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fics-n-stuff · 3 years

Text

A Nice Christmas

Thanks to @gayhistorynerd for the prompt, see here (I kind of deviated from it a little maybe a lot but the story still stemmed from this prompt)

Pairing: Wilhelm × Simon

Summary: Wilhelm may have denied being in the sex tape, but that doesn't mean that the world has forgotten. The Christmas break proves to be difficult for both Simon and Wilhelm, one suffering from ongoing harassment and the other feeling completely isolated, and they find that they can't help but be drawn back to each other.

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: This took me so long to write because I got writer's block right after I started it. This doesn't have a super happy ending because I wanted to try and keep it pretty realistic, but it is pretty sweet and wholesome.

Taglist: @probablyprocrastinatingrightnow @rika90 @angelwilhelm

Wilhelm had never felt more alone than he did being home for Christmas break. He spent as much time as was physically possible holed up in his bedroom, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, especially not his mother. He hadn’t turned his phone on for three days, he had bitten his nails down to the nailbeds and he hardly had any appetite. The ache in his chest was constant and unyielding.

He lay in the dark most of the time, his curtains closed throughout the day and only sometimes opened at night to let the moonlight in. Besides that, he didn’t have much idea of how time was passing.

He did know that it was Christmas eve though. And it must be the morning because nobody had come to drag him out of his bedroom to join the celebrations. A cursory peek around the curtain confirmed that, as Wilhelm saw that the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet.

A deep breath settled the stone in his stomach, and he reached for his phone with a shaky hand.

When the device turned on it immediately started going crazy with notifications, and Wilhelm felt his heart rate increase with every buzz.

5 messages from August

Ignore.

10 messages from Mamma

Ignore.

2 missed calls from Felice

Wilhelm paused in swiping away the notifications. Felice had called him twice and sent him three messages. He clicked on the message notification, sitting back against the wall and holding in a breath without realising it.

Felice: Hey Wille, how are you feeling being home?

Felice: I just wanted to check in but I can’t get a hold of you, I hope you’re doing alright

Felice: You probably don’t want to talk but you can call or text me whenever you do

Wilhelm sighed. Of all the people that he thought that he could depend on, Felice was the only one that he still had. He swallowed the lump in his throat and called her back.

It rang for a while before she answered, and he’d almost decided to hang up the call when it stopped ringing.

“Wille, good morning.” Felice greeted, cheerful but clearly tired. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, merry Christmas Felice.” Wilhelm replied feebly. His voice was hoarse from disuse.

“Are you alright? Do you want to talk about something?”

“Uhm, I- I don’t know, I just... I don’t know.” He stuttered, wrapping his free arm around himself.

“Okay, well, what are your plans for today?”

“I’m not sure, I haven’t really been talking to anyone. What, uh, what are your plans?”

“Oh, you know, just the usual. We’ll watch Kalle Anka's Jul and play some games before dinner, then we’ll open presents.” She explained. The tinny sound of her voice through the phone was actually quite calming.

“What about for the rest of the break?”

“Um, I’m going to New York to see Maddie for New Year, so that’ll be fun. And I’m going back to Bjärstad on Boxing Day to see Sara. I’m gonna stay there just for one night.”

“So you’ve been talking to Sara a lot then?” Wilhelm questioned, moving to bite at his almost non-existent nails.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Has she said anything about Simon? Do you know if he’s alright?” His words came out more rushed than he had intended. Clearly, he was more eager for some sort of information on Simon than he had thought.

“Um, she hasn’t said much but I think he’s pretty okay.” Felice replied, but it was followed by a small sigh that let Wilhelm know that there was more to the story. “Sara says that things have mostly gone back to normal, but Simon goes out a lot less and she’s had to make her Instagram private. I think they’ve had a few people show up at their house.”

Wilhelm swallowed hard, a feeling of guilt crawling under his skin. Simon’s Instagram account had been private ever since the video had been leaked, so it seemed that now people had found Sara’s too. They had attention on them that they had never signed up for, and Wilhelm knew that it was his fault and he felt terrible for that.

“Okay.” He replied shakily. There was a short silence before Felice spoke again.

“How are you, Wilhelm? Really?” She asked.

“Lonely.” He answered. “Listen, I have to go. I need to take a shower before someone comes demanding that I take part in the Christmas celebrations.”

“Alright well, call me back whenever, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Bye, Felice.”

“Bye, Wille. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

Wilhelm ran a hand over his face, letting out a groan of frustration and sadness. Why couldn’t he just be a normal kid?

He stared down at his phone in his lap, gnawing at the nail of his right thumb in contemplation. With a shaking breath and trembling fingers, he picked it back up, opened his conversation with Simon and typed a short message. He dropped his phone in mild panic as soon as he hit send, and rubbed his hand over his chest as he took a deep, steadying breath.

+ + +

“Simon, wake up. Rosh and Ayub will be here soon.” Sara’s voice stirred Simon from his sleep and he rolled over to look at her. She was already dressed.

“What time is it?” He asked with a yawn.

“Nine o’clock. Get up and come help with breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting up.”

Sara rolled her eyes and left the room, and Simon reached out to his bedside table blindly until his hand landed on his phone. He squinted at the screen as he sat up, faltering when he saw the notification on the screen.

Wilhelm: Merry Christmas Simon

He felt his heart race as he stared at the screen, only snapping out of it when he heard Sara shouting at him from downstairs. He blinked, dropped his phone and set about getting dressed.

Every Christmas eve since they were ten, Simon, Sara, Rosh and Ayub would have breakfast together and then go for a long walk. It was tradition for them at this point, but Simon found himself unable to feel excited for it this year. It was all well and good to pretend like life was going on as normal, but it was hard not to feel uncomfortable when people stared at him everywhere he went.

Rosh and Ayub arrived just as he and Sara were finishing up making breakfast, and they exchanged Christmas well-wishes as they sat down to eat.

“You’re being real quiet over there, Simme. You alright?” Ayub asked after a while, and Simon realised that he’d been completely zoned out.

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About Wilhelm?” Sara questioned. Simon pushed a bite of food into his mouth and shrugged.

“You have to move on, Simon.” Rosh said. “I know you care about him but he’s not worth all the trouble that he comes with.”

“I know. That’s why I ended things.” He replied. “It still sucks though.”

“You’ll get over him eventually.” Sara told him, putting a comforting hand on his for a few seconds before going back to her food. Simon smiled slightly.

He didn’t tell them about the text.

Despite all of that, he was in high spirits when they set out for their walk, happily joking and laughing with his friends, and they made it half an hour before he heard the first comment.

“That’s the guy from the sex tape.” Muttered a girl to her friend as they passed, and Simon felt the smile fall from his face.

“Just ignore them.” Sara told him, wrapping an arm around one of his. He nodded, but it had gotten to him. For the rest of their walk from that point, Simon felt like every person that they passed was looking at him and judging him.

They walked both Rosh and Ayub back to their houses before heading back to theirs just a bit past noon. They had almost gotten home when they were approached by a group of teenagers probably slightly younger than them.

“Are you the guy from that viral sex tape?” One of the boys asked unabashedly, the group coming right up in front of Simon and Sara and blocking their path.

“Uh, I don’t want to talk about that.” Simon replied stiffly, still trying to be polite.

“Oh my god, it is him!” A girl exclaimed.

“Was it actually the crown prince in the video?” Another chimed. Simon felt lightheaded.

“He already said that it wasn’t.” He deflected, trying to sidestep the group.

“Yeah, but there’s a lot of people that don’t actually believe him.” The girl laughed; actually laughed, as if this hadn’t been an earth shattering event for Simon.

“If it wasn’t Prince Wilhelm then who was it in the video?” A boy asked, and that was when Simon spotted the phone filming him and his stomach dropped.

“I’m not discussing my sex life with a bunch of strangers.” He scoffed in disbelief, shouldering his way past the group with Sara close behind him. “Please leave me alone.”

“You could just tell us if it was actually the prince or not.” One of them pressed, the group now following after Simon. “If it wasn’t him then you don’t have anything to hide.”

“Oh my god, did the royal family pay you off? Did they make you sign an NDA!?”

“Were you, like, boyfriends? Or was it just a hookup?”

Simon kept walking, keeping his head down and not answering any of the questions being hurled at him. He could sense that Sara was just as tense beside him. The group followed them for a full block before Simon finally lost his cool and came to a dead stop, turning to face them.

“I’m not going to answer your questions. The fact that you’re following me is not going to make me answer your questions. I’ve had my privacy majorly invaded once already and now you’re invading it again. I’m trying to enjoy Christmas with my sister and you’re chasing me with a camera, I’m sick of people harassing me.” He fumed, making sure to meet the eye of every one of them at some point. “Whatever you choose to believe is not my problem. It doesn’t matter whether you think that the crown prince is telling the truth or you choose to make up some type of theory, I deserve my privacy.”

He didn’t wait for any type of response before he turned around and walked away, thankful to find that they weren’t going to follow him anymore.

“You handled that well.” Sara said quietly once they had turned the next corner. Simon didn’t reply.

When they got home, he went straight upstairs without a word. He slammed his bedroom door shut and buried his face in his pillow, unable to hold the tears back any longer.

By that same evening, the video was viral.

+ + +

I bet that girl was right and the royal family made him sign an NDA

If he didn’t want people to think it was the prince he would have just said that it wasn’t so either the prince was lying or this guy is seeking attention

He’s literally a kid why can’t people just leave him alone??

I don’t care if it was the prince in the tape or not, this guy is hot

The way he said that people are making up theories makes me think that it actually wasn’t the prince in the video

I feel bad for this guy, getting followed around like that must suck

Wilhelm scrolled through the captions and comments on the seemingly endless posts of the video of Simon, feeling like somebody had a vice grip on his heart.

The first time he saw the video had been right after Christmas Eve dinner. He’d had a full blown panic attack and locked himself in the bathroom for half an hour. When he came out, his mother had tried to talk to him about the politics of the situation and he had immediately retreated into his bedroom once again. He missed Erik desperately.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, he'd only gotten about three hours of broken, fitful sleep all night, and now he couldn’t pry himself away from his phone. He knew that it was bad for him, he knew that it was making him feel terrible, but he wanted to know what people were saying.

He had been hesitant to text Simon, especially since he hadn’t received a reply to the merry Christmas text that he had sent in the morning, but in the end he mustered the courage to reach out. He had asked how Simon was doing and apologised for getting him into this situation. He wasn’t surprised when no answer came.

Christmas day was proving to be probably the worst day of Christmas break for Wilhelm. His chest felt like it was bursting open and like it was an empty chasm at the same time. He didn’t eat breakfast or lunch, he didn’t respond to the knocks that came at his door. He felt like he was trapped in a glass box and someone was shaking it.

Wilhelm didn’t know how long he had been scrolling through multiple different social media platforms when his phone buzzed in his hand and an incoming call appeared on the screen. He faltered, sitting up and almost dropping his phone, when he saw that it was Simon. He ran a nervous hand through his hair as he raised the phone to his ear.

“Simon?” He croaked.

“Hi, Wilhelm.” The reply came through the phone, and Wilhelm felt his shoulders relax at the sound of Simon’s voice.

“Hi. H-how are you.” He fumbled, and Simon sighed on the other end.

“I’m okay, I guess. As okay as I can be after... well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for putting you in this situation.”

“This wasn’t your fault, Wille.” Simon muttered. “I just wish things were different.”

“Why, um... why did you call?” Wilhelm asked. There was a short stretch of silence that rung in his ears before Simon answered.

“I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess.” He confessed, and Wilhelm couldn’t help the soft smile that pulled at his lips. “Honestly, I was kind of surprised that you didn’t delete my number or something.”

“Why would I have done that?”

“I don’t know, I guess I just thought that you weren’t supposed to have any ties with me since you said that it wasn’t you in the video.” Wilhelm winced at that.

“It's not like my contacts list is available to the public.” He replied, trying to keep his tone light. “I’m not gonna let that kind of thing get in my head again.”

“Is your mum mad?” Simon asked, and now it was Wilhelm’s turn to sigh.

“I’m not sure, I kind of shut myself in my room so that I wouldn’t have to deal with her.” He answered tiredly. “How is your family?”

“Uh, shaken. Sara’s off in her own world with her sketchbooks and mamá can’t go for more than an hour without checking on us both, but we’re handling it.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise.”

There was a silence again. Wilhelm ran his hand across his leg, back and forth in a soothing motion, not sure what he should say but not wanting the conversation to finish. In the end, Simon spoke first.

“Did you mean it, what you said before you left for the break?” He asked softly.

“Yeah, I did.” Wilhelm answered without hesitation. “I know it wasn’t a good time to say it, and you probably didn’t want to hear it, but I just had to say it out loud. At least once.”

Silence again. Wilhelm heard Simon sigh, and pursed his lips nervously.

“I miss you.” Simon said.

“I miss you too.” Wilhelm replied with a nervous yet relieved chuckle. “I miss you a lot.”

Another pause.

“Where do we go from here, Wille?” Simon whispered.

“I don’t know.” Wilhelm mumbled. “But I... I want to fix this. Or at least just try to fix it. You don’t deserve to be harassed like this, and it’s my fault and I feel terrible.”

“It’s not your fault.” Simon reassured with a sigh. “It was everything else. We still didn’t do anything wrong, and that includes you.”

“No, I did. I promised we would be in this together and I broke that promise.”

“I understand why you did it. And I’m not mad at you. Honestly, having thought about it, you probably made the best decision for my sake too. I mean, I’m getting harassed enough as it is already. I can’t imagine what it would be like if you had told the truth.”

“I’m still sorry anyway.” Wilhelm said softly, and Simon chuckled. “So, um, Felice told me she was visiting Bjärstad tomorrow.”

“Yeah, her and Sara have gotten close. It’s nice, you know, that Sara’s made friends. And Felice is cool.”

“Yeah, she’s great.”

There was silence again, and Wilhelm bit at his nails thinking that Simon was done with the conversation.

“Are you alright, Wille?” Simon asked after a while. “I know this is your first Christmas without Erik, and I guess things with your mum might be a little... well, I just hope you’re okay.”

Wilhelm swallowed. He could lie, pretend he was fine and wave away Simon’s concerns, but he knew the lie probably wouldn’t hold up. Or he could tell the truth and admit how painfully lonely he was, how much he hated being home because the palace felt empty without Erik and how much he longed to be with Simon with every fibre of his being.

“I’m coping.” He sighed, settling for a middle ground of vagueness. “It’s lonely here. The ceilings feel too high.”

“Have you had stuff to do?”

“No, not really. I haven’t really been in the mood for Christmas, but I guess none of us are particularly festive this year anyway.”

“Would you - I mean, if you would even be allowed to, but maybe if you could – would you want to come down here for a day?” Simon asked, and Wilhelm could just picture him fidgeting nervously as he stumbled over his words. The image brought a smile to his face.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” He answered softly. “I’ll try and convince my parents.”

+ + +

Going to Simon’s house had been an absolute no go with his parents. “Just too risky” his mother had said. However, with enough persistence, he managed to wear them down to a compromise.

That was how he ended up in a car on his way back to Hillerska the day after Boxing Day. While Simon’s house had been absolutely off the table, it would be easy enough to get back to Hillerska without being seen. The only people who were there during the break were security and the people who came to take care of the horses.

He had been worried at first that the inconvenience of it would make Simon not want to bother, but when he texted to ask if it was okay he had been met with a quick agreement.

A security guard unlocked the door for him when they arrived, sworn to secrecy of course, and he headed up to his room to wait. He didn’t realise he was biting his nails until there was a knock at the door and he was knocked out of his anxious thoughts.

The door opened slowly, and Wilhelm felt like all of the air was knocked out of his body when he saw Simon step inside, dressed in his beloved purple hoodie under the coat that he took off and draped over the back of a chair that was within reach. The door clicked shut behind him, and silence hung in the air.

“Hey.” Simon greeted finally, and Wilhelm took a deep breath as if he was just remembering how to breathe at all.

“Hey.” He echoed. “How are you?”

“Better.” Simon nodded. “Did you get into a fight with your parents?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Wilhelm muttered. “It’s fine though.”

Simon crossed the room and took a seat beside Wilhelm on the edge of the bed, a good few inches of space between them. It felt like miles.

“You look tired.” Simon commented.

“I’ve been having a hard time sleeping.” Wilhelm replied weakly, eyes downcast, fidgeting with his hands. “I get that way sometimes. It’s fine.”

“Is it?”

He looked over to find Simon watching him, and he practically crumbled under his gaze. He took a very unsteady breath and shook his head.

“No, it sucks.” He mumbled. His hand drifted back up to his mouth and he gnawed on the nail of his thumb nervously.

“Wille, you’re bleeding.” Simon said, gently grabbing his wrist and pulling his hand away from his mouth. Wilhelm looked down at his thumb and saw a bit of blood pooling in the side of the nailbed, becoming aware of the taste of it on his tongue.

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

“How much have you been biting your nails?” Simon questioned, pulling Wilhelm’s hand towards him to get a look at them. Every nail was jagged and uneven, bitten down to stubs. The skin around them had been bitten at too.

“I don’t know, I do it without realising.” Wilhelm shrugged. “Probably a lot.” He resisted the urge to curl his fingers around Simon’s hand and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.

“You shouldn’t have to bottle everything in, you’re destroying yourself.” Simon murmured.

“I don’t have anyone to talk to.” Wilhelm’s voice broke halfway through his sentence, a single tear managing to fight its way from his eye. “I used to be able to talk to Erik about at least some of it but now he’s gone and I don’t have anyone, and sometimes it feels like the ground is falling out from under me and I just don’t know what to do.”

He didn’t notice that he was hyperventilating until Simon pulled him into his arms. Wilhelm’s chest was tight, rising and falling rapidly against Simon’s body. Simon's arms were wrapped around him tightly, and Wilhelm was suddenly overwhelmed with how much he had been craving a hug as his hands grasped at the back of Simon’s hoodie and he hid his face in the crook of Simon’s neck.

Wilhelm had always been told not to cry. Ever since he was a child, whenever he began to cry he was told to stop. The seed had planted itself in him when he was very young, but the fear of letting himself cry didn’t truly grow until he once saw an article in a tabloid. He was barely eleven and he had fallen and hurt himself at an event. He had hardly cried, just a few tears and red cheeks, but the tabloid had had plenty to say about it. He hadn’t let himself properly cry since, except for when Erik died. Even then, he had waited until he was completely alone before he let his weakness show. But now, with Simon, he felt an overwhelming need to let his tears fall.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered into Simon’s shoulder. He could feel the tears coming out of his eyes but they weren’t falling down his face, instead absorbing into the fabric of Simon’s hoodie.

“It’s okay.” Simon soothed, a hand moving up to stroke over the Wilhelm’s hair.

“I never wanted any of this. I never wanted to be a prince.”

“I know.”

“I just wanted to feel normal. Just for once.” Wilhelm said through his tears. “You made me feel normal.”

Simon furrowed his eyebrows, sympathetic. He loosened his hold on Wilhelm and leaned back, sliding the hand that was on the back of Wilhelm’s head forward to rest against his cheek.

“You made me feel normal too.” He replied softly. “At school I was a social outcast because I’m not rich, and at home I have to take care of my mom and Sara. When I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to take care of anyone or watch where I was stepping. Well, except that one night.” Wilhelm huffed a slight laugh at the comment, lifting a hand to wipe the tears off of his cheeks. “I’ve never seen you cry before.” Simon commented.

“I’m not supposed to.” Wilhelm replied with an awkward chuckle, his head tipping forward in embarrassment. Simon sighed through his nose and lightly touched his forehead to Wilhelm’s.

“You have to cry sometimes, Wille. Everyone cries.”

“I’m not supposed to be everyone.”

“Okay, but sometimes you need to stop worrying about what you’re supposed to be.” Simon told him. “I know you know that.”

Wilhelm took a deep breath. This close to Simon’s face, he could feel his breathing too. He wanted to kiss him, but he didn’t know if that would be okay. He nodded slightly, covering Simon’s hand on his cheek with his own.

“Yeah.” He breathed.

When Simon leaned forward and connected their lips Wilhelm responded automatically, though it took his brain a few seconds to catch up. Once his brain did catch up, his hand took hold of the back of Simon’s neck and pulled him impossibly closer, holding onto this moment like it was his last. Maybe it would be the last time he got to kiss Simon; he couldn’t know. He hoped it wouldn’t be.

“Thanks for coming to see me.” Simon said when they broke apart.

“Thanks for wanting to see me at all.” Wilhelm replied. “I really missed you.”

Simon hummed, a faint smile playing at his lips. He watched Wilhelm for a few moments before kicking off his shoes.

“Come here.” He said, shuffling over the bed towards the wall. Wilhelm followed suit and allowed himself to be guided down to a lying position, Simon’s chest against his back and arm around his waist. “You need to sleep.”

“It’s the middle of the day.” Wilhelm protested, weak as the protest may have been.

“People have naps all the time, and you know that you need it.” Simon said firmly, adjusting the pillow under his head with his free arm and finding Wilhelm's hand to hold in the other. “It doesn’t have to be for long, okay?”

“Okay.” Wilhelm nodded, feeling suddenly very relaxed. He took a deep breath settling into the comfort and warmth of Simon’s body around his as his eyes fell shut. “This is nice.” He mumbled after a while.

“Yeah.” Simon agreed softly. “Go to sleep, Wille.”

It wasn’t long until he felt Wilhelm’s breathing change, signifying that he had fallen asleep. He smiled, fondly but with an edge of sadness to it, and pressed a light kiss to Wilhelm’s shoulder before closing his own eyes. They would deal with the rest of the world when they woke up.

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professorspork · 3 years

Note

superhell fic prompt: JAUNE RUNS INTO PYRRHA

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5]

It doesn’t occur to that she’s allowed to talk to them until Torchwick reveals himself to Neo. And even then, well-- Roman Torchwick isn’t exactly a shining paragon when it comes to setting a good example of what’s allowed.

But the idea refuses to stop hounding her footsteps, once it’s come. Once she’s seen it’s possible, without consequences. Still, she waits, and keeps her distance. There’s no sunset, here on the island, no night, but there are shady places beneath the towering roots of the Tree; eventually, they all bed down, and Jaune-- as she’d known he would-- volunteers to take first watch. It’s a heartening display: Yang and Blake twined together like ivy on a wrought iron gate, but each clinging to the hands of their teammates, chained together by grasping fingers. Otters in a stream, unwilling to be separated.

She doesn’t know why she’s surprised to hear her own voice when she approaches.

...I know this can be frustrating, and it can feel like so much effort to progress such a small amount, but I want you to know that I'm proud of you. I've never met someone so determined to better themselves...

“You’ll drain your battery,” she cautions, reaching out with her mind to press the off button on his scroll. His head whips up, expression aghast, and she smiles at him softly. “I’d have thought you’d have it memorized by now anyhow; you haven’t seemed to need it in some time.”

She expects disbelief, perhaps, or shock. Joy would have been nice, but she’d have understood anger. So she’s surprised and---bizarrely proud, actually-- when instead his eyes narrow in suspicion and the first thing he says is, “Your Semblance works.”

“Well, yes.”

“Why does your Semblance work?”

“Because I’m where I’m supposed to be. A soul knows when it’s in the right place. Or the wrong one, as the case may be.”

“Or I’m dreaming.”

“Or you’re dreaming,” she agrees, keeping her voice mild, but feeling it like a punch to the stomach when his shoulders relax at the idea. Does he... not want her here? Goodness, but she’s out of practice. She’d forgotten it was like this; how talking to him had been both the easiest and the hardest thing in the world. “Would you-- prefer that? If I weren’t really here?”

“The real Pyrrha would know better than to ask me that.”

Despite herself, she laughs. “Oh, I wish that were true. I asked myself that every day. Every class, every glance, every study session on the roof. I’m afraid I was never as confident as I should have been.” It’s an embarrassing admission, but an effective one; the walled-up caution behind his eyes dissipates... only for tears to well up in its stead.

“Are you-- can I touch you?”

“I hope so.” (She’d left Torchwick and Neo behind before they’d gotten that far, for obvious reasons.)

