths of glassy pools.

"I was terrified, after years of waiting for you that you would…" he trails off, mouth open but no words escaping.

"I would what?" You reply, stroking his tortured face, trying to ease some of his anguish.

"Cut the thread." He whispers pained, eyes looking away from yours and locked to the ground.

"How could you cut something you can't see?"

He sighs and presses his forehead to yours. "If you were sure in your mind that you wanted nothing to do with me and refused me, the thread would be severed."

You place your palms against his cheeks and bring his face up, forcing him to meet your eyes.

"These few days have been torture for me too. I thought I needed time to think things through and understand but now I see as clear as day, I need you, Seokjin. I need you like I need air."

The relieved smile that spreads across his face contradicts the desperation in his eyes as you find your lips against his, locked in a ravenous dance of love and lust. He pulls you against him, your body moulding to his perfectly, like two puzzle pieces designed to fit.

When he pulls away, you're dizzy and breathless, and yet, still craving more.

"Your lips make me wonder what the rest of you tastes like." He whispers against your mouth. Your throat contracts as you picture his teeth sinking into you, blood trickling down your neck as you're helpless to stop it and panic seizes your heart in a vice grip.

He sees the alarm in your eyes and laughs. "I was not referring to your blood, my love."

His seductive tone has your core pulsing with heavy need, an ache forming and residing there as your mouths meet again, entranced in a ravenous flutter of his pillowy lips against yours.

You want him. You need him. And he is yours for eternity, you can have him.

Night after night in his old, gothic mansion, exploring each others minds, souls and bodies, you are weightless with adoration and besotted by the way his mind works. His old fashioned language mesmerising as you listen each evening to his riveting stories and tales.

You laugh together under a blanket of firelight and warmth with soft, gentle touches across bare skin and fierce kisses trailing a heat you've never felt. And when the sun comes up and the curtains are drawn to keep the daylight at bay, the exploration continues, physically this time, your bodies forming together as one. Touches become hungry and desperate the further you delve into the never ending pit of pleasure. He worships every inch of you, hardly letting you catch your breath before his cool skin is against yours, enveloping you entirely in a euphoric haze you don't ever want to escape from.

"Do you trust me?" He says quietly, breath fanning out over your face.

You nod.

"I need words, darling." He strokes a thumb across your bottom lip and tugs it from between your teeth.

"Yes." You reply, louder than you expect.

"Alright, alright, we are not in the military, calm down."

You can hear the smirk in his voice as you slap him playfully on what you assume is his chest.

He adjusts the black blindfold that covers your eyes, moving it down slightly to completely conceal your vision.

"Are you comfortable?" He asks in your ear as he checks your rope bondaged arms, tight enough to pinch but not enough discomfort for you to refuse them.

"Yes." You arch your back, pushing your crotch forward, impatient and begging to be touched, the action causing your wrists to pull tight on the rope binding you to the ceiling.

His mouth is on your thigh instantly and it makes you gasp as he leaves light, wet kisses in a teasing trail straight to your core.

"If you want me to stop at any point, you will tell me, yes?" He whispers against your clothed sex, the hot air of his breath making you buck your hips towards him, hoping to find some friction but to no avail.

"So eager." He tuts at you, you might not be able to see but you can imagine the triumphant look on his face.

He hooks a finger inside your underwear, pulling them aside before his mouth is on you.

Your moan fills the room, bouncing off the cold, stone walls of his old house.

The way he offers up pleasure like a man possessed, his lurid moans only making your need for him grow tenfold. As you writhe before him, desperate for release but also for it not to be over so soon, he holds you firmly at your sides.

The wet sounds his mouth makes fill the otherwise silent room. His name falls from your lips repeatedly, and when you feel the sweet build up begin he slips a finger gently inside you. You gasp, surprised as he beckons your orgasm with his perfectly crooked finger, each movement coaxing it further to the edge. As his tongue moves faster than possible, the sensation breath-taking, you hang off of the woven ropes, your suspended arms making your breaths harder and your head giddy.

"Let go, my love." He whispers against you and at his words you obey, unravelling around him, pleasure pulsating through you with every pound of your heart, just for him. Every arch of your back, every curl of your toes, for him.

You feel his teeth graze your inner thigh, knowing the temptation he feels to sink them into you and taste but his refusal to do it overpowers every time.

He crawls up your body and places his face against your chest, as your hammering heart calms back to its regular beat.

"Does listening to my heart not make you thirsty?" You wonder, wishing you could see his face.

"A little but the more I listen, the more familiar I'll be with it."

"And that means there's less risk of you biting me?"

He makes a disgusted noise in his throat. "There is no risk of that anyway, I am not an infant vampire, I can control myself, especially with you." He pauses and you hear him sigh. "No, it just means that I will be more attuned to the sound of your heart. So if I lose you in a crowded place, say, I can use it to find you."

Call it naivety, or simply your rebellion against your parents and your refusal to listen to their advice or warnings, but you're still shocked that vampire senses are that impressive.

Your thoughts shatter as his wandering hands and mouth snap you back into the present, deep, hungry need rising fast from the sated pit inside you, once again. He removes your blindfold, pulling the tie with one hand, whilst the other still roams your body. He pulls away, only to remove his shirt and reveal his impressive, broad frame. His bare skin, glowing in the flicker of candle light as he fetches a burning wick and brings it over to your still bound frame.

“Have you ever felt the heat of candle wax?” He asks, his voice smooth as silk and turning your insides to jelly. You shake your head, entranced by the way he’s watching you, like you hold all the answers to life’s questions, like you are his own personal sun chasing away the darkness he stresses is residing in his hell bound soul.

“Would you like to?”

You nod. Words seeming to have escaped and rendering you incapable.

He brings the candle close to your breasts, his eyes meet yours, you see the heat blazing and baring towards you, sweeping you up as it goes and carrying you to breathless want.

He tilts the wick and as the pooled wax tips over the edge and lands on the skin on the swell of your breasts you gasp. The burn sharp and sudden but as it cools and turns hard the pleasure makes you throb for more. He obliges, hot wax searing and hardening in some of your most sensitive areas and when you think you can’t cope with not having him inside you, he obliges that too.

Always the gentleman, he clasps your hand in his on your annual evening walk, his thumb tracing loving circles on your skin. His eyes wandering to your face, not interested in the picturesque views around you.

"Tell me what you're thinking?" He asks quietly, his voice slicing through the silence like a sharpened blade.

Him. You're always thinking about him. When you're about to be forthcoming with that, you feel him stop moving, eyes far away and scouring the trees that surround you in this woodland. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end in a piercing stance as you too can feel the eyes on you, unsure of their purpose or whereabouts.

“Let us go home. Quickly.” He announces, pulling you close to him as you turn and back track the way you came, searching frantically for the opening where the moonlight can illuminate your path and any predators who may be lurking.

Who would dare prey on a vampire, that is faster and stronger than average? You knew but you were desperately hoping you were wrong.

Your feet struggle to keep up with his pace, him almost lifting you off the ground. His eyes tense and his jaw set as he remains solely focused on your route to safety. Before long you see the opening of the trees parting and just as you pass through them and take off down the hill back to his home, you glance behind you.

A shadowy figure emerges from the trees, still cloaked in darkness from the overhang of the leafy branches and your heart leaps into your throat at the sight, knowing you were being watched and followed. You can’t take your eyes off the unmoving silhouette as you know his stare follows you down the hill, burning holes into the both of you. When you find yourself wondering who could be interested in the both of you, the figure turns and walks back into the woods. Your body goes cold, blood turning to ice in your veins as your heart stills before hammering wildly against your ribs...as you watch the figure limping back into darkness. The same limp your father is plagued by.