“I--” He scrambles to his feet and crosses the distance between them, enveloping her in a crushing hug. It doesn’t feel like she remembers, but then, that’s no surprise-- he’s taller than he used to be, and her body isn’t exactly a body, per se. She’s grateful, even so. Happy just to have the chance to hold him up. She keeps quiet at first, letting him get it all out as he sobs incoherent apologies into her shoulder--

(IloveyouImissyouIloveyouImissyouI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry)

--and contents herself with playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. Eventually, he calms.

“I like the haircut,” she says, when he pulls away. “It’s handsome. You look so grown up.”

“You look so young,” he croaks in response, and-- she supposes she must, to his eyes. It’s strange to think that she’s the same age as Ruby now; that they’ve kept going on without her, and they’ll continue to do so, once she’s led them out. “Are you--? Have you--?” He wipes at his eyes, laughing at himself a little. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t know where to start. I just-- I can't believe you're here with me.”

“I'm always with you,” she assures him, unable to suppress the urge to thumb away a tear he’s missed. She keeps her hand there, at his cheek, as she she speaks: “Even when you can’t sense me, I... oh, Jaune. I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far.”

He sighs and steps out of the circle of her arms, hanging his head to stare at Crocea Mors where it rests in its sheath. You’d never know it to be broken, just by looking. The scabbard hides the damage-- giving him the appearance of being armed and ready though all he carries is a shattered hilt. “Yeah, maybe. I-- I thought I had, but...” He swallows, face filled with shame.

She starts to reach for him again, unwilling to waste even a moment of their time not touching him, but forces herself to relax and drop her hands to her sides. It has to be his choice, doesn’t it? “Tell me. You can tell me anything; you know that.”

His voice falters terribly when he finally speaks:

“I mean, I feel like you already know. For the longest time, I wanted to be this... I dunno. This warrior, or whatever. And it never fit, no matter what I did, or how hard I worked, and I just-- I resented it so much. Being...” He shakes his head. “I just felt useless. But when I unlocked my Semblance, I had to let that go. And it was hard at first, it took time, but for a second there it finally started to feel like... like I knew my place. Where I belonged; what everyone needed from me. I was good at it. But then Penny needed--” He chokes on a sob, and has to stop and take several deep breaths before he can continue. “Nothing’s changed. I’m still useless. The idiot stuck on the wrong side of the glass, out of his league and forced to watch because someone else has to be the Maiden now and there’s nothing he can do about it. Only this time it’s worse, because this time I actually-- I--”

Unable to hold herself back anymore, she reaches for his hands; he squeezes her fingers tight, like a lifeline. “I understand,” she soothes, voice heavy like a vow. “Did you think I wouldn’t? I don’t think I have to remind you that I’m the only other person who knows what that feels like. To have been the one who killed her.”

He lets out an awful, cynical noise; a parody of a laugh. “Depends on who you ask,” he says in explanation, looking askance towards Ruby. Pyrrha sadly follows his gaze. Ruby’s shifted in her sleep, curled under her cape to be as small as possible with her head nestled in the crooks of Yang’s bent knees. Her arms are wrapped around Yang’s shins in a death grip, as though she fears her sister might fly away at any moment. Pyrrha’s heart aches for her; for the responsibility she carries. Weight Pyrrha could have helped shoulder... if only she’d been a little faster, a little more clever.

She shakes off the feeling; now’s not the time for regret. “But things have changed,” she says, bringing Jaune’s hands up to her mouth and kissing the knuckles. It will be a long time, she knows, before he believes there isn’t blood on them; maybe this small act can help. And if it doesn’t... she has other options. Maybe even a little levity, for once. “You’re not useless. You’re amazing. You’re a licensed Huntsman now; you’re accomplishing things you’d only dreamed of. All the mothers of Mantle adore you. You even got to go on a date with Weiss!”

He boggles at her, wrenching his hands away. “What?! That wasn’t a date, we were just hanging out with Oscar, we--” His jaw falls open, suddenly, and his eyes narrow once more. “Wait a minute. Are you teasing me?”

She grins, sheepish and caught. “I figured it was now or never to give it a go; I didn’t want to waste my last chance to try it. Nora always said it would be good for me.”

“To make fun of me?” he squawks, indignant.

She laughs. “To remind myself it’s okay to be a novice sometimes; that there are things I won’t instantly be good at.” She bites her lip, unable to stop her grin. “...And also to make fun of you, yes.”

He surges forward, then-- wrapping a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her closer, pressing a fierce, grateful kiss to her forehead. Then he does it again; then once more, at the bridge of her nose. And then a final time, against her lips. Quick; intense. Filled with meaning.

She’s got not breath in her, and still she’s breathless.

“I miss you so much,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut and resting his forehead against hers. His fingers thread themselves into the hair at the back of her skull, tangled into the base of her ponytail. “So much. I think about you all the time. Every day. Wondering how different things would be, if only...”

“I know,” she says, because she does. There’s more that she should say, probably-- that it’s good that he’s started to move on; that none of them can hold onto her forever. But she can’t quite bring herself to voice the words.

“It’s not fair,” he mutters, then sighs at the sound of it. “I mean, none of it is fair, but-- I feel like a jerk, I guess. That I’m the one who gets to see you, of all of us.”

“You’ll tell them I love them, won’t you? Ren and Nora. They...” They’re doing things she never did, is the thing. Maturing in ways she’ll never have the chance to. Learning that responsibility doesn’t mean putting it all on your own shoulders; that love doesn’t mean giving all of yourself away. It’s overwhelming, how proud she is of them for that. “They were on the right path, in Atlas. Don’t let them convince themselves otherwise.”

He nods, the movement of it levering her own head in shared agreement. “Anything else? Anyone else you’d like me to...?”

So many; too many. But one rises above the rest. “Tell my mother to stop leaving flowers,” she murmurs, wishing she had more to offer than that. “Tell her they belong in the garden; that I like to watch them grow. That’s-- the way it should be.”

“Okay,” he says, and relief rushes through her. “Okay. I will.”

Slowly, they both become aware once more of the gaggle of Huntresses sleeping just a few yards off. Pyrrha could leave dozens of messages with Jaune, if she wanted, but the people she most needs to speak to are right here, within arm’s reach. They need her guidance; it’s selfish not to provide it. She’s taken so long already. And yet...

Jaune beats her to voicing the thought: “I know we should probably wake them, but-- can it be just the two of us, for just a little longer? Please?”

She smiles, and brings a hand up to caress his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#Anonymous #arkos #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #rwby #fic what i wrote

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albertasunrise · 3 years

Text

It's Yours - Chapter 9

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Summary: You and Javier have been sleeping together for almost two years but after his name was leaked by the papers, he is sent home for investigation. You remain behind with Steve to catch Escobar but when he’s finally dead, you decide to go after the man you’ve fallen for. You don’t like what you find when you finally reunite with him.

Warnings: Fluff, Childbirth.

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader

You were in the last month or so of your pregnancy and you were miserable. The Peña men had you refined to your bed or the couch and you were grateful. Your ankles were swollen, your back was killing you and the babies weren’t giving you a minutes rest. With bed rest though came loneliness and with loneliness came overthinking and you were starting to overthink everything. So when Javi had told you that Connie had offered to come out and stay until the babies had arrived you were over the moon.

Today was the day she was arriving and you couldn’t wait. Javier had been busy getting the house ready for the babies. The nursery had been decorated, toy army arranged and furniture had been built. So now his days were spent getting the other house ready for his dad. Chucho was there to wait on you hand and foot when he could but he still had a ranch to run so you spent most of your days alone. Javier had driven to collect the Murphy’s from the airport. Steve was coming down for a few days before heading back to Miami but Connie and Olivia were going to be with you for at least the next month.

It was a little afternoon when they arrived.

You were settled on the couch watching a nature documentary when the door swung open and two golden heads came into view. Connie almost threw herself at you, arms circling your shoulders as she squeezed you tightly.

“You’re so big now.” She squealed as she cooed over your bump.

“I’m a whale.” You sighed, pushing yourself up a little so you could see everyone better.

“You are glowing Mi Amor.” Gushed Javier and you rolled your eyes at him.

“You have to say that Peña.” You grumbled, “You’re the one who got me into this mess.”

“She’s got a point dude.” Conceded Steve, flinching when Javier punches his arm "Mind Olivia." He moaned before the toddle slapped his cheek with her little hand.

"Seems like Livie agrees with me." Chuckled the agent.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you rolled your eyes when Javier leapt to your side and grabbed your arms in order to support you as you waddled along.

“I can walk Javier.” You snapped, sighing when you saw hurt flash across his face “Sorry baby. I’m just a little fed up. Not sure if I can go another month.”

“You know it's common for twins to come early?” Stated Connie and you nodded, rubbing your aching belly as you tottered towards the kitchen.

“Yeah the Doctor did tell us and I’m praying they do. I’m getting impatient now.” You chuckled, pulling out a bottle of water from the fridge before plonking yourself down on one of the kitchen chairs, already exhausted from your short walk.

“You’re doing so well baby.” Said Javier lovingly as he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead “So proud of you, growing out little angels.”

Connie, Steve and Olivia were such a welcome distraction.

Steve helped Javier get the guesthouse finished and then had helped Chucho officially move in.

Connie took excellent care of you whilst Olivia and you played. She was fascinated by your bump and how it moved as the babies wriggled around inside. She loved to lay her little head on it, chuckling when she'd get nudged by a foot.

"You like that Liv?" You asked as she chuckled at you, clapping in delight.

'Ye." She squealed.

She'd started to pick up words. Now able to answer yes or no questions and you felt the maternal side of you overflow with pride and each milestone she'd hit.

"Would you like a little brother or sister Liv?" You asked as Connie popped your tea beside you before taking a seat in the armchair across from you.

"YE!" She yelled and she chuckled.

"Well, there you have it Con."

"Well actually..." She started before falling silent, grinning behind her mug and your mouth dropped.

"You're not?"

"I am." She nodded excitedly and you practically screamed in excitement, Olivia mirroring your reaction.

"What... How... wh-" You paused as you processed what she'd just told you "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, we wanted to wait till we passed the 12-week mark before we told people. You know how we've struggled in the past and we didn't want to jinx it." You nodded in understanding, knowing they'd lost a baby a few years back.

"And so everything's okay?"

"Perfect." She said as she pulled some images from her back and passed them to you.

"This is amazing Con." You said sweetly as you gazed at the photos "I'm so happy for you both." You finished as you smiled up at your best friend.

It was the last day before Steve was due to return to Miami and you had suggested that the men go out for dinner and few drinks. You were hoping for a relaxed evening, just you and Connie but you could tell that Javier wasn’t sure about leaving you.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” He asked, his big brown eyes making your stomach flip.

“Baby. We’ll be fine.” You chuckled “I’m in great hands here anyway!”

“Come on, you boys go have fun. Might be your last chance before the babies arrive.” Said Connie, giving his arm a friendly squeeze.

“You’ll call if you need anything?”

“Yes!”

“And you’ll take it easy?”

“Yes, Javier.” You groan.

“She won’t lift a finger for herself.” Stated Connie “Unless she needs the bathroom. There's a line.” She chuckled, eliciting a laugh from both you and Javi.

“Fine.” He said, finally giving in “You girls have fun.”

Little did you know that everything was about to change.

The first contraction was so mild you barely noticed it. Rubbing your belly, you groaned as you shifted in your seat in an attempt to get comfortable but as the evening went on they became more intense. You’d been warned that you might experience false contractions or Braxton Hicks so you’d decided to ignore them, convinced that they would pass.

It was around 6 when you realised that they weren’t.

“Con.”

“Hmmm.”

“I think I’m in labour.”

...

“I really appreciate you and Con coming out here.” Said Javier as he gave his friend a genuine smile “The Mrs has been really struggling the last few months so I know that she really appreciates Connie being here for the last leg of this. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing. Even Olivia's doing a better job of keeping her happy.” He chuckled as he glanced at his pops “Seems like everything I do is wrong.”

“She’s growing two people inside of her Mijo.” Piped up Chucho, giving his son’s arm a friendly squeeze “She’s entitled to be snappy.”

...

“Your contractions are close together hun.” Stated Connie, holding your hand as another one ripped through you “How close is the nearest hospital?"

“47 minutes.” You panted “Timed… drive.”

“Right well I don’t think the you’re gonna last to the hospital hun.” She stated, “Do you know where the boys went?”

“NO.” You screamed, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you tried to breathe the pain.

She sprinted to the bedroom and grabbed a few pillows before making a b-line for the bathroom and grabbing some towels. bringing them to you in the lounge and arranging them so she could make you as comfortable as possible. Next, she grabbed the washing up bowl from under the sink and filled it with some warm water, knowing she’d need it to clean up the babies when they arrived.

“Right, sweetheart I need you to trust me.” She started as she pulled down your leggings and underwear “We’re going to have to deliver the babies here. I’m going to take a look and see how dilated you are.”

“SI.” You screamed and she looked at you in confusion.

“Odd time to scream for your ex.” She said before returning her attention to the job at hand.

“No… Call him… He could tell us where Javi is.” You panted out and she nodded in understanding, flicking through the phonebook beside the phone and dialling in the bar's number.

Silently grateful that Olivia's a heavy sleeper.

...

“Wonder what the girls are up to.” Said Steve as he took a swig of his beer.

“Probably watching crappy tv and gushing over all the baby clothes I spent a fortune on the other day.” Chuckled Javier “Si, reckon we can get another?”

“Sure thing.” Said the man as he grabbed two more beers “Another soda Chucho?”

“I think I’m good.” Said the older man “Will be bouncing off the walls.”

“Now that I’d like to see.” Chuckled the bartender as he walked over to the ringing phone and answering it, smile falling as he flicked his head towards Javier.

“What is it?”

“You need to go home.” He stated and Javier immediately started to panic.

“What's going on?” Asked Steve, pulling his eyes from the game on the screen and noting the now tense atmosphere.

“She’s in labour.”

‘Where is he?” You sobbed, contractions now so much closer together.

“They’ll be here soon sweetie. I just need you to breathe for me okay?” She instructed and you tried your best to do as she asked “I’ve called an ambulance too but hun…” She paused, glancing down before locking your gaze again “You’re going to have to start pushing real soon.”

“No.” You sobbed, shaking your head as tears stained your shirt “No I can’t.”

“You have to.” She said, stroking your hair away from your sweat-slick brow.

“I need Javi.” You wailed “Where’s Javi!.”

“I’m here baby.” Came a familiar voice and you sobbed “I’m right here beside you Mi Amor.”

Everything around you seemed to disappear and suddenly it was just you and him. Even the pain seemed to disappear and you cried as he pulled you in for a kiss but the moment was cut short when the worst contraction yet tore through you.

“Right hun you need to push.”

“No… I can’t.” You choke on a hiccup as you shake your head.

“Baby, if you don’t push then we won’t meet our babies.” Said Javier sweetly “You can do it, mi corazón.”

Connie ordered you to push and you did. Over and over until you were left limp on the cushions she’d so carefully laid underneath you.

“One more hun.” She said and you weren’t sure you had it in you “Come on he’s almost here.”

That was what you needed to make that final push.

With one more gargantuan effort, his cries filled the air and you let out a relieved sob as you watched her hand him to Steve so he could wash him. Not even noticing Javi cutting the cord. Chucho took his from the blonde agent after he was wrapped in one of the soft blankets you'd bought and bounced him in his arms, desperate to quiet him a little.

“How are you feeling sweetheart.” Asked Connie and you looked at her with a painted expression.

“Exhausted.”

“Well, you don’t have long sweetheart.” She said sympathetically “Your baby girl is on her way.”

She wasn’t lying either. It seemed like you had no time at all to rest before your baby girl started to make her entrance. The orders to push were repeated and you did. Pulling at whatever reserves you had left to push your baby girl into the world and when you made the final one you allowed yourself to ultimately collapse bonelessly onto the makeshift bed as you watched Javi cut the cord and hand her to Steve to be cleaned.

It took a moment for it to register.

You were so tired.

There was crying, but those were your son's cries.

She wasn’t crying.

Why wasn’t she crying?

“Why isn’t she crying?” Javier asked, staring at Connie as she checked over your newborn daughter.

She said nothing. She was calm as she waited for the tiny infant to show any signs of life but after a few minutes, she started CPR. Javier held you as the two of you watched the woman work, unable to control your emotions as fat tears started to fall. Chucho stood with your son in his arms and watched the terrifying spectacle, unable to help the few tears that slipped down his cheeks.

Then you heard the most beautiful sound.

“There you go.” Said Connie as she smiled down at the screaming infant “That's in sweetheart.” She said as she placed the wriggling baby in your arms.

“Don’t scare us like that baby girl.” Said Javier as he looked down lovingly at the tiny being in your arms.

“Don’t forget this little chap.” Said Chucho as he kneeled beside you and placed your son in your other arm.

You took a moment to stare down at your two tiny tots, forehead resting against Javier’s as you basked in the moment. Your whole body was shaking with exertion. You could smell what had happened as you pushed one of your children into the world but you didn’t care. No one did.

Your babies were here.

Everything else was irrelevant.

One Week Later…

You and Javier sat cuddled up on the couch, you holding your son and him holding your daughter. Connie was busy helping Chucho in the kitchen, still adamant that she stay a few weeks to help. The two of you had been struggling to come up with names. Nothing seemed to fit and you'd expected to have a little more time.

The ambulance had arrived a little while after you’d delivered and you were rushed to the hospital where they kept you and the babies in overnight. They were happy to discharge you the following day though and you’d quickly settled into a routine. You were sore, struggling to sit down on any chair that you had in the house. So you had almost sobbed when Si turned up with the most beautiful rocking chair you’d ever seen.

“Mae and I bought it when she was expecting and I dunno… I could never bring myself to get rid of it.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders as he placed the chair down “It’s supposed to be really good for breastfeeding and all that. You don’t have to keep it but…'

You stopped his rambling with a kiss on his cheek.

“It’s perfect.” You said sweetly, smiling when his eyes locked onto your son in your arms “Would you like to hold him?”

His eyes grew wide as he looked up at you with childlike excitement and he nodded eagerly, carefully taking him from you and cradling him with such care. You couldn’t help but swoon at the sight. The man would always hold a place in your heart but as Javier came to stand beside you, your sleeping daughter in his arms you swooned even harder.

“We actually had something we wanted to ask you.” Piped up Javier after a few minutes, Si looking up from your son to study you both.

“Well, we wondered if maybe, you’d like to be their godfather?” You said, watching him with hopeful eyes as he processed what you'd just said.

He said nothing. The tears in his eyes was all the answer that you needed and after a few more minutes of gushing over your son, he handed you back you little boy before stealing your daughter from Javier.

“You got names for them yet?” He asked as he bounced her in his arms.

“No.’ You grumbled, “Nothing feels right.”

“Mae and I were expecting a girl,” He said as he smiled down at yours “Had a name picked out as soon as we learned the sex.”

“What was it?” You asked as you sat down on the couch.

“Layla.” He stated, “Reckon she looks like a Layla.” He said with a watery smile, bringing her forehead to his lips and placing a gentle kiss there.

You looked at Javier. Sharing a mental conversation before he turned his head to the man and placed a friendly arm around Si’s shaking shoulders.

“She really does man.” He said, gently pinching her chubby little cheek “Layla Mae Peña.”

The man looked up at Javier and let out a choked sob before looking down at the tiny little being in his arms.

“If that's okay with you?” Javier asked and Si looked at him again.

“It’s more than okay.” The man replied.

“What about Luca for the other one.” Piped up Steve and you all chuckled, the soft moment broken by his eloquence.

“The other one?” You boomed.

“That’s my son Pendejo.” Javier jested as he gave his partner a playful punch on the arm.

“Luca and Layla.” You said, testing the names on your tongue “I think we’ve found their names.” You stated as you laid a gentle kiss on Luca’s nose.

“Does kinda sound like Luke and Leia.” Pointed out Connie and you chuckled again.

“I don’t see what the issue is.” Piped up Javier and everyone chuckled.

“Course you wouldn’t.” Teased Steve “Nerd.”

"You next Con." You said as you looked at the blonde who was cradling a sleeping Olivia on her shpoulder.

"Wait what?" Said Javier, confused by your statement "You're pregnant?"

"Mhmmm." She nodded, smirking at Javier's shock.

"Why didn't you tell me." He whined as he looked at his partner in shock.

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction x reader #narcos fanfiction x you #narcos x you #narcos x reader #narcos fanfic #narcos fanfiction #narcos gifs #narcos #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal

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dracusfyre · 3 years

Text

Wing and a Prayer

Had a pretty bad bout of writer’s block towards some of my WIPS so I took a break and wrote a quick wingfic, I’ve never written wingfic before and was intrigued to give it a shot. Shout out to @massivespacewren for the prompt :)

also on AO3

~~~

"Oh, shit-"

It was just a brief curse before Tony's comms cut out, and in the scheme of things, "oh shit" was rather mild given the situation. But there was a note in Tony's voice that made Bucky look up from his rifle scope to find him, trying to see the flash of his repulsers and the dark brown of his wings amidst the cloud of drones that were swarming the city.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky breathed when he found him. He dropped his rifle and started running, keeping his eyes on where Tony was dropping rapidly, his desperately flapping wings and the intermittent bursts from apparently busted repulsors doing little to slow his fall.

Steve was on the other side of the fight, covering some escaping civilians as the dive-bombing drones tried to knock them from the sky, and Natasha and Clint were too far away. "Tony, I'm coming!" He shouted, ripping at the velcro on his body armor and shrugging it off as he ran. This was Tony's nightmare, his repulsors failing him while he was in the sky now that his flight muscles were compromised by the arc reactor. He left his ammunition and hand grenades with his tac belt on the edge of the roof as he jumped, his wings stretching to their limit as he strove for height. As he flapped he realized he was still carrying too much weight to catch Tony, so he glided for a second, catching thermals coming off of the sun-lit city streets to lift him up as he reached down and unzipped his combat boots, kicking them off to land somewhere below. Another roof was coming up, so he sprinted along the roof, ignoring the broken glass and rocks that dug into his feet, then jumped off the edge again with more powerful beats of his wings. He was gaining on Tony, who had somehow figured out how to use the failing repulsors to at least steer him towards a place to land that might be more forgiving than the city streets, wings spread for a few moments at a time before the muscles gave out and they crumpled.

“Come on, come on,” Bucky said breathlessly, chest and lungs burning as he struggled to catch up. Whoever was controlling the drones had seen that Tony was vulnerable, and he was having to waste precious repulsor power shooting them down as they attacked him. A small swarm spotted Bucky trying to rescue him and moved to intercept, but as they closed in on him Bucky twisted into a tornado flip, flicking out his wings so the the razor sharp vibranium primaries on his wings sliced through the drones, leaving most of them damaged or disabled. It cost him some height, though, and he cursed as he tried to make up for it, ignoring the last remaining drone as it dived at him like a mobbing bird, until it got too close and he grabbed it, metal arm crushing the central processer and tossing it to the side.

“Tony, I need you to fold your wings,” Bucky said urgently, searching their surroundings for a good landing point. He was finally a little higher than Tony and tilted his wings on a course for intercept, steeper than a glide but not quite so sharp as a dive.

“What?” Tony said with surprise, and Bucky saw him craning his neck to see where Bucky was. “What do you-“

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, but-“

“Wings in, now!” It was gratifying to see the speed that Tony obeyed, folding his wings tight up against his back even though it violated every instinct a person had, to close their wings while falling. He also stopped trying to use his repulsors and brought his arms to his chest and his legs together, turning into exactly the kind of target that Bucky needed.

Bucky hit him at a high enough speed that it almost knocked the breath out of him and he heard Tony grunt, but Tony didn’t move as Bucky wrapped his arms around Tony’s chest, even though he probably crushed a few feathers in the process. Bucky’s wings strained with the extra weight, and the glide turned into more of a dive than Bucky was comfortable with. He knew he couldn’t land like this; they were picking up speed too fast to even land safely – or even unsafely - on a grassy field, the force of the impact would be fatal. They had to get out of the sky now.

Bucky eyed one of the skyscrapers that was looming in the sky in front of them and groaned inwardly. This was going to suck. As he steered towards one of the huge glass windows, he brought his metal hand up to tuck Tony’s head into his shoulder and protect his spine, then at the last second he curled his wings around them and prayed that the vibranium-reinforced bones of his wing wrists would be enough to break through the glass.

It did, but it hurt; the impact shuddered through his bones, and his muscles screamed at the effort of keepings his wings tight around them as they rolled through desks and cubicle dividers before finally coming to a stop.

“Ow,” Bucky said, letting his exhausted wings flop open to splay out on the cheap commercial carpeting as he opened his eyes to check the damage. He looked down at Tony, who was laying on his chest. “Are you okay?” he asked, as he let go.

“Am I okay?” Tony sat up sharply and scrambled off of Bucky’s chest to start checking him for injuries. “You flew through an industrial-strength window! Are you insane? Those things are specifically designed to not be broken by people throwing themselves at them!”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He wanted to say, I’m okay, but he wasn’t entirely sure if that was true or not – pain was starting to make itself known even through the adrenaline rush, the hot ache of overworked muscles, sharp pains that meant he was probably bleeding, and the throb of something that was probably torn or dislocated. But Tony seemed fine, judging from the way he was still scolding Bucky while his hands, gentle despite their briskness, ran over his arms and legs and combed through the feathers on his wings, searching for injuries. “Better than hitting the ground, right?”

Tony paused for a moment, sat back on his heels and looked Bucky in the eyes. Bucky wondered if he knew how his wings were hunched protectively over Bucky. “Thank you,” he said, and Bucky got a glimpse of the fear he must have felt as he fell. “Whoever is guiding the drones realized that the repulsors were helping me fly and also helping me shoot down the drones, so they had the drones suicide bomb me until they took them out.”

“Figured something like that had happened,” Bucky said, managing a wan smile. The pain was really starting to set in now, so he tried to sit up or roll over before he got stuck on the floor like a wet rag. The effort tore a groan out of him as he realized that yep, his maneuver had definitely dislocated his wings.

“Oh, God, Bucky,” Tony said, giving him a hand to help him sit up, looking with dismay at how Bucky’s wings sagged on his back, dragging limply on the carpet. He ran his hands along the wing bones, searching for breaks; Bucky could have told him that with the amount of vibranium that Hydra had used to reinforce his bones, they would probably be ripped off before anything broke, but instead Bucky watched and wished he could feel Tony’s touch around the unignorable shriek of pain coming from his shoulders. “I don’t feel any breaks, I think they’re just dislocated,” Tony said after a moment.

“Do you know how to reset them?”

“In theory.” Tony grimaced. Now he was smoothing down Bucky’s ruffled coverts, unconsciously grooming Bucky as his gaze searched the room that they’d tumbled into. Their impact had left a trail of broken or shoved aside office furniture, tangled computer cables, and dented filing cabinets, but it wasn’t like they’d landed in a doctor’s office so there wasn’t a convenient examination table with wing supports for them to use. “Guess we’ll just have to do it laying down.”

Bucky mourned when Tony stopped grooming to help Bucky move so he could lay down on his stomach, though the movement was less “laying down” and more “controlled topple” as Tony let him down slowly. Tony had to spread out Bucky’s wings by hand, fussing more than he needed to as he made sure that none of the feathers were torqued or twisted, staying carefully away from Bucky’s deadly primaries. Tony also made tiny noises as he saw the places on Bucky’s back where the glass and debris had cut him on the way in, but reported that none of the injuries were major. As Bucky rested his head on his arms, he directed Tony on how to reset his shoulder joints. “I need you to do it fast and hard,” Bucky warned him. “You can’t be afraid of hurting me, because doing it more than once would be even worse.”

“I will,” Tony said, patting Bucky between his shoulder blades reassuringly. “One, two, thr-“ and halfway into three he shoved hard, before Bucky could tense up, and even as Bucky choked on a scream of pain he heard the pop of the joint resetting. Bucky panted harshly as the pain on that side settled into an angry pulse that felt much better than it had before, even though it was going to be a while before Bucky would want to move his wings on purpose. “Do you want me to wait before I do the next one?” Tony asked, sounding concerned.

Bucky swallowed back a whimper at the thought of going through that again. “Yes,” he forced himself to say. “Just give me a minute.”

“Okay.” Tony sat against Bucky’s side, a warm weight at his hip, and started grooming Bucky’s wing comfortingly, straightening out the feathers, smoothing them down, and picking out the detritus that had gathered in them. Despite everything, Bucky felt himself relaxing; it had been a long time since anyone had cared for his wings with anything other than brisk professionalism.

He could have laid there all day letting Tony do that, but Bucky reminded himself that there was a battle going on outside their impromptu refuge and so he said, “Okay, I’m rea- FUCK!”

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Tony said, this time stroking down Bucky’s back as he shuddered from the second relocation. “It’s better when you’re not expecting it.”

“Yep,” Bucky agreed through gritted teeth, trying to focus on the feeling of Tony’s hand on his back rather than the pain radiating from his shoulders. “So what’s the plan now?” he asked, trying to find something else to think about. He had no idea what was going on in the sky outside, his communicator had been lost in the impact, and wasn’t sure that there was anything they could do now that they were both grounded, but he figured Tony probably had an idea, he always did.

“As soon as you’re okay for me to leave you, I am going to finish trying to disrupt the signal to the drones,” Tony said. While Bucky slowly tried to relax the muscles that had instinctively tightened up from the pain, Tony went back to grooming his wings to help. “That’s what I was doing when they swarmed me.”

“You should go do that,” Bucky said, shoving down the selfish urge to let Tony keep grooming him. “I’m just going to lay here for a little while, then I’ll cut strips to bind my wings until my shoulders heal.”

“Are you sure?”

Bucky forced himself to nod, and then with a last pat on his secondary coverts Tony stood. “I just need to find this place’s IT closet and I think I’ll have everything I need,” Tony said, and Bucky lifted his head from his arms to watch as Tony disappeared through the maze of cubicles. After a few minutes, Bucky pushed himself to sitting, then to his feet, hissing as the movement jostled his wings. He unfastened the Velcro that held his shirt together along his ribs then pulled it over his head, trying to move his arms as little as possible, then started ripping it into long strips to help support his wings.

“Found it!” Tony crowed just as Bucky had gotten as far along as he could without help. Bucky looked up just in time to see Tony’s steps slow as he came around the corner and saw Bucky shirtless, and the way Tony’s eyes skimmed down his chest before coming back up to his face went a long way towards making Bucky’s day better. “I, uh, I just need five minutes with this router and we’ll be set,” Tony continued, dragging his eyes away to look at the electronics in his arms. He cleared the stuff off a nearby table and took a seat, leaning against the chest support as he started to disassemble everything and start plugging it into his headset, using his wings to brush the bits that he didn’t need out of his way. As Bucky took a seat too and watched, Tony started explaining what he was doing, which Bucky only listened to with half an ear, most of his attention on the sky outside the window to make sure they weren’t ambushed by any drones. He could tell when Tony was successful because suddenly clouds of drones started dropping all across the sky before Tony could even say “That should do it.” Bucky’s mouth quirked as Tony let out a smug ha as he turned to watch the black specks fall all across the city; it would never fail to impress Bucky how Tony could literally go from falling out of the sky to defeating the enemy in the space of twenty minutes. The newspapers had taken to calling him the Invincible Iron Hawk and even though Tony complained about the name Bucky thought the invincible part was spot on. Indomitable would work too, and as far as Bucky was concerned, he’d add irresistible to the list.

“Nice work,” Bucky said, and his face must have been showing more of his thoughts than he meant it to because when Tony met his gaze his face went red and his wings half opened before resettling against his back.

“Thanks,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I’ll bind up your wings, then we’ll hit the elevators and head home?”

“Sure.” Tony was an old hand at binding wings to carry the weight and ease the pressure from the chest and shoulders, making sure the strips went across Bucky’s chest and that it rested under the feathers to keep it from slipping and breaking any. “There,” he said when he was done, patting Bucky’s bare shoulder.

Bucky reached up and put his hand on top of Tony’s before he could pull it away. “Would you like to go flying with me sometime?” he asked before he could talk himself out of it, feeling his face flame. “Flying flying?”

Tony’s grin was rueful. “Flying flying? I don’t know, I think you did some pretty impressive flying to save my life back there,” he teased, but his wings were up and already unfurling, like he was ready to go right now. Bucky’s wings instinctively tried to match him, and the spike of pain made Bucky wince. Tony gave him a sympathetic look and refolded his wings, reaching over to squeeze his hand instead. “Yes, that would be lovely. I will fix my gauntlets, you heal, and then we’ll go flying.”

#tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #winteriron

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seancekitsch · 4 years

Text

Dislocated

A/N Warnings: description of injury, references to violence, oral sex, penetrative sex, diego being a soft little angel but also very sexy hot sex man, cursing, diego has long hair but other than that no spoilers, mild product placement because me and u and everyone else are slaves to capitalism, references to diegos comics powers

“Fuck. Where do you keep your bactine?”

“My what?”

“Bactine! You know the spray stuff I use. It would really help that split knuckle of yours,” Diego sounds exhausted, but there's a hint of teasing, or maybe pride in his voice as he rummages on his hands and knees in your bathroom cabinet. The knuckle on your middle finger of your left hand is split open, oozing blood and angry looking. Your bathroom, and the two of you, look like a scene out of a horror film tonight. There is his shirt, which was white earlier tonight, now a red and pink and brown tie dye with blood, some of it yours. You have your hand, and a bruise blooming under your eye.

“My knuckle wouldn’t need anything if those people hadn’t come after us,” you snap, “Who were they anyway?”

“Oh you know, someone with something against someone in my family,” Diego offers as he digs, as if it's commonplace to fight off attackers on date night. As if this was something normal people from normal families dealt with. Of fucking course, you think.

“Someone? Or you specifically, babe?”

He sits back at this, and a hard look crosses his features, not at you, contemplating, then breaks into the slightest grin as he looks down at the gauze and neosporin in his hands and nods. Thats fair. From where you're sitting on the rim of the tub, he looks like some kind of action hero in the night. Some real die hard shit in your dimly lit bathroom. Normally, it's you in his position, but you doubt you look like this. He's got his vigilante bullshit, which frequently has him showing up during booty call hours needing to be bandaged up before thanking you with a little action of your own. You wonder if he's going to be as good a nurse to you as you are to him, or if he's genuinely a little angry at your role in what transpired tonight. You didn't even make it to your dinner reservation, opting to walk because the weather was nice, before two men dressed exactly the way unnamed baddies in a die hard film grabbed at you from behind and the two of you had to defend yourselves. Only some of the blood on his shirt was yours. This is probably why he always wears black. He looks damn good in black.

“Anyone ever taught you how to fight? Throw a punch?”

You tilt your head, which is a bad move because it feels a little heavy, giving him a look that says of course no one did.

“Right,” he nods and you figure that once you heal he will probably be changing that. Diego never wanted to rope you into anything having to do with the academy or what he does at night, unless it was seeing his siblings in almost real people circumstances like dinners. But seeing you get hurt tonight means he obviously has to make some changes to that mindset, you have to be able to defend yourself if for ever some reason he can't. You're going to have to get sweaty, and not in the way you like to. But anything for your safety, Diego thinks. He cannot risk losing you after having lost so much.

He resigns to this as he helps you up, puts you on the bathroom counter with the vanity, you now sitting on the edge of the sink so he can sink down and sit while he cleans your hand. You were lucky that it was just the left hand. Your right hand had been spared from your left’s bloody fate because of the way your right hand tried to seek out Diego while your left threw a clumsy punch, but the hardest one you'd ever thrown. Your whole arm aches and your bracelet had been broken, but you have to say you're lucky for this being your only injury. Diego clutches your hand, a bit harder, but that's because he knows you're not going to like the feel of the neosporin as it makes contact with your skin. He has a substantial amount on his fingers of the hand that's not holding yours, and looks you in the eye as he makes the ointment meet your skin. No matter how gentle he can be when he wants to, it stings. It's supposed to be that way so it doesn't get infected and kill you, but you can't help the hiss that leaves your mouth and the wince across your features. As he rubs it in, you can feel yourself getting used to the pain. It doesn't subside but it becomes more manageable as it becomes something more familiar. Is this what Diego feels each time?

It feels worse again when Diego stops rubbing it in, and reaches for the bandages. Maybe because you don't want him to stop touching you, but maybe it is because of more exposure to the air. He uses the hand holding yours to hold it in place as he wraps, gently again, but so the wrap is pulled tight. You have some movement, but you won't be making a fist again for a while. He ties it off, tapes it to make extra sure, and then kisses the knuckles over their bandage as you smile down at him and laugh. Hes a perfect romantic gentleman when he wants to be.

He stands and reaches behind you, arms going around you on either side. You reach to hug him back tightly, only you hear him chuckle as the water of the sink turns on behind you. He's washing the chemicals from his hands. After he scrubs real well, dries his hands, he returns the hug, burying his face in your neck and squeezing tightly as if he's trying to make sure you're still there. His relief fans out as an exhale along your neck and you can physically feel his entire body relax against you now because you're safe. You're going to be okay.

“How'd I do, baby?” he asks, still burying his face in your neck, “Good enough that your nurse gets a tip?”

“Nurses don't get tips.”

“You usually do.”

“I didn't say you wouldn't be rewarded for your efforts, did I?”

He pulls back to look you in the eye.

“So what do I get?”

“Anything you want, baby.”

Diego’s hands are gentle as they trail from your shoulders down your sides, gripping fistfuls of the flowy shirt you wear and pulls you to the edge of the counter. Still gentle. Still full of fear for you. Maybe mixed and speckled with relief.

The way his hands continue south, to unzipper your pants, pulling them off slowly, gently, an act of love and service more than an act of lust. He inches the fabric over your ankles, your feet, discards them somewhere outside the doorway into the hall with a small toss. Rises back to his knees for a moment, takes a pause to wrap his arms around you in a hesitant hug, like he could break you, his arms warm. Your arms instinctually settle on his shoulders to cradle the back of his head in your bandaged and loved hands before he snaps out of the moment and moves on to your shirt. He pays special attention to the buttons, one after the other slow and meticulous. If this were another night and a shirt you didn't care much about, there's a good chance he would have just cut the shirt from your frame. But tonight he's doing things like a holy man with an intricate ritual. When the last button is unfastened and free, his palms flatten, slowly slide up your torso over your stomach, over your breasts, and to your shoulders where he moves the fabric from them with the feather light touch taking extra time to feel your left shoulder, the one that swung the momentum of the punch that split your knuckle. He’s checking to see if its dislocated, you realize.

“D? Baby, I’m okay. You're good at playin’ nurse,” you reassure him.

He seems to understand, as he next pulls the straps from your bra down your shoulders, slides his hands behind your back, and makes sure you feel the heat from his hands as he makes work of the clasp. Your underwear is next, and a hint of Diego on a normal night shines through, with one hand splayed across your back he uses the other to pull the underwear down from one hip, then switches sides and tugs on the other side. He makes quick work of them, unlike the tempo he had going. They end up somewhere in the doorway near your pants, but you don't really care about their location because he's pressing his lips against your chest just around your sternum and his facial hair tickles. You still weren't completely sure where he came back from or what he went through a few months ago, but the way that he loves you and treats you like the most precious thing is definitely welcome. As was the new lack of haircut and the less groomed facial hair. He kisses lower and lower, making you shiver with anticipation of what's to come, before he settles where he's needed now.

Diego moves slowly, glacial. The way he licks you open has no purpose, merely exploratory and drawn out. Mapping you on his tongue. But it doesn’t fail to have you mewling above him, one hand gripping the counter and the other buried in his hair as his strong calloused hands hold you open for him to drink full. He dips lower, where you need him, then travels north again as if oblivious to your reactions. He could do this all night. He stays there, meandering; savoring the taste lazily as you grow more impatient at the non-committal non-specific way he licks and kisses and moves. You feel like you are hors d'oeuvres and not a meal for a starving man. And then Diego does what Diego does best. He surprises you. A hard suck to your clit has you inhaling sharply, gasping through your nose as your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut. You lean back over the sink, back of your head resting on the mirror as you try to present yourself at an easier angle for him. He dives into licking you in full-heartedness now, fucking you with his tongue, kissing and sucking at your clit, absolutely killing any coherent thought coming through your mind right now. The benefits of dating a man that can hold his breath indefinitely was definitely what he did with his mouth to you when you were alone.

He adds a finger and you automatically think you've died. He knows exactly what he's doing when he fucks you like this, his mouth adding to the wetness dripping from you as he works you over, putting just enough pressure behind each thrust of his hand to have you seeing stars. Your eyes roll back as a wanton moan tears from your throat and it sounds like someone elses voice desperately chanting his name as he has you coming, coming, and coming on his face and hand. He stays down there, the one hand still on your thigh to hold you in place, to give you a light squeeze, release some of the muscle tension built up while he licks his other hand clean sucking the digit into his mouth obscenely while he smiles up at you like an angel. He rises up from his knees and kisses your cheek with his wet mustache and beard and wraps loose arms around you, a sweet and lazy gesture.

Diego incites a passion in you that's rare. You can't recall ever wanting a person this much. So despite being sensitive from the absolute divinity of what he'd just done to you, you can't help but to jump off the counter. You reach for his pants, taking the time to feel his hard length under the fabric before you pop the button and unleash the teeth of the zipper. You pull them down just enough to free him from his boxers, and then turn yourself around to bend down against the damp counter you'd just been sitting on, looking at him through playful eyes in the mirror as he stares back, dick out and hesitant. He puts a cautious hand on your hip.

“No, not like this. I wanna see you.”

You meet his eyes in the mirror and tap on the glass with your good hand. He reaches for that arm and slowly turns you to face him.

“No baby,” he refutes, cradling your face in his strong hands, “I n-need to see you.”

So you nod, understanding that he needs this, and reposition yourself to lay on the small woven rug you kept on the floor. The bathroom floor is not the most comfortable place to lay, but this is for Diego and his peace of mind. You yield to his touch and his control over the situation as he finishes undressing and sinks down onto the floor to take his place above you. To indulge in the relief that you are okay, to bask in your gratefulness at how well he patched you up.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your neck as he kisses you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Because you got hurt? Because he needed more tenderness than you originally wanted to give him? Because earlier tonight he was so fucking afraid he’d never get to look into your face again that he has to look you in the eye when you make him come tonight?

Your bandaged hand finds its way into his hair and holds him there, close, as your fingers go to work to massaging words of comfort into his scalp. He kisses your neck once, twice, three times before lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into your cunt. You're wet, so excruciatingly and devastatingly wet and god it almost hurts him to bottom out inside you the same way something so hot can almost feel cold when it touches your skin and puts your nerves into overdrive. You're so sensitive from his mouth that you have to bite into the skin of his broad shoulder to muffle the scream that rebels against you to break into the air. Your teeth in his skin is his only relief from the soft tight burning taking over him from where your bodies join. He only moves when your teeth recede, his thrusts slow and short and deep, savoring the feeling of being connected, of being inside, of being home. His arms hold you in place while he thrusts just as much as they hold you just to feel you against him at any point of connection he can find. A vow to keep you close, to keep you where you both need each other to be. He moans deeply into your neck, the side of your face, kissing the moan into your jaw like a promise. It's more real than any declaration of love and more spontaneous than any act of romance. It's Diego.

You can feel yourself getting lost in this, in him. He's pushing you to the edge again. For you, one is too many, and a thousand is never enough with Diego. Its you selfishly moving your hips against the rhythm of his, making you both a little shocked but not embarrassed (never embarrassed) at how close you both are already. There's a desperation in both of your actions, and he pulls back just enough to see you, to let himself be seen by you. Only you. Is this what you look like when you make love after setting stitches in wounds that will definitely scar? You hope so, because he looks like heaven itself. He fucks you through your high (with a scream of his name and tears on your cheeks), fucks you through his own(with a stuttering chant of your name and deadly eye contact), then gives you one more with his mouth on the bathroom rug (with quiet whimpering and praise from both of your lips). Diego lifts you up on unsteady legs and you both tumble into bed. You sleep in late the next morning. You miss calls from his siblings that all go to voicemail. You're home safe.

#diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves smut #diego hargreeves fanfic #diego hargreeves imagine #my work

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honey-dewey · 3 years

Text

The Domestic Dream

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1,802

Warnings: Female reader, reader is pregnant with twins, mostly fluff, mild/moderate descriptions of childbirth, I think that’s it.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell @star-wars-hell

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog.

You sighed, bending down as best you could before groaning and straightening. You could hear your husband in the other room, putting together the crib. Barely two weeks away from your due date, and you and Frankie had yet to fully put together your nursery.

Rubbing a hand over your swollen belly, you breathed deep, squatting down and finally sitting on the floor in front of the laundry basket. It was overfilled due to your negligence and your pregnancy, but you could ignore it no longer. Picking up a shirt on the top of the pile, you began the slow process of folding the laundry.

“Babe?”

You looked up, smiling. Frankie had emerged from the nursery, sweaty and tired. He sat on the floor beside you, leaning slightly against your shoulder. “You’re so warm,” he said, face mushed against your skin. You laughed, kissing his curls.

“I’m pregnant,” you reminded him. “How’s the cursed room?”

Frankie chuckled, sitting upright and grabbing a pair of his jeans to fold. “Fine,” he said. “The Miller boys are coming around in a few hours to help me put everything else together. Santi’s gonna be here for dinner, and I think he’s staying the night.”

You shrugged. “I’m always happy to see the boys,” you reminded, wrinkling your nose at one of your permanently stained maternity shirts. “This is bull.”

“Agreed,” Frankie said, taking the shirt from you and folding it anyway. “Is now the appropriate time to ask about more kids?”

Groaning, you flailed at the far away basket Frankie had pulled towards him. He kicked it back to you, and you gave him a pointed look before grabbing a pair of shorts. “No.”

Frankie laughed. “Worth a shot,” he said with a grin. “Need any more help? I’ve still got to finish that crib.”

“You said you were done already,” you reminded him, tossing a pair of socks into the sock pile.

“With one of them,” Frankie said, scooting close so he was behind you, leaning against your back with his head resting on your shoulder. “We have two babies coming, remember?”

You sighed, feeling Frankie snake his hands around your belly, his thumbs rubbing the sore spots. “Don’t remind me.”

Frankie chuckled, going still when one of the babies kicked his hand. “Feisty,” he said. “Just like her mama.”

“That might not be Amara,” you said, putting your hands over Frankie’s. “Marco is in there too, you know.”

“But consider,” Frankie murmured, kissing the soft skin behind your ear. “It probably is Amara. The doc said she had spirit.”

You leaned back into Frankie, both of you supporting each other. Softly kissing his cheek, you smiled, enjoying the stretch in your aching back. Frankie hummed, tracing nonsense shapes over your belly.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?” He asked, breaking the silence. “A beautiful wife, two babies on the way, the house of my dreams. I must’ve been a saint in my last life.”

Smiling, you kissing Frankie again, targeting the hairless patch in his facial hair. “You’ll never believe me, will you?” You said. “You’re a good man, Frankie. You’ve earned this.”

Frankie pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. “I know,” he promised. “I know.”

You two remained on the floor for a while, the laundry completely abandoned. Sunshine crept across the hardwood, and you made a quiet remark about how cute a dog would look curled up in the sun. Frankie hummed, nodding, but didn’t say a word. Time continued to pass, the sun coming in from the window moving slowly as an hour elapsed, and you only managed to haul yourself upright when the doorbell rang.

“I can get it, Frankie said, still sprawled out on the floor.

“I’m already up,” you replied, putting a hand on your back and groaning. “Plus, I can’t sit for too long. I’ll never get back up.”

Frankie laughed as you shuffled through the house and opened the front door.

“Boys!” You said cheerfully, hugging Benny and Will in turn. “Frankie’s on the floor in the living room, go nudge him until he gets up.”

Benny smiled, running through the house to go bother Frankie. Will stayed with you, watching as you winced. “Kicking?”

“Moving,” you said, smoothing a hand over your stomach. “They’ve been doing that a lot lately. Feels like they might be a bit premature, although that one really hurt.”

Will shrugged, following you into the living room, where Benny was laying on top of Frankie like the world’s weirdest weighted blanket. “I’ll go start on that crib.”

You smiled, chuckling a bit. “Thank you,” you said, watching Will head into the nursery. Meanwhile, you stood above your husband and his best friend, crossing your arms. “Boys.”

Benny looked up at you, grinning. “Yes?”

“Don’t you have a crib to be putting together?”

Frankie nodded, trying to shove Benny off. “We do,” he said, smiling despite his trapped situation. “Babe, why are we having babies when we could just take care of Benny?”

Benny gasped, and you laughed. “I agree,” you said. “I’m sure it can’t be that much different.”

“You people are mean!” Benny insisted, sitting up and firmly planting his knees into Frankie’s stomach. “I’m leaving.”

Frankie followed him into the nursery, and you took a minute before bending down to grab the laundry basket. Putting it on your hip, you headed into the nursery as well. It took some shuffling, but you eventually sat in the rocking chair, out of breath and exhausted, but happy to be in the same room as everyone else. Setting the basket at your feet, it took you minimal effort to fold and sort everything while the boys did what most people did while attempting to put furniture together. They argued.

“You have the wrong piece!” Benny insisted, holding out a different bag of screws. “This goes in that hole.”

“No it doesn’t!” Will said, grabbing the drill. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you though?” Frankie asked, taking the drill back and pulling a bag from his pocket. “I’ve got the right screws.”

“Knock knock!” Santiago poked his head into the room, smiling. “I heard the joyous sounds of arguing, and I’m here to take a side!”

You smiled, standing as best you could. “Santi,” you said, gesturing him close for a hug.

“Hey Sparky,” he said, hugging you. “Dios mío, you’re massive!”

“Aww thanks,” you said with an exaggerated pout. “Can you start on the changing table please? Grab Will to help you. We only need two people on the crib.”

Santiago nodded, pulling Will away from the crib debacle and towards the guest bedroom, where the unassembled changing table pieces sat. You sat back down, half supervising and half finishing the last of the laundry. Finally, when it was done, you sighed, standing and bending down to pick up the basket. As you straightened, you felt your entire middle shift, as if someone had just twisted you around. A warm and wet something slid down your legs, and you prayed you were imagining it.

“Hey babe?” You said, turning slowly to put the laundry basket down on the rocking chair. “Go start the truck.”

“Hm?” Frankie looked up, confused. “Why?”

You took a breath and looked down at the puddle on the carpet. “My water just broke.”

The silence that filled the house was immediate. Even in the guest room, Will and Santiago heard you and stopped what they were doing. Frankie was frozen to the spot, his eyes wide with shock.

Benny was the one to break the silence, standing and taking a breath. “Well fuck.”

“Well fuck,” you repeated quietly. “Well fuck indeed.”

The silence settled back over the house for a fraction of a second before it exploded into chaos. Frankie ran to start the car, pushing past Will, who had come into the nursery to put an arm around you and ease you back into sitting. You took a breath, breathing against the pain that had erupted in your body. Benny grabbed a few towels and your hospital bag, taking them out to the car while Santiago frantically went from room to room, talking quickly to himself in Spanish.

“Ready!” Frankie called from the house’s entryway, and Will helped you up, supporting you as you walked to the truck. He passed you to Frankie, and your husband wasted no time scooping you off your feet and carrying you to the truck.

Benny gave you a thumbs up as Frankie drove away, his grip on the wheel turning his knuckles white. You gritted your teeth as another contraction hit, and set your hand on Frankie’s hand. “Relax,” you said softly. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”

Frankie shook his head, eyes wide. “What if it isn’t?” He asked.

You sighed. “Francisco,” you said firmly. “Everything will be alright.”

Everything was not alright. The hospital was too far away, and Frankie ended up having to pull over in the middle of nowhere because the babies weren’t going to wait another second. He frantically called the house while you screamed from the truck, laying on a towel that had been spread across the backseat.

“The boys are coming, and they called an ambulance,” Frankie promised, getting back into the truck and taking your hands. “Just hold on, please.”

“I can’t,” you panted, eyes screwing shut as another contraction tore you in half. “Frankie, I have to push.”

Frankie went white as a ghost, but he nodded, helping you scoot back. He rolled up a second towel and gave you a kiss before you positioned the towel between your teeth, letting your head fall back.

“You know what to do?” Frankie asked, moving back down and putting his hands on your knees, suddenly glad you had decided to wear a loose dress instead of pants.

You nodded, waiting until the right moment to push, every part of you lighting on fire. It was pain beyond description, and everything faded away, leaving nothing but you and the unbearable agony behind.

“I can see the head!” Frankie’s voice burst through your cloud, and you nodded, pushing again. And again, and again, and again until it was over. Marco and Amara were carefully swaddled up after Frankie cut their umbilical cords, and you were each holding a baby when the boys and the ambulance showed up at the same time.

“I’m so proud of you,” Frankie murmured as the paramedics checked your babies over. “Next time, let’s aim to have the kid at the hospital, okay?”

You chuckled weakly, leaning against Frankie’s shoulder. “If there is a next time.”

“That’s a conversation for later,” Frankie murmured, kissing the top of your head. “Get some rest now, you deserve it.”

Nodding, you slipped into sleep, surrounded by your husband and children.

#Triple Frontier #Francisco 'Catfish' Morales #Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing #writer wednesday

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cosmokyrin · 3 years

Text

Acquired Taste

Summary: During one of their dates, Ruby gets curious if Penny can eat. Turns out she does, but a little differently.

Ship: Ruby Rose / Penny Polendina

Rating: General

Length: 1,336 words

Notes: Simple exploration, just general fluff and dorkiness from Ruby and Penny. Also no beta coz we love dying like Summer.

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28979826

(Full story also here)

***

That Saturday morning was probably a little sweeter for Ruby. During her days off she opted to roam around Atlas, or if she felt like it, Mantle. With all the rush of the battle, she’d never gotten much opportunity to explore the nooks and crannies of Haven. Now, as an officially licensed Huntress, she had plenty of chances to go anywhere in Atlas and looked forward to doing so. Being the Kingdom with the most advanced technology in Remnant, she was more than happy to discover something new everyday. Something, or someone, just like the android who walked with her that morning.

“Thank you for accompanying me, Ruby. I very much look forward to spending time with you!” Penny chirped as she almost bounced in place.

Ruby smiled as she finished mulling over which chocolate chip cookie variant she’d grab. “Me too, Penny.” Her heart skipped a beat from saying that. She thought back on how much more cheerful Penny had been during the week, or was that just her perception, being chipper herself? She turned by her heel, ready to approach the cashier. She offered a hand for the other girl to hold. Penny was absolutely delighted to do so.

For some reason, the weekends themselves weren’t as busy as Ruby originally thought. It was reasonable, though. People rested during the weekends, freer than they were from their weekday grind. Less stress, less Grimm. It also meant Penny had a lighter load for the day as the Protector of Mantle.

It was sunnier than usual, too, and with Penny’s arm hooked around hers as they walked around the vicinity of Mantle’s walls, Ruby mentally thanked whoever for what she thought was a perfect day. She found the perfect cookie flavor as well. It was, in Weiss’ words, blasphemously sweet, but just the kind she loved. Just enough saltiness that barely registered on her senses, finishing off with a mild bitter aftertaste. How she wished she could share it to Penny and know what taste she preferred.

Then a thought flashed by and Ruby stopped halfway biting a cookie. She met bright green eyes staring at her as the question popped in her head. "Penny, can you eat?"

The redhead beamed. "Yes, Ruby! But not in the way as you do."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Like you, I use food as fuel for my systems. But I do not taste them the way you would."

"So you can't taste?”

“Not in the concept of sweet, sour, salty or bitter as you do.”

Ruby mentally gaped. “Does it mean you can eat anything?"

Penny tilted her head a bit and put a finger to her chin. "Theoretically, yes, because my system filters only the essential components of anything and discards the rest by pulverizing them and releasing them as minuscule particles that slowly evaporates through small pores in my skin. I take only what my systems require, or those that could provide heat and useful chemicals that help my chassis run.”

Ruby almost stumbled from the concept despite the fact that she was used enough to technical weaponry jargon. "Wait, you mean to say you do have a stomach?"

"A biofuel converter, if it can count as such. It is placed at the lower central part of my body," Penny replied, circling a hand over her stomach area. “While it can filter any possible kind of chemical, it’s designed to efficiently consume only what’s edible for the human body.”

Ruby's eyes visibly widened. "That's so cool."

Penny chuckled, shying a bit. She had to admit, her biofuel converter seemed to whir up a bit more whenever Ruby praised her in any way. Watching Ruby chew her food, curiosity nagged her thoughts. "Ruby, what is 'sweet' like?"

Ruby shifted her gaze down and held back something Yang would have said. Something along a pick-up line, but either way she murmured so low when she thought Penny wouldn't hear. "You."

"Me?"

Ruby dropped the cookie packet in surprise but caught it halfway, through her speed Semblance and Penny's reflexes. The short adrenaline rush had her tightly holding Penny's hand as the android firmly held the cookies. Did she casually forget the kind of superhuman hearing Penny had? Ruby's fingers twitched a bit, aching to pull away but also just wanted to stay there. Despite being in a relationship with Penny since a week ago, she still felt like the younger girl she was at Beacon around her girlfriend. In fact, she held Penny's hand for a couple of hours after her bumbling confession, but Penny didn't mind and simply took the time with her as if tomorrow would never come.

"Ruby, what do you mean by 'me'?"

Ruby's lips remained zipped, but feeling the warmth of Penny's hand right there, she took the cookie packet from her and laced their fingers together. "W-well, since you told me you can't taste things as I do... I couldn't really think of any other way to describe what it means."

"But why do you say it's me?"

"Because..." Ruby glanced at their intertwined hands. Blush peppered her cheeks as she squeezed them. "Whenever I'm with you, I feel… I feel giddy, happy, warm. I-I feel like, you know… You’re so kind, and thoughtful, and affectionate and... I mean that’s not necessarily how the taste is, I guess, but it’s the best feeling I could associate it with.”

Penny remained still for a few moments. With hands still wrapped together, Ruby brushed her thumb over hers. She patiently waited for her analysis to finish. Ruby was always fascinated watching how Penny processed things.

"I think I understand that one, Ruby," Penny said about a minute later. She pondered a bit more, repeatedly tapping her chin. Then she smiled wide. With eyes that conveyed the thrill and joy of discovery, she looked at Ruby. "I feel the same about you."

Ruby couldn’t help but grin and get redder, almost covering her face with the cookie packet. “See, when you’re like that… being you… that’s really sweet.”

Penny leaned over and kissed Ruby’s cheek. “Like that?”

“Like that.”

Satisfied with the answers she got, she further explored her curiosity. “Ruby, may I take a bite of those cookies?”

“Of course.” Ruby offered one and Penny gingerly bit a portion. Chewing for a few seconds, her expression changed to a pout.

"Ruby, I must say... the components of these are not very good for you. There's too much glucose that--"

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm an active girl! I need lots of energy."

"Well it's your day off today."

"My brain needs it! It's hard to think without sugar, you know. Besides, sweets provide me quick relief when I need it."

"I suppose so,” Penny said as she swallowed. “But most sweets don’t have the necessary nutrients your body needs. They only have plenty of glucose, and that’s not all your body requires. In fact, your breakfast today didn’t have any fruit or vegetables. You should consume something healthier..." Penny gave it thought. Then a slight twinkle dashed in her eyes. "If you need sweets to give you relief, then is being around me enough?"

Ruby blinked in surprise. She figured Penny’s adaptive learning was enough to sweep her off her feet every time. Slowly, a smile crept on her face. "Definitely." She tiptoed and kissed Penny’s lips. That simple act was enough to get her through the day. Ruby hoped Penny felt the same.

“If that’s the case, then will you promise to eat healthier food?”

Ruby groaned internally but also found Penny’s concern endearing. She just gained a personal health coach. “Sweets are still on my diet, though. You’ll have to take it from me by force.”

“Then I will make sure to be sweet enough that you won’t need it.”

Penny closely watched as Ruby laughed, filing them under her newly formed associations. That morning was filled with questions of taste, but with Ruby around her, Penny remembered sweetness the most.

#penny polendina #ruby rose #nuts and dolts #mechanical rose #rwby #fanfic #rwby fanfic #fanfiction #kyrin's writings #jjfsdfsdjlfsjdf it's an idea that came from the nnd server and yeah that just poured out of my mind #had to hold to this inspiration fast

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racebox-of-higgars · 3 years

Text

Worth It - Les Mis SPFC

Here’s my entry for the Les Mis Single Prompt fic challenge! This was my first time writing for Les Mis so it was a lot of fun!

Prompt: Person a gently tilts person b’s head up

Pairing: Enjolras x Grantaire

Word Count: 2576

Summary: Grantaire takes care of Enjolras after a fight

Warnings: Mild injury description

Grantaire glanced over at his clock, the harsh red letters slowly blinking at him in the black, almost as if they were mocking him. 2:46am. He rolled over, desperately trying to fall asleep, but something kept it from him, it’s elusive arms just out of his reach. A sense of unease had settled in his stomach hours ago, and it kept him tossing and turning, feeling sick to his core. He couldn’t tell what it was, and chose to ignore it, yet it incessantly crawled its way back into the corners of his mind, demanding his attention. It was an unwelcome presence, tugging constantly at his thoughts, and he couldn’t ignore it.

Finally, he gave up. Sleep was going to elude him for the rest of the night, there was no point in fighting that. Instead, he turned his attention to the unsettled feeling that sunk deep within him, right down into his bones. Something was deeply wrong, he knew that much, but the question was what was wrong? What was wrong and how could he make this stupid feeling go away? It wasn’t like him to be so set in a feeling like this, usually he could just shrug it off and ignore it, but this one couldn’t be shaken, no matter how hard he tried.

The ceiling swirled above him, slowly coming back into focus through the darkness as he stared up at it, lying starfished on his back. He started up at it for what seemed like hours, puzzling over the unease that shook him from the gentle embrace of sleep every time it was within reach. It only felt like hours though, when in reality it only lasted a few minutes. Again, glanced at the clock, frowning when it only read 2:57am. He groaned, flopping back against his pillow, throwing his forearm over his eyes. He was in for a long night.

Each flash of the clock out of the corner of his eyes saw the feeling of unease settling deeper and deeper into his stomach, until it was almost unbearable. It ate away at the edges of his mind, until it consumed his every thought, completely taking over. Eventually, it became so powerful that he couldn’t stay in bed any longer. He hauled himself out, slowly shuffling to the kitchen, bleary-eyed as he felt around in the darkness for a mug, and he poured himself a coffee. Coffee at nearly 3am probably wasn’t the best idea, but he wasn’t going to be sleeping anytime soon anyway, so what did it matter?

A knock at the door shook him from his thoughts. Right. Who the fuck was at his door at 3am? Whoever it was, could kindly fuck off thank you very mu- oh.

“‘M’sorry,” Enjolras murmured, swaying where he stood. “Didn’t know where else to go.” Carefully, Grantaire ushered him inside, glancing down the hallway outside his apartment before shutting the door behind them. He flicked on the lights, blinking against the sudden brightness. He couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him as he took in Enjolras’ appearance.

Blood slowly dripped from his nose and his lip was cut open and bleeding. An array of purples, yellows, greens, blacks and blues mottled his porcelain skin and one of his eyes was swollen shut. A deep cut across his temple spilled blood into his hair, the crimson a stark contrast against the shining gold, that now sparkled with what appeared to be fragments of glass. He swayed steadily from side to side and his eyes were hazy and unfocused. He looked nothing like Enjolras, usually so put together and calm. This was what was wrong.

Grantaire made his way over to Enjolras, gently taking his chin in one hand and tilting his head up to meet his eyes.

“Who did this to you?” He whispered. To an outsider, he would appear calm, collected, but there was an underlying anger underneath, indescribably discreet but also fundamentally out of character for Grantaire. He wasn’t an angry person. Blaisé and flippant, sure. Confrontational and hungry for an argument, but there was never any malice to it. It had always been a game, but not now. Now, he almost trembled with the white hot rage that coursed through his veins. He wanted to find out who did this to Enjolras and find them, hurt them, but that wasn’t what Enjolras needed from him right now. Enjolras needed him there.

“Some guy at a bar,” Enjolras said, voice hoarse. Grantaire pulled out a chair and helped Enjolras to sit. He looked dead on his feet, like he might have collapsed if Grantaire had left him any longer. Grantaire nodded, more to himself than Enjolras. A bar fight? That wasn’t like Enjolras at all. Enjolras would debate until he was red in the face and his throat completely closed up and he couldn’t speak anymore, but things never got physical with him. He would always de-escalate the situation before it reached that point. So what had been different about this time?

“So, what happened?” Grantaire asked, carefully wiping the blood from the side of Enjolras’ face with a damp washcloth. Enjolras hissed at the contact and instinctively flinched away, but relaxed into it after a moment.

“Some guy was being an ass in a bar, I called him out, he threw the first hit.” Grantaire frowned.

“What was he saying?” “Doesn’t matter, does it?” Grantaire fell quiet at that. Enjolras rarely kept things concealed, so if he was avoiding this, he must really not want to speak about it.

“Alright.”

Grantaire worked in silence, gently wiping the blood from Enjolras’ face. His hand trembled slightly with the anger that rushed just beneath his skin, but that was to be released another time. He forced it down, he didn’t need it. Not now. When he was done removing the worst of the blood, he held ice over the bruises, hoping to at least ease the pain of them. Enjolras stared up at him, much more focused now than when he had arrived, and Grantaire had a hard time avoiding his steely gaze.

“Why did you come here?” He eventually asked as he dressed the wound in Enjolras' temple. “Why not ‘Ferre? He’s a doctor, surely he would be better than me.” Enjolras’ eyes flitted around the room, almost as if he was searching for the answer somewhere there.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I guess I just- would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you?” Grantaire’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Probably not,” he said with a laugh, and even Enjolras smiled at that.

“It’s true though, R. I just wanted to see you.” Grantaire nodded, almost afraid that if he tried to speak it would just come out as some wildly unattractive squeak. He couldn’t help but think that there was something else, another reason why Enjolras had chosen him of all people to come to for help, but he wouldn’t press for that now, not while Enjolras was in this state. That could wait until later.

“I’m done,” Grantaire said finally, when all of Enjolras’ injuries were clean and dressed to the best of his ability. “You’ll have to shower to get the last of the blood out of your hair, but it’s not as much anymore.”

“Thank you,” Enjolras said quietly. “I’ll call a cab-” “No,” Grantaire immediately cut him off. “Stay here, I’ll sleep on the couch.” “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I don’t want you going home alone like this. It’s okay.”

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“Borrow mine, one second.” Grantaire stood and left Enjolras sitting at the dining table, only slightly bewildered. Grantaire flitted around the apartment like a whirlwind until he found a hoodie and sweatpants that would fit Enjolras.

“Here,” Grantaire said, handing Enjolras the clothes. They smelled like Grantaire. That was the first thing Enjolras registered. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly that was, but it was distinctly and unmistakably him. It was comforting. “You can change in the bathroom.” Enjolras nodded, and made his way down the hall, significantly less unsteady then he had been before.

While Enjolras was gone, Grantaire made himself busy, tidying away his first aid kit, running a glass of water, and putting the kettle on. Enjolras didn’t have sugar in his tea - milk and honey, instead. He also threw a blanket in the dryer. Anything to keep himself busy. That way he didn’t have to face his anger. Someone had hurt Enjolras, and it made his blood boil.

Enjolras had always been a peaceful person, quick-witted and silver-tongued, able to talk himself out of any situation. His words always slipped from his lips, able to pacify any situation. His words were one of the most beautiful things about him. They had so much power and intent behind them, and they could build you up, place you on a pedestal at the top of the world, or tear you down until you’re nothing more than a rat in the gutter. They were honey-coated or sharp as a knife, and whichever he chose could impact you for hours, days after they had been spoken. Ever the diplomat, Enjolras hated violence. He always talked his way out of situations, using those beautiful words to avoid any fight. So what had changed this time? That’s what Grantaire kept coming back to. Why couldn’t Enjolras talk his way out of this one?

Grantaire’s clothes were too big on Enjolras. They hung off his body, almost like a blanket, but they were warm and comfy and they smelled like home. He wrapped the hoodie tightly around himself, closing his eyes for a moment as he sat down on the edge of the bathtub, head in his hands. His head pounded, a dull, throbbing ache just behind his eyes that would not go away. It had been worth it though.