Jin’s eyes are on your face before glancing quickly at the place your gaze is frozen to, hoping...praying that you imagined that.

You can’t bring yourself to meet his worried stare the whole way home, as he cradles you into his chest, surrounding you with his warmth, it is not enough to thaw the ice inside you or calm the frantic beat of your heart. And as his comforting arm wraps tightly around you, pinning you to him, you cling to it desperately as if you'll be able to keep him safe just by the action. If you hold him tight enough you won't lose him. If only that were true. You know more than anyone, the determination of your father, if he wants him dead, he will stop at nothing to get what he wants.

You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling like barbed wire as it travels down slow and sharp. Images of your perfect Jin, wide-eyed, cold and expressionless as he lay on the floor in front of you, your father towering over him, smiling, that same sickly smile that makes your stomach churn.

You must protect Jin at all costs. You can't let anyone else, human or creature, die at the hands of your family.

Jin's library is something else. Sitting in his ornate armchair, running your hands along the smooth metal arm rests, your fingers following the intricate designs that are carved, you relax into the feather cushions.

While he was out hunting, you came to do some exploring, knowing you had a couple of hours while he was out. After pleading with him to be careful, keep his wits about him and expect the unexpected you had eventually stopped clinging onto him and let him leave the safety of your embrace. He'd showered you with kisses and whispered sweet nothings until it soothed you. You decide best to stay busy while he's gone, as to not drive yourself insane.

He had mentioned before of books written about true life accounts of vampires and other creatures and you couldn't help but wonder if your family would get a mention in their historical tales.

How wrong you were.

You gently finger the delicate, worn pages, turning through the chapter dedicated to your heritage. All thirty four pages of your family history. Paintings of each member, personal information to use against them and even a mention of when you were born.

The pages quiver in your trembling fingertips as you stare at your parents names and their sketched faces, posed as if for a wanted poster.

You read the printed words about their escapades. Having learnt about each one yourself, been subject to their bragging sitting behind your desk while they tried to teach you their hate for all things mystical, hearing words like abomination, unnatural, wrong, despicable; all to describe anything different from themselves. You'd never had it in you, the ability to hate anything that much, that you could harm it. And after years of abuse when they realised your mind was nothing like theirs, when they realised you wouldn't carry on their traditions of hunting and murdering they locked you up and tried to teach you that way. Only for it to backfire, your disdain for them growing to an immeasurable amount causing them to disown you. Since then, at the age of 18, you'd gotten as far away from them as you could. Now knowing you followed your heart around the world and back, chasing him.

"My love, what's wrong?" Jin's voice sounds into your chaotic thoughts, slicing through them and freezing them in their tracks.

You look down at your still shaking hands and feel the wet trails drift down your cheeks, warm pent up emotion leaking out and dripping onto your shirt.

He’s at your side, brushing the tears off your face, his face following your eyes to see what has you so alarmed.

“Why are you reading about this?” he takes your hands gently from the pages and pulls you to him, enveloping you in his arms and kissing your hair. “Don’t worry, those stories are from years ago, most vampire hunters have given up and returned to hiding in their shadows.”

The soothing strokes of his hand up and down your back calm you somewhat, but you shouldn’t be calmed, you need to be honest with him. The truth will come out, it’s better that it comes from you.

You gently push away and steel yourself, bracing yourself for every possible reaction, he watches you bewildered.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He stretches a hand out and you know if you take it you’ll crumble, losing your courage to explain who you truly are.

“I have something to tell you.” you sigh looking at the floor, ashamed of the words you’re about to say. “I’ve not been entirely honest.”

He steps forward, hooking a finger under your chin and tilting your face up to meet his confused gaze. “You can tell me anything, dearest, you know that.”

You swallow the lump that forms in your throat and try to ignore your heart pounding in your ears, making it hard for you to focus on anything else but the incessant thrumming.

“Jin, I—” The sound of glass shattering in the distance cuts you off from your confession. Both your heads snap up towards the doorway, you take a tentative step forward but his arm comes out in front, halting your feet firmly where they are.

“No, I’ll go, it’s probably just the wind knocking over a vase, we wouldn’t want you to cut yourself now, would we?” he offers you a weak smile and exits the room, leaving nothing but a breath of a breeze in his wake.

Of course, if you’re bleeding he might find that too difficult to resist and he’s expressed time after time how much he detests the idea of drinking your blood.

Your eyes drift back towards the book. The image in front of you, your fathers wrath twisting his face into that ugly mask you know so well, only it’s not a mask at all. His true self reveals in the moments of his most despicable actions. He towers over a woman, a female vampire, the terror in her eyes as she’s staked through the heart.

You turn the page quickly, unable to look at it any longer. Your heart aches for her, for all those killed in your family’s name. Now you’re met with your family tree, pictures of members you know and some you don’t, all inked in these pages. Some names had gaping holes, almost as if they’ve been burnt from the book, the edges dark and withered. You lean in and touch, feeling the way the page has stiffened along the uneven brim.

The sound of a scream cuts into the silence, echoing up the halls to you, your head snaps up before feeling uncomfortable heat on your fingers, you glance down and see the page on fire. You snatch your hand away and watch as your fathers face disintegrates before your eyes, the paper peeling off into ashes and floating in the air around you. The fire fizzles out, leaving a hole identical to the others on the page. You frown wondering why the entire book didn’t go up in flames and why these faces have been burnt from the book. As your mind whirls you hear a grunt in the distance, realising you’ve been side tracked you rush out and run along the corridor and along the stairs, eye scanning your surroundings until you find him.

He leans into the table in the dining hall, hunched over. You rush to his side only to be stopped in your tracks by the dead body that stares back at you. The same twisted angry face, even in death; your father. Older and fatter as you last saw him and somehow still managing to look at you with such disgust even with his cold lifeless eyes. But as you stand here, staring at his demise, the part of you that you thought would grieve when you knew this moment had come greets you with silence. She is as still as you are. The only thing you feel is relief, to never see him or be frightened of him again. You tear your eyes away, part of you still apprehensive that he won’t rise up and attack, that it won’t be the end. But it is.

You touch Jin lightly on the shoulder. “What happened?” you ask to his back.

He turns slowly, supporting himself with the polished wooden surface of the expensive antique. That’s when you see it. The stake, protruding from his side, red darkening the white shirt into an alarming pattern.

Your heart sinks, falls to the pits of despair as hope leaves you, floating away out of your grasp. This can’t be it. You’ve only just found him, you can’t lose him now, not when you’re finally free of your past.

“No. No, no, no. You can’t leave me.” you help him as he sinks to the floor, cradling his face in your hands, desperation seeking his eyes for a positive solution.

“I’m afraid I have to, my love.” His mouth twists in pain as he speaks as his hands rip the stake out of his side. He pushes against it, trying to stem the blood seeping out.

“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, this is my fault. I should have told you who I was.” you say as tears run freely down your face, anguish twisting your heart into a suffocating and painful embrace.

He gives you a strained smile. “Dearest, I already knew.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. “How?”