Okay, so maybe he had lied to Grantaire when he had said the other guy had thrown the first punch. And about why. How bad was a little white lie, really? Right, it was probably very stupid, but how was he supposed to tell Grantaire that he had punched someone in the jaw because they had been talking shit about R? That wasn’t something he was just going to admit, because that would open up the floodgates to a million other discussions that he didn’t want to have. There would be hundreds of questions with answers that he just couldn’t articulate. Enjolras was way out of his depth when it came to Grantaire, and the way he felt about him. He could talk his way through any situation, except this one, because there were no right words for it. So instead, he stayed silent for what might be the first time in his life, because he and Grantaire were a million worlds apart, really. Sure, he had shown him kindness on this one occasion, but it wasn’t like Enjolras had given him much of a choice. Within a week they would be back at each other’s throats, surely. That’s just how they worked. But for now, wrapped up in Grantaire’s hoodie, he could pretend that maybe things were different.

Grantaire looked up from the mug of tea as he heard Enjolras padding back down the hallway.

“I made tea,” he said, holding up the mug. “Also I have water and painkillers if you want them too.” Enjolras nodded with a grateful smile as he took the painkillers, then took the mug of tea from Grantaire.

“You remembered how I have it?” He asked.

“Of course I do,” Grantaire answered with a warm smile. He had memorised everything that Enjolras liked, from how he had his tea to his favourite clothing brand. All of it was stored away in some corner of his mind, until he needed it in times like these.

They drank their tea in silence. After a while, Enjolras’ eyelids began to droop. Grantaire took the blankets out of the dryer, folding them neatly in his arms.

“Come on, it’s late,” he said. Enjolras just nodded vaguely as Grantaire helped him to his feet and led him down the hallway to his room. “I’m sorry it’s a mess, I wasn’t expecting anyone.” “It’s okay,” Enjolras mumbled. Grantaire helped him into bed, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

“Get some sleep, you’ll need it.” Enjolras hummed, nestling further into the blankets. “Goodnight Enjolras.” Grantaire turned to try to get some sleep on the couch, when Enjolras’ voice made him turn.

“R?”

“Yeah?” “Stay, please?” Grantaire faltered for a moment, glancing between Enjolras, then down the hallway, then back at Enjolras. Carefully, he clambered into the bed beside Enjolras, and immediately Enjolras wrapped his arms tightly around him. “Do you mind?” Enjolras asked, looking up at him.

“No, it’s fine.” Enjolras nodded again, resting his head on Grantaire’s chest.

Silence stretched for a million miles between them, and Grantaire was just beginning to think Enjolras had fallen asleep, when he spoke.

“I lied,” he said simply, barely above a whisper.

“About what?”

“The fight. How it started. Who started it?” Grantaire looked down at Enjolras, brow furrowed in concern.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I started the fight. I threw the first punch.” Enjolras didn’t look at Grantaire, but Grantaire felt his grip on him tighten just slightly. Grantaire was perplexed. That was so out of character for Enjolras. It felt wrong.

“Why?” He asked simply.

“He was- he said some really homophobic and downright cruel things about you. I couldn’t let that slide.” Enjolras’ heart rate quickened. This was verging on dangerous territory.

“But now you’re hurt.”

“I wasn’t just going to let him say that about you!” Enjolras cried, suddenly sitting up, despite the way it made his head reel.

“Why not? People say it all the time, it’s nothing new.” Enjolras’ face fell. He hadn’t known that.

“I’m sorry. I hate that you, and other people have to deal with that.”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to apologise for other people being shitty.”

“I wish things were easier for us.” Enjolras’ voice had lowered to only slightly louder than a whisper again.

“Me too.” Enjolras looked up at Grantaire, meeting his eyes. Then, he did what was quite possibly one of the most stupid things of his life.

He kissed Grantaire.

It was brief, he pulled away before it could get heated, but it was soft and magical all the same. Grantaire looked at him for a moment, utterly shellshocked, before wrapping him in his arms tightly and pulling him against his chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to Enjolras’ hair, running a hand through it.

“Are we-” Enjolras started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning. But now it’s-” he paused to check the clock, “-4:28am, and I want to get some sleep, and you’re gonna need it too.” Enjolras nodded. Grantaire hadn’t run, and that meant things were okay, surely. Grantaire titled Enjolras’ head up, pressed a quick, gentle kiss to his lips. It was barely there, but enough for Enjolras to know that everything would be alright.

As he laid in Grantaire’s arms, listening to the steady beat of his heart and watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, Enjolras’ regret dissipated. If he got to have this, it had all been worth it.

Thanks for reading!

@lesmissamepromptficchallenge

#les mis #les miserables #enjoltaire #les mis single prompt fic challenge #exr #enjolras x grantaire #fanfiction

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pinkhairedlily · 3 years

Text

Chapter 5 - Student Council President Sakura

SCPS AO3 | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

When Naruto let go of that pitch, Sakura knew their school had won. She hugged Hinata who was also overjoyed, and she turned to her side to give Sasuke a high five then she realized he was still not back.

As she moved along the bleachers, she rallied her schoolmates to give a resounding yell routine. Disappearing within the noise, she moved along the halls below the benches, and there she found the group.

When the fist made contact with her face, she almost blacked out. The pain came rushing in after a few seconds of numbness, her sight a complete blur, a slight disorientation, and her hearing muffled. The scuffle played out before her as her eyes refocused, Sasuke kicking and punching the goons on the stomach, but it seemed she got it wrong when Kakashi’s eyes drifted to her as a pair of glaring daggers.

His one foot was on the wrist of the guy who punched her. When the blood finally dripped from her broken nostrils, Kakashi broke the guy’s hand, thankfully echoed by the screams from the bleachers. “You’ll get expulsion and multiple restraining orders just for the hell of it.”

While Kakashi called the security, Sasuke went to Sakura’s side with a mix of an irritated but worried look on his face. Ah, he was wondering why.

“I’m okay,” she tried to say despite receiving no question, but the words came out wrong. Oh my gods, are my teeth broken? How embarrassing?

As if summoned by her thoughts, he stood before them right after the guards took away the passed-out bullies. “Let’s get you two to the clinic.”

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

“I can’t call Naruto. I left my bag with Hinata,” she tried to say again but the words were coming out jumbled like I con kor Nar-u-o…I re ma ba wi Hina-a…

Kakashi was trying not to laugh as she communicated with Sasuke who was on the other bed, being checked by a doctor with curtains drawn. The school clinic recommended them to go directly to the hospital.

“He would have to wait for our congratulations,” Sasuke replied.

“I see you wincing in pain, young man. That’s a broken rib right there,” the doctor noted from the other side. When the curtains were swept to the side, Sakura saw her raven-haired classmate clutching at his side. When his eyes opened to find hers, he glanced away and let go of his pained expression.

“Ms. Haruno, I will be referring you to our plastics. Would be a waste if your student council president loses her pretty face.” The doctor tapped Kakashi’s shoulder as she walked out of their ward.

“Thanks, Nohara,” he called out after her.

Sakura deduced he was friends with the doctor, but she could ask him that some other time. She looked a bit older than the Math teacher so they might not be together. Regardless, shouldn’t she be more engrossed of having a crooked nose in front of Kakashi than his personal love life? When he turned her attention to her finally, she instinctively covered her face with her hands.

“Sakura, you should tilt your head upwards, just a little bit. You had a nosebleed earlier, didn’t you?” She did what he said, but gods, this was so embarrassing. She tried to look at him through her fingers, and his beauty mark moved as he chuckled. Ugh, why is he so perfect?

His phone suddenly pinged, and he took a moment to read the message. “Hmm. I need to leave and go explain things to the board. Nohara might advise bed rest and school leave for at most three weeks so get well soon, all right?” Then, he turned to Sasuke. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

Sakura wondered if she should ask a favor from Kakashi. Asking him to stay was a tad too much, and asking him to contact the council would be too irresponsible. Maybe she could sneak out after his exit and find a way to contact the council. She should also call Naruto – second on the task list. He would be devastated without their congratulations.

A hand on her head stopped her thoughts. “Stop thinking at hundred miles per second, and rest. I will take care of the council and inform Uzumaki of your situation. I assume you three are friends?”

“No.” “Yes.” Sasuke and Sakura answered respectively.

Kakashi smiled, finding amusement in their dynamics. “See you soon.”

“Shi yo,” she muttered through her broken nose, unaware of her fingers already fidgeting the rubber band on her wrist.

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

She was back in the hospital the following week. While Sasuke was advised to be confined, she was sent for home care. The mandated rest did not even last a day because she needed to show up to her shifts in the café and showed up she did in some elaborate mask to cover her bandaged nose and a sketchpad for conversations. To appease the constant nag and flood of messages from her councilmates, she stopped showing up in school for three days and turned the tables on them by doing all the nagging and demanding daily updates.

On the fourth day, she was up and running through the school halls to reach the board inquisition in time. She gladly accepted an annoyed litany of precautions and reminders from Kakashi.

“I never thought you could be this stubborn, Sakura.” He was visibly exasperated. “I can’t tail you every time and remind you that you’re injured.”

But you could. “I’m sorry, Sensei. I promise to not push myself so hard for the next days.” Sakura gave him a peace sign which he jokingly waved away.

“Pull your energy back, like 60 percent of it.” He patted her head softly, like an adult would to an unreasonable kid, and never have she felt more insulted. “If only I could take care of you.”

Like a babysitter would? She immediately put distance between them, feeling angry for no reason, and she stormed off, leaving him clueless in the middle of the hallway about her sudden rigid behavior.

Now she was back in the hospital after a week of mild recuperation. When she went to check on Sasuke, she found him asleep, probably from the sedatives. It amused her that even in slumbers, his brows would furrow, yet a part of her worried that there must be something looping him in nightmares. She left her presence with a basket of fruits and a medium-sized carton of tomato juice which Naruto mentioned was his favorite. Several juice boxes of the same flavor were stacked on the other side of his bed and a plastic bag filled with instant ramen bowls. She would ask the maintenance staff later to take out the trash.

When she finally reached the door of Dr. Aki Nohara, her assistant gestured for her to wait for a while outside. She figured she can loiter in Sasuke’s room and have one of the nurses get her until she heard Kakashi’s voice inside the room.

“I know you literally accelerated throughout school, but you need to act more like your age.” Her doctor scolded her teacher like an old friend. She was aware of her eavesdropping, but she hoped to learn more of his life. “I’m saying you should visit Rin.”

“Does she miss me?” It was and wasn’t his voice. She didn’t hear his usual nonchalance when he blurted out those words. Ah, a weird ache was forming in her chest.

“Do you even need to ask that from me when the answer is already so obvious?”

“Hmm. I’m just not ready….yet.”

“Well get on with it and put a ring on her finger or others will!”

Ah, her sensei was apparently planning to get married? So he had someone after all, someone named Rin. Sakura felt the room crowd her in, almost suffocating her, and she accidentally bumped into a passing staff and a tray cart of medical supplies.

Her small disturbance brought the occupants outside the room. “Ah, Ms. Haruno, you may come in now. You look pale, dear.”

Kakashi waved at her, his teacher persona already up in arms, then he turned to Dr. Aki. “Your medical advice for my heart is noted, but not now, maybe in the far, far, far future.”

Dr. Aki tsked at him. “Off you go Hatake. I have a patient waiting. Oh thank heavens, the color is returning to your face.”

He’s not marrying her……yet. Would it be silly to think I have a chance?

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

A whole two weeks have gone in secluded rooms – a week alone in a hospital room because of Itachi’s connections and another week alone cooped up in his apartment. He got radio silence from his brother, and he almost wished he gave him an earful of insults instead – many of which should have called out his cowardice, especially when the clash had an avoidable casualty. He looked so stupid next to cool Kakashi, Kakashi who was only five years older than them, Kakashi who smoked and read with baseball playing on the background, Kakashi who took on all four people at once with no scratch on his body, Kakashi with his silver hair being friends with doctors and bigshots, Kakashi with his beauty mark laughing at Sakura.

If there was any further downside to this, that was also the angry flood of texts he got from Naruto the night of the game, and then nothing. He was too drugged with sedatives he didn’t have the right mind to reply and process them. He was too drugged to wake up with a clear mind even. He didn’t bother to text or call back. Whatever, whatever, whatever. He took a look again at his phone, checked the time, found no new messages, and put it back on his side table.

His past self would have enjoyed this momentary social isolation, but he couldn’t help the nagging feeling of missing company however, he can’t bring himself to admit this aloud.

The next time he opened his eyes, he scrambled out of bed in panic and cold sweat. Someone was incessantly ringing his doorbell. When his eyes tried to find the clock, he found that it was already eight in the evening. He was sure he wasn’t expecting any guests tonight.

He trudged on to his door and mustered some strength to look through the peephole. Blue irises looked back at him, moved away a few steps, and struck a pose with a pink-haired girl with bandages still on her nose. The door never opened so quickly during the length of his stay.

“Are you stalkers or something?” were the first words he spat.

“Dr. Aki Nohara said it’s okay to visit you now!” Naruto whined. “And Sakura brought food!”

Sakura presented several paper bags. “It was Naruto’s idea actually. He nagged me for a week.”

“Yeah and I couldn’t understand her in the first few days,” the blonde said, rather straightforwardly.

Sasuke held back the urge to slap his hand on his forehead, but he moved to the side as he allowed them to venture inside his apartment. On second thought, did he put his underwear on the laundry basket?

“We figured you didn’t have dinner yet,” Sakura told him as she laid out the food containers on the dining table. “Mind if we use your utensils?”

“I forgot to say please make yourself at home,” Sasuke snapped sarcastically.

“Eeew, you’re still in your pajamas.” Naruto made a face at him while he opened his fridge and scoured for water and fruit juices. “That makes the two of us who didn’t shower!”

“You idiot. I showered this morning.” Nevertheless, Sasuke sat on the seat beside Sakura, allowing her to give him a bowl of ramen and some serving of okonomiyaki. A large platter of takoyaki was placed in the center of the table, first to be consumed by impatient hands and hungry mouths. Sakura had one hell of an appetite and fast metabolism to boot.

“Anyway, congratulations idiot,” he said while munching on the last piece of takoyaki. “Aren’t you supposed to travel to Fukuoka for the semis?”

“Yeah, next week! It doesn’t start until next month, but Captain Haru said we need to train,” Naruto replied as he proceeded to open a bowl of instant ramen. “The board also granted us exemption from exams. My brains are saved.”

“Your training camp really coincided with the school field trip,” Sakura noted. “Maybe we could visit you in between?”

“That would be the best!” Naruto grinned sheepishly, but Sasuke swore there was a tinge of red in his cheeks.

Finally rid of all food and dishes, the three lounged around in his living room, browsing titles in Netflix – Sakura wanted gore, crime, and horror while Naruto wanted adventure and fantasy films.

“What genre do you want, Sasuke?” Sakura asked. She was in possession of the remote and was seated on the other end of the couch. Naruto was on the floor with an open packet of chips and soda.

“And if I said romance?” he chided, weirdly enough to catch them offguard, but Sakura landed on the Twilight series and pressed play without second thoughts. “I was joking.”

“And it’s now starting,” she said back.

“How long are you gonna stay here?” He lost track of time – not the first instance this happened but the first occurrence without the burden of something heavy. “It’s past midnight.”

“I thought I was slow but you’re actually slower,” Naruto teased. “We’re staying over, grumpy.”

“I would love for a vampire to bite me,” Sakura quipped out of context.

Sasuke figured he didn’t have the energy to refute their uninvited sleepover at his unit. By the time New Moon played on screen, Naruto was sleeping on the floor with his mouth hanging wide open, and Sakura was lying fully on the couch, her feet stretched out on his lap. He slid out of this awkward entanglement and strode quietly to his drawers where he took out spare blankets to cover them with. On his bedside table, his phone lit up with a message notification.

Happy birthday, Sasuke. – Itachi

AO3 LINK | NEXT CHAPTER | CHAPTER 6

#SCPS #student council president sakura #sasusaku #kakasaku #uchiha sasuke #haruno sakura #uzumaki naruto #team 7

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satendou · 4 years

Text

⟶ sympathy vs empathy

⍣ 365 days of sun series | next

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi/reader/oikawa

⇢ au: 365!au, poly!au, college!au, pro!oikawa

⇢ summary: after a close game and a closer loss, you learn the difference between empathy and sympathy the hard way

⇥ masterlist

⇥ requests are open! | rules

⇢ warnings: smut, established relationship, threesome, polyamory, swearing, mild daddy kink, semi-public sex, spitroasting, deep throating, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

⇢ word count: 3.7k

⇢ an: so this is my first fic for the hq fandom. essentially i am leading with my [redacted]. i hope you enjoy! my fic was beta read by the absolutely amazing @keijiskitten whom I love dearly. she writes for hq as well, so go check her out!

There was a moment of silence in the split second after the ball hit the floor, the whole stadium seeming to freeze in time. The scoreboard read 37-35, but the players on the court stood staring at the ball rolling towards the wall. Oikawa lay splayed out on the floor, Iwaizumi and the libero whose name you couldn’t remember around him in similar positions. Shock was evident on their faces; even from the stands, you could read the myriad of emotions that flashed across their faces. Disbelief, followed by acceptance as their defeat registered, the anger, the resignation, and the regret all mixing in with it as their shoulders slumped in.

They accepted their defeat as gracefully as they could, thanking everyone for coming and smiling, but the blank stares and subtle wiping of their eyes as they took their walk of shame made your heart thump painfully in your throat. Your gaze flicked back and forth from Tooru to Hajime, unable to decide who you wanted to linger on.

Without really paying attention to what you were doing-- and probably stepping on a few toes-- you excused yourself, making your way out into the aisle. The throngs of people slowed your rush towards the locker rooms, most going in the opposite direction so that by the time you made it to their locker room, the team was just starting to stream out. Upon recognizing you, slightly out of breath and worried, they pointed towards the door, telling you that Oikawa and Iwaizumi were going to be out shortly. As they walked away, they let you know they were going to go and watch the last match of the day before you were finally alone.

You all knew what that meant. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were taking the loss the hardest, as they always did. They were the leaders of the team and losing meant that they had failed.

With a sigh, you pushed the door open and poked your head in, bracing yourself for the worst. Most of the lights were off, and the two men were sitting at opposite ends of the bench in the far corner of the room.

Iwaizumi was staring blankly at the wall, his hands curled into fists on his knees, his nails surely biting into his palm. His eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his teeth digging lol into his bottom lip as he fought not to let them fall and he shut them before they could.

Oikawa was hunched over, towel still over his head and his hands to his face. Though you couldn’t see, you were sure his state was no better.

Neither flinched until the door clicked shut behind you, both whipping around and ready to bite whoever’s head off until they saw it was you. All the air seemed to leave them when they realized, and it was like they deflated. Iwaizumi scrubbed his face with his hands, heaving a sigh as Oikawa returned to his previous prone position. Your heart hurt to see them like that and it never got easier.

Skimming your hand over Iwaizumi’s broad shoulders as you passed him, you knelt in front of Oikawa and took his hands in yours. The skin was rough and worn but warm-- and damp. You looked up, expecting to see fresh tear tracks on his cheeks, but they were dry. Scrubbed red, but dry.

And he was staring at you with a deadened expression.

What sounded like shuffling distracted you and a glance at Iwaizumi confirmed he had moved closer, reaching out to you. Your gaze did nothing to stop him and he brushed a strand of hair off of your forehead.

Your throat was sore with your own unshed tears, feeling their pain like it was your own. Every win was important to them, but the semi-finals were...well they were special. The championship had seemed so far off until they lost and they realized it was in their grasp.

With a hoarse voice, you whispered, “I-- I’m sorry, you guys. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

You felt Iwaizumi’s gentle touch on your cheek, but your eyes were locked on Oikawa.

As the words left your lips, his eyes had narrowed, a fire lighting in them and forcing a shiver down your spine. You were suspicious of it, like it was familiar yet not. It was like a harder version of the bedroom eyes he’d give you just before tackling you to the bed.

Fingers threaded in your hair, and you belatedly realized they were Oikawa’s. They tugged you closer and you shuffled forward, until you were knelt between his thighs. The sharpness in his eyes had subsided, leaving only that new, suspicious look in them.

“Tooru--” Iwaizumi warned, glancing at the door. He had vaguely recognized the look Oikawa was wearing too and took it at face value. Anyone could walk in, and Iwaizumi didn’t like the idea of getting caught by a referee-- or worse, the coach. The warning tone of his voice and the click of the lock fell on deaf ears as Oikawa continued to stare you down.

“Do you mean it, _____? You’ll do anything to make us feel better?” he asked, dangerously low and just above a whisper. The fingers curled in your hair tightened a fraction and you gulped as you realized the fire was exactly what you thought it was.

Iwaizumi cut in before you could answer, the last voice of reason, even though he wasn’t sure if he wanted it to stop. “You can say no, _____. This can wait until we get home.”

Both men paused, staring down at you, perched on your knees with your pretty mouth parted in surprise. They followed the way your tongue poked out and wetted your lips and your teeth dug into the bottom one. And both men thought about the way they would feel wrapped around their aching cocks, doing anything to help them feel better.

That thought alone, the mere mental image it conjured up, made them hard in an instant, straining against the fabric of their uniform shorts. They were already borderline too tight, and weren’t meant to hold a raging erection.

Iwaizumi fidgeted on the bench, feeling a little awkward, but Oikawa openly adjusted his shorts, drawing your gaze down for just a moment. Your mouth watered at the obvious outline pressing through, aching to skim your fingers along it as you had so many times before.

“I mean it, Tooru. Anything,” you whispered, just a bare breath of words. There was something sexy about the way you watched him, drinking in every small movement with an enraptured expression. You couldn’t have been more obvious if you had been trying, and he found it adorable Oikawa’s fingers tightened, silently telling you to stay as he tugged his shorts and boxers down with one hand. They slid down his muscular legs, pooling at his ankles and he led you forward with the pressure.

He tugged at the zipper of your jacket, the only sound besides your heavy breathing in the otherwise silent locker room. The sound of metal hitting the tiled floor made a small tink before it was forgotten, your t-shirt doing little to protect you from the moderate chill in the room.

Goosebumps rippled up your arms, and then Iwaizumi’s arms were around you, his hands rubbing up and down to warm you up again. It worked, you realizing that you were now sandwiched between your partners and that it was really going to happen. Your heart fell from your chest into your stomach, thumping away with nervous anticipation, butterflies spreading outward.

Oikawa groaned low in his throat as your soft, small hand wrapped around him and pumped, watching precum bead at the tip. Iwaizumi’s breath fanned across your neck, followed by his lips nipping and trailing their way up and over your pleasure spots. Your back curved, a shiver passing down your spine and your lips parting.

Your hand tightened around Oikawa and his hips jumped, a hissed curse leaving his lips at the electric pleasure it brought. He wanted more of that, precum now drooling down his shaft and easing the way for your hand to move faster. Iwaizumi tilted your head around to cover your lips with his, his tongue sliding past your lips to taste you.

“Hajime,” Oikawa bit out, glaring at the other man, “wait your turn.”

Iwaizumi chuckled as he pulled away, gazing fondly at your now swollen and parted lips. It was only just the beginning, and he ached to see it. Your eyes were glazed over, half-lidded and you went willingly when Oikawa pulled you back, Iwaizumi’s rough hands sliding up your back under your shirt.

He brought your lips right to his cock, tilting your head back just enough so that he could look you in the eye. There was playful glint underneath the needy lust, and it made him smirk, knowing you got off on this just as much as him. Taking his shaft in his free hand, he smeared precum all over your lips, making them nice and shiny. “You made a promise, _____. You’re going to keep it, right? Let me cum down that tight throat and I’ll feel much better.”

Iwaizumi scoffed behind you, his calloused fingers sneaking further up under your shirt while you focused on Oikawa. Already he could feel your breathing deepen, and he was sure you were wet beneath the jeans that you were wearing. He fiddled with the clasp of your bra for a moment before it came loose, letting your breasts free. He was quick to reach around, palming and kneading, nipples already hard and you mewled as you lapped at Oikawa’s cock.

Oikawa watched Iwaizumi groped you underneath your shirt for a moment before deciding he needed to see. His fingers finally came free of your hair only to tug roughly at your top, pulling it over your head. Looking at the door for the first time, he asked Iwaizumi, “You did lock it, right?”

Iwa blinked, shaking his head in exasperation at his captain, though he never stopped rolling your nipples between his fingers, enjoying the way you pushed into his hands for more. In typical Oikawa fashion, he only worried about the details after he’d made his decision, but one look down at you chased that annoyance away. It was usually Oikawa that got you into messes like this, not that you really discouraged him, and Iwaizumi usually got dragged along for the ride. He was almost always met with a reward, though, he thought with a smirk.

As soon as your head was free of your shirt, you returned to Oikawa, wetting your lips as you skimmed your lips in light kisses down the underside of his shaft.

Oh, if that doesn’t feel good, he thought, letting his head fall back. He found purchase on the bench and leaned back, closing his eyes as your mouth worked every sensitive pleasure point it could find. You knew him so well, knew exactly where to kiss, to squeeze, and to lick, making him feel lightheaded with pleasure. The feel of your lips parting around his tip caused him to sigh, pushing his cock further into your warm, inviting mouth.

Looking down once more, he admired the light reflecting off your hand, slick with your own spit as you twisted it, working it up and down where your mouth couldn’t quite reach yet. Tangling his fingers in your hair once more, he pushed, wanting to hear more of the wet sounds your mouth made as you swallowed him down. You tensed up as he reached the back of your throat, trying not to gag and he pulled back, allowing you a short breath before gently forcing you down again. He knew how far he could push you, unwilling to hurt you but determined to have your lips wrapped around the base of his throbbing cock when he came, and the intensity of the situation assured him it wouldn’t take long.

While Oikawa worked your throat open for himself, Iwaizumi contented himself by pinching your nipples one last time before moving on. Oikawa might like cumming down your throat, but Iwaizumi had better plans.

Fingering the button of your jeans, they came undone along with your fly. The angle was awkward, and Oikawa muttered in aggravation as he took your attention from him, but Iwaizumi was determined to get your jeans down to your knees, at least.

While he worked on that, Oikawa contented himself with just sitting with his cock halfway down your throat, feeling your muscles constrict around him while your tongue lapped at the prominent vein on the underside.

“That feels so good, babygirl. Don’t stop,” he moaned, sliding just a little further into your throat. He knew you could take it, needed you to take it. Your nails dug into his thighs, bracing yourself while you let him take what he wanted, and he was so grateful to you for it.

Forcing yourself to relax, you took him further, truly into your throat now as your nose buried in the brown curls at the base of his shaft. As he felt your hot breath fan, tickling the coarse curls, he groaned, the sound echoing in the tiled room. Twitching, he pulled back and thrust again, repeating the motion until the slick sound of him fucking your mouth filled the room.

Tears filled your eyes and you closed them, focusing on breathing and the feel of Iwaizumi’s fingers on your slick clit behind you. You trembled as one dipped into you before retreating.

“Shit, Tooru, she’s so fuckin’ wet,” he said, almost in awe. Oikawa smirked at his words, staring down at you from between his bangs, his perfectly coiffed hair falling apart as the heat in the room built.

“Is that right? Does sucking my cock turn you on, princess? I wanna taste you,” he said, and your pussy clenched around nothing at the thought of his tongue on you.

Iwaizumi was quick to deliver, allowing Oikawa to wrap his lips around his fingers, lapping at the rough pads and nipping the tip of his middle finger as he pulled back. He made a show of savoring your taste, licking his lips in an exaggerated manner and moaning.

You fought back a moan as Iwaizumi’s thick fingers slid back into your tight heat, your slick folds offering no resistance, his thumb circling your clit. Even just those two gave you a pleasurable stretch, and you would never get tired of the feel of his rough hands running all over your body as he pleasured you. It felt like everything he did-- even when he punished you-- was done with some level of reverence. You fluttered around him when he plucked a nipple, as if to prove your point.

Oikawa must have felt it anyway, or perhaps it was the way your throat spasmed around him as you tried to hold back, because he jerked once and forced you all the way down, your nose in his curls once again.

He pulsed once, twice, three times, shooting hot cum right down your throat and you couldn’t fight the moan this time as he milked himself off in your mouth. When he finally let you pull away, his face was right there, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before wiping at the drool there. You were beyond caring though, moaning against his lips as Iwaizumi fit a third finger inside you, your fingers curling tighter and nails digging harder into Oikawa’s thighs. There was no room for thoughts beyond Iwa and Oikawa, not even for worry about your current location.

He wasn’t even doing it to you, but you were giving him such a pleading, needy look that he wished he was. Cupping your face in his hands, he kissed you desperately, his tongue delving into your mouth, swallowing your moans as heat coursed through you. He almost groaned as he tasted his release on your tongue, a sense of satisfaction sweeping through him because of it.

Deeming you ready, Iwaizumi withdrew his fingers, and locked eyes with Oikawa over your back. They seemed to egg him on and he grinned, just a little uptick of his lips that Oikawa immediately locked onto. There was some rush of amusement as he drew one finger, then the next, then the last into his mouth, tasting your on his fingers in a show that outshined Oikawa’s. And Iwaizumi knew he enjoyed it, watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, his tongue sweep across his lips before looking at him again.

Iwaizumi positioned himself at your entrance, spreading your slick all over the head of his cock and mixing it with his own precum. You trembled under his hands, listening to the slick sounds his fist made as he used it as lube and arched your back further, begging him without words.

Oikawa dragged your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly as he pulled away. Now that he was satisfied, he was feeling much more relaxed, watching you squirm in Iwa’s hands as he teased you. “What do we say, princess?”

“I want your cock, daddy, please!” you instantly moaned against Oikawa’s lips, your eyes fluttering as you felt his cock slide into your tight hole. Too needy, too desperate, you didn’t want to play, not with the clock ticking on your hiding spot. “God yes, that--”

You choked on a whine as he bottomed out, grinding his hips against your ass to go as deep as possible. You might have stopped breathing, you weren’t sure. White flickered in your brain at the incredible stretch, friction against your clit sending shocks of pleasure to your toes.

“You’re so tight,” Iwaizumi growled, pulling out and slamming back into you, desperate to feel your soaking cunt cum around him, “so wet for us. You get off on sucking his cock, princess?”

But your mouth was occupied, Oikawa’s tongue halfway down your throat again. He could still taste the remnants of his cum on your tongue, underneath the normal sweet taste of your mouth.

Iwaizumi got his answer loud and clear though, when you clenched down tight around his cock as he thrust into you, hips slamming into yours. The utterly filthy sounds your pussy made as he pounded your tight hole filled the room, spurring him on faster. You squeezed tight around him, like you were trying to suck him back in and he didn’t deny you, chasing his own pleasure as your walls fluttered.

His rhythm stuttered when something brushed against his shaft, looking up to see Oikawa staring at him with a devious grin.

“Don’t let me stop you, handsome. Just gonna give our princess a little push is all,” he said, letting his fingers ghost along Iwaizumi’s balls for a moment before circling around your slick clit.

You jumped at the sudden spike of pleasure, spiraling as Iwaizumi filled you with his cock. It caused you to squeeze tight around him, your face pressed into Oikawa’s toned stomach as you let out a stuttery moan. Mindlessly laying open mouthed kisses on every inch of skin you could reach, you were more focused on the surge of white hot heat that came up on you suddenly.

Unable to stop it, you hid your face in Oikawa’s stomach as it overwhelmed you, your back bowing and a borderline scream ripping from your lips because Iwaizumi didn’t stop, riding through your orgasm until you were a twitching, overstimulated mess and the only thing keeping you up was Oikawa’s hold.

“Haji, Haji--” you cried, looking up into Oikawa’s face as your toes curled in pleasure that bordered on painful, your cunt clenching down in a chokehold on Iwaizumi’s cock-- whether to keep him out or suck him back in you weren’t sure.

But you were given relief when he buried himself to the hilt inside of you, his fingers wrapped in a bruising grip around your hips as he came, a broken grunt escaping his lips at the tight squeeze around him. “Fuck, princess, you feel so good.”

You let your head come to rest on Oikawa’s thigh, closing your eyes as his fingers pushed your sweat soaked bangs off your forehead before combing gently through your locks, asking “Did you enjoy yourself, _____?”

You laughed lightly, still lightheaded from your orgasm and Iwaizumi’s, and nodded. It took all your strength to lift yourself out of their holds, sitting up on your knees. Taking Oikawa’s face into your hands, you planted a kiss on his lips and asked, “Did you, you pervert? Do you feel better?”

You were pulled back into a solid chest before he could answer, hands coming up to cup your tits while Iwaizumi trailed kisses up your neck to your ear. He laughed against it, nipping at the shell as he stared Oikawa down. “Of course he did. And he better, because the rest of the team will be looking for us soon if we don’t hurry.”

Oikawa didn’t look remotely abashed as he threw Iwaizumi’s shirt at him and picked up yours, handing it to you much more gently. Iwa threw his on before helping you stand, keeping you balanced while you righted your jeans. No one commented on it, but everyone was thinking about the thick creampie now pooling in your panties, and you felt yourself get wet all over again.

You finished dressing in a rush, haphazardly fixing your hair. Oikawa tried to do the same, but there was nothing for it so you could only hope the rest of the team didn’t pay enough attention when you showed back up.

Poking his head out, Iwaizumi gave you the all clear and you snuck out, giggling like teenagers sneaking around. But the two of them seemed to be in better spirits, and you certainly weren’t going to complain if you got something out of cheering them up either.

⇥ navigation

⇥ masterlist

#oikawa tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #oikawa tooru x reader x iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru x iwaizumi hajime #.sympathyvsempathy

288 notes · View notes

solastia · 4 years

Text

Shadow Of You | 2

Pairing: Seokjin x Jungkook

Summary: Alpha Seokjin is sixteen when his best friend’s baby brother is born. When he finally gets to visit and meet the new baby Jungkook, he’s dismayed to discover the infant is his true mate. Or: Seokjin and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Long Wait For His Mate.

Seokjin bounded down the stairs of his family’s entirely too large house with his backpack slung off one shoulder. His hair was still damp as he’d rushed through getting ready and his clothes were thrown on without a thought. He hadn’t even had enough time to finish up his homework this morning like he’d been hoping.

“Where do you think you’re going without breakfast?”

He grinned sheepishly at the old housekeeper as he stuffed his feet into his shoes.

“Sorry, Yeona. I’m going to be late as it is.”

She sighs and offers up an apple she had in her apron, obviously having expected such an answer.

“At least eat this. It should tide you over until your first break. And stop staying up so late. You look thin and ragged. Do I have to move in to make you behave?”

Seokjin chuckles, having heard the same threat since he was a young boy.

“But Yeona, I have to study well so I become a doctor someday and can steal you away!”

“Oh, off with you. Have a good day. I’ll make your favorite for dinner tonight, alright?”

He cheekily saluted her and munched on the apple as he rushed to his car, finishing the fruit in just a few bites and throwing the core in a random bush for the gardener to find later. His poor stomach wasn’t happy with just a few bites of fruit, but hopefully, it would hold off until he had a chance to sneak off the grounds and get himself a real meal.

His phone was already rumbling with a barrage of messages, probably from Hoseok complaining that he’d had to walk to school since he’d never showed. He felt bad, but he’d hadn’t even been sure he was going to go to school today since he was just coming off of the most horrible rut in his life - never mind that it had only been his second.

After the life-changing visit to the Min household, Seokjin had rushed home, expecting to shut himself in his room to think about things. However, his body had decided to take matters into its own hands and he’d been horrified to feel himself going into his second rut - three months too early.

For once he’d been thrilled about the fact that Yeona had the weekends off and that his parents were at an event in Jeju. While it probably would have been safer to have someone around to check on him, he was glad he hadn’t had to explain why he was in so much agony. Why he refused to touch himself - instead curling up and sobbing as his body wracked with pain.

As someone who actually paid attention during his science classes due to his future career, he knew that it was simply his body's way of preparing itself since he’d found his mate. And since there was no mate around to sate him, his body increased its demands and he’d been forced to deal with high fevers, horrible cramping, and vomiting. He probably would have been able to reduce the severity with a couple rounds with his own hand, but it felt horribly wrong considering what had triggered it in the first place.

Jin drives with the radio off for once, the silence forcing him to finally think about his situation. And the honest to God truth was that he had no idea what to do. He’d never heard of anything like this happening before. He didn’t even know how to start looking for the information he needed.

When he was being realistic he’d always thought he’d never even find his true mate. It was becoming a rare thing for anyone these days. He’d pictured his life looking pretty much exactly like his fathers - marry someone his parents picked and work at the hospital until he was forced to retire. If he was lucky like them, he’d at least become friends with his mate and maybe pop out a pup before they start a life of celibacy (hopefully. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if his parents had others).

Now...what kind of life could he have, always being drawn to something he couldn’t have? Now that he’d scented his true mate, had skin to skin contact as he’d held him in his arms, his body was going to be thoroughly fucked.

The horrible ruts were just going to get worse for at least a couple of years before his body would finally accept the loss. His scent was going to spike enough that he’d probably have to start showering several times a day and practically smother himself in scent masking products.

Worst of all, if he decided to just move on with his life and let his parents assign him a mate, no bite would ever take. He could marry and produce pups just fine, but he’d never be able to officially mate anyone else in the traditional sense. That would be a big deal-breaker for a lot of people.

Even in this modern world, the wolf and their instincts were still held in high regard. Being married without being mated would be looked at as taboo by his family and their circle, right up there with him mating a beta or becoming a janitor.

Jin sighed as he pulled into the school’s parking lot and finds Yoongi standing there with his arms crossed, giving him no chance of escaping unless he drove off and skipped school entirely.

Jin was many things, but a total coward he was not.

He grabbed his bag and slid out of the car, pasting a grin in his face that he hoped would pass for authentic even under the shrewd eyes of Min Yoongi.

“My darling Yoongichi, were you waiting for me? Chivalry isn’t dead!” he says dramatically, heading straight for the school building and ignoring Yoongi’s grumbles as he tries to catch up to him.

“Don’t give me that. I’ve been trying to call you all weekend. What’s going on?”

Jin shrugs, going for nonchalance, even as that subtle fragrance clinging to his friend began to call to him. “I guess all the stress from school got to me. Went into rut early.”

“Really?” Yoongi clucks in sympathy. “That sucks. Wait...weren’t your parents gone? You spent your rut alone?”

Jin waves away his worry. “I was fine. Some mild cramping. Five packets of beef jerky and a few rounds with myself and my Kumi Koda poster and I’m good to go.”

“You’re gross,” Yoongi groans as he pushes past him to open the door to their first class, which happened to be together.

He was incredibly happy to slide into his first period for once, as that teacher was notorious for not allowing talking and making everyone turn in their phones before class. For now, he was free from any more questions and could simply focus on his shitty schoolwork in peace.

Until lunch, that was.

And when it came around, the nerves roiled in his gut but he sat in his usual spot anyway. He watched his friends quietly as they all settled in like a pack of hyenas on a sugar rush. Yoongi settles into the spot right across from him and Jin nearly groans because that scent is still on him. Understandable, considering. Was he ever going to be able to eat strawberries again without thinking about how fucked up his life was?

“What about you, hyung?”

He snapped to attention when Hoseok jabs him with his elbow. “What?”

“We are heading over to shoot hoops at the park then have dinner at Yoongi’s.”

“Oh, ah,” he stammers, scratching the back of his head as he searches for a way out. “I was going to work on my biology project. Really big deal. At least forty percent of my grade, you know?”

“You can do it there,” Yoongi says with a shrug. “Ma has been asking about you, and you know if you make her wait much longer she’ll kidnap you.”

And that was the heart of his dilemma because the Min household was basically his real home, and he longed to be there. Ached for the feeling of belonging and acceptance that the family gave him. But he also knew that all of it would fly away if they learned the truth.

“Besides,” Yoongi continues after swallowing his food (the only one of his friends that actually bothers to do that by the way), “She’s been really worried since last time. She said she had a feeling she knew what was wrong but she wouldn’t tell me. Like having a rut is something to be embarrassed about,” Yoongi scoffs.

Jin’s nerves went wild. Did she know? Mama Min knew? He supposed she had been closer to him at the time so she would have seen his eyes, and he had growled at her but...shit. He was so fucked. She only wanted him to come by so she could warn the destined pervert away from her son.

But...he supposed he should go. Just one last time. One last moment to soak in as much of that feeling of home as he could get before he was banished. And now that the initial imprinting and rut had passed, he’d even be able to look at him without losing his mind. So maybe he’d take the chance to apologize to Jungkook too because he was going to grow up longing for something he couldn’t understand and unable to bond properly all because fate had chosen poorly for him.

He sighed and pushed around the food on his plate. “I’ll go.”

“Great, hyung. Ma will be happy and stop blowing up my phone.” Yoongi smiled gummily at him.

That seemed to be the end of it, as they all went back to eating and talking over each other about video games. Listening to them made Jin feel ancient, despite the fact that just last week he had nothing better to talk about than video games himself.

The rest of the day went by much too quickly. All of his teachers seemed to be in great moods and willing to cut classes early or assign easy work, so there wasn’t much to keep Jin’s mind occupied. He declined to play basketball with the others afterward because he felt the overwhelming urge to go home and get prepared to go to the Min’s.

It wasn’t until he noticed that he was wearing Burberry from head to toe and had spent twenty minutes styling his hair that he realized he’d been primping for his mate. For an infant that would be more likely to vomit or piss on the outfit than admire the cut or pattern. He scoffed aloud, practically hating his wolf at that moment.

“Get used to disappointment, you bastard,” he muttered wryly.

Still the wolf wouldn’t settle. Jin drove with gritted teeth, wondering what his instincts were screaming at him to do now. It wasn’t until he passed a shopping center and he nearly crashed into someone trying to control his arm from turning the wheel that he understood. Shopping? Why the fuck did he want to go shopping?

The urge grew until stopping abruptly, letting Jin’s mind clear.

Oh! The bastard wanted to bring a courting gift. Not in this lifetime, buddy.

He breathed with mingled relief and wariness when he finally pulled into his usual spot at the Min household. He saw all the scooters and skateboards laying in the lawn that meant his friends were already here.

He gulped and climbed out of his car, walking towards the door with an odd sense of deja vu. It was just a few days ago where he made this same journey that changed his life forever.

He stared at the door, suddenly wondering what to do. Normally, he barged in like he had the right to...but did he any more?

The choice was taken from him when Yoongi flings the door open and scowls at him like he’d just grown three heads.

“Why the hell are you just standing there, weirdo? Come in already.”

“Yoongi, be nice!” Came the familiar command from the living room.

“Yes, Ma,” Yoongi grumbled as he closed the door behind Jin and waited for him to take his shoes off.

They walked together towards the living room as Jin tried to control his racing heart. He was so nervous but his wolf finally seemed content with that strawberries and cream scent filling his nose like a balm.

The moment they walked into the living room, Mama Min pierced him with a meaningful look. Then she turned and handed Jungkook to Hoseok.

“Take him into Yoongi’s room and you guys hang out in there for a bit. I just want to check on Jin without you guys hearing a bunch of embarrassing questions.”

They all chuckled, having dealt with the same concern after one of their own cycles. Jin eyed the bundle in Hoseok’s arms warily, both wanting to run from it and to protect it from Hoseok's too loose grip.

“Seokjin,” Mama Min said softly, bringing his attention back to her.

She was...crying? Was she going to kick him out right away then?

She held out her arms and thickened her scent, the comfort and reassurance she was exuding exactly what he’d needed.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

He keened and ran towards her arms, letting her pull him close. She rocked him as he finally cried for the first time since it happened. He could feel the wet droplets as she joined him.

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry,” she crooned, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t do anything. I won’t do anything! I promise!” he cried hysterically, desperate to keep her from ever looking at him with disgust. “I can stay away from him, I will.”

“Oh, darling boy. I know you would never do anything you shouldn’t. I’m just sorry it’s like this,” she said softly, cradling his cheeks to make him look up at her. “I always knew that you were meant to be a part of this family, but this seems like such a high price to pay for it. I wish I could have had him sooner for you.”

“What do I do now?” he asked softly, sniffling.

She sighed and pet his cheek. “I don’t really know, Jinnie. I’ve never heard of this before. I suppose your parents don’t even know about this yet?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re not even home right now.”

Her eyebrow raised in shock. “But...Kim Seokjin! Did you just have a rut all alone in that mausoleum of a house?”

“Uh, yes? Yeona is off weekends and my parents were out of town so I had no choice. BUT! I didn’t do anything! I swear! I just slept a lot and I swear I didn’t think anything bad.”

He clutched at her as he swore, and her eyes softened even as they filled with more tears.

“Hush, sweet thing. This is an...odd and difficult situation, but I like to think I know you well enough to know you’re trying your best. I’m not going to automatically think you’re feeling...things...for an infant. If anything, your alpha should just be feeling super protective of him, and judging by the way you growled at me last time, I think it’s safe to say you are.”

He cleared his throat with embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”

She waved it away. “It’s alright. You can’t help it.”

The conversation lulled to silence after a few moments, with him simply enjoying the way she was petting his hair.

“Mama Min?” he finally asked softly.

“Yes?”

“Should I...um...do you want me to stop coming by now?”

She sighed and tilted his chin up to face her.

“No. You are always welcome here, sweetheart. Always. I trust that not only will you be able to control yourself, but that I will be able to be a fair judge of whatever is going on.”

She waited until he nodded in acknowledgment. “However, if at any time it becomes too hard for you to be here, know that we understand and will love you no matter what you decide. If you think it’s better to stay away, that’s fine. I’ll still expect you to write, call, send a pigeon. Whatever. We won’t be upset if you decide to find a mate your own age and move on with your life. You deserve to. No one will judge you for not waiting for eighteen years for a mate. That’s unrealistic and unfair.”

He nods and looks down. “Does Yoongi know? He’ll be pissed.”

“Not yet. I’ll tell him tonight after you all leave. I think he’ll take it better one on one. But you know him. He’ll take the night to process it and then he’ll be angry at you for two days because you thought he’d get mad at you, not because of the situation.”

That much was true, he supposed.

“Alright,” she said with gusto, pecking him one last time on the head. “Go round the hooligans. Dinner will be done in a moment.”

He jumped up, feeling lighter than he had in days. His life still royally sucked, but at least for the time being he still had his home.

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asked the moment he flung open the bedroom door.

They were all gathered in a little circle in front of Yoongi’s bed, with Hoseok sitting on top of it. He was bouncing and singing something entirely inappropriate for a child.

“Yeah. It’s cool. Dinner’s almost done.”

“Finally!” Namjoon huffed, his stomach rumbling loudly to agree.

“Here!” Hoseok huffed and shoved the bundle towards him. Jin accepted it without thinking.

He looked down and locked eyes again with the creature that had so changed his life. His wolf quieted almost instantly, finally content to be in the general vicinity of its mate. The others shuffled out of the room and he barely noticed, so enthralled he was by the eyes blinking up at him. The baby was so quiet. Aren’t they supposed to be loud?

And...he supposed as far as infants went he was decent looking. Didn’t look like a potato like some infants he’d seen. His eyes were larger than the rest of the Min’s, and his nose seemed a bit longer. Maybe it was just a baby thing and he had to grow into himself.

All he knew was that he was very glad that all he scented was strawberries and pup, and it just made him protective. He didn’t feel any crazy urges or have bad thoughts - he simply wanted to make sure this pup was safe and happy.

Huh , he could live with that.

“Well, how’d I do?”

He looked up to find Mama Min watching him from the doorway, leaning against it and smiling softly.

“He’s only seven weeks old and already makes Yoongi look like a gremlin,” he scoffed playfully, standing up.

She laughs and holds out her arms. “He is a pretty one. Yoongi’s not so bad either when he sleeps more than four hours and showers.”

He hesitates, his wolf unwilling to release the pup now that he had it. But no, he was more than instincts. He thrust Jungkook towards her and pretended that his wolf wasn't howling against the loss.

Who else would he be safer with than his own mother, you bastard? He growled to himself.

When they gathered for dinner it was the usual chaos. Everyone was screaming and talking over each other, tons of laughter and teasing. Amazing food and even better friends.

Maybe I can keep this, he thought to himself. He smiled hopefully as he observed everyone he cared about sitting around him. Maybe things don’t have to change too much. Jungkook will just be another friend. Eventually. When he learns to talk that is. I can keep on with the plan.

Nothing will change.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #alpha seokjin #omega jungkook #jinkook #bts scenarios #mxm #solastia #omegaverse #shadow of you

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crybabyjam · 3 years

Text

objective truth