“I can read you so well, you’re always so guarded about your family, all it took...was a flick through a few books...for me to figure it out.” He shifts, trying to ease the pain and you place your palms over his wound, your pathetic attempt at stopping the inevitable. “What I can’t understand...is why you wouldn’t tell me? There’s nothing you could do...that could stop me loving you, especially not something so little as...your family name.” he speaks in between breaths, his words filling your heart to the brim with devotion.

“Please, don’t leave me.” You beg, knowing it’s in fate's hands now.

“I don’t want to, my love.” he lifts a trembling hand to your face, cupping it as you touch your forehead to his.

If only you were not so extraordinarily ordinary, if only you had some power of your own, you could save him, instead of sitting here helpless. If only you had something that could save him. You look down once again at his wound, a blanket of hopelessness weighing you down, the dark red trickling down into a pool on his varnished floor, growing in size by the minute.

Blood. BLOOD! You have blood. It might not heal him completely but it’s bound to help!

You stand, looking wildly for anything that could help you slice your skin.

“Darling, what are you doing? Come back to me?” he says weakly.

You spot the letter opener on the table on the far side of the room, the sharp metal glinting in the light. You race over, grabbing it and returning to him.

“What are you doing with that?” He asks, eyes full of terror. “You have to live, I will find you again in our next life, but you have to live out this one otherwise your soul will—”

You put a finger to his lips silencing him. “If you drink my blood, will it heal you?”

He looks at the blade poised above your wrist and back at your face. “I cannot, I will not drink from you.”

Your frantic mind screams inside, torment making you impatient and wild, heartbreak making you willing to try anything. “Seokjin, I swear, if you do not try to survive, I will bring you soul back from the pit of hell myself.”

He lets out a weak laugh. “As you wish, but promise me, if I can not stop drinking, you have to do whatever is necessary to survive?”

You nod as you slice across your wrist, watching the blood seep out of the opening, you hear his sharp intake of breath as you hold your arm to his mouth. His lips quickly encase you and he sucks, he takes your blood until he’s on his knees cradling your arm, devouring you like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. His own personal banquet.

“Jin, enough now, you have to stop.” you say, sounding surprisingly weak.

He doesn’t respond, just carries on swallowing the life from you.

“Jin, enough.” you tap him weakly.

At your touch he pries himself off of you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, are you ok?” His panicked eyes search yours.

You nod. “That was a close one.”

He grimaces and slides an arm under your legs and the other around your back and lifts you, carrying you away from your fathers dead body, away from the blood, away from all of it.

Relief swarms you, heart fit to burst as you watch his handsome face, the colour returned, the life and mischief that sparkle in his eyes and bury your face into his neck, planting small kisses against his skin. “Thank you.” He says to you. “You saved me.”

You smile. He’s ok, he’s with you, you’re both safe. “How could I not? You would have done the same.”

“I would rather die with you, than live an eternity without you.”

You smile against his throat, his words flutter your insides. “Well, there’s only one way to make sure we spend eternity together.”

He looks down at you, searching your eyes. You’re not sure what he finds but whatever it is leads him to respond. “That’s a conversation for another night.”

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fanficsandfluff · 3 years

Text

The Snyder Cut: Headcanons (mostly of the tickly nature)

Bruce Wayne (Batman) ~ Batfleck, my love

He’s such a lover boy, and I can say that though I don’t exactly know how to explain what I mean. You just gotta understand.

He cares so strongly about EVERYONE. e v e r y o n e. Alfred, fucking loves the guy, jokes with him. The fucking “This is Alfred, I work for him.” MY MAN, STOP!

I think he just really wants to get along with everyone and wants everyone to get along in general.

But he lowkey crushes on Diana (at least in his mind, he’s keeping it lowkey, but we all see what’s happening)

I love the idea of this big hunk of a man getting soft with someone like Diana.

She makes him genuinely laugh this one time by saying something funny, and then they’re both laughing together.

Bruce definitely has one of those laughs where he throws his head back and shit and you can see his like Adam’s apple bobbing and everything.

But that’s if he’s really laughing.

And he has loud “HA”’s that are like really short but loud and then he kinda just snickers to himself for a while, holding his stomach.

And dude, the scene in freaking uhh… i think it’s BvS I’m not 100% (maybe i fucking imagined it who knows) where she like comes over to him and is fixing his wound….. tickle scenario hand picked from the gods right there

I can see a whole, “Woah!” from Bruce when Diana traces her fingers on some sensitive skin. And that Gal Godot smile is on her in an INSTANT.

Bruce will laugh if he’s with the right person. Like I headcanon that if he’s being tickled, he will laugh if it’s done by Diana or Barry, then like he’ll be forced to laugh if it’s Clark bc he overpowers the poor bat, but then he just has these hilarious bouts of angry growls and chuckles if Arthur is going after him.

I can’t even write about Batfleck being a ler because I will literally explode, so I’m done here

(((((butseriouslyifanyonewantstotalklerbatfleckwithmehmuplz)))))

Diana Prince (Wonder Woman)

I know the GIF isn’t from ZSJL but just let me live, ok? (Also I couldn’t find the one of Gal wiggling her fingers YOU KNOW THE ONE I’M TALKING ABOUT)

First off, Gal is the most horrible queen of giggles. I’ve seen those blooper reels. My god, girl, how do you keep getting hired?

SHE HAS SUCH A BIG SMILE IT’S LIKE THE ROCK IDK HOW THEIR TEETH AND MOUTH GET SO WIDE LOOKING

Diana will start tickle fights without a doubt.

She’s already very trustful and I also feel pretty handsy with people, especially those she may feel close to. So if she’s playful, you best watch out.

Her favorite targets are Bruce and Barry. I will not take criticism. Diana attacking Barry and reducing him to panicky shrieky laughs is my #1 thought. It’s not even living rent free, I’m commissioning it to be there.

Diana is one to laugh with her victims. She will wreck them and have a great time doing so.

She’ll be ticklish if she wants to be, but it isn’t often she gets pinned and tickled or anything like that.

The guys try to stay away from her or not go after her with tickles for fear of retaliation.

AQUAMAN, CYBORG, SUPERMAN, AND THE FLASH UNDER THE CUT

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

So…. my man isn’t really ticklish. I really don’t think he is, I feel like his Atlantean genes make his skin a special kind of hard, if that makes sense?

THAT BEING SAID ARTHUR IS THE BIGGEST LER OMGGG

He’ll try and act all cool and ‘whatever’ around the League cuz that’s kind of his persona.

But he slowly gets to like them more and more and his playful side starts to come out.

He’ll tickle Barry out of pure annoyance. Like if Barry makes any kind of comment, he’ll just point his finger out and get that glint in his eye and Barry is sprinting for the hills.

Here’s my favorite headcanon: Arthur will tickle Bruce because he knows it pisses him off when he does it. Bruce will fight back and keep Arthur in his sights at all time and curse and growl at him. And Arthur thinks it’s hilarious.

Arthur as a ler will taunt and tease until the cows come home

“Huh, big guy? What’s that? Ahawww that’s what I thought!... Not so fast/tough/etc. now!... I will wreck you.”

Victor Stone (Cyborg)

Unfortunately… not ticklish. :(

But this boy has the sweetest laugh you will ever hear, and I will die on that hill.

Now that he has friends (superpowered friends, no less), he can slowly come alive and be himself.

I can see Victor not getting involved in tickle fights at first, but at a certain point he’ll be all like, “Okay, step aside so we can do this right” and just PIN THE SHIT OUT OF WHOEVER IS BEING TICKLED. His extra robot arms are killer!