my first bnha fic (reposted on my new tumblr weeee)

super long post ahead!

ship: bakudeku

rating: t

summary: izuku gets hit with a truth quirk.

available on ao3 here

---

Kacchan is pretty.

It's something Izuku thinks often. About how Kacchan looks, or if he's in the mood for Izuku to be around, or how he feels about their friendship. But, it was never something he'd ever say out loud— not unless he wanted to survive to become the Number One Hero.

Everyone had begun filing out of the dorms for homeroom, and Izuku had caught just a glimpse of platinum hair as Kacchan turned down the sidewalk.

Izuku mumbles under his breath, "Kacchan is beautiful today."

"Hm? Did you say something, Deku?"

Izuku startles as Uraraka taps him on the shoulder, a bright smile on her face as Iida continues to wave his hands around just one step ahead of them both.

"Ah, nothing! I was just thinking about, uh, you know! Ahaha…" Izuku laughs it off quickly, face bright red.

(read more)

---

Fire and blood. It's something Katsuki had gotten all too familiar with at UA. Even before UA.

Sweat stings its way through a cut on his cheek as he stands, and he angrily smears it further into the wound with the back of his hand. His gauntlet was gone, torn off by the quirk of the villain in front of them.

Their quirk was something like glass shattering. Whatever they touched, the item became brittle and broke upon any impact.

Katsuki knew, though, that it only worked on inanimate objects. Not that he had known when Deku got grabbed, right on his dumbass face, by the shitty villain. When he got flung down onto the train tracks they were battling on, Katsuki was pretty sure he popped all the blood vessels in his brain from the stress.

But he hadn't shattered on impact— rather bounced like a little ball until he rolled himself onto his front.

"Fucking idiot— DEKU. GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER."

Katsuki shoots himself over to Deku's curled form, wrist aching without the stabilization from his gear. "Get the fuck up."

Deku's already on his knees, though, watching the villain as he scrubs at where the fingers had clutched him. "I'm okay. Let's finish this quickly."

Behind them laid half a shattered train. The people inside were trapped— nowhere to go unless they jumped off the bridge.

"Don't tell me what to do," Katsuki growls, yanking Deku up the rest of the way.

Despite the fact that the villain couldn't shatter them directly, they had full control over the things they could. The little shards of metal shot towards them in waves, and Deku shot a blast of air to blow most of it to the side.

"I'll keep him distracted, Kacchan." Deku takes a step back, forming a strong, protective barrier in front of the civilians behind them. "If you get him from the back, or to turn around away from the train, I can— "

Katsuki socks him on the shoulder, just in time for them to dodge another shot of projectiles. "What the fuck did I just say, fucking asshole!"

Still, Katsuki uses the plumes of smoke between them and the villain to blast his way underneath the bridge.

Something explodes above him— not fire but more glass, and it cuts across his arms as he flies high above the villain.

Deku rushes forward, keeping the villain's eyes on him with a swift kick to the chest and a blast of air to make them stumble backwards.

Before the villain goes down, those glass pieces reunite in a group behind Deku's back. Katsuki isn't fast enough to stop it— but is in the perfect position to aim a full blast right in the villain's back.

So he does.

-----

Izuku has multiple lacerations across his back from the glass and mild burns on his arms from Kacchan. There were only two injured civilians and Kacchan got off with a broken wrist and a cut on his face that would heal without scarring.

"Good job, Midoriya!" Iida congratulates him, on a personal mission to bring notes for the classes Izuku had missed.

Although the burns were mild, the cuts needed to be watched closely by Recovery Girl before she could repair them. He didn't want to have glass stuck beneath fully healed skin, after all.

Laying on his stomach, Izuku can only nod helplessly and grin. "Thanks, Iida. I'll study right away."

"Maybe next time you can defeat a villain without getting injured, dumbass."

Kacchan appears behind Iida, startling the latter something fierce, but Izuku only grins wider.

"You got hurt, too, Kacchan."

"Shut the fuck up." A water bottle, metal and shiny, is shoved against his cheek and Izuku hisses at the sudden chill. As he juggles it and the notebook Iida had brought, Kacchan watches him critically. Then, once Izuku reaches to place the bottle on his side table, Kacchan snatches the book from his bed.

"Bakugo—!" Iida starts, but Kacchan has exploded it before he'd finished the first syllable. "My notes!"

Izuku chokes on air as Kacchan stabs a finger in the back of his neck, still warm from his Quirk. "You're getting outta here at lunch, yeah? You'd better be at my room once I'm back from classes, shithole."

Then, he shoves past Iida and skirts around Recovery Girl before he leaves just as quickly as he appeared.

Izuku half-heartedly comforts Iida as he mourns the loss of his carefully crafted notes, but he can't stop the way his mouth curls at the corners. Reading between the lines, it was obvious that Kacchan wanted them to study together.

When Iida has gone, speedwalking (not running!) so that he isn't late for the next class, Izuku buries his head in his pillow and lets his smile grow wider.

'ill be there!! ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ' He texts to Kacchan.

'Fucking better, nerd.' He gets in response.

-----

All Might visits him, just before lunch.

Recovery Girl had just finished healing him, though his back only partially so because of his low energy, and he and All Might almost bumped into each other when he opened the door to leave.

Which is how they found themselves walking along the forest line, shielding their eyes from the sun.

"And you're sure you're feeling alright, Young Midoriya?"

"Feeling great! I could probably use 100% right now!" As if to prove it, Izuku begins to bounce from one foot to the other.

When All Might begins to stutter and wave his hands frantically to stop him, Izuku grins wide. "Just kidding."

The two find a bench near the middle of the forest, overlooking the rest of the city. A pond gently flows in front of them, and a few ducks peck at his red shoes before they move on to swim away.

Izuku's back still burns, if he's being honest. Not as much as it did, but there was a faint ache where each piece of glass had dug in and dragged down.

"If it still hurts in the morning," she had began, glancing down at her notes. "Come back and I should be able to heal you fully."

Now, All Might places a gentle hand across the nape of his neck, as if sensing the pain lingering there. It grows silent between them until All Might pulls away to show off his lunchbag.

"Hungry, Young Midoriya?"

Their lunch consisted of a sandwich and juice boxes— and candies from Present Mic. Each bite was quickly scarfed down as the ducks wandered between their legs, pecking at the crumbs. Izuku feels bad not sharing any fuller bites with them— but he also clearly remembers the time Aizawa-sensei had scolded him about their diets so…

He shoos them away with the back of his hand and a promise, to himself, to bring lettuce or peas next time.

When they finish, All Might pats around his pockets before producing a handful of wrapped treats, each one a pale pink or bright red. The candies nearly overflow All Might's palms and Izuku is quick to catch them before the ducks get there first.

"I never really liked strawberry flavored things," All Might confesses, as if it were the greatest sin. "But Hizashi— ah… Present Mic, I mean. He loves to share them."

Izuku pockets two of the little lollipops and promises not to tell anyone the secret.

-----

They part ways well after lunch had concluded for the rest of the UA students.

"I think… I'm gonna go for a run in town," Izuku says as they start circling back through the forest. "I probably should buy Iida a thank-you gift for his notes." Not that he'd be able to use them but…

All Might sends him a thumbs-up. "Be careful, young man. You'll send me to an early heart attack if you get attacked again so soon."

"I'll try my best!" Izuku says, and runs off with a teasing laugh before he can specify what, exactly, he'd be trying his best to do (or not do).

Although the sun had just reached its peak in the sky, the air was a bit cold as Izuku jogged down the mountain. It reminded him of the water bottle Kacchan had given him, and Izuku tried to remind himself to bring it to their study session, to return.

The town is quiet as he jogs through, pausing at an intersection to wipe sweat from his brow. Makes sense, being early afternoon on a weekday.

He and Kacchan had gotten attacked the day prior (on their way back to UA from what had basically been a mini-field trip), but already the rhythm of their town had gone back to relaxed.

Izuku waves hello to some resting construction workers, watching as they go about fixing the cracks in the bridge of the train.

On his way back to UA, he begins to eat one of the lollipops All Might had given him. It's super sweet, covered in a fine powder from where it had been smushed in his pocket. Completely and artificially strawberry, but it satisfied a craving somewhere in his stomach anyway.

As he crunches down on the hardened sugar, he doesn't hear the snap of branches as footsteps dart behind him. Not until pain explodes on his already aching back.

He goes down, silent. Minutes later, if one were to pass, all that would be left of him was the cute, pink wrapper of his candy.

-----

Izuku wakes up to a broken wrist, a black eye, and a cloth gag being unwrapped from around his head.

Voices circle around his head, and a hand keeps his shoulder pressed to the ground— not painfully but firm.

All Might's sad smile comes into view as Izuku groans and tries to roll over onto his stomach. The hands touching him move away and are replaced by All Might helping him sit up.

"Young Midoriya," He begins, but Izuku misses the rest when police sirens go off behind him, sending his head into a spiral of pain and bright lights.

He's pretty sure he faints because when he wakes up next, his wrist is healed and blood rests on his tongue, replacing the taste of old cotton.

-----

He isn't allowed to leave the infirmary until two days later. Not even allowed visitors the entire time. Not that he'd been awake if there were any visitors.

When he did wake up, though, it'd been maddeningly silent. Recovery Girl doesn't even lecture him for being hurt, but All Might does come to assure him that he hadn't died of a heart attack as he'd predicted.

"From now on, you'll have to be accompanied by an escort, young man."

Izuku readily agreed with a soft, hoarse, "Please."

-----

It isn't until the next day that he remembers the study session he'd missed with Kacchan.

-----

"You were hit with a quirk," Aizawa-sensei tells him. "We don't have all the details yet, but... by making a person ingest a piece of themself, the villain makes it so that their victim can't control what they say."

When Izuku's brows quirk and he turns green around the edges, Aizawa pats him on the head. "I'll spare you the details, but you aren't a cannibal, if that's what you're worried about."

Izuku scribbles down on the whiteboard placed in his lap and holds it up to be read.

'Is that why I'm wearing a gag?' He asks. A knotted cloth rests just behind his teeth, heavily soaked with his saliva. Gross.

Aizawa nods. "Mm, we aren't sure how long it'll take to get out of your system. Even while you were unconscious, the quirk made you speak. For the sake of your own secrets— and my own sanity—" and boy does Aizawa put stress on the word, "— we found it better to muffle it rather than find a way to stop it."

Izuku hums, but he does feel words forming on his lips around the gag even as he tries to stop it.

"If you're able to stop yourself by tomorrow morning, we'll see about classes. For now, Recovery Girl suggests letting you sleep in your own room for the night."

Aizawa-sensei is surprisingly gentle when Izuku flinches away from his hands as they reach to untie the gag.

His teacher moves to instead pat him on the head, moving sweaty hair from his eyes. "Just change it out when you get to your room," Aizawa concedes.

-----

When he stumbles back to the dorms, half dragged by the arm across Aizawa-sensei's shoulder, his classmates understandably freak.

"Is he…"

"Deku, we missed you!"

"What's with the…" Kaminari motions to the almost soaked through gag. Even without Aizawa-sensei talking directly to him, Izuku spoke everything that came to mind on the short walk from UA to the dorms.

"He's still recovering," is all Aizawa-sensei says. "Do not take it off of him. Even if he's sleeping."

At the serious tone, the class quickly parts to let them head towards Izuku's room.

"If he's still sick, why not leave him to rot in the damn granny's office?" Kacchan grumbles from the kitchen as they pass, locking eyes with him.

Izuku grins as best he can around the gag. Aizawa only grunts, but Izuku is pretty sure Kacchan gets the gist of the motion by the way he rolls his eyes and angrily downs an overfilled glass of water.

It isn't until he's been tucked in bed and given a plethora of cloths to use as a gag for the next few days that he notices the time: thirty minutes past midnight.

He sends a quick text off to Kacchan.

'sorry for worrying u! Get some rest (－ω－) zzZ'

Kacchan responds almost immediately with a quick, 'Fuck off.'

Just before Izuku turns over to place his phone back on the charger, he gets another text which reads a simple, 'You too.'

-----

Izuku is, in fact, allowed to go to classes the next day.

Aizawa-sensei walks him to Recovery Girl early in the morning.

"Given that you've missed half the week, we decided it was best to let you come back instead of make-up classes."

Izuku nods, words coming forward before he can stop them. "I'd rather not do those. They're harder than actual classes."

Aizawa rolls his eyes, but it's half-hearted at best. "When I came to wake you, you weren't mumbling in your sleep. As long as you bring your gag, you should be fine."

Then, half under his breath, "Maybe I should gag the rest of the class. Finally get some peace and quiet."

Izuku laughs, tugging an embroidered cloth out of his pocket. It was designed with a stitched thumbs up on one side and a messy side profile of Golden Age All Might, and Izuku has a feeling a certain mentor of his is the one who made it.

He and Aizawa-sensei make it to class much earlier than the rest of the class— almost 45 minutes earlier.

"What about the person who used their quirk on me?" Izuku had asked on the way to UA.

His teacher stayed troublingly silent for a long while, after that. Izuku's nervous, constant stream of thought filled the spaces in between them.

"It's being handled," Aizawa had said, finally. "The campus is under lockdown, and no one is allowed off-site."

And Izuku had left it at that.

-----

His back still hurts. He'd forgotten to bring it up with Recovery Girl, which is surprising to him considering the nature of the quirk that hit him. With as many times as he'd interrupted Aizawa-sensei with segways that had nothing to do with their conversation both walking to and from the infirmary, he's sure his teacher would be surprised to hear it, too.

He'd go before lunch break, then.

Izuku sighs softly, muttering to himself as he goes over the texts Uraraka had sent him the few days he'd been absent. Just major notes about what they'd gone over in classes she knew he had trouble with. She'd mentioned something about Iida wanting to give him another notebook, but (to none of their surprise) decided to hold off giving it to him until Kacchan wasn't around.

The gag sits soundly in his lap as he half-studies, half looks out the window.

As his class begins to shuffle in, keeping their distance but still sending happy greetings his way, he fingers the frayed edges of it.

When his friends come in, Uraraka two steps behind Iida, Izuku shouts out a sharp, excited, "Hey!"

Everyone startles at the sudden, loud sound of his voice, and he sheepishly waves them over. Aizawa-sensei narrows his eyes at him as he leaves to get notes before the beginning of homeroom, and Izuku sends him a quick, apologetic shrug.

"Dekuuu, we missed you!" Uraraka throws a quick hug across his shoulders. "We weren't even allowed to visit!"

"Ahaha, well— " Izuku begins, quickly parsing through his thoughts. "I guess I just had to be observed for a while longer."

"Oh?"

"Mm. The quirk I got hit with, uh…" Izuku flinches. Maybe he shouldn't have said that part? Ah, well. "Well, Recovery Girl still had to monitor me— plus I was still injured from the train incident— and maybe it could've been contagious, so— !"

"Ah, that makes sense. It would be inefficient to have half the class out of commission, after all." Iida nods to himself.

"Mm," Izuku smiles, kicking his legs out to turn towards the two of them. So far, it seemed the quirk was fading faster and faster with time. Even as the back of his mind panicked to talk about the classes he missed, he was able to ignore it in favor of small talk before class started. It helped when his friends smiled at him, especially helped when the worried squint of their eyes faded to something more relaxed.

Maybe he wouldn't even have to use the gag. Seeing as it was hand-stitched by All Might himself, it already earned a place on the highest shelf of his hero collection.

But then, Kacchan comes in.

Well, Ashido and Kaminari do, first. She has her arm around his neck and seems to be trying to hop on his back so he can carry her to his desk and he, rightly, is struggling.

Kirishima comes in third, knocking shoulders with Sero as they play rock-paper-scissors. Kirishima loses when he plays rock, and lets out a loud yelp when Sero pinches his side as part of the punishment.

Kacchan is right behind them, laughing meanly as Kirishima rubs his gut. His bag has slipped from his shoulder to his forearm, caught there with his hand in his pocket. Although it was morning and the air outside was chilly, he had a faint line of sweat dripping from his brow.

Kacchan had always been quick to sweating— probably because of his Quirk. His palms had always been sweaty when they were younger, always warm, too. He wonders if they still are after all these years— rough and soft at the same time.

Izuku melts as Kacchan swipes at his hairline with a handkerchief. When he moves to yell at Kirishima and Sero for trying to pounce on him to join their game, his eyes sparkle and shine happily even if his tone doesn't match.

As he closes the door behind them all, sunlight filters through the window and illuminates the shine of his teeth and the glimpse of bare midriff as Sero dodges between Kacchan's legs to crawls to his seat before Kacchan can retaliate.

Iida and Uraraka have turned to him, waiting for a response to the conversation he hadn't been paying attention to.

Instead of the apology he was expecting to spew, he instead says,

"Kacchan is beautiful, today."

His friends freeze, and even Todoroki glances up from his half-asleep staring contest with a bird in a nearby tree.

"Eh?"

"I mean— what I meant to say, Kacchan is always beautiful, and— " The words spill out easily even when his horrified fingers cling to his lips and desperately try to force them closed. It was as if the carefully crafted dam that had been being repaired all morning had gotten slammed through and demolished like glass under a hammer.

His muffled voice— "Kacchan is…. Kacchan is…" slip out of his grasp, literally slip between his fingers, and all eyes turn to the startled blond boy still standing at the classroom door.

By the way his eyebrows shoot down, a scowl on his lips replacing the carefree smirk he had just moments prior, Kacchan is livid.

---

chapter 2 and the rest of the fic available here

#bkdk #bnha #bakudeku #long post #boku no hero academia #fanfic #writing tag

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halfway-happyyy · 4 years

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An Invisible String - Part 3

AN: This is something I’ve been working on for quite a while now, and it is a little different than my usual pieces. It will probably be about three or four installments. If you enjoy it (or even if you don’t) (I don’t do too many chaptered pieces… like, ever) please feel free to send feedback. Warnings include: mentions of suicidal tendencies, depression, anxiety, past mentions of domestic physical and mental abuse. Loosely inspired by the music video for ‘High Hopes’ by Kodaline.

Synopsis: Depressed, suicidal and recently single Alexander Skarsgård is at the end of his rope. But he is about to find out that no matter where you come from, what your pain looks like, or what your truth is… The universe will always fight for souls to be together.

Part 1 Part 2

Specific trigger warnings for this chapter: tw: mentions of past domestic abuse

Alexander Skarsgård had never been in the habit of letting fate amass space in his life. As far as he was concerned, which was not extremely far at all, everything that had happened to him thus far in his life was just exactly the way it was supposed to be. People left; it was something that he had grown accustomed to a lifetime ago. Maybe they ended up coming back, maybe they did not- regardless, it ceased to be his business a long time ago. He had made a silent promise to Thea that evening, under the glow of the pub lamp, and with her small hand tucked into his much larger one, like so many times in the past. He promised her that as long as he still had the air in his lungs, he would never chase another ghost again.

“Thank you for dinner this evening,” Thea smiled. Alexander watched her in the low light of the hallway lamp. Her hand was poised on the round, brass knob of the bedroom door and he found himself aching to ask her to sleep next to him. Though sex could not be further from his mind, the thought of having her lay next to him, the sheer warmth that would radiate off her seemed too sweet an opportunity to pass up.

Alexander bent his head toward her, a small smile pulled at the edges of his lips. “It wasn’t much I’m afraid, but it was nice to spend an evening with you, Thea.”

“Goodnight, Alex. Sleep well.”

He watched her disappear into the room, listened for the now-familiar sound of the lock turning on the other side. Though he wondered briefly why she was still in the habit of doing that, he could understand it better now. “Goodnight Thea.” Retreating to the stillness of his room, he sat perched on the edge of the bed while raindrops raced each other down the length of his windowpane. He let his mind wander back to an hour ago, to the secluded booth at the back of the pub. He allowed himself to revel in the feeling of her weight against him, of the tantalizing familiarity of it all. He remembered thinking that he could be content to stay like that for the remainder of his days. That if nothing else in the world made sense to him at all, she was the one thing that did. Eventually, when the rain had dissipated, he stood from the edge of his bed and rid himself of the days clothing until he was clad only in a pair of black briefs. Pulling back the edge of the charcoal comforter, he slid into the blissfully cool sheets and pulled the blanket back over his bare chest. He stared up at the darkened ceiling above him for what felt like hours, hoping in vain like every night, that sleep would come for him fast and deep. He could not be sure how long he was under before a blood-curdling scream ripped through the blanketed silence of the night. It roused him immediately and he shot up in bed like a cannon, his chest heaving under the duress of equal parts fear and adrenaline. A slick sheen of perspiration covered every square inch of his body as he fought to take a proper breath of air. Again, it happened, and his stomach dropped with dread. “Thea,” Tearing the covers from his body, he leapt out of bed, and tore open his own door, frantic and wide awake. “Thea, are you alright?” He pounded on her door and waited for a response. When he received none, he pressed his ear right up against the paint-chipped wood and listened carefully. She was sobbing so hard now, that she could barely get a proper breath in.

“No, don’t- Please, no!” She pleaded, her voice was raw from screaming, and painfully desperate.

“Thea, I need you to open this door right now.” Alexander’s voice was firm but teetered precariously on the edge of breaking. Again, another earth-shattering scream emanated from beyond the door and he knew immediately what he needed to do next. Taking a deep breath, he stepped back into the hallway and in one swift motion, came charging at it with his leg out. The door stood less of a chance than he thought and shattered from the lock and hinge on impact, swinging open and falling against the closet. His hand immediately went to the light switch to the left of where he stood, he flicked it on and squinted as it bathed the room in a soft, yellow glow. He was not sure what he expected to find when the light found her- was not sure if an intruder had made its way through Thea’s window now, or if they had broken in earlier. When his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized that she was alone. She was sat up straight in her bed, her legs curled up tight beneath her chin. Her shoulders shook silently under the weight of her sobs and Alexander immediately rushed to her side and threw his arms around her body. “Shh, it’s okay Thea, I have you.” He rocked her against him for an unknowable amount of time, placed periodic kisses to her temple and cheek. He tried to brush the tears from her face, but they were merely replaced by fresh ones moments later. “I’ve got you Thea. You’re safe with me.” He could not be sure how many times he repeated himself in the growing morning light. He just desperately needed her to know that he was there, that he was not about to go anywhere and that she was not alone. Thea eventually grew silent right around the time that her clock read ‘4:47 AM’, her soft, measured breaths told him that she had finally given in to sleep, and he was relieved. An hour passed after that, and he gingerly moved away from her to return to his own bedroom, but she stirred only slightly to say,

“Please don’t go.”

He hesitated in the threshold, but could hear the earnestness in her tone, could hear the precise fragility of it, and he nodded his head. “Okay, Thea.” Padding around to the vacant side of the bed, he slid in behind her and pulled the quilted blanket up over their bodies. Only when he was certain that she was asleep again, did he let his own heavy eyelids slide shut. His sleep, like most nights, was heavily fragmented by dreams broken up by the sound of Thea’s scream that he could not hide from no matter how hard he tried. When he awoke a few hours later, she was still fast asleep. A golden yellow sun shone through the cracks in the curtains above her bed and shone beams of warm light over her sleeping figure. Like this, it was difficult to imagine the terror that had plagued her only mere hours earlier. His gaze drifted from her hair, which cascaded down her freckled shoulders and stopped somewhere near the middle of her back. A small, dark shadow lay just beneath a piece of her hair that caught his eye. Alexander reached toward her to brush the hair away from her back, and swallowed hard. Bruises of all shapes and sizes scattered her back like a warzone. Some seemed about a week fresh, violet and utterly angry, while some were almost fully healed, the only evidence that they were there at all was in the faded yellow ring that that encircled them. He let his fingertips traverse the many bruises, but was careful where he touched her marred skin, for he could not be sure if they still caused her physical pain or not.

“It’s okay, Alex.” Thea whispered.

Alexander’s hand dropped from her back and he discovered that any moisture in his mouth had long since evaporated, and he swallowed hard again. “Did he do this to you?”

“I’m okay now, Alex.” Thea whispered again.

“This is so far from okay, Thea.” His stomach lurched, and he wondered briefly if he would be sick. He closed his eyes and took a few steadying breaths, and the moment passed. In its place, he considered for a second what it might feel like to wrap his fists around the neck of the man who had subjected her to this, to see the life slowly fade from his eyes… Alexander shook his head and cleared his throat. “This is not okay, Thea.” He repeated.

She rubbed a hand up and down the length of her arm slowly, as if to ward off a sudden chill. “I’m safe now, Alex. I feel safe here. With you.”

For now, and despite the immense trepidation that he felt, he would have to accept that.

“What do you feel like doing today, Thea?” They had risen for the day in silence and in separate rooms. Breakfast had also been a quiet affair, the urge to say anything had not plagued either of them. He was tired, but it was the kind of tired that seeped into his bones and made him weary of his own home. He thought that it might be beneficial for them both to have some reprieve from the house today.