Okay, when he laughs for the first time in front of the group, there’s that cliche moment of pause where everything stops and everyone just stares and listens to him. It’s so rare to hear him laugh because the poor kid barely even smiled around them in the beginning.

He SMIRKS

Now hear me out on this…

Okay, so half a face. Great. Weird. We love it. But you can see all of mischievous Victor when the guy SMIRKS. You see his eye squint and you can swear his robot eye gets a gleam of a different color.

Wait honestly as I was writing that, the thought of Victor’s eye and like his apparatus changing color based on his mood is golden.

Me sitting here, lowkey wishing Victor’s robot body had some kind of cuddly mode like Baymax lmfaoooo

Like the defense mode his body went into when he was around resurrected Supes, but for cuddles and being cute.

Clark Kent (Superman)

I was debating even including any headcanons for Superman bc I don’t care about him much, honestly.

I am v happy they kept in the whole ‘him staring at Flash through the speed storm’ scene bc I laughed so hard at that the first time i saw Josstice League in the theater.

Also I didn’t really like the black superman costume??? I’m not a comic buff, so I’m assuming that’s why. I am like the one person who missed the color from the Josstice League cut. Don’t miss the stupid red sky in the finale, but I miss every other ounce of color that was just SUCKED right out of the Snyder Cut.

Clark and Bruce are besties now, I don’t make the rules. Bruce bought the man his house back. By buying the bank. He’ll take care of him.

And I’ve always simped for those two ever since BvS, bc I’ve already written like two fics where they tickle each other.

Clark overpowering Bruce to tickle the shit out of him makes me so happy lol. Big strong boy Batfleck looking thiccc over here… but put him against Superman and he’s donezo. Because as mentioned earlier, I do think Bruce is pretty ticklish.

But Clark can have his lee side when he’s feeling nice

He’s got that mighty chuckle, almost like how Thor might laugh.

And he really likes getting involved in tickle fights with the League. He knows all of them are sorta afraid of him on the daily anyway, but have that power added to a tickle fight and it’s fun as hell.

He’s gotten taken down by them ONCE. And I mean exactly (1) O N C E.

They all teamed up. Bing, bang, boom. Pinned him to the floor and they each took an area of skin and fucking SQUEEZED AND WIGGLED. They were trying to incapacitate him as quickly as possible. And dangummit, he laughed a lot! Like Clark realized just how ticklish he could feel if he wanted to feel it.

And don’t even get me started on Lois, he’s big on getting her to giggle and she likes toying with him and running her hands all over his body (bc who wouldn’t?)

Barry Allen (The Flash)

I waited to write about Barry last because I have so much to say about this character....

and then I fell asleep and waited until the next day to write anything down about him so now I’m totally not in the mood and I forgot all the salient points I was planning on making.

fuck you, michelle.

I got a weird relationship with this character. He was mad annoying in the Josstice League. Thank goodness they trimmed his bad jokes down.

But now....

when he got hurt at the end and he was like crying and shit oh my god I wanted to hug him

His character got so... good

And I’m now at the right age where I can think about myself in a relationship with this character with no changes or shame

We both out here trying to find that one good job after college and everything

BARRY JUST WANTS FRIENDS, GUYS

HE’S THAT CUTE

And then he got this whole found family schtick with the Justice League!!! Lookit him!!! Thriving!

He has total little brother energy

like, pesky little brother. Bothers everyone, looks over people’s shoulders while they’re deep in thought or concentrating on something.

Asks a lot of questions.

All the more reason for the gang to want to tickle the shit out of him.

Barry just reads like a super ticklish lee. Like his whole character.

Maybe touch starved because he said he needed friends, and I don’t think he has siblings??? (sorry if i’m wrong about that, comic fans)

I already named some of my fav headcanons about him getting tickled by like Diana and such, and I’m sticking with it.

Barry does flee. He runs away with super speed.... but sometimes he just kinda wants the tickles so he lets them have at him.

The chase is all part of the fun with tickling Barry, though. That’s what makes it so entertaining. And Barry isn’t afraid to be a little shit about it either. He will super-speed around his pursuers and poke their sides and tickle them back really quickly before they even know what’s happening.

Barry doesn’t exactly hold back his laughter lol. He’ll protest and scream and squirm like crazy, but once he’s actually tickled, he loses it.

Pure boy. With funny ass facial expressions.

And it really doesn’t help that I never realized just how hot Ezra Miller is, even though I heard he’s not a great person irl. Oh well.

THAT’S ALL FOLKS!

Please please let me know if y’all have things to add, to squee over, to question me about... please. anything. i’m here for you. thanks for reading, guys!

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

Pt.32 A Hulk’s Smashing Consequences (Pt.2)

06/26/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,568

Warnings: violence, blood, pregnancy, labor, seriously...lots of violence

A/N: I’ll let this one speak for itself. Enjoy! xoxo If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work!

“Oh…” You whimper, afraid to move as you try to assess the state of your body.

“Why Queen Flowers pee?” Hulk demands, standing up and pointing at your feet.

“I-I think my waters have broken.” You whisper, straining to feel the pain that you were told would come but nothing.

“Baby come now?!” Hulk asks, his voice a little higher than it was before.

You realize he’s nervous and look up to meet his eyes. He’s shifting from one large foot to the other, hands clenched into fists as he stares at the small puddle at your feet while his movements shake the room.

Watching him chew on his large lower lip looks strange considering the barbaric look of him.

“I think so.” You nod, getting a hold of yourself to keep the massive Hulk at ease. “Hulk?”

He turns frenzied and surprisingly understanding eyes on you. He’s definitely not stupid. You weren’t sure how much of Doctor Banner’s intellect transferred over.

One thing you can see in his eyes…a sweetness you hadn’t know you would find there. Fear of what’s to come, but true concern for you in this situation.

“All I need is to change into a simpler dress.” You’re still in your evening dinner gown. Heavy thick white fabric with golden thread embroidered along every surface in a carefully patterned damask design. “And then I’ll lay down, and we’ll wait. Grandmother will be back soon and-”

Oh, no…Grandmother…

Whatever expression your face takes—fear and panic probably from the way you’re feeling—makes hulk thump towards you, stopping two feet away.

“What wrong?” He worries, voice still higher than normal as his nerves get the better of him.

“How is she going to get back into the castle?” You wonder aloud. “She’s…she went into the village to fetch supplies for when I give birth and…and now I’m giving birth and she’s not here and with all the fighting there’s no way she can get back into the castle! Hulk…”

Oh yeah, panic most definitely begins to set in. You shift closer to your bed and carefully sit yourself down as your breathing speeds up. You can feel the wet from your underdress and it’s slightly uncomfortable but nothing you care to notice now.

“Queen Flower no worry. Hulk go get witch lady.” He promises then moves for the door. “Hulk be right back.”

“No wait, Hulk don’t-!” But he’s already gone, barreling through the castle making the ceiling rain dust. “Don’t leave me alone…”

Your whimper fades into silence as your panic begins to steal your resolve to face this night with courage.

Still you feel no pain yet and you relax a little though your mind is attuned to your body more than it ever has been before. When the time comes, you’ll feel it, won’t you? You’ll know when it’s really time?

“It’s too soon.” You cry, not realizing that tears have begun to trail along your cheeks. “You’re too soon.”

Caressing your bump, you sit there for a long time. You hear Hulk’s words again, his assurance and his calling Grandmother a witch which is nothing new—most of the village folk in Bright Rise had called her so—but it’s strange to hear it tumble from Hulk’s lips as if it were true.

Other worries cross your mind. Worries that you’d spoken to Steve about in the quiet hours of cold naked mornings spent with him in bed. Whispered concerns about the possibilities of giving birth. Things that could happen. Might happen. Things that you try not to dwell on right now when Hydra is attacking the castle.

You can feel the rumbles of what feels like castle walls being smashed. Strange sputterings of whizzing magic like that of Father’s energy that propels him through the sky. You hear that strange buzzing of the red magics you’d seen through the window.

There’s thunder and you’re glad that Thor is out there to help. His power is great, and you feel better with him helping in the fight.

It’s endless, their fighting. Although you can’t see it, hearing it you could almost imagine the carnage. The blood and the sweat of your loved ones, trying to protect you. Time too feels endless. Like the night is stretching out forever and only when the sky begins to shift from black tar to starlit indigo do you realize how much time has passed.

Hulk, where are you?

When you can’t stand the waiting any longer you get up and double over as your back splits with pain.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath as you feel the shift in your belly and finally the pain begins to show.

You push through the first wave and move to the large wardrobe where you know you’ll find your clothes. It’s laid out for you at the very front, a long and white nightdress, soft linen with a ruffled and rounded neckline.

It takes what feels like forever to get the cords around your waist undone. Your skirt falls. You unclasp the bodice and let that fall away too.

Your corset is the hardest. You strain to reach the strings that hold you together and as each pull through a loop loosens its grip, you feel a wave of relief to your back.

Stopping to relish in the ability to breathe deep, you stand there, eyes shut.

As another wave of pressure hits your lower back, you grit your teeth as the pain escalates a little more and your hands are temporarily clenched into fists and immobilized to removing your clothes.

You’re almost yelling in silence, mouth open as you struggle through the pain that forces you to stoop over and cling to the door of your wardrobe.

Only after it passes do you remember that Grandmother had told you to count the seconds of your pains, but you’re so wrapped up in it, your mind has only one mission: Endure.

With shaking hands, you manage to pull away from your clothes and stand naked in your room just as the pressure builds again.

“F-five…” You say to yourself, trying to remember that it has only been five minutes is your best guess.

You can’t concentrate enough to count in your head and focus on those sweet and worrying conversations with Steve about this very moment that you’re now living.

As this pain subsides, you breathe out one shaky breath before you concentrate on moving your arms and pulling your birthing dress on.

You feel a little better in clean clothing and waddle as best you can to your bed but reach the post at the foot before you’re seized by another pain. This one is sooner.

“Four…” You guess. “Ahhh…”

You groan with agony as the pressure rips through you once more. Your hand finds and fists the heavy curtains of the canopy on your bed. The strain pulls against the post and you hear a subtle creak as you rely on it with all your might.

The pain is fading when you find your voice again, and you whimper a tearless sob as you wait for your legs to be strong again.

“Steve…” You call for him, knowing he cannot come.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve crashes painfully with a cart covered in hay. It falls to pieces around him as his body does its damage.

“Ugh…” He groans before shaking his head once to rid himself of the daze and gets to his feet.

He turns to look at his opponent, Rumlow wearing a strange black metal armor. Over his helmet is painted what looks to be a smudged white skull. He can see Rumlow’s dark angry eyes surrounded by charred flesh. A result of the attack on Bright Rise, Steve would guess.

“I didn’t do that to you, which I am most grieved about.” Steve admits to him, rubbing salt in his wounds.

“You die today.” Rumlow promises. “As does that peasant slut you call a Queen.”

Steve’s blood boils and he sees nothing but Rumlow and the death he will gladly dispense.

“You first.”

In his peripheral, though he does not focus on it, he can see a streak of silver blur behind Rumlow across to a group of Hydra guard attacking the Scarlet Witch. She manages to fend them off however and waves her brother along who runs to a lithe figure in black with bright red hair. Natasha leaps onto the shoulders of a guard, twists her hips and brings him to the ground before she unsheathes the daggers along her thighs and throws them at two more guards that had been approaching from behind. The bodies are sent reeling back with the force of her throw, blades in skulls.

Just as the bodies hit the ground, a dark metallic arm reaches down and retrieves a dagger, and sickening squelch as the blade slides through brain and bone. Dressed in a worn but tough navy leather tunic with dark metal armor welded into the fabric to protect his most vital areas, Bucky tosses her dagger back to her before allowing the momentum of his throw to turn him around and catch a leaping guard by the throat. He slams him into the ground with a deep and guttural growl.

Another leaps onto his back and he reaches back, dark hair flying in the scuffle as he grunts and throws the attacker over his head.

The attacker flies through the air and topples into a grouping of five others that suddenly explode back up into the air and in their place is Scott getting larger by the moment. He grows and grows until he’s as tall as the Southern tower and he stomps his way towards the now crumbling and smoking castle gate shaking the ground as he goes. A few of the Hydra guard attack his large feet—a weak attempt considering they cannot even penetrate the thickened hide of his boot—but Scott ignores them and reaches for his target. He grips the flaming battering ram with one hand, lifts it, and with a squeeze of his fist he crushes it easily. As he drops the splintered wood and broken metal to the ground, he finally notices the guard at his feet.

They run, but Scott’s grip is large, and he takes a handful of them before throwing them over his shoulder.

Their bodies soar through the sky, past the Southern tower where Clint nocks an arrow and sends it flying to strike the flying targets. One, two, three bodies shot down, one after the other as the fly past the tower. He misses one and it nearly soars through an open window when Hope appears almost out of thin air to punch the guard. She disappears but the guard is knocked up into the air and then back down to the ground where he falls in a crumpled heap as Hope reappears over his body only to disappear again into the mass of black that pools around a stooped form that seems to be getting overwhelmed with the amount of bodies being piled on top.

There’s a subtle rumble from the sky before it cracks open and lightning rains down to strike the center of the pile just as Thor’s booming battle cry fills the air and those touching him fall down to the ground as the lightning burns them from within.

Thor’s arm is thrust into the air as he pushes up from the ground and flies up only six feet, lightning connecting with his hammer and sizzling with charge as he moves upwards and it follows him back down as falls and slams his hammer down onto the ground sending more Hydra guard up into the air.

They are caught by a streak of red and gold as the Iron Man flies by along with another streak of white and black steel. They throw the guards they’ve caught at each other to collide painfully, before Iron Man catches two more and sends them zooming towards the castle with a blast from his hand.

A shining gleam of silver cuts through the sky as two large wings slice into one of the guards then catches the second. Samuel holds onto the struggling form until they’re nearly at the peak of the tower then he releases the body and dives back down into the fray with an impressive sweeping wind.

The body nearly hits the stone of the parapet when a distinctive whip fills the air and web is wrapped around the body’s waist and swung up into the air and released. The Spider-Man, in a bright blue and red tunic with trousers to match, swings forward as Steve goes flying back once more, a small puff of smoke left where he’d been standing.

As Steve lands, the Spider-Man plants himself behind him and catches him, helping him stand before pulling Steve’s shield off his back.

“Lose something?” He asks, tossing it to Steve.

“Thank you.” Steve says, nodding at Peter before he shakes his head. “Why are you still down here? You’re supposed to be with her Majesty.”

“Hulk is with her.” Peter assures him.

“Hulk?!” Steve gasps, ducking as a guard dives towards him. He swings up with his shield and knocks him out.