She glanced up from the steaming cup of coffee in her grasp and shrugged. For whatever reason she had gravitated to that one cracked mug since she had arrived, and Alexander simply thought of it as hers now. “It’s a beautiful day,” She mused. “Reminds me of when my father used to take my sister and I to the beach.” Alexander followed her gaze out the window, at the glorious shade of blue of the mid-morning sky. He watched the trees in the backyard sway in the early June breeze, and thought for a moment that he might really like to be near the ocean today.

“Why don’t we go?” He asked.

She swallowed the last sip of her coffee, her eyes wide in mild surprise. “Beg your pardon?”

Alexander shrugged. “Let’s pack a lunch and head to the beach today.” He watched in awe as her face curved up into a wide smile, and he figured that maybe someday he would make a list of all the things he said that made her smile like that. “What do you say?”

“Sure, Alex.”

He lived about a two-hour drive from the beach in which Thea had referred to earlier, and he found that he was grateful to be able to put some mileage between himself and the unsavory morning that they had just endured. Though he remained proud of the house that he and his wife had once shared, he figured that he might like to sell it someday soon. That he would like to settle somewhere a little closer to Stockholm, somewhere a little closer to the comfort of his family. Thea had fallen asleep fifteen minutes into their drive and Alexander found that he had to fight to keep his attention on the road and on the traffic around him. She slept peacefully for the time being, which he was thankful for. When the vehicle trundled to a halt at a spot in the gravel parking lot thirty minutes later, he was surprised to see that it was mostly empty save for one or two couples scattered haphazardly along the shoreline. “Thea,” He murmured and rested a warm hand atop her forearm. When her eyes remained closed, he pressed a little further and gave her a small shake. “Thea, we’re here.” She inhaled deeply and as her eyes slid open, Alexander watched her pupils constrict against the sudden barrage of light. She smiled sleepily at him, and it was all he could do not to lean over and kiss her deeply.

“Hi, Alex.”

“Hello,” He smiled back at her. “You ready?”

She nodded her head and unbuckled her belt, letting herself out of the side door and stretching her arms high above her head. Alexander followed her suit, and grabbed a couple of towels, a thick checkered blanket, and the picnic basket from the backseat. He followed her down to an uninhabited stretch of sand where he shook the blanket out and watched the ocean breeze pick it up and carry it out before him. He settled it down over the sand and sat down, setting the wicker basket off to his side. His eyes slid shut as he raised his face to the heavens and inhaled deeply the briny scent of saltwater. To him, it was nostalgic and immediately comforting. Thea stood a few feet away at the water’s edge; she had one of his worn, blue beach towels draped loosely around her shoulders that billowed out behind her in the wind.

“God, it’s beautiful isn’t it?”

Of course, she was referring to the view before her; to the vastness of the Baltic sea as it stretched on for what felt like forever before her very eyes. But his only view now, and certainly the only one that really mattered, was of her solitary figure at the waters edge. “It sure is,” He murmured. He watched her approach the water with trepidation and though it was June, it was only just, and he knew that the temperature would be far from comfortable. “Go on then.” He encouraged her.

She turned back to him with a smile and let the towel fall from her shoulders. Alexander watched the wind carry it out a little further away, and finally set it down a few feet from where he sat. “This isn’t going to be like yesterday,” She giggled.

“Yeah? Well, we’ll see about that.”

She waded out a little further out into the ocean so that the water came up around the middle of her calves. “It isn’t warm.” She shivered.

Alexander laughed from his perch on the blanket. “Didn’t think it would be.”

“You don’t want to join me?” She asked with a wink.

Alexander glanced down at his jeans and shrugged his shoulders. “Would you like me to?”

She turned in the sand, and held a hand over her eyes to shield herself from the sun’s glare, and nodded her head. “As a matter of fact, I would.”

Alexander smiled and pushed himself up from the blanket. “Well alright then.” He stood in his spot and leaned down to roll up the bottoms of his jeans so that they sat snug just below his knees. He enjoyed the feeling of the sand between his toes, reveled in the feeling of the sun as it shone down on his back and basked him in a warm glow. He stepped into the frigid water without hesitation and joined her where she stood. For a moment he wrestled with himself on what he was about to do; the moment passed, and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his hands falling to rest just below her sternum. He could not miss the way that her body immediately molded to his own, could not miss the contented sigh that exited her mouth as he held her to him. He placed a soft kiss to the top of her head and dipped his head lower so that his lips were mere inches away from the shell of her ear. “I’m happy that you found your way back, Thea.”

She turned in his arms, her gaze lingered on his lips, and then met his own and she smiled. “I’m happy too, Alex.” She reached up first, though it was difficult because her had feet begun to sink in the sand. Alexander tightened his grasp around her waist and held her to him as their lips connected in a kiss that had been in the works since the beginning of everything. It was the innate push and pull of a love that dwindled a lifetime ago, but never fully burnt out. She tasted so familiar to him that it caused an ache to twinge somewhere deep in his heart and he deepened the kiss. She had found her way back to him and he had no idea who to thank for it. They held each other for a long while, both equally needing the comfort that the embrace brought them. “Are you hungry? How about some food, hm?” Alexander felt her shiver against him, and rubbed his hands up and down the length of her freckled arms to create warmth. He smiled when he felt her nod her head against his chest. They walked hand in hand to the towel a few feet from the shore and Thea settled down to eat her sandwich in between the crook of his open legs. They had not packed much in the way of food; two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a bag of multicolored garden-grown carrots, and two water bottles. It was enough, but Alexander found that his appetite for food was nearly nil. Instead, he was simply content just to watch her eat as he held her to him, his mind still buzzing from the kiss that they had just shared. She finished her food in silence and when she was done, Alexander cleared his throat. “Thea?”

“Hm?” She murmured.

“The situation this morning…” He could feel her stiffen against him and he winced. “You were dreaming about him, weren’t you?”

She hesitated before she nodded her head. “Yeah, I was.”

“Does that happen often?”

Thea started to wring her hands in her lap- a nervous habit that she had yet to outgrow. “More often than I’d like,” She admitted quietly. “Last night was the worst one yet, though.”

Alexander hugged her tightly to him, his lips ghosted the top of her head. “You’re safe with me now, you know, that right?” He pressed his lips to her cheek. “As long as we’re together- you’re safe. I would never let anything happen to you, Thea.”

She rubbed a hand reassuringly over the top of his forearm. “I know, Alex.”

They remained at the beach until the sun began to sink low over the Baltic sea, the shore now entirely void of everyone except an old man and his golden retriever. Alexander gazed at Thea from his spot at the blanket. The pockets of her jean shorts bowed out at the sides, bursting with the tiny treasures that she had stumbled across. He watched her pick up rocks of all different shapes and sizes, watched her run her fingers over the smooth ridges in scattered shells. Alexander watched the old man toss a piece of driftwood out into the ocean and his four-legged companion dive in after it, happily. A twinkle of familiar laughter sounded in the distance and he saw Thea drop to her knees in the sand, her arms wrapped loosely around the dog’s neck as he waggled his blonde tail in unbridled excitement. “Hi Max,” He heard Thea giggle. She exchanged a few words with the man and with a sincere goodbye, scratched the dog once more behind his ears and made her way for the blanket. “Did you see that dog?” She asked, breathlessly. Alexander did not think she had ever looked more beautiful. Her hair was windswept from the ocean breeze, her cheeks pink from the slight, early evening chill. But best of all, he loved the way her eyes twinkled merrily when she spoke of the new friend she had made.

“I did see that dog, Thea. He looked like the best boy.”

She beamed at him. “He was, Alex.”

Thea had fallen asleep on the ride home like Alexander had predicted that she would, and mid-sentence about the dog that she had just fallen head over heels for. He had hardly minded a bit, because minutes before she nodded off, she took hold of his hand in hers, and did not let go until the car glided to a halt in front of the house. “Thea, we’re home.” He murmured and placed a kiss to her temple. As he carried her half-asleep figure into the house, he wondered for a moment if maybe he ought to leave a little more room for fate after all.

#an invisible string #alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard au #drabble #writing #tw: mentions of domestic abuse #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #tw: suicidal #fluff #alex sstuff

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unsettledink · 4 years

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Kinktober Day 29

Glutted

Prompt: Come Inflation

Word Count: 1914

Summary: There are certain advantages to Peter being able to come and come and come and come.

(bottom!Tony, bodily fluids, belly bulges, mild humiliation, sex marathon, idk quite how to tag some of it?)

It's so easy when Peter pushes into him again, so easy and slow and wet. "God, Tony," Peter whispers. "You're so soft, so hot."

So stretched out, Tony thinks, so used and fucked out that even with nothing in it, his ass is probably still gaping wide open. "Sloppy," he mumbles as Peter rocks into him, sloppy enough that he can feel some come leaking out around Peter's cock.

"That too," Peter agrees, and he sounds a little dazed again.

Tony can still help a little right now, grinding back onto Peter's cock and tightening around it as Peter fucks him. He stopped coming himself—what, four rounds ago? At least—but he couldn't care less, perfectly content to let Peter keep going like this, as long as he wants. As long as they both want.

It aches just a little as Peter thrusts, but all it does it make Tony spread his legs further apart, sink into it. Focus on that and nothing else, on Peter's cock, how it feels bigger, thicker now that Tony's a little swollen. Focus on the wetness of it, the sound of it as Peter speeds up, noisy and squelching and messy.

Focus on the feel of Peter coming, shoved in as far as he can go, yet another ridiculously large load deep inside Tony. They'd measured it, after the first time Tony saw Peter come and got to tell him that no, most people did not shoot off that much at a time.

That'd been fun.

Peter sighs, slipping out of him, and Tony echoes him when he feels the blunt head of the plug pressing back in. Sighs again when Peter rolls him over, tucks Tony up along his front and kisses his neck, nuzzling in and settling there, sleepy.

Peter's kissing him, soft kisses that trail up his cheek, to the edge of his jaw. It's almost not enough to pull Tony out of his half asleep daze, but it at least starts to. "Thirsty?" Peter asks. He must have gone off for another refuel.

Tony shakes his head. "I'm fine," he mumbles. "Just—"

"Full?" Peter finishes for him, grinning.

"Not enough."

"Fuck, Tony," Peter says. "I don't know— we've been doing this a while."

"You're out?" Tony asks.

"No." Peter shakes his. "No, not even close," and Tony groans.

"Then yes," Tony says, closing his eyes again. "Yes, more."

Peter slides down behind him, his hand spreading over the curve of Tony's ass, exposing him. Stays there, rubbing and kneading as Tony hears Peter start up again, hears the wet sound of Peter's hand on his cock. He'd stopped fucking Tony a couple rounds back; Tony would have let him, but Peter had snapped at him, finally. 'I want to fill you up,' he'd said, 'not fuck you raw.'

Little late for that to be completely true, but Tony doesn't mind a bit.

Peter moans, pressing his face against Tony's back, and his hand slides down, brushing over the plug and pushing it in more, making Tony groan before Peter pulls it out. Tony tries, but there's still a little rush of fluid trickling down his leg; Peter catches it with his thumb and smears it across Tony's hole, pushing it back in. Pushing his cock in too, just the head, leaving it there and jacking off faster, his hand bumping up against Tony's ass. It's incredibly hot like this, Peter not even fucking him, like Tony's nothing but a vessel for his come.

Maybe he can't come, can't even get hard at this point, but it doesn't make him feel less turned on as Peter comes inside him again, even easier to feel this shallow. Doesn't keep him from wanting to come when Peter stays there, just like that, breathing deeply against Tony's skin until he's hard again, getting off in Tony again without ever moving from that very spot. Doesn't stop him from fucking whimpering when Peter pulls out and shoves the plug back in, fast, before any more can escape.

Doesn't mean he doesn't want more.

Peter comes in his mouth the next couple of times, takes advantage of Tony's exhaustion, the way he can barely hold his head up at all, to fuck deep into his throat, harder and faster than he'd been fucking Tony's ass the last few times. It's all the same in the end, Tony thinks as he swallows and swallows and swallows, swallows until he starts to feel almost sick, his stomach roiling. He pulls off Peter's cock the second Peter's come, before he can start up again; "Wait," he rasps.

"What's wrong?" Peter says, dropping down next to him.

"Just— too much at once," Tony says, swallowing hard, eyes closed. "Ugh, I feel gross."

"That's cause you are gross," Peter says, so kind, and kisses his cheek. "Think sitting up will help?" Tony shrugs, but when Peter hauls him up, propped up against Peter's chest, even if his ass hurts more like this, he does feel a little better.

And a lot more full.

Peter's hands drift down, settling over Tony’s stomach. Touching it, ever so lightly, slowly smoothing over the slight swell of it. Tony shudders, turning his face into Peter's neck, and Peter moans. "Tony," he whispers, "Tony, Tony, fuck."

He's rocking against Tony, rubbing his dick along the cleft of Tony's ass; "Don't waste it," Tony tells him.

"Fuck," Peter mutters, "can't— still? More, still?"

"Yeah," Tony says. "More, baby. Wanna feel it. Want you to feel it."

"I can," Peter says, pressing his fingers into Tony's stomach.

"More," Tony says.

He loses track of time somewhere in there. He lost track of how many times Peter's come ages ago, but he couldn't tell you now if it's midday or night or morning again. Couldn't tell you if it's been an hour, or half, or ten minutes since Peter last came in him.

Can't move even, can't think, can't take much more. Peter's taken care of him, such good care of him, so the only reason he's uncomfortable is because of what's in him. Is because he's so full, swollen and filled to near bursting with Peter's come, Peter who can keep coming and coming and coming until even Tony is finally satisfied.

He's so swollen that his stomach—his whole abdomen—hurts. Aches, the skin feeling like it's stretched too tight, even the slightest pressure on it nearly painful. It's better when he's on his side, curled around it, but Peter's got him stretched out on his back, the swell of his body obvious like this. Huge, like this. Tender, Peter's touch almost too much as he strokes over the curve of it, slow and gentle, mesmerized. He leans in and kisses just above Tony's belly button, so softly, and Tony groans.

Groans again as Peter kisses lower, scatters kisses all over his skin, stretched tight by the sheer ridiculous, insane amount of Peter's come trapped in him.

"Peter," Tony whispers, reaching for his head. "Peter, baby, I can't."

All along, it's been Peter asking, Peter checking so carefully if Tony still wants more, if it's too much, are you sure Tony, are you sure. It's been Peter, so Tony doesn't even understand at first, the way Peter looks at him, like he's drunk, and doesn't say 'okay'.

Says instead, "One more, Tony. Please? Just one more."

"Peter, I can't," Tony says, even the thought of one more drop of come in him making him want to cry.

Peter kisses the side of his bulge, carefully. Looks up at him through his eyelashes. "Please," he says. "Just one more. For me."

Tony whimpers, but he doesn't protest again when Peter crawls down and hooks his arms under Tony's legs. Doesn't beg Peter not to when Peter pulls the plug out, slow, careful, replacing it with the head of his cock immediately.

Doesn't look away from Peter's gaze when Peter starts fucking him, for real, like he hasn't in hours, every nerve in Tony's ass sore and aching, even as loose as he is. Fucks him hard, fast, pushing Tony's legs up further and leaning forward over him, and it hurts, not just Peter's cock pounding into him, but the extra pressure on his stomach, the way it's so swollen Peter has to lean hard on it to kiss him— and does, even as Tony squirms and gasps. He'd be leaking if it wasn't for Peter's cock plugging him up, and he can't do anything except lie here and take it, can't want anything but to lie here and take it.

One more, Peter had said, one more for him, and even if Tony doesn't think he can bear one more, he still wants it.

Gets it, Peter gasping above him and stilling, cock throbbing in Tony's ass. He pulls out, slowly, lowering Tony's legs and smoothing his hand over the bulge of Tony's stomach, soothing this time as the pressure is relieved somewhat. Tony clenches down as Peter's cock slides out of him; the head pops out with an obscene wet noise, and Tony's trying but he's too loose to keep everything in. "No," he whispers as he feels thick drops start to slide down his ass, "Peter, the plug, come on, quick."

"No," Peter says, leaning up and kissing him, Tony trembling as he tries to keep it all in. "So much, Tony," Peter murmurs. "So fucking much, so full, god Tony, look at you."

"Peter," Tony pleads, because he's losing the battle here. "I'm going to—"

"Shhh," Peter says. "I know," and then his hand is on Tony's stomach, flattened out and pressing down so hard; Tony yelps, trying to jerk away, and the sudden movement does him in.

"Oh fuck," Tony says as he feels it, "fuck, no!" but it's useless, there's no going back. No stopping the flood of come that rushes out of him, all over the bed and his legs and his ass, thick and wet and utterly humiliating. No stopping it, especially not with Peter leaning over him, pressing down on his stomach, rubbing it as it empties and pushing lower, forcing out every last drop he can.

Peter's staring down between Tony's legs, eyes wide, and Tony wants to curl up and hide; he'd thought having Peter help him the toilet and then leaving would be embarrassing enough, but this— this—

"Oh my god, Tony," Peter breathes out. "That was— that was all in you, that was all— fuck, I can't believe you could hold that. I can't— oh my god," and then he's folding over, hand still low on Tony's abdomen, burying his face in the new hollow of Tony's stomach, nuzzling into it.

That— was not the reaction he'd expected.

Tony brings his hand to the back of Peter's head, threading his fingers through his hair; Peter turns his face until he can look at Tony, still pressed against Tony's belly. "I'm losing my mind," Peter says. "That was so hot I can't even think, okay?"

"Yeah," Tony says, and it's all too much as well, all way too much. "Me too, kid."

He feels like he could pass out, he's so worn down, so completely used up. Peter blinks at him, trying to burrow into him even further, and then freezes.

Looks at Tony, a grin slowly stretching across his face, and yeah, Tony heard it too. "Are you hungry?" Peter asks, incredulously.

"Well," Tony says. "I'm not full anymore."

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #kinktober #my work #fanfiction

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saokpe · 4 years

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HDLW Sibling Week 2020 - Day 6: Cuddle Puddle

Day 6! This week has been crazy for Ducktales fan so I’m glad I’ve been able to express my fan energy in these fics! I wrote these fics to be humorous (or at the very least fun) to read through, adding some more emotionally resonant (or at the very least emotionally tugging) moment thrown inbetween. This one was written the other way around and I might just dare say it’s my favorite so far. Enjoy!

@hdlwsiblingweek2020

I Love You Guys

“Dewey, could you move over, you’re crushing my arm.” Louie struggles as he shifts besides his siblings.

“No can do!” Dewey quickly responds, “I just got comfortable.”

“Maybe you could give him a good example by removing your head from my stomach?” Huey sarcastically jests.

“Quiet pillow!” The complaining brother dismisses.

“Ugh-” The red assigned duck curls his legs closer as he attempts to find a moment free of discomfort. “This arrangement isn’t ideal.”

“Speak for yourself!” Webby confidently yells, rolling into the middle of the group, nudging her body into one of the few pockets of space the tight positioning left available.

As the girl forces her slim body through, the rest of the group find themselves adjusted, the rustling continuing for a good little while before, against all odds, everyone is able to get comfortable.

“It doesn’t beat the couch, but ever since I stopped feeling my right arm, this has been pretty nice.” Louie, slowly scrolling through his phone, admits.

Webby soon adds, “Yeah, I feel so primal! Like a pack of cave ducks attempting to keep themselves warm during a particularly stormy night.”

“I mean, not that I ever had any doubt, but we are INCREDIBLY comfortable!” An oddly placed boast emerges from Dewford.

“I beg to differ-” Huey attempts to squeeze out, his brother’s head crushing his abdomen making it a bit harder to speak.

His misery fueled retort forces a chuckle across his siblings, though it’s doubtful he found it any funny.

The laugh falls, quiet occupying the space. A minute of appreciated company as the group either begins to stray their attention or fall into thought.

“Y’know I love you guys, right?” Webby finally breaks, a light and heartfelt tone of voice asking.

“Yeah.”

“Mhmm.”

“You don’t let us forget.”

“Well you guys should say it back more often!” A more peeved tone polarizes.

“HEY!” Louie, fast to the trigger, answers in an even more aggressive imitation. “I tell you I love you almost everyday!”

“Yeah, right before asking to do you a favor!” Webby matches his fake anger.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t mean it when I say it.”

“Really?” The girls combative mannerisms immediately mellow.

“Of course!” Louie assures, “Also, could you go and get me some of the leftover pep from the fridge, left door.”

“Yeah, sure!” Webbigail, seeming almost excited to comply, begins to raise.

“Sit back down Webby.” Huey, a slight guilt lacing his words, tells. His voice quickly dragging the already half standing Webbigail back to the ground. “You already know we love you.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to say it out loud once in a while.” She pouts.

“Webby’s right!” Dewey continues the rant. “You two never tell me you love me either!” The laid down brother puffs, crossing his arm and averting his gaze in a childish yet infuriatingly effective tactic.

Louie tilts his head deeper into Huey’s body, meeting his eyes in a moment of begrudged understanding.

The two accused siblings sigh before, in a half-heartedly though by no means disingenuously, allowing themselves to admit, “I love you Webby and Dewey.”

“I love you too!” Webby, in a satisfied and innocent sounding chirp, repeats.

“Hmph-” Dewey attempts to stay mad, peering back to the group as to see if they continued to place their eyes over him, soon befalling and swiftly responding, “Iloveyoutoo.”

“Is everyone happy with their ‘I love yous’ ?” A somewhat uninterested Huey feels obliged to ask.

“Yerp”

“Definitely.”

“Kinda wanted that pep, but whatever.”

“Oh c’mon Louie, don’t be like that!” Webby scolds

“He’s just like that cause he knows he’s the most sensitive.” Dewey begins to tease, raising his pitch to the tone you’d address a small dog with.

“Nerp, not true!” Louie’s face begins to redden, his sight forcing itself to the side.

“Really?” Webby tries to peer closer.

“Mhmm! It probably comes with being the youngest.” The heckling Dewey continues.

“Webby is technically the youngest!” Louie, though correctly, worthlessly defends himself.

“You’re the youngest in spirit.” Huey adds his two cents.

“What is that even supposed to mean?!” The increasingly flustered and embarrassed Louie interrogates.

“Well,-” Huey begins to explain, “The older siblings need to protect their younger siblings-”

“And you need to be protected the most!” Dewey finishes.

“That just means I’m delicate, not sensitive!”

“Aww don’t worry Louie-” Webby stretches her arm over her brother’s head, ruffling his feathers while guaranteeing, “-we’ll protect you.”

“Can we stop talking about this now!” The now blood red-faced brother strongly suggests.

“Sure thing little bro.” His sister jabs, the other two brothers giggling lightly to themselves, all the while the hand she landed on Louie’s head continues to shake and pet, the movement becoming secondary as the room returns to silence.

The miniscule sound proves soothing, their comforting attendance allowing the moment to stall in blissful relaxation. Soon proving even the most bitter of members to crack a smile as their minds wander across the vast sea of gentle thoughts that their heads housed.

“Hmm…” Louie lets out a short humm, the first piece of sound in the last half hour or so. “If you guys would all protect me, who’s going to protect you.” he meekly asks.

“Webby probably.” Dewey, not giving the question much thought, answers. “She can punch people through walls.”

“But what if Webby needs protecting?” He follows up.

“Granny would probably save me.”

“But what if Mrs. Beakley wasn’t there?”

The crowd halts the conversation at the last question.

“We go on adventures almost everyday,” Louie, still talking in a hardly characteristic reserved fashion, clarifies, “-I don’t want you guys to get hurt looking out for me just cause I’m the most sensitive.” The genuine worry of the usually dishonest brother startles the group.

“Aha!” Dewey begins, “So you admit you’re sensitive!” Just as the last word escapes the arrogant duckling, Huey’s hand slams harshly across his shoulder, the former’s icy eyes stabbing fear into his younger brother. “Sorry.” He lowers his head in guilt induced shame.

“We don’t want you to get hurt, Lou…” Huey attempts to delicately explain.

“Yeah! Adventures would be a lot less fun without you around!” Dewey, unable to materialize the idea of subtly, almost scolds.

“But I don’t want any of you getting hurt either! I mean, Scrooge, or Donald, or mom are usually there to help us, but they're not foolproof, what then?” Louie counters, his previous lower voice raising in a harsh and raw expression. “I can’t protect any of you!”

“That’s not true” The still mild-mannered sister trails behind his brother. “I trust you to protect me if I’m in trouble.”

“Definitely, you’re clever, I’m sure you’d think of something.” Huey elaborates, equally as calm as his sister.

“Yeah!” Dewey jumps to add his part, “Remember that time you stopped me from joining an evil death cult by convincing them I was a STRONGER god?”

“Yeah but I can’t fight or do puzzles, and a lot of things scare me-!” Louie’s erratic mannerisms, though still subdued by the cuddle puddle’s limitations, begins to swing wilder.

“You’re good at doing Louie things.” Hubert interject. “And that’s exactly what we need sometimes.”

“Siblings protect each other!” Webby exclaims, “You protect them and trust they’ll protect you too, that’s the deal.”

“Exactly”

“Yup”

Louie hesitates, the core of his argument, though quickly dismissed, lingers over him. He guesses that he might not think he has much to offer, but when it comes to dealings, what the other parties think you’re worth is what really matters, he’d be a fool not to take this particular deal.

“Alright.” He finally yields.

“Perfect, I would trust you with my life, it’d be a bit awkward if you didn’t agree.” Webby jokes. The other two quickly nodding in agreement.

The comment stretches a smile on the insecure duck’s beak. “I love you guys.”

The four ducklings remained the rest of the day in their cuddle puddle, eventually falling asleep as the night dragged near. Despite finding comfort at the moment of rest, their liberal positioning brought it’s drawbacks as they woke up with an incredibly aching body.

#ducktales #HDLW #Louie Duck #Webby Vanderquack #Huey Duck #Dewey Duck #hdlw sibling week 2020

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