“I got sidetracked. There are so many of them.” Peter gasps, jumping easily over a knocked-out guard that rolls by his feet.

“Well, at least I know she’s safe.” Steve sighs, turning back to Rumlow who is busy fighting a few of Tony’s own personal guards while Steve recovers quickly.

“GUHRAWRRHGGG!”

The animal-like cry is familiar and all too close.

Steve, Peter, and half of those fighting turn towards the terrifying sound of an angry Hulk as he comes barreling around the corner of the castle, trampling enemies as he goes while he simultaneously grabs hold of the ones he doesn’t step on, crushing them in his massive grip or throwing them into walls and dirt.

“HULK!” Steve shouts, desperate to get his attention.

The green mass seems to hear him as he turns to look at Steve and then jumps high up taking with him two bodies, before landing only a few feet away, crushing three others and dropping the two that he holds now lifeless.

As he walks over, Steve can see that he’s dirty, hands dripping with blood and mud as if he’s been fighting for a while.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asks before Steve has the chance. “You’re supposed to be with her Majesty!”

Hulk stops, thumping his chest importantly before he points at the cart rolling in from where he’d just come.

“Hulk go get witch lady for Queen flowers.” He says, voice proud. “Queen have baby now. Queen flower peed on floor.”

All of the blood in Steve’s body rushes up to his head and he can hear nothing but Hulk’s last few words.

“Hulk…is-is Y/N in labor?!” Peter asks, voice shocked and full of worry.

“Mm.” Hulk says simply, then points to the cart where Grandmother is dismounting amongst a large violent scuffle.

Steve is numb, and for this moment at least, his mind travels back to a cold winter morning that he will never forget.

You’re nestled in his arms, naked chest pressed against his own as you rest against him. You’ve got one hand up on the back of his neck, your fingers twirling through his hair. The other is resting against his side and he’s trying not to focus on how it tickles when you move your soft fingers in little circles against his skin.

“May I ask you for something? A gift?” You say, voice clear as a bell and full of hesitation but excitement.

Steve smiles, happy that you’ve become so open with him. He can’t believe you’re actually asking him for things now.

“Whatever you want my petal, it’s yours.” He says, pulling you closer as he wraps his arm around you more tightly.

He can feel the heat of your cheek as his words have some strange effect on you. A pleasing one.

You turn to look at him, resting your chin on his chest as gently as you can.

He turns to meet your eyes, admiring the way your hair is all over the place, messier in the back from how much he’s had you on yours.

There’s a glow to your skin, a sticky goodness that gives him such pride to know that he’s spent so much time giving you the pleasure you’d so rightfully deserved. He will never finish making all of it up to you. But this is as good as it will probably get.

“Tell me.” He urges you when you don’t speak.

“Promise me that you’ll be by my side.” You tell him, voice more confident. “When our child is born, I-I know that women die from giving birth and if those are to be my last moments-”

“No.” Steve protests, stroking your arm and shoulders. “No, don’t say that my flower.”

“Please, Steve, I must say it. I need you to hear me and I need to know that you’ll do as I wish.” You sigh. “If giving birth to our son is to be the last thing I do, I would very much like to have you at my side. I love you but more importantly, I want to see him in your arms.

“I want to know that if I should be gone from his life, that you will be there for him. That he will have his father’s protection and love, forever.” You tell him desperately, voice tight and intense.

“Of course, I’ll be there for him. There is no question about my being there for our son. I will always be there for him.” Steve declares, but he knows that you won’t be satisfied with only this. “And I promise, I will be by your side when you give birth to our son.”

It’s odd, sure, for the father to be in the birthing room but if it’s your wish, Steve will fight anyone who gets in his way to be there.

“I-” Steve begins, looking around at the fighting as Hulk disappears into the battle once more.

Beside him, he can see, hear, and feel Peter blocking blows and shielding him from an interruption to his sudden frozen thoughts.

“Your Majesty?” Peter says, trying to bring him around as he incapacitates two guards with his webs. He flings them away where they crash into more Hydra then flips back towards Steve, stopping to place his hand on his King’s shoulder. “Steve…”

Steve looks at him, swallowing hard as he wars with himself to rationalize this decision.

Before he can, two more figures fight their way into their small tense circle.

“What’s the matter?” Natasha asks, red hair whipping back and forth as she blocks a sword and kicks the attack in the gut with a grunt.

Beside her Bucky takes his fist and slams it into the ground hard creating a localized tremor that unbalances a few more guards that Natasha takes out with smaller daggers from around her hip.

“Has something happen?” Bucky asks, breathing hard, skin smudged with blood and dirt.

Steve still can’t speak so Peter does. “It seems Y/N is having the Prince. Now.”

Natasha’s face whitens as she takes a step closer to them both. “What?!”

Steve meets her gaze and Natasha shakes her head.

“You must go, Steve. Go.” Natasha insists.

“What about the fight?” He hesitates, wanting to run to you but knowing that he’s needed here. What if one of them should die because he leaves? He can’t just go.

“We will make do.” She says.

“She’s right.” Peter chimes in. “Y/N needs you more than we do.”

“But-” Steve begins, already decided on giving in.

“STEVE!” Sam shouts from the top of the crumbling gate, pointing towards the Southern forest where a literal cavalry is breaking through the trees.

At the very front, sitting tall and proud with one eye obscured by a black metal mask that covers only that side of his face, Fury leads a troop of guards dressed in blue and gray armor.

There is a deafening crack as the sky splits open once more and through the inky clouds of the coming morning a streak of blinding golden light rips through. At the head of this light is a figure, body covered in a slender armor of gold, blue, and red. Through the helmet is a slit along the top through which long golden hair spills out in what looks like a mane.

The figure stops midair, seems to float there as if the action require no more effort than breathing, then with her fist leading the way, she dives down and cuts through the throng of black until she reaches Rumlow and lands with a small thud.

“Shall we dance?” She asks him, voice cool and amused. Rumlow slams his heavily armored fists together, a reverberating clang filling the air, before he launches himself at the stranger who appears to be on their side.

Steve’s chest is filled with relief as he spots the reinforcements and turns to give in to his own and Nat’s desires when he sees a glimmering blade moving too fast for him to block, aimed right at the center of Natasha’s back.

Steve blinks and when he opens his eyes, he sees Bucky with his metal hand wrapped around the tip of the blade, the back of his hand resting right up against Natasha’s back.

The fury and loathing that blackens Bucky’s eyes worry Steve for a moment that they might not have seen the last of the Winter Soldier but Bucky breaks the blade, knocks the sword from the guard’s hand, and grabs him by the throat.

“I’m going to knock your brain into the soles of your feet.” He promises before punching the man so hard he falls to the ground, motionless with a dribble of blood flowing from his ears.

As he turns to check on Natasha, he has no chance to worry as she throws her arms around him and kisses him so hard his lips turn bright red.

Bucky is quick to wrap his arms around her and crush her to his chest as he returns her affections wholeheartedly.

When she pulls away, they’re both breathing hard.

“We’re getting married tomorrow morning.” Natasha declares.

Bucky swoons and kisses her again.

Steve turns to Peter who nods, and runs with him, helping him clear a path to the nearest entry.

“Tell her we’re all with her.” Peter says, and once Steve is through, he shuts and blocks the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re nearly completely folded over, clutching your stomach and back and your legs and everything hurts, and you think you might die from this but then it passes and you’re counting in your head.

“Th-Three.” Three minutes. It should be time? Isn’t that what Grandmother said?

No. Wait longer. The pains must be so close together that you won’t be able to tell them apart. Laying down would be beset right now however, and you edge your way closer to your bed again.

You’re sweating and straining, breathing heavily, and also not breathing enough. It feels like you can’t take a breath. Every other sound that comes from your mouth is a whine or a groan or a moan as pain engulfs you once again.

You manage to sit this time, hands fisting the sheets of your bed as you grit your teeth and then remember to try and breath but it’s too much. It’s too hard. You’re sobbing by the time the pain passes, rubbing your stomach in the hopes that this is the way it should be and the pain is not a sign of some distress your baby must be in but you’re too stupid, too uneducated to know.

Most women don’t know these things right away. You attempt to console yourself, knowing that only a midwife would know. A doctor would know. A peasant turned princess turned queen would not know. It wasn’t in your studies.

Still, the feeling of helplessness takes hold and you hate yourself for not doing better.

“I’m s-so sorry.” You grieve with your little one, scared and unsure of the fate you will both suffer.

You lay yourself down as the pain subsides and it doesn’t help but you don’t want to stand so you lay there for only half a minute before the bedroom door is thrust open.

“Grandmother?” You squeak, turning to look at the door for what you hope is reinforcements but instead find all of the blood in your body turning into ice at the ashy blonde hair and the wrinkled skin and the thin and slightly parted mouth of a desperate Lord Pierce.

You sit up more quickly than you thought would be possible, eyes taking in his slightly hunched stance as he moves towards you with careful steps. His hands are wrapped tight around the hilt of his sword.

He’s sweaty, breathing just as hard as you.

You realize that he’s had to fight his way up here. There’s a cut along his cheek and another gash on his leg. Not big enough to matter but proof of the battle.

“You should have just stayed with the Asgardian in the woods.” Pierce says, voice strong and resolute. “You should have never come back. Then I wouldn’t have to kill you and that brat inside your stomach.”

You raise one hand, a plea for him to stop as you go numb to everything but his movements and your free hand searching underneath the pillows behind you as discreetly as you can manage.

“Please.” You beg. “Please…”

“You really shouldn’t have come back.” He says, almost truly sounding remorseful but really he’s only irritated that he has to get his own hands dirty.

He raises his sword and swings it down to cut off your head just as your fingers make purchase around the solid hilt of Steve’s hidden sword.

You raise the heavy thing with a strength you didn’t know you had and block Pierce’s strike with a metallic clang.

The two of you struggle for a few seconds, struggling against each other’s solid grips until finally you push yourself onto your feet and nearly scream as you muster up all the strength you can to push his sword away from you.

It frees you up and knocks him off balance but he’s recovering quickly and you know that you will not survive a battle of swords with this man so you do the only thing you can do. You reach for the pitcher of water beside your bed, chuck it at his head, and run.

You can hear him sputtering and the break of the china as you sweep from the room, moving as fast as your baby heavy body will allow. Your bare feet slap against the floor as you turn the corner and race down the hallway towards the war room, but there are two floors and six hallways between you and you’ll never make it.

Pain bites into you, compelling your feet to stop moving as you turn another corner and cling with one arm to the peach limestone of your father’s hallways. The sword drags along the floor, scraping and making noise as you groan and try to hold yourself together as you’re robbed of your breath once more.

“Bitch!” Pierce screams and his voice rounds the corner behind you.

Forgetting your pain, you push yourself forward, terrified that he will catch you. You can’t let him kill your son.

You move faster, urging your body to keep moving despite the crippling pain that threatens to bring you to your knees.

It isn’t fast enough. As you round another corner and the stairs are in sight, Pierce’s hand wraps around your hair and he pulls you back hard.

You scream, knowing that no one will come because every man is down on the grounds, fighting with the Avengers.

He manages to wrap his hand around the back of your neck, but you twist in his grip and he adjusts it so that he’s almost choking you. Drawing your sword again, you can’t swing it from this angle so you raise the hilt up as fast as you can and hit your mark.

Pierce’s nose gushes blood as he stumbles back. The chain of your necklace is wrapped around hit thumb and it rips as he falls, releasing you from his grip.

The run down the stairs is terrifying, with every step a threat to you and your prince. You nearly fall on the last two but catch yourself along the banister before you’re racing forward once more.

You turn the corner and can hear Pierce barreling along the steps. In one horrible moment, you realize that you cannot outrun him. Slipping into the first door on your right, you rush in and urge your breathing to slow as the quiet of the room makes every noise you make that much louder.

You have never been in this room before and find yourself in a room with towering shelves. Each shelf is filled with books and strange knickknacks. Statues and pieces of artwork carefully organize and lined up.

Although the silence is unbearable, you’re grateful for the winding and maze-like bends and turns of the shelves and bookcases.

As silently as you can, you weave through them, stopping only when you feel you are deep enough and go still so that you can listen.

Your heartbeat is in your ears. Your breathing is still too labored.

Was that the door?

No. You cry in silence as the pain strikes again. In your back, in your lower body, your pelvis, it’s all on fire.

You raise your hand to your mouth and bite down hard. You can feel the skin break as the pain becomes unbearable, but you cannot utter a single sound or it’s all over.

Not my baby. You grieve.

The pain begins to pass, and you realize that it has only been a minute since the last one and you have to get out of here if your child is going to survive.

With all the remaining courage in your heart mustered you turn around to sneak out once more only to feel the sting of a powerful hit on the left side of your face.

The strength of it sends you falling onto your back and you gasp, struggling to catch your breath as your bones protest the fall.

“Why do you have to make this so hard?” Pierce asks angrily.

Looking up you see the sword flying towards your stomach.

You shut your eyes and wrap your arms around it, trying to cover as much of your baby as you can before the blow lands. You hear the terrible squish of blade piercing flesh and sob once because you know you’re dead…only there’s no pain.

You hear a groan, Pierce’s groan, and urge your eyes open only to find him standing over you with a shining silver blade peeking out of the center of his gut.

Blood dribbles from his mouth onto your nightdress as the light in his eyes fades. The sword is withdrawn and with a shuddering breath, you begin to cry.

“Are you alright?!” She asks, all beauty and enviable strength in her form hugging tunic of blue and black. Her long blonde hair is gathered up on her head, swept out of the way so that she can fight without struggle.

She sheathes her sword and kneels down beside you, her hands moving along your arms as you let your head fall back, happier to see Lady Sharon Carter than you ever thought you’d be in your life.

New pain fills your body as it struggles through the shock of what just happened and the urging of your son to come into this world.

You groan and moan and Sharon’s eyes fill with panic as she realizes that you’re about to give birth.

“Oh my-” She gasps.

“WHERE IS SHE?!” Another shout fills the castle halls, moving closer and closer as he no doubt follows the trail of your fearful flight.

“Here!” Sharon rises to her feet and disappears from your sight, but you hear the door open again. “Steve, she’s here! Quick!”

Despite the pain your body is in, your mind begins to fuzz over and as you lay there between two large bookcases, Pierce’s lifeless stare gazing right at you, you begin to feel numb again.

“Y/N!” Steve’s voice is closer. “Where?!”

“Here.” Sharon says, leading him to you.

You know when he has you in his sights because his voice breaks as he speaks.

“No.” He cries. “I’m here. My flower, I’m here.”

He kneels beside you and you eagerly turn to meet his gaze.

He’s got cuts along his neck and forehead.

You frown, reaching for them in clear disapproval of any injury he’s gained. Storm blue eyes filling with tears, he’s careful to touch you but places his hand over yours as you touch him.

“Steve…” You try to smile. “I-I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Stay with me, love.” He whispers, tracing the shape of your arm from wrist to shoulder and back. “Stay awake.”

Your eyes close and Steve screams. “NO!”

#king!steve x reader #medieval au #medieval fantasy au #steve rogers x reader #royalty au #king!steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #avengers x reader #buckynat #marvel au #king!steve x reader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #arranged marriage au #pseudo princess pt32 #pseudo princess #shreddedparchment

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dirt-cup-draco · 3 years

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Peter Pevensie- Courting

Hi, for your character and love language thing, if you write for Peter Pevensie can you do Peter Pevensie and physical touch as the love language? and if you are still open for love language requests, can i request one with Peter Pevensie and gift giving? i love giving gifts that show how much you pay attention to the things they love and For the love languages thing: Peter Pevensie and physical touch @thegrxywitch

A/N: Peter deserves love :))))) lil grumpy king

Even after nearly a month of courting Peter still couldn’t stop his palms from sweating when you appeared in the gardens that day, eyes bright and cheeks rosy from a secret bashfulness he didn’t understand. Your hands were tucked behind your back as he stood, moving to pull your chair out for you. His hands and feet fell clumsy as he stumbled in the grass, hands clamping down quickly on the back of your seat as he tried to stay upright.

“H-here, princess,” Peter coughed, trying to cover up the stutter that slipped out. He was mentally cursing himself. Riding into battle was far easier than courting he had told Edmund after his first meeting with you and it had remained true. But his troubles weren’t because he was having a hard time in your company, it was because he had grown to love your company and the sugar sweet smiles you gave him.

Peter had thought you false at first. Always smiling, always giggling at his jokes, always happily taking his hand when he asked you to dance. He had suspicions you were much like every other woman and princess he had encountered thus far upon deciding he was ready for marriage and deciding having another queen might be beneficial to other lands and his own. Lucy had pouted terribly for days, upset her older brother had tossed love away. Susan had gotten her nose into every lady’s business, making sure Peter would have someone who was worthy of him. Edmund had rolled his eyes and claimed he would never marry.

He’d been indifferent about the whole process despite his siblings fussing, and lack thereof (that night he had bet with Lucy that Edmund would be the next to be wed). But since that day his feelings had completely changed and you were the culprit for his change of heart. You weren’t false in any way, you were just happy in his presence and it took away his breath to think about.

He would’ve continued his suspicions thoughts if he hadn’t seen a Lord approach you during one of the many balls that he hosted. Peter had only been seeing you for less than two weeks then but he had already grown attached so he had inched closer to you and the Lord and eavesdropped even if it made his ears burn red with shame as he thought about it. As the man spoke your frown had dropped from your face immediately and your posture had grown more rigid. There was no delicate laugh, no rosy cheeks. You were more icy than the wicked witch that had plagued Narnia once long ago and he felt an odd mixture of pride and fear then.

Now, he felt only fondness as you laid your hand atop his. “Please, my King, call me Y/N,” You insisted and his stomach flipped giddily seeing as you hadn’t dropped your free hand away from his. Peter was so distracted he didn’t even realize you had a wrapped gift in your other hand that now rested on your lap as you settled into your chair.

Peter cleared his throat and mind and pulled his hand from yours so that he could take his place across from you. He was hyper aware of every step he took and word he said. You were perfect in his eyes and he had fallen head over heels. You would never use his emotions for your gain nor would you laugh him for how quickly he had realized he wanted nothing more than to be yours however a part of him wondered if you felt the same.

“Then please, call me Peter,”

Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you grinned unabashedly at the king who had stolen your heart with the mixture of his maturity and his boyish embarrassment every time you did something as simple as touch his hand. Since your first meeting he had made your heart skip around in your chest and even after youd removed your corset that night for bed the palpitations had continued at the thought of him. Your handmaid confirmed you weren’t being crushed by your clothing and it was likely you had taken a fancy with Peter.

“Okay Peter,” You winked playfully and his lips twitched upwards in a dopey smile. His shoulders drooped and he leant his elbows on the garden table, the hedges around him blooming beautifully but he was taken with you.

He opened his mouth but realized only when you had interrupted him with an “Oh!” that he wasn’t quite sure what he’d been about to say and you had more than likely saved him the shame of saying something odd like, marry me for the love of aslan you’re perfect for me.

“I um... Got something for you,” You muttered, hands fiddling with your skirts for a moment before you presented him with the neatly wrapped package. You kept your eyes downcast and thought you did have a shyness about you he didn’t think he’d ever seen you so unsure and it tugged at his chest painfully.

His hands encased yours, the package nestled between the two of your clasped fingers. “Oh darling, you didn’t need to,” The term of endearment slipping past his lips without a thought but you seemed to gain some confidence from the name, your smile widening back to it’s blindingly bright volume.

“I know I wanted to,” You insisted, pushing the package further into his hands. “It was just something you mentioned some time ago and when it caught my eye I knew I had to get it for you,”

Peter wasn’t sure how to respond so instead he took the package reverently, setting it gently on the table as he tried to decide how best to unwrap it so there wouldn’t be a single tear in the paper you had obviously worked so hard at getting wrinkle free.

“Pete,” You giggled. “It’s just paper, please just tear into it,”

With that push, Peter let himself eagerly open whatever it is that you thought he must need. His mind was reeling trying to remember what he had mentioned to you in passing that had seemed so important. His stomach flipped and flopped when he couldn’t think of anything. It went to show how closely you had paid attention he realized as he soon had a beautiful leather bound journal in his hands, the pages lined with gold as they shone in the comfortable summer sun, a light breeze shuffling them as he thumbed through the empty pages.

“Y/N,” Peter gasped. “It’s stunning, where did you find it?” He remembered now on your second meeting that he had mentioned needing to get a journal to keep track of his busy day and busy thoughts and busy everything as he had been feeling particularly overwhelmed that day and you had taken it to heart instead of brushing it off as duties he had to deal with.

“A market in the town square,” You spoke lightly as if it was nothing but Peter knew how crowded they could get and you mentioned that crowds could sometimes be stifling. It added the gift even more and he felt special. He had always been viewed special in different ways, Peter thought

. As the eldest sibling he was held above others, he had to be the mature and cool one. As king he had duty upon duty thrown in his lap and because of his age difference to his capable brother he felt he needed to take on the higher work load. Those were things that could make him feel special but they held a consequence and a weight whereas you made him feel important, king or not, eldest brother or not.

He stretched his hand out for yours and when you placed your hand in his he brought your knuckles to his lips eyes glued to yours as the both of you felt your cheeks growing warm.

“Truly, this is perfect,” He praised once again, hoping you knew how much he loved the gift. “Y-you’re perfect,” Peter added, needing you to know, his fingers still laced with yours.

You nearly squeaked, eyes wide. “I’m far from perfect Peter-”

“Not to me, you exceed any other person I’ve ever met,” He was feeling oddly sentimental as he brushed his fingers over the gorgeous lettering you had added of his name.

“Thank you,” Was all you could think to say, squeezing his hand and hoping he knew just what it meant to you, just what he meant to you.

He squeezed back, a softness taking over his gaze. You were certain then that Peter Pevensie knew just what he meant to you and you were beginning to see that his feelings were very much the same.

#peter pevensie x reader #peter x reader #peter pevensie #fluff #love language challenge

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